Princes of Arkwright

by Trafford, Daniel

  “Rochelle, Newton’s in a talkative mood,” said a tall, good-looking detective, walking into the room.

  “He always is,” said Tucker, looking out the window at Wayne as two uniformed officers stuffed him into the back of a police cruiser.

  “Tuck!” said the good-looking detective. “Why are you in your pajamas?”

  “He lives here, dammit!” said Rochelle, imitating Tucker’s foot-stomping.

  “Will you all get out of here, please?” said Tucker. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be at the station soon.”

  He picked up his cell phone, which had been charging on his nightstand.

  “What the hell!” he said. “It’s only 5 a.m.!”

  “That’s why we called it ‘Operation Blue Dawn,’” said Rochelle, batting her eyes at Tucker.

  “Out!” he screamed.

  Rochelle was the last one out the door, closing it very slowly with her finger to her lips.

  “I will never live this down,” thought Tucker, as he got himself ready. “A meth lab operating, literally, under my nose, and I knew nothing about it.”

  Tucker dressed in his best black suit with a dark red tie that looked like it was made by a finger-painting kindergartner. He always chose this costume when he was feeling defensive. And he knew today the barbs would fly from every direction. Once dressed, he managed to slip downstairs without talking to anyone, but he took a deep breath as he stood on the front steps of the police station. He opened the door with unnecessary force, banging it against the wall to show his fellow cops he wasn’t in the mood for any ridicule.

  “Bromley,” said the desk sergeant, “the colonel wants …”

  “Bromley!” yelled the police chief from the end of the hall.

  “… to see me,” said Tucker, finishing the desk sergeant’s sentence for him.

  Tucker peeked around the wall at the police chief and said, “You wanted to see me, Colonel?”

  The chief said nothing, but just frowned at Tucker, staring at him hard.

  “You want me to sit down?” asked Tucker, walking into the room.

  A barely visible nod was the only answer Tucker received.

  “Sir,” said Tucker, taking a seat, “I just want to say that I had no …”

  “Shut up, Bromley,” said the chief quietly.

  “Yes, sir,” said Tucker.

  “I believe it was only last Friday afternoon that I told you I would horse-whip you if you did anything to embarrass this department,” said the chief.

  Tucker looked around, expecting to see a whip somewhere in the office.

  “I understand your apartment is just above an illegal meth lab,” he continued. “You are still a detective, aren’t you? Couldn’t you detect that?”

  “Sir,” said Tucker, speaking very quickly, so as not to be interrupted again. “I never saw anybody there but him. How was I to know?”

  “Didn’t you ever notice a smell?” asked the chief.

  “He was always cooking cabbage. Obviously, that was to cloak the smell of chemicals.”

  “What did you think he was doing with all those bottles of antifreeze in his recycling bin?”

  “I don’t know,” said Tucker, shrugging. “Drinking them?”

  The chief put his head in his hands.

  “Colonel, I wouldn’t have thought him capable of making an omelet, let alone methamphetamines.”

  “Bromley,” said the chief, putting his glasses on for the first time that Tucker had ever seen, “I need you to get your head in the game. There something on your mind? Is it that tomato I saw you with at the carnival?”

  “No, no,” said Tucker, putting his head down. “We’re just friends.”

  “Yeah sure,” said the chief. “I saw you two tripping the light fantastic outside the beer tent. I think it might be a good idea for you to take a couple of weeks off.”

  “Am I being suspended?” said Tucker, jerking his head up.

  “Not suspended,” said the chief. “I just think you should take your vacation time starting right now.”

  “Do I have to sir?”

  The chief looked up at the ceiling, as though there were cue cards there for him to read from. “According to the Policeman’s Bill of Rights,” he said, “I can’t force you to take a vacation.” His eyes then fell on Tucker. “But I would be very, very angry if you didn’t.”

  “All right,” said Tucker, getting out of the chair and heading for the door. “I guess I could use some time. And I promise when I come back I’ll be the best detective this department has ever seen.”

  “Dum da dum dum,” sang his cell phone.

  “Hello?” said Tucker into the phone as he walked out of the chief’s office.

  “What the hell did you say to my father last night?” asked Victoria.

  Tucker swallowed hard. He had expected Roland to keep their conversation private.

  “I, um, well, what did he tell you?” said Tucker.

  “A few minutes after you left, he came back with tears in his eyes. He said he was proud of me and was sorry he had been giving me a hard time all these years. You didn’t threaten him did you?”

  “No,” said Tucker, thinking back to the previous night to make sure he hadn’t.

  “Do you want to go to lunch, Tuck, or are you too busy today?”

  “As a matter of fact,” he said, “my schedule just cleared. How about the Palace at one o’clock?”

  “Sounds great,” she said. “I’ll see you there.”

  Tucker left the station, ignoring the comments of his fellow officers. His mood was usually dictated by the last conversation he had, so he was in better spirits than he would normally be after leaving the chief’s office. Nevertheless, his long walk down Station Street, coupled with the fact that he had nothing to do until 1 o’clock, gave him just enough time for his thoughts to wander back to the archangel. Now, more than ever, he longed to trade places with Uriel – always knowing what’s going on, able to perform miraculous feats. There must be a way.

  It was quarter to one when he arrived at the Palace. It was a small, white shack, surrounded by picnic tables. There was also a dining room in the back for the winter time, but Tucker had never set foot in it. He ordered a bowl of New England clam chowder and sat at one of the tables to watch the foot traffic. It was about five past one when Victoria joined him.

  “So what did you say my father?” asked Victoria before she had even sat down.

  “Didn’t he tell you?” said Tucker.

  “No,” she said. “I just assumed you talked to him. There wasn’t enough time for him to be visited by three ghosts.”

  “Well, I just told him that I thought you and Lenore were more important than his beliefs, and he should stop being so rough on you. That’s all.”

  “Wow,” said Victoria, looking off to the side. “No one has ever stood up for me like that before.”

  Tucker’s heart pounded as he listened to her.

  “Someone has a little crush on you,” she added, looking at Tucker’s clam chowder.”

  “Really?” said Tucker.

  “Yeah, Lenore can’t stop talking about you. Are you going to eat those oyster crackers?”

  Tucker’s heart sank and he tossed the bag to Victoria. “That’s … that’s cute.” He said.

  “Victoria,” he continued, “can I ask you a personal question?”

  The corners of her mouth fell.

  “Well, it depends on how personal, I guess.”

  “If baptizing your daughter is so important to your father, why not do it just to shut him up. I mean, if it doesn’t mean anything to you ...”

  “But it does mean something to me, Tuck.”

  She paused for a moment and Tucker could see her eyes welling up. In a moment, she scrunched up her eyes as though she had made a decision and said, “You know that peach tree in front of the church?”

  “Of course,” said Tuck, “I grab peaches off it every year.”

  “Everybody does,
” said Victoria, looking down at her oyster crackers.

  “Back in high school, I used to go into the rectory there to do a little housekeeping every week and make a few bucks. It was a fun place to be because there was always something going on — Scout meetings, Bible studies. All year, the ladies Guild would meet there and make items for the bazaar. And there’s nothing funnier than a roomful of old ladies. The pastor at the time, Father Bienvenue, always made time to talk to me and the other young people. The congregation really loved that about him.

  “Well, one day we took some peaches from that tree and brought them back to the rectory to eat. We were standing in the kitchen, talking and laughing. I took a bite out of a peach and I guess peach juice started dripping down my chin. I reached for a paper towel and the next thing I knew he was kissing me.”

  “Oh my God,” whispered Tuck.

  “I pushed him away and ran home crying. I never told my parents, and just made some excuse why I wasn’t working there anymore. I was embarrassed. I felt totally sick. That Sunday, when we went to church, Father Bienvenue gave a homily about forgiveness. He talked about how even though he was a priest, sometimes even he sinned and needed forgiveness. I was mortified. I felt like he was talking to me personally and that every person in the church was staring at me and judging me. I never set foot in that church again. My parents and I had a lot of fights about that,” she said quietly.

  “It took me a long time to understand that I didn’t do anything wrong. And that, Tuck, is the reason I never had Lenore baptized. I don’t want Lenore ever to have anything to do with the church. Ever.”

  Tucker sat in stunned silence for a moment before saying, “My God, that’s horrible. How come you never told your father about this?”

  “Because, Tuck, it would have been my fault. I would have been a slut, or my jeans would have been too tight, or I would have seduced him. My father is a fanatical Catholic. And with him, the Church always comes first.

  “Tuck, I’ve never told this to anyone — not even Aly — and I’m not sure why I just told you, but you have to promise me that you will never tell anyone about this.”

  “Of course not,” said Tucker, frowning. “I would never do that. But I can’t promise you I won’t go and punch that priest in the face.”

  “Thanks for having my back, Tuck. But you’d have to dig him up first. He died about three years ago.”

  “Let me guess: someone ran him over with a truck?”

  “Nope. Heart attack. Well, thanks for listening to me. I actually feel a little better just spilling about that after all these years. But you can understand why I want to shield Lenore.”

  “Speaking of which, I thought you were taking her to the doctor today,” said Tucker.

  “I was, but my father volunteered to do it. He said I could use some time for myself. Can you believe it? Actually, there are a few errands I should do that I’ve been putting off. Are you coming to Wallbangers tonight?”

  “I’ll be there,” said Tucker, leaving off his usual ‘maybe.’

  “Great,” she said, leaning over and kissing Tucker on the cheek. “I’ll see you then.”

  Victoria navigated her way through the tables and walked away down the street. Tucker sat watching her until he could no longer see her, letting his chowder get cold.

  11. ASMODEUS

  “Tucker Bromley — just the man I want to see,” said Victoria as the detective walked across the floor in Wallbangers that night. She had apparently been deep in conversation with Aly, who looked even more argumentative than usual tonight. There was no one else in the bar, which wasn’t unusual for a Monday. Even the angelic barstool was vacant for a change.

  “Oh no,” said Tucker, taking the stool next to the fiery redhead. “What did I do now?”

  “Nothing,” said Victoria, “I just want your opinion. You know that little porch on the back of my apartment?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Tucker.

  “Well, I was out there this afternoon watering flowers, and a couple of guys across the courtyard were watching me. And one of them yelled out, ‘Woah, baby, that’s a whole lotta ass!’ Now I took it as a compliment, but Aly is telling me it was an insult.”

  “No way,” said Tucker. “Definitely a compliment.”

  “How can you say that?” said Aly, slapping her hand down on the bar. “Do you know how self-conscious women are about their butts?”

  “Victoria,” said Tucker, “were these guys white?”

  “No, black.”

  “Well, that settles it,” he said. “Any doubts I may have had were just blown away. It was definitely intended as a compliment.”

  “All I know,” said Aly, “is that no man better ever say that to me.”

  “No man would ever dare,” said Tucker.

  Victoria laughed and asked, “Are you still drinking cranberry juice?”

  “No,” said Tucker, “I’ve been feeling pretty good lately. Give me a Killian’s.”

  “You want a glass?”

  “Nah,” he said. “So, how did Lenore make out at the doctor’s today?”

  “Poor kid,” said Victoria, “had to go through a battery of tests. I won’t know the results for a couple of days.”

  “Well, let’s keep our fingers crossed,” said Aly, taking a sip of chardonnay.

  “Tuck,” said Victoria, “you missed it. There was a guy in here earlier covered with tattoos. Even on his face.”

  “I think I’ve seen him before,” said Tucker. “Does he have a goatee?”

  “That’s the one,” said Victoria.

  “Yeah,” said Tucker, “he owns the tattoo place on First Street. Really nice guy.”

  “Do you have any tattoos?” asked Victoria.

  “Nope. You?”

  “None,” she said. “I’ve thought about it, but I’m too much of a wimp.”

  “How about you?” he said, turning to Aly.

  “None of your business,” she replied.

  “She doesn’t have any either,” said Victoria. “I guess all three of us are pretty boring. Would you ever get one, Tuck?”

  “If it were the right situation,” he said, “I might do it.”

  “Like what?” said Aly.

  “You know,” said Tucker, “if it were World War III and all my army buddies were getting one, then I would too.”

  “So,” said Aly, “you’d get one if World War III breaks out and you wind up in the army?”

  Tucker nodded, looking back and forth between Victoria and Aly, who looked at him with raised eyebrows.

  “Hey,” said Tucker, “if those Nazis come back, they’re not gonna be fooling around this time.”

  “What is a Nazi?” called a voice from the angelic barstool, causing all three to jump.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” said Aly, who was sitting closest to the archangel. “You scared the crap out of me!”

  “I am here,” said Uriel.

  “I can see that!” said Aly, noticing he was dressed the same way he was last time.

  “You want a Narragansett?” asked Victoria, opening the cooler and reaching for a bottle.

  “Yes, please,” said the angel.

  “Do you have any tattoos, Uriel?” asked Tucker.

  “I do not.”

  A tinny and unrecognizable tune began to play and Victoria reached under the bar for her cell phone. “Excuse me,” she said, walking to the other end of the bar to talk. Aly slipped off her barstool and headed toward the ladies room. The archangel stared straight ahead.

  “That was quite an invigorating bath you gave me the other night,” whispered Tucker.

  “It was necessary, Tuckerbromley,” said Uriel. “You were in danger and I had to get you out of here.”

  “But where did you go?” asked Tucker.

  “I am here,” said the angel.

  “But why are you protecting me?” Tucker asked. “And what is this mission you have to do?”

  “Your questions will cease now,
son of man,” said Uriel.

  “You know,” said Tucker, “for an archangel, you’re awfully impatient.”

  “You think I am impatient?” said Uriel, as Aly came back, sitting on the stool next to him and reaching for her chardonnay. “Gabriel once struck a man dumb for nine months just for asking him a question.”

  Tucker put his hand to his head and rubbed his eyes.

  “So, what are you two talking about?” asked Aly.

  “Hey guys,” said Victoria, “That was my father. It’s Lenore. Something’s wrong. I have to go. Aly, if anyone comes in, can you just tell them we’re closed?”

  “Of course,” said Aly. “but do you want me to come with you?”

  “No,” she said, trembling slightly, “the owner doesn’t care if I close early. Nobody comes in here on a Monday anyway. Can you just shut the lights and lock up after you guys leave.”

  “Sure,” said Aly. “I hope she’s OK.”

  “Yeah,” said Tucker. “Good luck. Call me tomorrow and let me know how she’s doing.”

  Victoria’s keys jingled as she scooped them off the bar. She grabbed her purse and ran out the front door.

  Aly walked around to the back of the bar and stood looking at Tucker and Uriel. The three remained in silence for a moment. Aly was the first to speak.

  “I guess asking God didn’t work,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” said Tucker.

  “We took his advice,” she said nodding toward Uriel. “Of course, maybe we ‘didn’t ask the right question.’ Or maybe we’re ‘just too stupid.’”

  Uriel smiled kindly at Aly, his warm iridescent eyes shining brightly.

  “I’m sorry,” said Aly. “That was mean. We’re both just really upset.”

  “Do not reject the punishment of the almighty,” said Uriel. “For he wounds, but he binds up. He smites, but his hands give healing.”

  “Well, I wish his hands would give healing right now,” said Aly, her eyes glassy with tears. “That’s why I don’t believe in God. Why would he want a 10-year-old girl to suffer?”

  “Why would you think he wanted a girl to suffer?” asked Uriel.

  “Well, he must if he’s allowing it to happen.”

  Uriel sighed, his bright iridescent eyes burning.