The Coconut Swindle (Black Cape Case Files Book 2)

by Matt Abraham

  She knelt down and gently upended the urn, pouring her brother out with care, and the water, blue and clean, scooped up Anthony “Firewall” Marcus and took everything he ever was, and everything he’d ever hope to be, out with the tide.

  Widow stared at the sea, and murmured her goodbyes. They were soft and sweet, and when they were finished we walked back towards our cars. Halfway there she took my arm, and leaned on me a bit. “I guess I should thank you.”

  “What?” I said. “Why?”

  “Because yesterday you had doubts, but today you obviously think my brother was murdered.”

  “I always thought he was murdered, but now I know it wasn’t Leonard. And not because they were valentines.”

  Widow snapped to me. “You know?”

  “Of course I know. People don’t see that much of each other unless they’re stuck sweet like crème brûlée crust.”

  “And it doesn’t bother you?”

  “Why would it? Ten percent of the black cape community twists that way. Twenty percent of the white capes.” A difference I’ve never been able to account for.

  Widow squeezed my arm. “So then what changed your mind?”

  “Got a lead on a guy by the name of Scourge who I’m certain was hired to alter how Tony and Leo were found.”

  We got to the asphalt and headed towards Widow’s ride. “I’ve never heard the name.”

  “Most people haven’t. But he’s one of the best thieves I’ve ever seen. And also an unhinged lunatic.”

  “How do you know him?”

  I scanned my memory. And stifled a shiver. “So you’re aware I used to roll with Dread Division.”

  “Everyone knows that.”

  “Right, of course they do. Anyway, most people think we were a thug squad, but our real profession was burglary. And we were great. Loyal to each other, and always on the lookout for new talent. A couple years back, one guy that got our attention was Scourge.”

  “What’s his power set?”

  “He has heightened senses. His eyesight, hearing, and smell are all insane. And he used them to scout, plan, and execute jobs with unmatched precision, but he was especially good at hiding, destroying, or altering evidence to throw the cops off his trail. We wouldn’t take him on fulltime though, or introduce him to the whole team, until we had a trial run. So me, Subatomic, and Acid Green went on a gig lifting art from a mansion down in the Foothills with him. And it went off hitchless. Except on the way out we got made by the owner’s eight-year-old daughter. Normally, we’d leave it at that, I mean who believes a kid’s testimony, but like I said, Scourge was dynamite at concealing evidence, so the three of us split while he hung back to-”

  “How do you cover tracks when a witness is involved?”

  “Oh, there’re lots of ways. He decided to torch the place so it looked like the haul was destroyed instead of stolen.”

  “Sounds smart.”

  “Yeah. But he put the place to flame with the family still inside.”

  “Good lord.” Widow covered her mouth.

  “But before that he spent an hour with them. And his knife.”

  If Widow was going to say something it got stuck deep down in her chest.

  “Listen, I’m not trying to make us out as noble, but we didn’t kill children, or murder their parents for fun, so naturally when the three of us found out we felt responsible. And told the rest of Dread Division. The consensus was to spread him over the street like butter on bread. So a meeting was set to introduce him to the whole crew, and split the take, after which Scourge would get the treatment he deserved. Only he failed to show. I guess he got wind of it and skipped town.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Cursed our luck, and made it clear he was never to return.”

  We got to Widow’s sleek, blue number and she opened the door. “So, do you think he’s the killer?”

  “I can’t say for certain. But I’d be a fool not to assume he’s involved. Just how deeply is something I don’t know. Yet.”

  “Well, if I can help with anything let me know.” She got into her car and started it up. The engine sounded fission powered.

  “Thanks. But I think I got it… Wait.”

  “Yes?”

  I leaned down. “You run with the Spinnerettes, right? Can you contact Redback for me? I need some potent anti-venom.”

  “Sure. Can I ask why?”

  “Because Scourge’s got some muscle. Gunmetal Gray.”

  Widow’s eyes got real big. “Goodness. You must be shaking.”

  “No.” A little. “Not really.”

  “Ok. I’ll reach out and see if she’s amenable to parting with some. If so, I’ll drop it by your office.”

  “Sounds swell,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “I’m glad to help.” She closed her door and drove away.

  I walked back to my ride. Behind me I dragged a sack full of questions. Some were about the boys. Most were about Scourge. I needed help to sort it all out. Only one person came to mind.

  Chapter 21

  I pointed my wheels towards Gold Coast General Hospital, partially to see if the cop was ok, but mostly to find out if he or his pals had any info on, I assumed, Scourge’s truck. I figured maybe they found some traffic footage of him fleeing, and we could trace it back to whichever doorway he was currently darkening.

  When I arrived I found Monday in a private room on the third floor, propped upright in a surgical gown. His breast pocket had a big, blue stain.

  “What the hell happened?” I said.

  Monday looked up at me. “You were there.”

  “I mean the scrubs. You stealing pens again?”

  He glanced down at his chest. “Yeah. Force of habit.”

  I tossed my hat on the foot of the bed and took a seat next to him. “So how’s the flank steak?”

  “Healing steady. That piece of shrapnel went deep, but all it poked was meat and skin. The docs say I can leave tomorrow.”

  “They’re not afraid you’ll pop a stitch?”

  “Negative. They used this stuff called liquid skin. It acts like a cork until you heal.” He pulled the sheet aside and showed me the wound. It was red and angry, but instead of sutures holding the flesh together it was filled with a pale plug.

  “Convenient,” I said.

  “Yeah, it’s great.” Monday dropped his sheet. “And that’s all the foreplay I need. Did you stop the burial?”

  I leaned back and sighed. “Afraid not. By the time I got past your inquisitive Officer Heralds it was too late.”

  “Heralds? No wonder you took so long.” Monday drummed his fingers on the bed. “So then there’s no way we can identify the accelerant.”

  “Not that I can think of. But it’s clear we’re onto something considering someone tried to kill us. And I think I know who that somebody is.”

  “Really? That’s great. Our traffic cams lost him after a few blocks. Who?”

  “A guy who goes by the name of Scourge.”

  “Scourge? Tell me, how come you guys always choose evil sounding handles? I mean, I’m not trying to give you ideas, but Perry Mortem? Manfred Mayhem? Those aliases push you to the top of the watch list. Now, if a black cape called himself Johnny Justice, and wore stars and stripes, he’d probably rob banks for years before anyone caught on.”

  I wanted to respond with a clever one liner, but all that came out was, “That’s really smart. But you know there’s sort of an unwritten rule with capes that the name reflects the power.”

  “Yeah. I guess.” The cop shrugged. “Still, it’s never made sense to me. Anyway, who’s this Scourge?”

  I explained his abilities and how he used them, leaving out our history.

  When I finished, Monday said, “So he’s a murderous super thief who uses super senses to commit and cover crimes?”

  “No,” I said. “But yeah. Sort of. Though questions still remain. Like how do we find him? Who hired him? And did they want the boys dead, or was it
an accident after the job went sour?”

  Monday said, “I’m leaning towards the latter.”

  “Me too. Otherwise it was an assassination, and those two boys never did a thing to warrant something like that.”

  “True. They were the very definition of small time,” Monday said. “Except for the Shelly theft.”

  That got my attention. “What’s the Shelly theft?”

  “It’s what got them tossed in Impenetron. About six years back the boys broke into a big time penthouse owned by a woman named Margaret Shelly and made off with a small fortune in stones.”

  Interesting. “Did they recover the loot?”

  “Oh yeah,” Monday said. “Those two traded every carat for a lighter sentence.”

  “Well then that’s hardly a motive for murder.” I thought about Wentorf Hall. “Especially one this complex.”

  “You’re not kidding about it being complex. I still can’t figure out how they got as far as they did.”

  “Really?” I looked over. “Firewall opened the outer door and then launched the filament across-”

  “Right, the filament.” Monday was looking three breeds of sheepish. “I’m sorry, but that’s a red herring. I talked to the curator and she says the security system’s set inside the wall too deep for any filament to have worked.”

  “What? The filament didn’t work?” Add that false evidence to the absence of clues in the vent, and Scourge had to be involved. “Of all the cats to keep in the bag why’d you choose that one?”

  “I wasn’t showing you all my cards,” Monday said. “It was only a few hours after you busted into the museum.”

  I turned away and crossed my arms. “A lack of trust doesn’t suit you.”

  “Really, did you tell me everything?”

  “In fact I did.” I turned back to him. “Except that the moneyman we’re looking for is a moneywoman, and Bundy Strong gave them the job.”

  “Bundy Strong? Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I wasn’t showing you all my cards,” I said. “It was only a few hours after you tried to bust me at the museum.”

  “You’re a laugh riot.”

  “I know this. But Bundy’s low level, why your concern?”

  “Just some things I’ve heard, like he’s a true dirt bag, worked with the Feds squealing on other fences, but then double crossed the G-men, too.”

  “Why didn’t they arrest him?”

  “No idea. It could all be rumorous hearsay, but either way I wouldn’t trust anything he says.”

  “If you ask him questions like I do you’ll get honest answers.”

  “And what answers did you get?”

  “When I asked him the name of the woman who hired the boys?”

  “Yeah.” Monday shot up. “What’d he say?”

  “Please stop, I can’t breathe, you’re killing me.”

  Monday stared at me.

  I said, “I don’t know yet. He’ll give it to me tomorrow.”

  And he eased back onto his pillows. “Let me know how that works out. But just so you know a name alone won’t be enough. We’ll need physical evidence that links her to the robbery. Something on par with the chemical accelerant.”

  “Understood. But that path’s a dead end. Unless you were also lying about the container and the residue found near the bodies.” I pushed my eyebrows up as high as they’d go.

  But Monday shook his head. “Alas I wasn’t. The only place that had a sample was on Thermite’s body. God damn Heralds. If only you’d stopped them from getting buried.”

  “Yeah.” I thought of the beach. And Tony’s urn. “Actually only one of them got buried. Firewall’s sister had him cremated. But don’t worry, I stopped her from dumping his ashes, and rooted through them.”

  Monday looked like he smelled something awful. “Why’d you do that?”

  “To see if some of Thermite was in there with him.”

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  “What?”

  “After a body’s cremated it’s pulverized to a fine sand, that way if the family spreads those ashes a hip joint won’t flop out like a soup bone. Although… That’s not bad thinking. Heck, it might be genius. If some of Thermite did get mixed in with Firewall, and it’s not in the urn, then it might still be in the crematorium. Downstairs.”

  I looked at Monday. A bit of Thermite still stuck in the oven? Without a word I charged down to the basement. No one was guarding the doors to the morgue, so I burst in.

  And stopped. “Doctor Lockter?”

  The red headed white cape looked my way and said in that wavy voice, “What’re you doing here?”

  My body went chilly slack as I froze in place, and against my will I said, “I’m here on official police business.”

  “You can tell it to them. From prison. March yourself there.”

  My body turned to the door. But I bore down against it. The tendons and bones ground against my will to stay put, like a millstone on grain. And I wrenched open my mouth enough to say, “No.” The word came out loud. And set my throat aflame.

  “Stop.” Lockter paused. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “Me and Detective Monday need-”

  “Detective Monday? You mean Laars Monday?”

  “Yeah. You know him?”

  The Doc stepped aside, and in her common tongue said, “If you’re working with Laars go ahead.”

  My blood felt like it jumped three degrees as she returned control of my body. I said, “Thanks?” and charged past her, through the door on the far wall, down the hallway, and into the last room on the left.

  Inside was a large, steel oven. And the tech with the big ears and brown hair from earlier. He stopped dead. “How’d you get in here?”

  I grabbed his jacket and pointed to the oven. “How many got cremated today?”

  “It’s uh… This is the second.”

  I shoved him aside and opened the door. Heat poured from the oven like a volcanic rent. I stepped back and covered my face.

  “What’re you doing?” the tech yelled.

  I pointed at the corpse. “Who’s that?”

  He looked at his clipboard. “Slugfest.”

  “But he’s invulnerable. Will he burn?”

  “Yeah, the oven’s set on high, and it may start slow but it’ll build up quick so we got to get that door shut now.” He took a step past me.

  And I shoved him back, then leaned down and peered inside. Sure enough the body of Slugfest was still intact, but beneath it, about halfway back, was a small pile of charred chunks.

  “How often do you clean this thing?” I asked.

  The tech said, “After every time.”

  I grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him to me, and pointed at the pile. “Then what’s that?”

  He looked down and said, “Ok, not every time. But always at the end of the day. Doctor Lockter checks nightly.”

  “So those nuggets are definitely from Firewall?”

  “Yeah. Please don’t hit me, I didn’t-”

  “Hit you? Pal, I could kiss you. Now where’s the emergency cut off?”

  He pointed to a big, red button on the oven. “It’s there, but-”

  I couldn’t believe my luck. There were actual pieces of Thermite still here. I finally found the physical proof that would lead me to the killer, and all I had to do to retrieve it was shut the oven down. I walked over to the kill switch and hit it.

  But the red flames kept licking the corpse.

  I looked at the tech.

  He was full of fear. “I tried to tell you, that button’s busted. The oven won’t stop until it’s run its course.”

  I looked back at the flames. This was bad. If it got toasty enough inside to crisp Slugfest then those bits of Thermite would probably burn too. And even if they didn’t, any residue left over would be compromised. If it wasn’t already.

  I searched the room for something to scoop them out with. I saw a sink, a painting of a field,
and a terrified reg. That left me only one choice. Tossing my jacket aside I rolled up my sleeve.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  I thrust a hand into the oven. Flames licked my skin, but I pulled out a handful of cinders before it got bad. I joggled them, and the gray ash slipped through my throbbing fingers, leaving nothing behind.

  I looked back in the oven. That spot I cleared was barely a foot in. If I wanted to reach my target I’d need to go deeper.

  A lot deeper.

  “Are you insane?” he asked.

  “No.” I reached in again. Further this time. And the flames didn’t just lick me, they bit deep. My nerves seared. And muscles baked. When I yanked my paw free it was bright pink and shaking. But I had another handful of soot.

  I sifted through it. And found a small chunk of body the size of a briquette. “Yes! You can close it up.”

  “Sure thing.” The tech leaned over. “But what do you want that bone for?”

  “Bone?” I looked at the lump in my hand. “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah.” He grabbed it and wiped the ash free to reveal some white. “See?”

  No good. Even if this was Thermite the accelerant wouldn’t have soaked in so far. I dropped the bone and looked back in the oven. The pile I was aiming for was only six inches deeper than I’d just gone.

  So taking a deep breath I cocked my fist back.

  And the flames inside doubled in size. Their heat pushed me back and I covered my face.

  The tech yelled, “Hurry. You got ten seconds before that heat starts lighting stuff up out here.”

  I grit my teeth. And threw my hand in. This time as far as it would go. It was like the skin from my shoulder down was being peeled off. I screamed. And grabbed every bit of ash and soot, pulling it out in one clean swipe. The black cloud fell to the floor and the tech slammed the oven shut.

  I dropped to one knee. My arm was bright red. There were bubbles on my hand and wrist. I could only feel throbbing pain.

  “You,” I said. “Go through that.”

  The tech joined me on the floor and sifted through the charred crumbs. He smeared them this way and that. Mostly it was just dark embers.

  But then he held something up. “Is this was you want?”

  I leaned forward. In his hand was a human thumb.