by Alex P. Berg
We took advantage of the officers’ efforts, tackling the groups one at a time and showing them Bonesaw’s sketch. Unfortunately, none of the witnesses could give definitive answers about the ogre’s presence. Most of them didn’t recognize him at all. A handful did, or so they claimed, but upon application of pressure, our best witnesses ultimately admitted they couldn’t be sure they hadn’t seen some other large, bald ogre earlier in the day. None of them got a good look at his face, and none of them got close enough to see if he’d sported any tattoos on his arms. As if those vague replies weren’t dispiriting enough, nobody had any idea if the ogre had been present at the time of Shay’s disappearance.
It was the worst possible outcome we could’ve received: enough to make me think we were on the right track with Bonesaw, but without any verifiable evidence to show that we were and no additional path for us to follow as a result of our efforts. I even pushed the envelope a little, widening our beaten path to include more businesses to the north and south in an attempt to get a positive ID, all to no avail.
Needless to say, I was fading toward despondency as we headed back to the precinct, intending to grab coffee and dive into the robbery reports in hopes of finding a chemical vendor who’d reported a stolen shipment, but I never made it past the front doors.
One of the kids loitering outside the station waved us down as we arrived. “Detective Daggers?”
“Yeah?” I said with all the warmth of a day old fish.
“Runner came by five minutes ago. Said a Miss Kyra needed a word with you.”
My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t expected her to get back to me so fast. In fact, I’d half expected not to hear back from her at all. Not that I didn’t trust her, but…well, actually I didn’t trust her.
I gave Rodgers and Quinto a nod, we flagged down a rickshaw, and off we went.
The ride flew by in a blur, either because our driver employed superhuman speed or because I was lost in thought. Maybe a little of both. The driver was on the wiry and youthful end of the spectrum.
Either way, I wasted no time tackling the stairs at Kyra’s apartment. My impromptu boxing match earlier hadn’t drained my reserves, as I beat Rodgers and Quinto to the top by a full thirty steps. I knocked on the door while I waited for the others to catch up.
I still stood there when Rodgers arrived, panting. “Gods, Daggers. You training for a race?”
“You know that’s not why I ran.”
“I know. Just trying to lighten the mood.”
I knocked on the door again as Quinto joined the fray. “Kyra? It’s Daggers. You there?”
Quinto’s breath was more measured than Rodgers’, but he’d taken the stairs slower. Probably to avoid looking as foolish as his partner. “Think she’s out?”
“Why would she be out?” I said. “She just sent for us. The kid outside the station said the runner arrived five minutes before we did.”
Quinto shrugged and didn’t say anything.
I tested the doorknob. It gave.
A sense of dread settled over me. I reaching inside my jacket and pulled out Daisy as I pushed the door in. I motioned for Rodgers and Quinto to be silent as I crept inside. “Kyra? You there?”
Her voice ricocheted off the walls. “Hey. Back here, Daggers. In the bedroom.”
I breathed a sigh of relief as I returned Daisy to her home. Maybe I should’ve taken a shot from Kyra’s decanter earlier after all. I needed something to take the edge off.
“Great,” I called back. “Are you, ah…decent?”
“Decent?” I heard her call. “Oh, give me a break. Get over here, will you?”
I followed her voice into the nearest hallway, leaving Rodgers and Quinto in the living room. As I turned a corner, I found Kyra standing at her bed, notable for its enormous size, its crimson red silk sheets, and the equally enormous mirror overhanging it from the ceiling.
Thankfully, Kyra hadn’t lied. She was decent, more so than she’d been earlier in the day thanks to the addition of a teal blouse and a pair of knee-high boots. She was bent over with her back to me, however, though I don’t think it was meant as a come on. The furious pace with which she stuffed garments into a portmanteau tipped me off.
“What are you doing?”
Kyra glanced at me. “You’re the detective. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“If you’re trying to hide incriminating evidence, the time for that would’ve been before you sent word for me.”
Kyra snorted and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Daggers. I was joking earlier. If I had been a naughty girl, do you really think I’d leave anything in the open?”
“Only if you were trying to tempt me.”
Her lips curled. “I’d be willing to try, but I got the impression you didn’t want me to.”
“Why are you packing, then?”
“Why else?” she said, turning back to her clothes.
I joined her by the bed. “You’re leaving town?”
“I hear the mountains to the north are lovely this time of year. All the winter snows melted, the flowers in full bloom—”
I reached out and grabbed her by the arm, spinning her toward me. “Damn it, Kyra, stop! This isn’t the time and you know it. You said you were going to help me. You sent for me at the precinct. Please tell me you’re not screwing with me for kicks.”
She dropped a folded pair of pants on the bed. “Sorry, Daggers. I can’t help playing. It’s the way I am. But I did find something.” She glanced at my hand reproachfully.
I let go. “Tell me.”
“Something bad is afoot. It wasn’t that hard to discover once I asked the right people. The gangs are trying to keep a lid on it, but it’s going down tonight. That’s why I’m getting the hell out of here. The buyers I work for aren’t going to be paying for the sorts of services I provide anytime soon.”
“What are you talking about?” I said. “What’s going down?”
Kyra shook her head. “I don’t know exactly. It could be nothing. But in my experience, meetings like these never lead to anything good.”
“Meetings like these?” I ground my teeth. “Kyra, what are you talking about? Please tell me you have something concrete.”
“I do,” she said. “There’s going to be a meeting tonight between the five most powerful gangs in New Welwic. The Blacks, the Razors, the St. Kerry’s Street gang, the Seasides, and NWX. They’re all descending on the King’s Theater in a few hours.”
“The old abandoned place east of the Earl?”
Kyra nodded. “The meeting’s supposed to take place after dark. Around ten is what I heard.”
I glanced toward the nearest window. What time was it? Four? Five? The afternoon had flown by in a blur. “What’s happening at the meeting?”
Kyra shrugged. “That’s where the concrete portion of the information ends. Normally, when the gangs get together it’s to set citywide boundaries or call a truce.”
“But there aren’t any gang wars going on now,” I said. “Lamont said things were all quiet on that front.”
“I don’t know who Lamont is, but yeah. Exactly.”
“So?”
Kyra sighed. “I don’t know, Daggers, but I have a bad feeling about it. Not just because they’re getting together. More because I hadn’t heard about it before. The gangs are keeping this quiet. And honestly, given the fact that you’ve been attacked and your partner is missing, I’m worried my neck will be next on the chopping block now that I’ve been pulled into this.”
“But Steele and I don’t have any beefs with the gangs,” I said. “Not more than any other detectives.”
Kyra lifted an eyebrow. “Do you believe in coincidences?”
“Only as a last resort.”
“Then you’re involved, one way or another,” said Kyra. “And so am I. Which is why I’m getting the hell out of here.”
“Hold on,” I said. “What about Bonesaw? What about
Shay?”
“I don’t know,” said Kyra, turning back to her clothes. “I didn’t manage to find out anything about the former, and I didn’t ask about your half-elf squeeze.”
“You didn’t ask?” I could feel the anger I’d tried to punch away earlier creeping back. “Why do you think I asked you to track down Bonesaw? For kicks?”
“Daggers, don’t you get it? You said it yourself. Bonesaw’s in a gang now. The guys who came after you are in the same gang. There’s a gang meeting tonight. Don’t you think it’s all connected?”
“Connected doesn’t help me find Shay!”
Kyra avoided my gaze. “I’m sorry, Daggers. I really am. I’ve done what I can.”
“Done what you can? Are you serious? My partner is in danger of being raped and murdered, and all you’ve given me is info about a gang meeting. I saved your life. What kind of deal is that?”
“I told you, I’m sorry. It’s all I can get without exposing myself.”
“Without exposing yourself? So that’s what this is about? You’re willing to help, but only if you don’t have to put your own ass on the line?”
“Yes!”
Her sudden outburst pushed me back a step.
“Yes,” she said again, in a more measured tone this time. “Are you happy now that you got me to admit it?”
“No, I’m not happy,” I said. “I want your help like you promised. I need your help.”
She looked me in the eyes, her amber globes deep and sorrowful. “I’m not like you, Daggers. A warrior with a heart of gold. I’m a thief. My number one priority has always been myself. It still is. I’ve told you what I learned. It’s time you go.”
“But Shay—”
“The King’s Theater. Ten PM.”
I took a step back, disappointment overwhelming my anger. “If that’s how it’s going to be…”
“Daggers. One last thing?”
I stopped at the door to the hallway. “Yes?”
“My source didn’t think it likely the police would show up at the meeting. Didn’t think they knew about it.”
“We didn’t.”
“My source also implied they’d know if you did.”
I had a flashback to the precinct's gymnasium, where I wondered how Shay’s and my attackers had known where and when to find us. “You’re saying we have a mole?”
“You’re probably lucky if it’s only one.”
I might’ve growled. “Great. Just what I needed.”
23
“Excuse me? Captain?”
Captain Knox looked up from an inch-thick report, tossing it aside when she saw me. “Daggers. Come in. What have you got?”
“A whole lot of nothing, a few maybes, and one probable something.” I waltzed to the nearest chair, gripping its worn smooth back with anxious fingers. “We can discuss it later. In the meanwhile, what are you doing for dinner?”
Knox leaned forward, looking at me keenly over the tip of her nose. “You’re asking me…to dinner?”
I nodded. “I know a good place not far from here. Best burgers this side of the Earl. Steele took me there once upon a time.”
Knox rapped her fingertips on her desk. “Detective, I’m aware it’s difficult to work on an empty stomach, but has it crossed your mind that we might have better things to do with our time? You of all people should understand what we’re up against.”
“All the same, Captain, I think it might be worthwhile. It would give us an opportunity to talk. Alone.”
“We are alone, Detective.”
I didn’t say anything. I stood there gripping the chair.
Knox was bright enough to read between the lines. “Come to think of it, I could use a bite. Lead the way.”
Knox stood and waved me through the door. By some miracle, nobody descended upon us as we wove our way through the pit and out the front doors. Then again, everyone in the station knew of the situation with Steele by now, even perpetual shut-in Hunt. They knew better than to get involved.
Once in a rickshaw, the driver hauled us to The Bleating Goat, a gastropub not far from the station. Shay had taken me there for dinner one night early in our partnership. We’d talked about relationships. Mine, mostly—when we could hear each other over the din. A stiff breeze battered our rickshaw as we rode, bringing with it an unnatural coolness given the season. I was almost glad for my jacket.
When we arrived, I pushed through the front doors, reflexively clenching my jaw in a futile attempt to shield my eardrums from the noise. Even though it was early for dinner, patrons packed the booths and tables and stools at the bar, orcs and giant half-breeds with booming voices that couldn’t quite drown out the higher-pitched giggles of over-served gnomes. Glasses clinked and laughter roared, all while a grill spat and taps gurgled with the flow of beer.
A cute hostess wearing a form-fitting black top and pants noticed us and grabbed a pair of menus. “Table for two?”
“We should already have one,” I shouted over the noise. “A big guy, grayish skin, and his friend? A blonde dude with a disarming smile?”
The hostess replaced the menus. “Back right corner.”
We moseyed over, finding Rodgers and Quinto seated on opposite sides of a booth, sandwiched between a group of dwarves and what appeared to be a pixie bachelorette party. Their shrill laughter and the bride-to-be’s minuscule veil gave it away.
Captain Knox sidled in next to Quinto, and I took a seat next to Rodgers. The detectives each had a pint glass in front of them, two-thirds full in Rodgers’ case, though Quinto’s had little more than suds left.
Knox eyed the glasses. “And here I thought this was a work trip. Apparently we are springing for dinner?”
I had to speak up to make myself heard—as intended. “Might as well multitask while we’re here. I have a feeling we’re going to need the energy later. I didn’t say anything about beer, though. That’s on these guys.”
“It felt justified after today,” said Quinto. “Don’t worry. I’m only having the one.”
“You guys order?” I asked.
“Already on its way,” said Rodgers. “Burgers all around. Hope that’s okay, Captain.”
“It’ll do,” she said. “Anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
I glanced at the door, checking for familiar faces. Snippets of fairy laughter and bawdy dwarf jokes swirled around me in the bar’s cyclone of noise. I lowered my voice nonetheless. “Sorry, Captain. I have reason to believe it’s not safe to speak freely at the precinct. There may be prying ears.”
“Given that our first and only time dining together was last night and that was initiated by Detective Quinto, I figured as much,” she said. “Who’s the snitch? One of the runners? The support staff? Or one of our own?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I don’t have a name. But a cop. Maybe more than one.”
Knox’s eyes hardened, and the muscles around her jaw tightened. “Who’s your source?”
“A friend. A thief. Someone who works for the gangs. She owed me a favor.”
“That elven woman you saved during the Wyverns case?”
I blinked. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Please, Daggers. I know your file, and that case better than most given it’s the one that forced Captain Armstrong’s retirement and landed me at the Fifth. When you stormed off toward Coldgate Prison without expressing your intentions, I was forced to assume you’d visit a criminal you previously incarcerated. There are several folks there who you’ve put away but only one who matched the sketch Boatreng Davis showed me earlier. It was a small deductive leap from assuming you wanted to speak to him to you seeking the other member of your previous undercover competition. Besides, there can only be so many female thieves working for New Welwic gangs that you list among your acquaintances.”
“Dang,” said Quinto. “Remind me never to lie to you, Captain.”
“Or to leave anythin
g out by omission,” she said. “But noted. Detective Daggers?”
“That’s right,” I said. “It’s Kyra. And I did go to Coldgate in search of Bonesaw, who we have reason to believe broke out of jail while in transport to Stinking Baths. He’s on the loose. Sorry for not telling you right away. I was in a bad place. Too angry. Too agitated. Too focused on who might be behind Steele’s disappearance and not focused enough on finding her.”
“I understand,” said Knox. “But don’t let your emotions get the best of you again. I can’t force Hunt to shut his mouth if he chooses to make a stink about your actions.”
“You know about Hunt? Of course you do. The point is I asked Kyra for a favor, and she delivered, at least to an extent. She suggested we might have one or more moles among us, which confirms my suspicions. Someone knew where and when to attack Steele. Someone with insider knowledge.”
Knox frowned. “We’ve had dirty cops in our midst, and we will again. We’ll find them and squash them. But our focus is on finding Steele. Did your contact give you a lead on her?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “The best she could provide is that there’s a meeting tonight between the most powerful gangs in New Welwic, around ten o’clock in the old King’s Theater. She didn’t know the purpose of the meeting, or who called it.”
“But you suspect the gang who attacked you last night might be behind it? The same gang responsible for Steele’s disappearance?”
I nodded. “Kyra had a gut feeling about it, too.”
Knox glanced at Rodgers and Quinto. “Detectives?”
Rodgers shrugged. “We don’t know for a fact that the ogre in Boatreng’s sketch is Bonesaw, or that Bonesaw escaped prison. We don’t have hard evidence tying Steele’s disappearance to the attack on Daggers last night, or know if her disappearance is gang related. We also don’t know why the city’s gangs might be calling a meeting. But if we assume the tattoo artist positively identified Bonesaw with the gang tattoo belonging to Daggers’ attackers, then everything starts to fall into place.”