Jury of Peers

by Troy L Brodsky

  “Sure, lots.”

  “Starbucks awaits.”

  “Good, this shit is awful,” Andy held up the Styrofoam cup to the window as if he could peer through it. “Building fell in on Bertha, remember her? Hung out with Spencer when he was workin’ down here. “‘Member? Well,” the kid wiped his mouth, "she got pregnant, and was living up on the third floor of the OS, the Old Shelter, you know. The whole thing just rotted out and dropped her into the basement. She’s still there I guess.” The fact that they were all probably smelling Bertha right now was troubling, but no one mentioned the connection.

  Tonic found the Starbucks and pulled through.

  “Double Ristretto venti nonfat organic chocolate brownie Frappuccino. Extra hot with foam and whipped cream. Upside down and double blended,” Andy said with the practiced ease of someone who had been dreaming of the words for some time.

  “Jesus Christ,” Finn smiled.

  Tonic refused to repeat the order and instead rolled down the back window and pulled forward so that Andy could repeat himself. He did so, adding, “With cinnamon please.”

  Andy watched the drive–thru window like a dog at the dinner table until the drink arrived. Again, they got back on the road and let him enjoy the smell in silence for several minutes before anyone spoke.

  “Thanks,” he said finally.

  “You’re welcome, I hope you’re good for it.”

  “Well I don’t wanna to disappoint you,” Andy said. "But there’s not much else goin’ on. A couple of Widmore guys got run over today, nothin’ too big ‘bout that.” He sipped the coffee.

  “Payback?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Things are way tense. SMG knows they didn’t do shit, but they’re getting the shakedowns. Business is way down. Widmore’s is up. Vesper’s a smart dude.

  “Who killed ‘em?”

  “Nah, they aren't dead, least I don't think so. Who knows? Sounds like some big guns are posting up though.”

  “Why’s that?” Tonic asked. The snow was heavier now, the last hour of afternoon sun gone. It was time to get Andy somewhere for the evening. Bertha’s scent had overpowered even the high–octane coffee with all of its cinnamon goodness.

  “Ollie, the dude you tried to squib at the hole, he lives up in Widmore’s hood. He said someone told him it was a big ol’ mob whip. Soprano style dude, seriously.”

  Tonic stopped the car mid–street, “What kinda ride was it?”

  “Dunno, big black fucker Ollie said. Dark windows. The whole deal. Fucked those guys up good.”

  “Where?” Finn asked and then snatched the coffee out of Andy’s hand. “Where?”

  “Easy man, easy. ‘Bout a block inside Widmore, to the south. Why?” he looked between the two detectives. His eyes narrowed. “What?”

  Tonic spun the car around, fishtailing up against a curb on the newly slick streets, and said, “We’re dropping you at the mission, you good with that?”

  “Sure man, but they won’t have any room left,” he gestured for Finn to give his coffee back. “Cold like this, not gonna be a spot for me.”

  “They’ll make room. Now, tell us about the car again.”

  Andy told them again, neither adding nor subtracting. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Where’d the car go?” Tonic asked. He was blowing stop signs, rapidly chewing up the distance they’d put between Andy and his neighborhood. Ray looked mortified, his knuckles literally white as he clutched the dash.

  Andy, on the other hand, sat unbelted, sipping his Venti double whatever as if the aircraft were experiencing minor turbulence. “Ollie said it mashed ‘em and then just took off up the street.”

  Finn was already on the telephone with Hop trying to find out if there’d been any report of the incident – probably not, but it was possible. Someone had to scrape them off of the street eventually if it was for real.

  They pulled up in front of the Mission. Morrell Street Mission was cut from the cloth of city shelters all over the country: It was over–crowded and under–staffed. The building stood alone in a dirt lot about fifteen blocks from Andy’s neighborhood. It had been an old YMCA, and Andy had spent his fair share of time there when he was in rehab. Those days seemed very long ago indeed.

  Finn handed him two more bags of food, half a carton of cigarettes, and a couple of bills that Ray couldn’t quite see. The kid asked politely if he could keep the blanket, and didn’t seem overly worried about walking up to the door of the mission wearing it. Finn went with him. The two walked up the long sidewalk through the wind and snow, and disappeared inside.

  Tonic was the first to speak, "You alright Ray?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t bullshit a bull shitter.”

  “Just surprised me is all.”

  “That he seemed so normal?” Tonic turned on his seat, leaving a hand draped over the wheel. He adjusted the heat. "Shitty world, eh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Andy was a computer nerd too I think, that or a word fetcher like you, dunno. He’s always been a little fuzzy on it, I wonder if he really remembers. Went to college though. Got hooked up with some bad shit, fried him for a couple of months, and rehab looked bad on his resume. Wheels within wheels,” Tonic watched Ray. “Now he’s here tradin’ head for rocks. It’s a different world man, this is the real shit, right here.” He pointed past Ray, and they both looked up at Morrell Street Mission. "Right there.”

  They were quiet for a bit, content to let the wind carry on the conversation.

  Ray asked, “How long have you known?”

  “’Bout you workin’ from the inside?”

  Ray nodded.

  “Awhile. We knew someone was, and it’s not like it’s never happened before. To your credit, it took us some time to narrow it down. Your buddy Hack kinda put the nails in your coffin though. We figured he'd bite on the terrorist watch list thing. He called all around checking on that… and, well, some of his people kind of work for us on the side.”

  Ray winced, peering through one eye, "And thus the reason for this tour?”

  “Partially.”

  “Think you could drop me back at the department,” Ray asked.

  “What, as opposed to dumping you back in that manhole?” Tonic grinned.

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Nope,” Tonic kept smiling, which was unnerving. “Our original plan was more along that line, but the problem is that you’re not such a bad guy. You’re not a cop, so you don’t know what a pain in the ass guys like you can be, but at the same time, you’ve handled our learning curve pretty well.”

  “Why the chance?” Ray asked after a minute of wind.

  “You did just a little under a year of law school, and then cashed it in and moved on to journalism. Why?”

  Ray didn’t have to consider it long, this was a conversation that he’d had with his wife many times. “There’s a basic conflict with the whole law thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  Snow collected on the windows only to be swept clean by a new gust. "Well, to make a difference you have to believe in what you’re doing, but to make money you have to forget what you believe. So I quit. I got out. I went back to school, had double twins, and realized that I didn’t have the luxury of quitting again. So here I am.”

  “Which is why we didn’t just dump your ass out in Widmore with instructions to catch a cab.”

  Ray shook his head, “I don’t get it.”

  “Think about it, we’ve got time. Finny’s gonna have to shit a brick to get them to take Andy tonight."

  They listened to the car’s heater struggle for a few more minutes.

  “I’m useful.”

  “You got it,” Tonic leaned over and rubbed the fog from the window so he could watch up the sidewalk for his partner. “And we can trust you now.”

  “How?”

  “Because you have a chance to break out. If I were you Ray, I’d be fucking drooling over the chance to do this on your o
wn. It’s a huge goddam story now.”

  Ray’s eyes narrowed, "You didn’t tell anybody about this?”

  Tonic smiled in reply.

  Things were clicking into place. The shock of the evening was wearing off, and his thoughts were beginning to fall into order once again. He was useful to them, especially if he used this chance to make a name for himself. These two could use him just as Irving Hack had used him… on the inside.

  Tonic watched him think it all through. “Welcome to D.C.”

  “Miami’s sounding better all the time.”

  A laugh. “I’m sure, but then you wouldn’t have us. And Finny and I are going to feed you the straight poop on all of this shit until it’s done. Off the record. That wouldn’t be much if Meek showed up at the department tonight, but I think we both know that this ain’t gonna end without a mess of some kind.”

  A nod. "Yeah. So what do you want me to do?”

  “One, stop talking to Fucknuts over at the Standard. He’s a prick of the first magnitude, but you know that by now. He's been drawing a bead on Finny and me for awhile now, and that shit's got to stop.”

  “Done.”

  “Two, write your own material. You got yourself a reliable source right? So write it up and submit to the top,” Tonic handed him a torn bit of paper with an email ending with @washingtonpost.com.

  “To the Post?”

  “They’re hitting this hard and they'd hate to get scooped by Hack. It's happened before.”

  “And who’s this guy at the Post, your friend?” Ray asked.

  “We’re not overly friendly, no, but Finny and I have worked on some high end stuff. She owes us. She’s already called Finny stroking him for information.”

  “Thanks,” Ray couldn’t think of much more to say.

  “That was a nice stop by the way. I thought Andy knocked your fuckin’ head off for a second. Skinny bastard can really run.” Tonic’s eyes were bright and alive and Ray felt a relief that he didn’t quite understand.

  Ray gave in to the smile. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of stuff.”

  “First time I went into a building I fell through into the basement,” Tonic said. “Thing was, it was June. I kicked the door on this house all shit hot expecting a floor.” He grinned, and for as young as he seemed, Ray noticed for the first time the crow’s–feet that stretched away from his eyes. “I went right into the basement. Only thing that saved me from breakin’ my ass was that it was full of water. Not the good kind of water though. I was the new guy in the team so I just rolled in there trying to prove myself. I'd kicked lots of doors by that point, but those were all in a very dry place.”

  Ray was smiling. He knew just what Tonic was doing, but didn’t care – it felt good to have the day’s stench washed off. “What kind is the bad kind?”

  “The sewage kind. Put me in the hospital for two months. All kinds of bad bugs in that soup man, I just about said fuck it all and dipped out right there.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Finny,” he gestured toward the Mission with his chin. “I met him after I got out of the hospital and he took me out to work some cases. Got me back in the groove. Showed me that it could be fun. Rewarding I guess. By the way, he is gay, or did you figure that out already too?”

  Ray nodded, "I won't print anything."

  "Oh Finny doesn't give a shit. He's the toughest son of a bitch I've ever met, fucking made out of awesome."

  “He show you the Silly String thing?” Ray asked.

  “Nah, that one I learned in Sandland." he changed the subject and glanced at his watch. "So whatcha think about the ‘big black car?’”

  Finn was trotting back down the walk, phone to his ear.

  “Sounds like maybe Finn was right, but…” Ray ended the sentence with a disbelieving shake of his head.

  “No doubt. Talk about big balls eh? Jesus,” Tonic said.

  Finn pulled open Ray’s door, still talking on the phone, and jerked a thumb toward the back. Ray stumbled into the cold and pulled on the back door handle until Tonic unlocked it. Finn was saying, “Alright, thanks Hop. Yeah, I’ll tell him when I see him.” He hung up and pulled on his seatbelt. "Let’s go. And for Chrissakes roll down the windows, get Bertha’s big ass out of here.”

  Tonic flipped on the headlights and they pulled out.

  “Hop says that he’ll talk to you tomorrow about his telephone and chair,” Finn said.

  Ray sighed.

  “You can’t legally fire interns Ray,” Finn said. “You but you can legally beat them with rotary telephones.” He had a wide, friendly smile full of teeth that needed to be in toothpaste commercials. “I see that we’ve had our little talk?”

  “Thanks,” Ray repeated.

  “It’s not about thanks you little fucker. Ask Spencer, I just wanted to beat the shit out of you an leave you in the hole with Andy, but cooler heads prevailed.” He pulled his seatbelt on and continued, “You know who Irving Hack is right?"

  Ray straightened up and said, “Yeah.”

  “You're feeding that tool all kinds of inside shit right off of our desks.”

  “It won’t happen again,” Ray said.

  “Sure it will, absolutely it will,” Finn turned back. "You’re gonna give that wanker… branleur?" He looked at Tonic who nodded approval at his friend's new French. "You're going to feed him something delicious, something totally fucking false but oh so fucking delicious, just about the time that you submit your first piece to our pal at the Post. You’ll get shit for credit, but sometimes not being known is the best way to become known in this town. So, lesson learned?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, no more fucking around. Make this count. It’s a good deal, and it’s a huge shot at getting some serious floor time with high end operators in your business.” Finn looked back at the road. "Take a left here Spence. Faster.”

  “We’re going back in there tonight?” Ray asked. “Aren't they wolves by now?”

  “This isn’t dark yet,” Finn said. “Give it a couple of hours and it’ll be dark as the inside of a cat. We’ve got some time. Nice body check by the way.”

  “I don’t know how you guys survived so long.”

  “We keep an intern around for shit like this” Finn said. He went on, “Hop told me there was a report on the rundowns today and that they got a couple of units to take the ambulance down there and sponge those kids up. They both lived but neither one of 'em can talk yet. No mention of a car and I doubt that they’re gonna send a team down there to look for tracks.”

  “Time for a vote then,” Tonic said as he took the turn back onto Widmore street. "Who thinks this is our boy down here for a little payback?”

  “Aye,” said Finn.

  Tonic looked at Ray.

  “I get a vote?” Ray asked.

  “Three fifths.”

  Ray laughed, it took him by surprise. “Fuck you, my parents are from New Delhi.”

  “So what’s your vote?”

  “Yeah. It all fits I guess. It sure could be him,” Ray looked back at Finn. "I think you’re right.”

  “That’s three of us then,” Finn said. “And, of course, I’m right.”

  “You’re assuming that I think you’re right,” Tonic said.

  “But I am.”

  “Well evidently he didn’t go to the jungle. So did you tell Hop so we can get people lookin’ for this car?”

  “Notchet,” Finn said. “Ray, call the dealer back, check your messages, whatever. We need to know what kind of car we’re talking about. Besides, wouldn’t Meek be after SMG guys? Did he figure his way through the tag thing?”

  They discussed it as Ray checked his voicemail, concluding that Meek had been sharp enough to get this far without fucking up… and that he’d always been at least one step ahead.

  “Maybe he knows something else, has a source? I mean his dad was kind of a spook. We're going out there anyway, we oughta do it soon before his pop takes a flight to
Honduras or something, right?” Tonic offered.

  “Could be,” Finn was distracted. "The corner should be just down there Spence.”

  They slowed. The snow crossed through the headlights at a forty five degree angle, but they could still see the whole intersection – there was no hint that two kids had been run down here just a couple of hours ago.

  “It’s a BMW 760Li, black. Last year's,” Ray said, the phone still to his ear. "He didn't activate the GPS on purpose… and declined an offer of an active tracking system on the house."

  Everyone studied the scene, thinking, wondering.

  “So what should we do Ray?” Finn asked.

  “I guess call it in, get people looking for Meek. For murder right? Find that car?” Ray asked.

  “Spence?” Finn asked.

  “It sure sounds like he found those guys and lit 'em up Doesn't make sense though if Andy's right about them making it out alive. Car won’t have tags,” he added as an afterthought.

  “Agree. That’s my read too,” Finn sighed and sat back into his seat. “We’ll get a hard identification on the bangers that he pranged - they're both alive, Andy wasn't full of shit. Hop said that they’d push that up to the top of the heap because of the press this is getting. Maybe we can end this.”

  “End this part you mean. If it’s true, it’s only going to get more fucked up man.”

  “Yeah,” Finn rubbed his eyes with his palms. "If it was him, if he really got ‘em, it’s kinda poetic, ya know? I hate to piss in the fingerbowls but the little fucker sure has balls.”

  “No shit. Smart too eh? He ID’s ‘em, gets a big juicy ride, finds where they’re standing post, lures ‘em out. Bam. No reason to think he wouldn’t do it. I sure as hell would’ve.”

  None of them knew that they were just a little ahead of themselves.

  Chapter Twenty–Nine

  Incentive

  The headlights came on automatically, which gave Seth the impression that once again, the car knew something that he didn’t. Dusk was different here. In the shadow of the buildings, segregated from the little light there had been during the day, it was much more like midnight than six in the evening. The snow, though, was a blessing that he hadn’t expected.