Mad, Mad World

by J. D. Sloane

  Alek looked over her face as if waiting for her to continue, and then grinned, leaning towards the window.

  “Okay, Miss Gale. I’ll play along. And what do you want from me?”

  Alicia cleared her throat and then pulled out her notebook as she juggled her receiver from one ear to the other, her gold eyes jumping to life as Alek sat back slightly, his shoulders stiffening.

  “I was actually looking for a little bit of information about a story I’m working on. About one of your- professional counterparts, maybe? Mr. Ronan White.”

  Alek’s eyes widened, and he bit back a sudden grin, his hard, angled face lighting up with sudden understanding.

  “Ah,” he said leaning his elbow on the edge of the desk as he waited for one of the guards to pass behind him. “Well, you can tell your boss that his answer is on the way already.”

  He tipped her a wink as he considered her face with more interest.

  “And that he should learn to be a little more patient. Especially now.”

  “I don’t think incarceration is improving his patience, Mr. Danshov. Just a lay person’s opinion. And I really don’t work for him. I’m just trying to follow up on some old leads before the interview.”

  Alek smiled suddenly, his entire face changing as he bit back a laugh.

  “Ronan’s giving an interview? You mean on the news?”

  “Just the local news, actually. Channel Six? We’d like to interview him, we really would, Mr. Danshov, which is why I’m here.”

  “Well, let me know how it turns out, Miss Gale. Because I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I really wouldn’t.”

  Alicia gave him a tight grin, annoyed with how he seemed to be sidestepping all the salient points of the conversation and shoved her hair behind one ear, trying not to feel the way her fingers were twitching for a cigarette.

  “Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t done any interviews yourself. You’re up against some pretty stiff charges. Drugs, sex trafficking. The news can help, you know. The public can help.”

  “Maybe, Miss Gale. But who knows? I haven’t given up on good providence just yet. And witnesses change their minds before trial all the time. Especially when all of those witnesses are junkies and whores.”

  “Mr. Danshov..”

  Alek made a careless gesture with one hand.

  “Alek, please.”

  “Okay. Alek. I’m actually here because I read in a police report that you were questioned about Ronan’s girlfriend’s disappearance several months ago. Less than a week after it happened.”

  “Da, I was. It was very sad what happened to her, to Brooke.”

  Alicia’s brow furrowed and she felt an unexpected stab of irritation as Alek’s face softened with regret, clicking the end of her pen rapidly for a moment as she flipped to one of the pages in her notebook.

  “You knew her?”

  “Only a little. She was very beautiful, you know? With those eyes and that hair. And sweet. Not like the girls you usually meet in this business.”

  Alicia pressed her lips together and pretended to scribble something down as Alek tipped his eyes towards her notepad.

  “Is this for the news interview?”

  “It is. As background definitely. So you knew them as a couple? Ronan and Brooke? Would you say that they were happy together?”

  “I don’t know what you mean by happy, but she was a loyal girl. I’m not sure he will recover from what happened to her. But then again, life is long Miss Gale. We’ll see.”

  “Officer Perez. She said that you didn’t have much of an alibi that night.”

  Alek’s brow furrowed in surprise and his eyes lost a little of their humor, his entire expression darkening slightly as he gave her a smirk.

  “You think I killed Brooke?”

  “No, that’s what Officer Perez thought. She implied that you killed her. That is was some sort of a turf war gone wrong between you two.”

  “No. No, Miss Gale. Not me. And I’m very glad that your friend never believed it either.”

  “Oh yeah? And why is that?”

  Alek grinned slowly at her as he met her eyes through the glass, giving her a careless shrug.

  “Because I don’t have any romantic notions about death, babka. And believe me, whoever did this to Brooke is going to die a very bad death.”

  “So you had nothing to do with it.”

  “Nothing.”

  “And he wouldn’t, I mean, you don’t believe…”

  “That he killed her? Please. Could you do it? Could you cut out your own heart and hand it over to your enemies, all for a little business? No. Of course, you couldn’t. And that’s why I never trust the public, Miss Gale. Because the mob doesn’t think like you or I think. It doesn’t care what the truth is. All the mob cares about is who’s telling them the best story.”

  Alek looked up as the buzzer at the end of the room went off and Alek held up his hand, his face once more dropping into lines of friendly comradery.

  “Looks like it’s back to breaking rocks for me, Miss Gale. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help. You may want to visit the motel though. They had a lot of cameras back then. Who knows what someone might’ve seen.”

  “I’m going there tomorrow morning,” Alicia said, trying to catch his eye as Alek turned his head, watching one of the guard line inmates up behind their chairs. “It’s just…the police report. There’s nothing in it. They said that most of the cameras weren’t operational. And I can’t find anyone who even mentioned the guy Ronan described…”

  Alek tipped his eyes towards her curiously as she said his name and scooted closer to the window, his pale eyes running over the front of her white blouse with slow, deliberate leisure.

  “You know, I never even knew he liked blonds. He certainly never asked for one at my house.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  Alek leaned forward until his broad shoulders had all but blocked the front of the window and tipped his chin at her lightly as he rolled his eyes down to meet her.

  “Feel like showing me your tits before you leave?”

  Alicia’s eyes widened with surprise and she looked up quickly, her brow furrowing as Alek stared at her steadily and then gave her a friendly wink.

  “A man has to ask,” he said, giving her a broad movie star’s grin as he stood up from his chair. He hung up the receiver, still looking her over as Alicia pressed her lips together and hung up her end, feeling for her purse as she stood up from the booth. She startled slightly when she heard Alek rap at the glass and then spoke into the drilled holes in the middle of the pane.

  “Tell Ronan hello for me, when you see him.”

  Alicia felt her stomach flip as Alek looked her over critically for a moment as if comparing her to an image in his mind.

  “You’re very different from her, you know,” he said finally, giving her a grin that was almost kind. He stepped back without breaking eye contact as one of the guards moved behind him, looking down at his cuffs before moving on.

  “Sometimes that’s good,” he said, the distance almost stealing the phrase from her completely. “It helps a man forget.”

  Lincoln Hax glanced down both hallways before propping the men’s bathroom door open with his foot and dragging the mop bucket inside, his fingers twitching slightly on the handle. He had been in protective custody for a little over a month, which made his daily fix a little harder to come by and for the past few days his body had been twitching all over the place, jittering so wildly at night that he felt like jumping out of his own skin.

  If this is getting sober, he figured, those boys down at rehab can keep it. He did just fine with a little H is his system, thank you very much. And he could pretty much guarantee that those who claimed junkies weren’t functional had never seen one three days into withdrawal, twitching and dancing all over the place like the fabled Jehoshaphat. Try getting a job like that, he thought dunking the head of his mop i
nto the plastic wringer as he cranked the entire rig with a perfunctory one-two turn of his arm. And methadone wasn’t any good either because over the long haul it was a little like carrying on with heroin’s ugly older cousin. That was, all of the drag and none of the fun.

  No, the way Hax saw it what he had was a nice functional drug habit, the kind that made a person more rational and not less. And after almost a decade of using Oxy and heroin and pretty much anything he could get his hands on to smooth out the rough edges, he saw no reason to quit a good thing now.

  Recreational drug use is a fine way to spend your twenties, he thought slapping the mop onto the floor, but functional drug use is really where it’s at, the one that makes the whole world go round. And besides you can’t really call something recreational any more when it no longer even gets you high, can you? That’s just overstating the benefits of a thing. Just slightly.

  Lincoln pushed the mop around the floor for a few minutes, humming under his breath a little as he looked down the long row of stalls. He glanced over his shoulder as he came to the end of the blue tile wall, his dark eyes so bright and hollow looking they seemed to glitter.

  “Hello?” he said without raising his voice much. “Anyone there?”

  Hax waited another second or two, his eyes crawling from one end of the bathroom to the other and then relaxed as his voice echoed back at him in a low mellow loop, sliding the mop against the wall next to the far sink, which was close enough to grab in a pinch. He leaned down and took off his shoe, feeling around in the front of it quickly and then turned his back on the door as he pulled out a small bag and shook it between his thumb and forefinger. He smiled as he stood up, the expression so unnatural on his face it seemed to come out as more of a grimace and then walked over to the sink, pitching his eyes towards the door once more before he started to roll up his sleeve.

  Good thing the boys down in D Block share my general life view, he thought, licking his lower lip as he produced a syringe from his pocket. He pulled out a small spoon, tapping it against the sink cheerfully for a moment and then set it down as he slid his belt out of his pants, feeling around in his front pocket for a pack of matches.

  Just a taste though, he thought, as he scooped up the spoon and then tapped out half the packet into the center with the finicky air of gemstone dealer inspecting some particularly rare cut of diamond. Just enough to mellow out. No use blowing through the whole stash before sundown. Plus, they’ll be plenty of time to party after we figure out how to smuggle someone into White’s wing and put that sadistic, crazy-eyed son of a bitch down once and for…

  “Lincoln, Lincoln,” a voice said from behind him. “A little early in the day for victory laps, isn’t it?”

  Hax dropped his spoon into the sink, swinging his arm backwards automatically as he jerked his body around and then felt his stomach leap into his throat as Ronan White dodged him lightly and grabbed him arm from behind, slamming his face into the front of the faucet as he bent his arm backwards behind him.

  Lincoln choked back a scream as he felt upper lip burst open above his teeth and Ronan rolled his eyes down towards him mildly, meeting his gaze in the mirror as Hax felt his bowels clench.

  “I guess it’s not a very surprising homecoming, considering your gang’s reputation,” Ronan said, his low, gravelly so calm it was almost friendly. “But then, who am I to judge?”

  Lincoln saw one of the stall doors behind them swing lazily on its hinges and opened his mouth to scream as Ronan shoved his open mouth against the edge of the sink, his teeth slamming against the metal with a sudden violent crack. Oh God, I’m in real trouble here, he thought, the idea so random and panicked it made him feel like he was about to faint. He made a low choking noise as Ronan held the back of his neck like an iron vise and then looked over the packet of heroin with a critical air, raising his brows as he yanked his other arm behind his back high enough to break it.

  “And that’s not even the good stuff,” Ronan said, his wide dark eyes twirling so wildly they were almost on fire. “Your boys must really be comfortable with Garrett’s team on top. But don’t worry, Hax. I’m going to right that ancient wrong before you know it. Every man’s life for a higher cause.”

  Lincoln rolled his eyes up towards him, his panic so acute he felt as if he were floating outside of his body. He flinched as Ronan shook his shirt cuff like a magician and produced what looked like a long shiny pen, shoving the sharp metal edge against the curve of his neck as he eased him away from the metal ledge.

  “Oh God, please,” Lincoln gasped, trying not to choke as he felt White dig the front of his blade into the gaunt line of his jaw and blinked rapidly as Ronan whistled under his breath, glancing towards the bathroom door as his dark eyes leapt with malicious amusement.

  “Now there’s the Wonderland cheer I’m used to,” Ronan said running his tongue over his lips rapidly. “And I’m not going to lie to you either, Lincoln. This is going to end badly for you. But I promise that your suffering will have an end if you just answer one simple question for me. Do you think you can do that? Hmm? What do you say? Feel like playing along?”

  Lincoln felt his knees go weak beneath him, some strange desperate desire that he had been able to shoot up one last time flashing through his mind like the world’s shortest bucket list. He nodded his head forward slightly as Ronan looked him over with a rage so deep and insatiable it had almost blurred back into compassion and then raised his brows politely as he jerked his arm higher.

  “Garrett’s supplier. The one you snitched on. No. That’s not the question, Lincoln. It’s a fact. No, what I really want to know is which one the guards you work with was desperate enough to tip. You. Off?”

  Alicia pulled into the parking lot of the Knight’s Court motel around ten and circled the lot once without parking, counting the number of cars without much surprise.

  Five cars, she thought, glancing into the windowed check-in near the front as she pulled in next to a late model Lexus and let the car idle while she pulled out her notes. But the place still looks pretty well-kept. Kind of like a fifth-rate Red Roof Inn on the way down. Or a really, really low-rent place on the way up.

  Alicia let her eyes travel across the rutted two-lane street that separated the gated motel from the neighborhood around it and tapped her pen against her pad as she looked over what she imagined might have been a line of brick storefronts once, the high gray façade of the building blocking her view back to the highway.

  Her gaze travelled up to the top floor, noticing the cracked windows and ‘For Rent’ signs without bothering to write them down. She pulled her phone up to her vision line, recording the neat row of Juliet balconies that lined the lower floors and then paused as she came to the wide stone balcony at the corner, her stomach doing a strange little flip as she took three more photos.

  That’s it, Alicia thought. That’s where they lived. This place must’ve been like a ghost town three years ago.

  Alicia ran her tongue over her bottom lip, chewing on it thoughtfully for a moment, and then killed the engine, tucking her notebook and phone into her bag before stepping out of the car.

  Alicia nodded as a young guy with dark hair watched her approach the front entrance and gave him a quick nod, his large, dark eyes sweeping over her appreciatively before he stamped out a cigarette and disappeared into a small door next to the office. She stepped through the swinging glass doors at the entranceway and was once more surprised by its sunny, utilitarian appearance, the bright blue carpet and faux-marble check-in desk part of what looked like a recent low-budget facelift.

  Alicia nodded as she stepped up to the front desk and a younger girl instantly addressed her, fixing her with a practiced smile as she folded her hands on the desk.

  “Welcome to the King’s Court. How can we assist you?”

  Alicia shifted her bag on one shoulder and turned her eyes towards the man next to her before giving the girl her full attention.


  “I was actually hoping to speak to the manager here. Would that be you?”

  The girl blinked in surprise, her smile dropping a little as her hands drifted to the computer next to the phone.

  “I’m not the manager, but I’d be happy to help you, ma’am. If you could just tell me what room you’re staying in…”

  “Nope,” Alicia said, shaking her head as the older man turned in her direction. “I’m not a guest. I’m with Channel Six. I’ve been doing a story about a crime that was committed around here about a year ago?”

  She glanced from one face to the other as they both shook their head in unison, as if processing all non-motel business through the same basic courtesy system.

  “I’m sorry,” the older man said firmly. “I wasn’t here that long ago. And Susan here just hired in about two months ago.”

  “Oh, I see,” Alicia said without making a move to leave the counter. “Your manager then, if you don’t mind. I promise I won’t take up much of his time.”

  The man regarded her flatly for a moment, obviously dismayed by his inability to stonewall her out of the building and then sighed and picked up the phone, turning away from the counter as he talked quietly into the receiver.

  “Are you Alicia Gale?” The younger girl said, her face lighting up with sudden interest. “The weather girl?”

  Alicia felt a sneer of annoyance creep into her face and turned it into a stiff smile at the last minute, Matt’s cryptic comment about her needing the public to trust her at some point curbing her behavior as neatly as a whip crack.

  “Reporter now, actually.”

  “Oh my god,” Susan said, putting her hand in front of her mouth so theatrically that Alicia almost laughed. “Are you working on the Ronan White thing? The whole killing spree thing? Oh my god, that was so insane! I was a senior at St. Mary’s when it happened and they wouldn’t let us have open lunch for like, a week…”

  “Susan,” the older man said stepping to the front of the counter again as he replaced the phone. “Why don’t you go ask Emilio if he’s finished with last night’s footage? He should be back from break by now.”