I had found the connection between Flick and the mayor. I knew that Flick had taken a bribe to keep his mouth shut, and that the mayor had given him a replica of Excalibur. It seemed reasonably safe to assume that the same sword the mayor gave him was the sword that had killed Flick. So how did Flick end up murdered by his own weapon? If everything I’d learned was true, Flick hadn’t been investigating the mayor at that point. He’d already accepted the payoff.
Was he trying to sell the sword? Was he meeting a buyer? That theory sounded familiar. It was the same theory Malone had been trying to float. I didn’t buy it then and I wasn’t buying it now. But I had to examine it anyway, just to be thorough.
What if Flick had been trying to sell the sword and that was what got him killed? Could it really have gone down that way? As much as I hated that answer, it was starting to make sense. Flick could have gotten himself mixed up with some unsavory characters while searching for a buyer. One of those characters may just have killed him. But why? Business is business, even among criminals. No one involved could have benefited from Flick’s death, especially since the killer didn’t even bother to take the sword. I had to be missing something…
I didn’t even notice that the sun had burned through the fog until I started sweating. I took off my trench coat, and folded it over my arm. I was in Chinatown, though I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d gotten there. I’d been wandering aimlessly, deep in thought with my eyes on the ground for most of the morning. Suddenly, one voice out the cacophony caught my attention. It was the high-pitched voice of a child, a young girl.
“Mommy, is that a monster?”
I glanced up the sidewalk to see a young blonde-haired girl with ponytails pointing at me. Her mother was pushing a stroller and the girl was hanging on to the handle with one hand and holding a lollipop in the other. The mother –a young woman with dark hair and a pretty face- heard what her had daughter said, and glanced at me with a horrified look.
“Amanda, that was impolite! Apologize to this man.”
I smiled as I watched Amanda roll her eyes. The girl looked about seven years old. “Sorry. I just didn’t know what was wrong with your skin,” she said innocently.
“I’m sorry,” her mother said in an exasperated tone. “She’s still learning her manners.”
“It’s okay,” I said, winking at Amanda. “I’m on ogre.”
“Really?” Amanda said.
“Of course! Humans don’t have green skin, do they?”
“Nope.” She eyed me up and down and smiled, apparently deciding I was telling the truth.
“Okay, that’s enough,” her mother chided. She gave me a terse smile, probably upset that I was telling her daughter fairy tales. “It was nice to meet you,” she said, pushing the stroller past me. I turned to watch them disappear down the street.
I look like a monster, I thought cynically. How long until Amanda learns that real monsters don’t look scary at all? Most of ‘em wear suits and ties and talk to you like they’re your best friend.
Chapter 11
I caught a cable car in Chinatown and made my way slowly back across town. I ended up near Market Square, and then walked the remaining few blocks back to the Mother tree. Along the way, I tried to pick my thoughts back up where I’d left off. As part of the “agreement” that Flick and the mayor had come to, the mayor had provided Flick with a weapon to sell. I’d been entertaining the distasteful idea that Flick had gone down to the docks to meet with a potential buyer but then the deal went bad. Only, there was a hole in that theory the size of a Peterbilt, and I felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.
The answer was simple: Flick had called me. Why ask me to meet him at the lake if he was there to sell a fake artifact? I am the law, and Flick wouldn’t have wanted me there if he was doing something illegal. I doubted he had called me just to get the buyer arrested. By doing that, Flick would have implicated himself in the crime at the same time. Whatever had gotten Flick killed, it was not the act of trying to sell that sword.
I felt some relief as I came to this realization, but my elation didn’t last. I still wasn’t any closer to the killer and I still didn’t know why Flick had wanted to meet me at the docks. He could have met me anywhere, but he wanted it to be the lake. Why there? What was happening at the docks that he wanted me to be part of? I was missing some crucial piece of information, I just couldn’t figure out what it was.
I pulled out my cell phone to check the time and remembered I still hadn’t charged the worthless piece of junk. When I got home, I plugged it in immediately. Then I called Annie on the landline, hoping she’d give me the chance to repair the damage I had done to our relationship by missing our date the night before. Thankfully, this time she answered.
“What?”
That was how she answered the phone. Not “Hi” or “How are you?” Just: “What?”
“Do you forgive me?” I said.
“Will you arrest me if I don’t?” she said testily.
“Not unless you want me to.”
She sighed. Even over the phone it sounded like trouble. “Are we still on for tonight?” I said, trying to lighten the conversation.
“Maybe. Do you remember what I said?”
“Yeah, yeah, no steak sandwiches. Something French and expensive.”
“Uh huh. You think you can manage that?”
“No more excuses, I promise. It’ll be perfect. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Mmmhmm.”
I hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. Then I started making calls, trying to figure out where I could get dinner without a reservation. I finally ended up using my credit card to make a one hundred dollar deposit over the phone at an upscale place called Jacque’s. “If you don’t show, we keep the deposit,” the host warned me.
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “We’ll be there.” I meant it, too. That deposit represented the last of my credit line and I had less than fifty bucks in cash left to my name.
When I picked Annie up, she looked stunning. She was wearing a gold dress with her hair pulled back, her slightly pointed ears poking out through her dark tresses. She wasn’t worried about humans noticing her ears because they don’t. A person with pointed ears hardly even stands out in a city like San Francisco, where people do all kinds of strange body modifications. I’ve seen a full-blooded dwarf like Butch walk down the street wearing traditional garb and carrying a battle-axe and nobody even blinked. Annie’s little ear-tips don’t even merit a double-take. You’d think humans would take a second look at me, being six-six and green, but not really. Just another freak among the millions.
We arrived fifteen minutes early and still had to spend an hour at the bar. Thankfully, Annie loosened up a bit after a few drinks and she took an earnest interest in the cases I’d been working. I recounted my adventures from the last few days while we waited. By the time we had a table, Annie had almost forgiven me. That didn’t stop her from ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, though. Or the fifty-dollar bottle of cabernet we drank with it.
After dinner, we went back to my place. I started a fire and opened another bottle of wine. We settled down on the floor in front of the fireplace, letting the warmth of the flames wash over us. I wanted to reach out to Annie, to hold her and kiss her, but nature only allowed a quick peck on the cheek. Any more than that, and she’d pass out.
“What do you think about us, Hank?” she said. She was lying back with her head on my lap, swirling her wineglass in the firelight.
“Us?” I said. “I don’t know, why?”
She sighed. “I don’t know what we should do. I really like you a lot, but I don’t know about this… this…”
“Relationship?”
“Yeah, I suppose you could call it that. But is that what it really is?”
I stared down at her, watching the fire dancing in her eyes. “What do you mean? This seems like a relationship to me.” That wasn’t entirely true, of course, but I didn
’t want to be a buzz kill. For the moment, I just wanted want her not to be mad at me.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” she said. “Sure, we’re friends. We spend time together. But sometimes I don’t hear from you for days. And then, when we are together, we can’t really be together. You know what I mean.”
I leaned back, staring into the fire. “Maybe there’s some way,” I said. “Maybe some sort of spell…”
“You think I haven’t looked?” Annie said. “I’ve been researching this problem for months. I’ve asked the Maji, the Elders, and just about everybody else in town who might know. Even Magnus, who I know you don’t like, but I just had to take a chance and see if he could help.”
I raised my eyebrows. She sure seemed to be asking around a lot. I wondered if there was anyone she hadn’t asked. It seemed my private life wasn’t private to anyone but me. “What did you learn?” I said reluctantly.
“Nothing. Nobody knows a way. You’re an ogre and I’m a fae, and that’s what it is.”
I took a deep breath. I had a feeling where this was all headed but I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’d drunk too much for the second night in a row and I didn’t want to say anything, for fear of saying something wrong.
My phone beeped and Annie leaned back to snatch it off the end table. “What do you know, your battery’s done charging,” she said in a dry, sarcastic tone. She smirked at me and began flipping through the menus. Then she let out a deep, sad sounding sigh.
“What is it?” I said.
She held up the phone, displaying Flick’s caller ID. “Flick was the last person you called,” she said. “That must have been right before he was killed.”
“No,” I said thoughtfully. “That was after. When I got to the docks, I didn’t find him. I called his phone, and… well, that’s how I found him.”
She gazed at me sadly, half-drunk from the wine and all kinds of beautiful. “You were probably the last person he talked to,” she said.
I nodded. “He called me right before he died. It must have been just minutes before-”
She put her finger to my lips. “Shh,” she whispered. Being slightly buzzed from drinking, she held her finger there a little longer than she should have. Between that, and the alcohol, it was all over. Her eyes lid shut and she fell across my lap, sound asleep.
I chuckled, running my hand through her hair. My phone slid out of her grip and dropped to the floor. I reached over and picked it up, staring at the screen. I was the last person to call Flick, I thought. The last person he talked to…
“Or was I?” I said aloud. I sat upright.
“Flick called me right before he died,” I mused out loud, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean I was the last person he called. What if he called someone else?”
Annie mumbled something in her sleep. I stared down at her, lost deep in thought. The killer had known Flick would be at the docks. How had he known? Maybe -just maybe- Flick had called him. I lifted Annie’s limp body, and draped her across the couch. I covered her with a blanket.
“Sorry about this,” I said. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
I raced over to the counter and dialed up Nya on the landline. “Hello?” she said.
“Nya, it’s Hank!”
“Hank, it’s good to hear from you! How are you doing?”
“Fine. Nya, do you still have Flick’s cell phone? It was in the stuff I brought from the police department.”
I heard shuffling in the background. “Yes, it’s here. It looks like it’s dead though.”
“Charge it up. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Hank, what’s this about?”
“I can’t explain now. I’m just chasing down a lead, that’s all.”
Half an hour later, I was on her front porch. Nya opened the door, holding Flick’s phone in her hand. “It’s charged,” she said. “Just like you asked. What’s this about?”
“Scroll through the listed calls,” I said. Give me the last few numbers.”
“707-2343?”
“Yeah,” I said, “that one’s me. Are there any more?”
“Yes, there’s one more after that.” She clicked the number and entered the caller ID screen. Her eyes widened. “707-2222? I don’t know that number. Do you know who that is?”
“It’s not mine,” I said grimly. “Can I borrow that phone for a while? I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.”
“Of course.” She handed it to me. “What does this mean, Hank?”
“I think I know who the killer is. I’ll explain everything as soon as I can.”
Two hours later, I found myself back at the docks, staring at the hole in the ground where the boulder used to be… the exact location where Flick had died. The tow truck had taken the entire boulder with the sword still intact, and all that remained was that hole, half-filled with polluted black water. It looked like a scrying mirror.
The acidic smell around the lake had subsided a bit, and it was almost tolerable to breathe. A fine mist hovered over the surface of the water, casting a haze in the distance. I leaned up against one of the rocks and stared out across the water, watching the city lights dancing through the mist, beyond the north end of the lake. It wasn’t a bad view. The Hallows wasn’t such a bad place if you could overlook the crime and pollution.
“Hank?” a familiar voice said.
I turned, and saw Pol Wurzt, the owner of The Sentinel standing by the edge of the road. I motioned for him to come down. I waited there, unmoving, watching the lights glimmer across the water. The dark hole next to me beckoned like an abyss that might swallow me whole.
“What’s this all about?” Pol said as he stomped across the rocky beach. He stopped a few yards away and glared at me. “Why did you call me down here in the middle of the night? I’ve got a business to run, you know.”
“I just wanted to talk,” I said.
He snorted and rolled his eyes heavenward. “Steward, I like you, but this is one step beyond. I’ve already told you everything I know about Flick.”
“Is that so?” I said, staring at him.
A dark look came over him and I saw his hands twitching nervously at his sides. “Are you trying to accuse me of something, Mossberg? Just what’s your point?”
I shrugged. “I just have a few questions, that’s all.” I checked my watch. It was midnight. Right about the time Flick had been murdered.
“So ask,” Pol said impatiently. “Get on with it.”
“Why did Flick want to meet you here? What was it about?” I said. I watched his reaction carefully. I saw surprise in his eyes, edged with panic. He quickly recovered, and a look of serenity washed over his features.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. In fact, you just confirmed it. Flick called you the night he was murdered and he asked you to meet him here. Why?”
Pol’s hands strayed into his pockets as he lifted his gaze to look beyond me, at the waves dancing across the shore. “I was afraid you might find out,” he said. “That’s why I put you on the trail of those weapons.”
“You knew about the mayor and Detective Malone?”
“I didn’t know about Malone, but Flick had already told me about the mayor’s little operation. I suspected the mayor had some inside help.”
“Why didn’t you do something then?” I said.
Pol threw back his head and laughed. “I did do something, don’t you get it? I told Flick he was wasting his time; that no one cared about a few replicas. I told him to drop the whole thing.”
“That’s why he accepted the mayor’s bribe then,” I said. “You refused to help him expose the mayor.”
“I suppose. You don’t stay in business long in the undercity if you start making enemies out of politicians.”
“So why did you kill Flick? What did he do to deserve that?”
I expected him to hesitate, but he didn’t. Pol sighed and said, “He didn’t give me much choice, threat
ening me the way he did. I did what I had to. Don’t you see that, Steward? I built that newspaper. I made it into what it is today. I couldn’t just let him destroy everything I’d worked so hard for!”
“The newspaper?” I said quietly. What did it have to do with the newspaper?
“When I heard that you had arrested the mayor, I thought I might be in the clear,” he continued. “Why couldn’t you just leave it at that? Why’d you have to keep digging, Steward?”
I took a step towards him, and Pol flinched nervously. He jerked his hands out of his pockets and pulled out a large, mean-looking revolver. He leveled it straight at my chest. The hairs rose up on the back of my neck as I watched his index finger slide across the trigger.
It was no mistake that Pol had come armed with a gun. A wand wouldn’t have worked and he knew it. It took something mundane to kill me, something like a forty-four magnum loaded with hollow-points. One shot from that gun would be the end of me. I’d have a soccer-ball sized hole right through my chest.
“Relax,” I said in a calm voice. “Calm down. I can’t prove anything… you’re still safe.”
A light rain began to fall and I jammed my fists into my pockets. I felt the frame of my forty-five pressed up against my back, calling out to me, but I knew I couldn’t reach it before he could pull the trigger and blow me in half.
Pol licked his lips nervously. “How’d you know?” he said.
“I didn’t know it for sure until just now,” I said. “It was your reaction that told me I was right. But if you really want to know, it was Flick’s cell phone that gave you away.”
“How’s that?” he said, a perplexed look on his face.
“On the night he died, Flick called me. That was how I found him. I was the last person he talked to before he was murdered, or so I thought. Then I realized that Flick’s killer had known he would be here, that he must have planned a meeting. On a hunch, I checked the memory in his cell phone and learned that I wasn’t the last person he talked to. It was you, Pol.”
Death in the Hallows (Hank Mossberg, Private Ogre Book 2) Page 16