Ex-Cape | Book 2 | Ex-Cape From A Small Town

by Wentzel, Daniel

  She watched him carefully as he took in the scene and absorbed the ramifications of it. He took command a breath later, but Molly noticed how the responsibility made his face look much like it had when he’d been lifting the weight of the stage.

  He grabbed the radio at his shoulder. “Detective Cedar to all bands. Stomper is down. I need multiple paramedics to Matt Nelson’s dressing room trailer. Armed suspect, please approach with caution.” He locked eyes with The Aerialist. “Young man, I’m going to ask you to hand me the rifle now.”

  Molly could see The Aerialist swallow before he answered nervously. “I didn’t shoot Nelson. I shot the big guy, but he grabbed the gun. I only winged him.”

  “Okay,” said Sean, sounding reasonable. “But I’m a policeman, and you’re still holding a gun. I’m asking you to give me the gun, or at least put it down.”

  There was a moment of hesitation, interrupted by Damselfly’s gasp. “Hunter!” She cried. “Wake up! Stay with me.”

  Molly didn’t hesitate, she rushed to the girl’s side. Her training took over immediately. “I think he’s in shock.” She shucked off her jacket and laid it over his legs. “We need to keep him warm.”

  “He’s not breathing.” Damselfly’s voice was a sob.

  “Molly?” It was The Hospitaller at the door. His breath came in pants, but he sounded hale enough.

  “Sir, step away, please.” Sean never let his eyes leave The Aerialist.

  “He’s a doctor, Sean. We need him over here.”

  Sean nodded, keeping his own body between The Hospitaller and The Aerialist the whole time as Wulfric plodded over to Hunter. He rested his hands on the officer and there was a brief flash of light. Hunter moaned, and the pallid color of his skin became a healthier shade.

  Molly smiled and squeezed Wulfric’s hand in thanks. She looked over at Damselfly. “He’ll be okay. He’s coming around.”

  Fathi slowly extricated himself from the wall. Wulfric went to help him as well.

  “Sir,” Sean’s voice was firm without being harsh. “There’s going to be a lot of cops and EMT’s here any second. You really need to give me that gun.”

  The Aerialist slung the weapon over his shoulder. “No. I…” His voice became deeper, more controlled. “… I’m sorry, officer, but I can’t let you have this gun.”

  “And I can’t let you stand around the scene of a murder with that rifle. I think you know that.” Sean had lowered his pistol, but he hadn’t holstered it. He took one small step forward, and everyone could see The Aerialist tensing for a fight.

  For a man who could cover miles between the ticks of a second, Hustle had horrible timing.

  He appeared at the doorway with his usual gust of wind. “Is everybody okay?”

  Sean turned, eyes flashing furiously. The Aerialist took advantage and bolted for the door, pushing Hustle out of his way.

  “Stop him!” Sean cried uselessly. Hustle might have been able to do just that if he had been motivated to obey Sean or if he could fly, but The Aerialist was soon out of Hustle’s reach.

  Sean followed in his wake an instant later. His gun was pointed up in the sky, but he decided against taking a shot. He also decided not to take a swing at Hustle, but that choice was a closer call.

  Molly had followed Sean out of some perverse need to keep him and Hustle from coming to blows. She watched from the doorway as The Aerialist flew away into the dark night sky. In the moonlight she was fairly certain she saw him land on a building a few blocks away. Possibly, just possibly, she thought there might have been another figure waiting for him on the rooftop.

  For once, Sean didn’t bother holding his temper in check. He bellowed a series of curses with a volume which did the size of his lungs full service. He turned his back contemptuously on Hustle and checked his string of curses when he caught sight of Molly. She scurried out of his way as he reentered the room. In five long strides, he was next to the corpse, perfunctorily checking for vital signs he knew would not be there.

  “Holy crap, is that Matt Nelson?”

  Sean made a disgusted sound in his throat then fixed Hustle with a cold glare. “There are over a dozen comments that come to mind about the comparative speed of your feet and your brain. Get out of here before you contaminate my crime scene any more.” He looked up at the group in general. “Did anybody see what happened?”

  When he was met by deafening silence, Sean grimaced and tried again.

  “Does anybody want to confess to shooting Matt Nelson?”

  Hustle locked eyes with Damselfly. It did not go unnoticed.

  “Something to say, miss?” Sean asked.

  Damselfly’s mask did little to hide her facial expression. Her emotional state was somewhere between horror, defiance, and guilt. She opened her mouth to say something, when Hustle made things much, much worse. He became a blur of movement, and suddenly Damselfly was gone, carried away at incredible speeds before she could utter a sound.

  Sean was utterly frozen with impotent rage for a moment. Molly was worried he was about to have a stroke. It was probably for the best that several other police officers appeared at that exact moment, guns drawn.

  “Where’s the shooter, Cedar?” asked a state trooper Molly didn’t recognize.

  “Bring them all in for questioning,” Sean said softly, “and put out an APB for Hustle, Damselfly, and The Aerialist. They should be arrested on sight for leaving the scene of a crime.”

  “Is anybody under arrest?”

  “Just get the EMT’s in here for Officer Baxter, Stomper and…” he looked questioningly at Fathi, who simply cradled his jaw.

  “Fathi Faizan,” said The Hospitaller for him. Molly hadn’t realized the man’s identity was public knowledge, but she knew Wulfric had.

  “And a cape, evidently.” Sean couldn’t quite keep the irritation out of his voice. “Do you need medical attention, sir?”

  Fathi and Wulfric locked eyes. For some reason, their healing powers never worked on each other. “I think that would be for the best,” Wulfric replied.

  “Sir,” one of the other troopers began, looking at The Hospitaller, “I’m going to need you to hand over the shield and the… club?” The young man was evidently not a student of medieval armaments, but The Hospitaller handed over his mace with an understanding smile.

  Suddenly, two other police officers were next to Molly. “Can you come with us, please, miss?”

  “She’s a witness only,” Sean supplied. “She wasn’t on the scene until after shots were fired. Same for The Hospitaller, but we’ll need statements from both of them. Tim, can you take charge of those two, please?”

  “On it.” Tim was next to Molly from out of nowhere. He gestured to Molly to precede him out of the trailer, and she was grateful for the familiar face. Wulfric and Fathi exchanged glances, and soon the big knight followed Molly out the door. She had just registered the frigid blast of wind that hit her square in the face when she heard a voice calling her name from beyond the cordon of police and rescue workers.

  “I’m okay, Heather.” She waved at her friend. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  Heather looked worried but gave her the high sign. An instant later, an EMT was beside Molly’s friend, asking her something about the limp she was exhibiting.

  “Why does Sean look so mad?” Tim said, leaning close so as not to be overheard.

  “Three people left the scene of the crime.”

  Tim nodded in sympathy.

  “Are we heading to the station?”

  Tim nodded. “Yes, Miss Martin.”

  “Is it ok if I make a couple of phone calls on the way?” Molly pulled out her cell phone.

  Tim looked skeptical. “We’d really prefer if you’d give your statement before you talk to the press.”

  Molly laughed. “No press, I promise. I need to call my mother and let her know I’m all right.”

  “And the other call?”

  “You’re taking me down to the police st
ation to answer questions, Tim. Who do you think I’m calling?”

  ✽✽✽

  It took Sandra forty-five minutes to get to the police station. Molly could never get across the same distance in less than an hour and a quarter.

  “I hope it’s all right that I called you. You said once I should never let the police question me without a lawyer.”

  Sandra flashed a perfectly capped smile. “You were right to call me. There are a couple of things we need to talk about, though. First, there’s the matter of my bill.”

  Molly blanched.

  “No, it’s a good thing. I called her, and Venusia said today’s on her tabl.”

  Someday, Molly planned to win a multimillion-dollar lottery. When she did, she would have approximately one tenth of one percent of the finances her friend Venusia had at her disposal. It was hardly a surprise. Venusia’s source of wealth was intergalactic.

  “I won’t lie. That’s a relief. You’re worth your salary, whatever it is, but I wasn’t sure if I could afford it.”

  “Glad that’s settled. And now for the other thing.” She turned back toward the door of the room, and a man walked in.

  Erasmus Tolliver was just under six feet tall and looked like a secret service agent, only crankier. Molly had stared down psychopaths, hired killers, and giant spider aliens. Erasmus made her nervous.

  “Hello, Ms. Martin. The black isn’t your usual.”

  Molly was fairly certain Erasmus didn’t care about what she was wearing. She hated the elaborate codes her VAA handler used to confirm his own identity and hers.

  “Don’t read too much into it. I dressed in the dark this morning,” she said by way of a countersign.

  Erasmus nodded, not at Molly, but at Sandra. Molly’s lawyer smiled blandly and turned to her client. “Agent Tolliver and I have been seeing each other, socially.”

  Molly blanked out for a few seconds. “What?”

  It didn’t sound any more real the second time Sandra said it.

  “I… didn’t know…”

  “That he was human?” Sandra grinned and put an affectionate hand on his shoulder. “It took me a little while too. A couple more VAA cases came up, so I called Erasmus for consultation.” Her tone became more businesslike. “In any case, I don’t anticipate any conflicts will arise because of this, but we needed you to be aware. If you need another lawyer, I can, of course, step aside.”

  Molly gave the matter about fifteen seconds worth of thought. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with her lawyer and her VAA handler seeing each other, but she couldn’t rightly say how much of that was just the ick factor. Besides, getting a new lawyer would delay things even more, and she felt like she’d kept the police waiting long enough.

  “No, don’t be silly,” she said with a smile.

  Sandra turned to Erasmus. “I told you. You owe me coffee.”

  The agent nodded, not smiling, but coming closer than Molly had ever seen. “All right then. Ms. Martin, I’ll need a statement from you regarding your involvement. Your counsel of course is welcome to be present. I should warn you, however, that the terms of the VAA do not allow you the option of pleading the Fifth in this matter.”

  “Technically, you still have the option,” Sandra corrected. “However, if you choose the Fifth Amendment, the government can withdraw your status. That includes your immunity from prosecution and the protection of your secret identity.”

  “And my house.” Molly said with a grimace.

  Erasmus nodded brusquely. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

  “I’m not sure it would stand up to a thorough constitutional battle.” Sandra sounded like she’d rather like to make that challenge herself. “But by the time it was all settled, you’d be living in abject poverty, and your secret identity would be out. So as your lawyer, I’d say answer the man.”

  Erasmus pulled a laptop out of his briefcase and hooked it up to a microphone that he pointed at Molly. “I agree, for what it’s worth. Tell me what happened.”

  Molly had dreaded this part from the moment she’d come into the station. She wasn’t certain that her actions at the debate had been fully in compliance with her standing with the VAA. She was about to find out.

  She began with finding her mother, since that would explain some of her later actions at the event. Erasmus listened attentively as she continued, occasionally making notes in his laptop. He asked some clarifying questions in a calm, neutral tone which put Molly’s teeth on edge. No matter what, though, Molly stuck strictly to the truth.

  When she had finished, he said nothing. He said nothing for way too long, just kept typing at his computer as though he were the only one in the room.

  “So?” she asked. “Where do we go from here?”

  He looked up at her. “Nothing has changed in your status with the VAA, Ms. Martin. There are provisions for providing humanitarian assistance, which is really all you can be accused of doing. You didn’t attempt to apprehend or disable Mr. Church at any time. Using your power in public like you did might come back to bite you as far as your identity is concerned. However, since that isn’t my agency’s fault, it’s also not my problem.”

  He pushed a few more buttons on his computer. “There was one moment I should probably mention. When Mr. Church pursued Mr. Nelson into the trailer, and you followed, that was ill-advised. It doesn’t appear that Detective Cedar actually ordered you not to pursue, but that was a technicality. It is also a technicality that once you arrived, the combat had already completed, so whether or not you intended to intervene, you were not able to. Keep in mind that I deal almost exclusively with technicalities, but, from my perspective, the only conclusion I can come to is that you got very, very lucky.”

  The silence which followed was sobering for everyone involved. Sandra broke it.

  “Molly, I also have a concern. Are you and Detective Cedar an item?”

  She couldn’t exactly say it was irrelevant. “We recently had an argument, but up until then, yes.”

  “I recall mentioning that was a horrible idea.”

  “Sean and I didn’t start dating until after I was cleared of any charges.” That was another technicality, but still true.

  Sandra frowned but didn’t seem to want to press the point given her own dating choices.

  “Very well then, shall I bring the police in?”

  “By all means,” replied Erasmus. He spun the computer around so Molly could look at the screen. She was facing her own words, or at least most of them. “It’s not a bad talk and type system. I was monitoring it for errors, and I believe I have removed everything which would reveal your secret identity. Why don’t you review this? If you’re happy with it, we can submit it to the police as your statement and save everyone some time.”

  Molly was impressed. That had been almost considerate of her handler. She imagined he was more sympathetic to law enforcement officers than he was to people like her.

  Sandra, meanwhile, had gone to the door and poked her head out. Sean and Tim came in. Sean looked overly caffeinated.

  “We’ll have a written statement for you just as soon as Molly finishes, and as soon as I look it over.” Sandra said as they all came in the room.

  “Thank you. I was there for most of it, but if Molly can let me know what happened before I got into the trailer, that would be helpful.”

  Molly gave up trying to divide her attention between the screen and the conversation. “I didn’t see much, Sean. I mean, Detective. I… What do I call you here?”

  “Sean is fine. It’s no secret that we know each other,” he replied patiently.

  “You were only about ten seconds behind me, and honestly, everybody was just in a tableau. Stomper was on the ground, Damselfly was tending to Officer Baxter, Fathi was plastered up against the wall, and The Aerialist was standing in the middle with a smoking gun. Oh, and Nelson was dead.”

  Sean nodded. “The Aerialist. When I got there, he was between Stomper and Nelson. He was fac
ing Stomper, meaning he was looking toward the door. That track with what you saw?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t see anybody tossing away a gun or making like they were trying to conceal something, I suppose?”

  Molly shook her head. “The only gun I saw was The Aerialist’s.”

  “Which was definitely not the murder weapon.”

  Molly’s eyebrows went up. Sean studied her for a second. “For all your time as a cape, I’m guessing guns weren’t a specialty of yours?”

  She shook her head. “Never used them. Every distance weapon the Defender Squad employed was a bit more exotic.”

  Sean nodded curtly. “Well, you don’t take two shots to the forehead with a big rifle like that. Or if you do, you don’t have a head left on your neck. The gun that killed Nelson was a smaller caliber weapon.”

  “So, who shot Matt Nelson?” asked Sandra.

  They all stared at her for a second.

  “Sorry,” she said finally, “I forgot that’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  “And that,” said Sean, “is becoming a problem. Damselfly and The Aerialist are gone. Officer Baxter and Stomper are comatose in the hospital. Mr. Faizan appears to have a fractured jaw and can’t talk. I’ve got a few men doing an interview with him using a computer he can type on, but he’s still awaiting treatment, so they keep getting interrupted. The most we know is that so far he claims not to know who shot Nelson.”

  Molly furrowed her brow. “Sean, are you running this investigation?”

  He nodded sullenly. “I was in charge of security. Officially, Kim says this is my mess, and I need to clean it up. Unofficially, I don’t think he wants to touch this one with a ten-foot pole. No matter what happens, he’s not going to look good to the brass or the Governor.”

  Lieutenant Soon Kim was Sean’s superior. Molly detested the little weasel.

  “So, what’s your next step?” she asked.

  “I need to talk to someone who was there when the shots were fired. Faizan seems to be useless, and I have no way of contacting The Aerialist or Damselfly.” He locked eyes with Molly, and his speech slowed. “On the other hand, I know somebody who can contact the man who carried Damselfly away from the scene of the crime.”