Helmut Saves the World

by Matt Sheehan

  “You understand it’s not just what I see. It’s the feelings that come along with it.”

  I nodded and gave him my best carry on look.

  “Usually I see places, people, memories. This is the first time someone saw me.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. Some guy at a desk. He turned and looked at me. When he saw me he got up and came at me. The whole time I felt like there was a weight on my chest. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. And then it was over and you were on the other side of the room twitching.”

  “Granted, all of this is weird, but...the Devil?”

  “Well, he had big bat wings. Or maybe he was surrounded by smoke and it just looked like wings, but that and the overwhelming terror I was feeling made me think of the Devil.”

  “Okay, fine, the Devil. But what does the Devil have to do with John’s lighter?”

  “How the hell should I know? You’re the detective. I do know that he quit smoking for her.”

  “The Devil?”

  Shamus just gave me a half frown and rolled his eyes. Sometimes it takes me a few moments to decode what Shamus is saying. Then the bulb lit up.

  “Oh, the girl in the picture. John quit for her?”

  “Yeah, it was his lighter. And he prefers Johnny. We should ask Alek why the Devil had his lighter.”

  That meant I should ask him, but it was a good point. Whoever Shamus had seen in the reading had obviously had contact with the lighter. I had no idea at the time how close to the truth Shamus actually was.

  Willie finally made an appearance and headed straight for his water bowl for an extended drink. He was probably thirsty after marking my tires. He sniffed the air, probably smelling the ozone, and gave a little growl in my direction.

  “Hey buddy. I’ve got your favorite breakfast.”

  Willie’s favorite breakfast is kibble and bacon with a splash of whiskey. According to Shamus, Willie can tell the difference between the good stuff from Eire and the domestic swill.

  After a third cup of Shamus’s leaded coffee, I felt it was time to get back to earning our retainer. Shamus drank a few cups as well, and I know for sure that at least one was fortified. Sometimes he’s a little sharper that way, but I crossed my fingers and put my plan into action.

  “What do you say about heading across town to our employer’s office for a chat? You can ask him all about the Devil if you want.”

  “You don’t need me for that. I’ll probably just get in the way. I should stay here and meditate on the situation.”

  In a drunken stupor curled up on the couch with the dog no doubt. “That’s fine. I’m gonna head by the precinct first to see if Officer Phoebe can dig up any background on Johnny or Alek. Do you have anything you think I should ask her?”

  “Are you sure you should go there without me? Sometimes you really make her angry.”

  All of a sudden Shamus was engaged and excited to help. Imagine that.

  “Actually, we’ve been getting along really well lately, but I guess it’s fine if you tag along.” A little mean, and completely untrue, but as usual he’d forced my hand.

  Willie seemed to feel the sea change, and he came over to stare at Shamus with his saddest face. Shamus gave him a quick pat on the head but didn’t notice his misery, being so excited about seeing brave and nubile Officer Phoebe. I may have smiled.

  Chapter Eight

  The ride over was uneventful. Shamus is quiet when he’s nervous, and he’s always nervous before visits to Officer Phoebe. The quiet was fine with me, because I had to actually think about the case and how to solve it. Unfortunately, we had nothing to go on. If Phoebe couldn’t dig up anything interesting from her sources, and Alek continued to withhold information, my only options would be either to try and trick Shamus into finding him in some mystical manner, or to wander blindly through the city of millions calling his name and hope he responded. Neither was a promising option.

  The precinct is a large cement rectangle in the downtown district, across from the courthouse. It’s surrounded by tall palm trees and well-manicured lawns and shrubs. Our tax dollars at work. The state flag with the coiled rattler flies above the Confederation’s blue-and-gold shield.

  Shamus and I are known here, so we were able to proceed to the back offices and cubicles where the detectives pass the time when they aren’t out detecting. There was a security mirror in the hallway, and I caught Shamus using it to adjust his wavy mop of brown hair. I’m not really sure how he decides it’s right, but he appeared satisfied when he was done.

  He has the kind of hair that old women think is fabulous. Probably because most of the men in their age range are thinning or bald, and Sha’s hair looks like it will stand the test of time. I think it is impractical to have hair that is long enough to be grabbed in a fight. I keep mine cut short, and the young women seem to like it just fine. Except for Phoebe.

  Officer Phoebe wasn’t at her desk, and after inquiring among her colleagues, we were informed she was in the kennels. She had worked with a canine partner ever since she made her last partner cry. I’m fuzzy about the details, but I know that no one else has wanted to work with her since. It turned out to be a godsend for everyone involved. Now the other detectives aren’t verbally abused, and the police force has the best-trained dogs on the West Coast. Phoebe not only got them to mind perfectly off leash, she also taught them a bunch of new tricks that worked wonders. Who knew that a criminal wouldn’t resist arrest as forcefully if a large dog’s mouth was attached to their groin?

  Out back in the field next to the kennels, we spotted her working with a strange-looking feline and a lifelike training mannequin. I wasn’t sure at the time if the animal was a large cat or a small tiger. I put my right hand on Sha’s shoulder to stop his forward movement and my left finger to my lips for quiet. I wanted to watch the show. Phoebe made a clicking sound with something in her hand and pointed to the dummy’s head.

  Now I’m fast, but the cat was on its face and clawing before I could blink. Another click and the cat was back on the ground and eating something out of Phoebe’s hand. My look of dread and Shamus’s look of awe would have made a priceless photograph.

  “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”

  “You think training wild animals to claw people’s eyes out is a good idea? I’m sure that won’t cause any public relations issues.”

  I got the I’m extremely disappointed in you stare, which I chose to ignore as we headed over to Phoebe and her attack cat. They both spotted us as we got closer, and I noticed the cat’s ears perk up and its tail begin to flick back and forth. I let Shamus take a three-step lead just in case the cat got twitchy.

  “Shamus, it’s so nice to see you. Did you see what I trained Bubba to do? He’s such a good boy.” She scratched Bubba on the head and did the same baby talk thing that Shamus does with Willie. “Aren’t you my good boy?” I swear Bubba was giving me the stink eye. Somehow Officer Phoebe hadn’t noticed me yet.

  “Hi, Officer Phoebe.”

  Shamus proceeded to pet the demon cat, and it purred and nuzzled his leg. “What a beautiful cat. What is it?”

  “It’s an Ifriquian serval. His owner abandoned him at the animal shelter because he thought Bubba was dangerous, but I’ve taught him to channel his aggression into fighting crime.”

  “Hi, Officer Phoebe.”

  “Oh, hi, Helmut.”

  She didn’t even look up at me. I’m sure she was afraid my rugged good looks would overwhelm her. Can’t blame the poor girl.

  “We were hoping you could pull a few strings and find out about a new client of ours.”

  “Same deal as always?”

  “Absolutely. A keg of stout from Shamus’s home brew.”

  Three things give her that twinkle in her eye as far as I�
��ve seen: Shamus, for some unknown reason, training her bloodthirsty animals and stout ale.

  Shamus piped up as he crouched down to scratch the cat’s head. “My latest is a little hoppier than usual, but I think you’ll like it.”

  “If you made it, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  It was a touching scene: two crazy kids and their homicidal jungle cat, eyes locked on each other’s and hands almost touching as they stroked Bubba’s mottled fur.

  Just then I noticed “Officer Perfect” striding toward us across the training field. Phoebe did too, and suddenly she stood up and the moment was over.

  The newcomer focused on me first. “Helmut Haase, long time no see.” His handshake was firm and lasted just the right amount of time. “Officer Perfect” is the nickname given to him sarcastically by his peers, though I think he takes it as a compliment. Legally known as Jim Quick, he stands at least a few inches taller than me and Phoebe with the frame and chiseled good looks of a Greek demigod. He’s also the youngest lieutenant in the city’s history. I hate him on general principles, but intellectually I have nothing against him.

  “I saw your little practice session with the wee beastie. I’m not sure of the practical applications, but it was darn good sport.”

  He made her blush. At that moment I realized that there were in fact four things that brought a twinkle to Phoebe’s eye.

  He continued, “While I have you here, Phoebe, I was wondering if you would accompany me to a banquet the city is throwing me this weekend. Apparently the D.A.’s sister was among the hostages in that little incident last week.” He smiled his big, perfect smile. “They want to give me the key to the city.”

  I had read about it in the paper. According to eye witnesses, Jim single-handedly rescued ten hostages and disabled four criminals without casualties or property damage. The lead perp actually apologized to Jim for causing any inconvenience.

  Phoebe seemed surprised by the proposal and turned quickly to Shamus, who was looking intently at his left shoe, and then back at the perfect grill of Jim Quick. “Sure, Jim, that sounds nice.”

  “Excellent. Oh, excuse my manners.” He turned and looked at Shamus. “Who is this young lad?”

  Shamus was forced to quit looking at his shoe. “It’s Shamus. We’ve met a few times before.”

  Genuine surprise showed on his face. “Oh, have we? Well, of course. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He crinkled up his nose. “Tell me chaps, does it smell like rain to you?”

  The smell he noticed was ozone. It was then I decided it was time to go, lest we have any lightning strikes. “Well, will you look at the time? It was really great seeing you two, but we have to run. I’ll leave the names on your desk, Phoebes.” I grabbed Shamus, and I could feel my arm hairs stand up as I dragged him back the way we came in.

  Jim, who obviously didn’t know when to shut up, said to our backs, “Always good seeing you, Helmut, and nice meeting you, Fergus.”

  I looked back to see Jim smiling and waving and Phoebe with her face in her hands. Once we got back inside and Phoebe was out of sight, I was able to quit dragging, and Shamus sullenly followed me through the precinct to Phoebe’s desk. I jotted down a quick note with personal and company names and left it on the desk under the bobcat skull she used as a paperweight.

  “You know you can’t just electrocute police officers, right?”

  “I wouldn’t have.” The look on his face didn’t necessarily sync with that answer, but I chose to take it at face value anyway.

  “It’s your fault you are in this predicament. You two have been dancing around each other for the past year. You could have asked her out anytime and she would have said yes. Anyway, you know it won’t go anywhere with Jim.” That may or may not have been true, but he nodded his grudging agreement as we headed out the front door.

  When we got to the car, Shamus just walked on past. I noticed he was focused on a bird on a lamppost down the street. Don’t ask me what kind of bird; I certainly can’t tell the difference. It was black. It squawked a few times and flew south, and we followed on foot.

  Chapter Nine

  I realized quickly we were back on the case. When Shamus is angry, he really seems to be able to focus his abilities. And he was angry enough to power a city block after seeing Jim and Phoebe together. Now the bird thing is a mystery to me. Does he control the bird, or do birds just like to help out pale Eirish blokes? I don’t ask.

  We followed the bird down Fourth Street and then turned right on Forty-Seventh Avenue. It would fly ahead of us and either circle in the air until we caught up or land on something and wait for us. It was a nice warm day, and I found myself taking in the scenery, the young and shapely kind, while occasionally making sure Shamus didn’t walk into a pole or fall down an open manhole.

  We caught up to the bird when it was sitting on a tree branch on Tenth Street, and Shamus and it stared at each other for a while. A few more birds landed on the branch and made chirping sounds at each other and pooped. It meant nothing to me, but suddenly Shamus perked up.

  “Buddy, we need a car.”

  “I have a car. It’s a thirty-minute walk away. We could have brought it in the first place.”

  “Fine, next time you follow the bird and I’ll get the car.”

  He had a good point. Luckily there was a taxi stand at the hotel across the street, and we headed over.

  The cabbie must have been having a slow day, because he brightened up as we approached his window.

  “Where to today, gentlemen?”

  I pointed up at our black-feathered friend. “Follow that bird.”

  All the good cheer drained from his face, with only a blank stare remaining.

  “I’m actually serious. I’ll give you fifty in advance. If it turns out to be a short ride, keep the change. If it’s a long ride I’ll give you fifty more.”

  I produced the fifty and his good-natured smile returned.

  “I’ve never followed a bird before. I’ve always wanted to follow something. I assumed it would be another cab.”

  We got in, me in back and Shamus in front, and as soon as the engine started the bird took wing and the cabbie followed.

  “So, are you bird watchers or something like that?”

  I could have spun a yarn, but why when the truth is so much more interesting? “We’re actually detectives and the bird over there is leading us to our perp.” He turned back to stare at me for a split second and I could see the smile was gone and the blank stare was back. “Shamus here talks to birds...without actually talking to them. Telepathy perhaps.” I didn’t offer any more, and he didn’t ask any more questions.

  Regardless of his feelings about us, the cabbie did his job well. We passed through downtown and into midtown without losing our only lead. The bird led us into the part of town where the locals allow only mom-and-pop-style establishments, and the twenty-somethings don’t shave or wear bras. Fifteen minutes after we got into the cab, the bird landed on a tree in front of an organic coffee shop. The fare was less than twenty-five bucks, and I didn’t have to tell the cabbie to keep the change. He sped off quickly the second we were out the door.

  “All right Shamus, why are we at this pretentious hippie hangout?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to change the world, Helmut. Anyway, I think our guy is in there. Or at least his girl.”

  “Great. Should we thank the bird? Give him some seed or something?”

  He just glared at me. We walked in the front door and a little bell jingled, announcing us to the patrons and staff. All eyes focused on me, and I realized that I was way out of place. We were in the type of establishment that caters to entitled twenty-somethings who rail against the injustices of free-market society while collecting off their trust funds. I probably looked like a lawyer or banker to them. And
if I started asking questions, I would start to look like a cop. Shamus, on the other hand, blended in a bit better. He’s desperately in need of a haircut, a razor and a new wardrobe.

  I made an executive decision and hoped that Shamus would figure out what I was doing. I knew I had no chance of getting any useful information out of these deadbeats, and I didn’t want them to know that Shamus was with me. As rudely as possible I shouldered past Shamus and walked around the line of customers to the front register. The cashier was too young even for my taste, with spiky hair and lots of black gunk around her eyes. Her shirt read Eat Vegan.

  “Hey babe, I need some change for the meter.” I slammed my money onto the counter for added effect.

  She looked up at me with an annoyed expression. “We make change for customers only, and if you want something you need to get to the back of the line.” Her cheeks were flushed, and she was glaring daggers at me. Maybe she wasn’t too young.

  Now if I had really wanted change I could have gotten it, a free cup of coffee and her digits in less than two minutes. I have to work hard to make women not like me. They usually even find my rudeness charming. In this instance I had a job to do, so I cursed loudly and headed for the door. On the way out I threatened one of the guys in line who dared to make eye contact with me. If the Hindus are right and there is reincarnation, I was probably a famous actor in my last life. Or maybe I’m destined to be one in the next. How the hell would I know?

  I winked at Shamus on the way out and he gave me the stink eye. He, however, wasn’t acting. He now knew he was stuck doing the detective work.

  Chapter Ten

  I walked down the street and found a bench and took in the scenery for a bit. There weren’t any hot Betties out, and I soon found myself yawning and wishing for a cup of coffee. I knew I could have charmed a free cup out of eyeliner and was regretting not having done so. I also knew Shamus would get a scone with his coffee. If he had the newspaper it could be half an hour before he even remembered he was working.