There Was a Crooked Man

by K. J. Larsen

  I was working my way through a bowl of Cheerios and a cup of java when my cell phone boomed, “They’re Coming to Take Me Away, Ha Haaa!”

  I picked up. “Sophia! I was about to call you. We need to talk.”

  “Open your door. I’m on your porch.”

  Click.

  I hurried down the hallway to let her in but she jammed her thumb on the bell until I got there. When I opened the door, she barreled inside.

  “What’s up?” I said.

  “I’m a detective, dammit. I want my badge.”

  “You’re still in training.”

  “I graduated.”

  “In one day?”

  “I’m a fast learner.” She stomped to the living room and plopped on the couch. “The training was intensive. Brutal. I still can’t feel my legs.”

  “Max said you quit early.”

  “I quit while I could still walk. I want a badge like Cleo’s.”

  “Talk to Cleo. I’m not sure where she got it.”

  That was true enough. I’ve always suspected she found it in a box of cereal.

  “Cleo’s badge looks cool. It can scare people.”

  “Maybe if you’re eight and playing cops and robbers.”

  “And you have to call Max. Tell him I’m done training. Tell him I have a badge and a gun.”

  “A gun?”

  “Well, I’m getting a gun.”

  “You tell him.”

  She shuddered. “I can’t. The guy is brutal.”

  “So, you’re over your crush then.”

  She giggled. “Are you kidding? That man can wear the shit outta a pair of jeans.”

  “Crap,” I said.

  I brought Sophie into the kitchen and made her a cup of coffee. She pulled Mama’s Tupperware out of the fridge and I took it from her hands. I sprinkled some toasted almonds on top and shoved the Tupperware back in the fridge. I handed Sophie a peach.

  “Sorry, Sis. The cannoli goes to Jack. I need you to drop me at the shop on your way to Holy Shih Tzu.”

  “I’m not changing my religion.”

  “God, no. What would Father Timothy do without your daily updates? Holy Shih Tzu is a lapdog rescue and adoption in Champaign.”

  “No one goes to Champaign.”

  “No one goes to Cleveland. Champaign is cool. And it’s not that far.”

  “It’s still a schlepp. Why would I go there?”

  “Because you’re on a case.”

  “I’ll need a gun.”

  “Seriously? Yesterday you wouldn’t shoot anyone.”

  “Yesterday I wasn’t a detective.”

  Geesh.

  I stuffed a manila envelope in her hand. “Here’s the address and the adoption papers. I spoke with the foster family this morning. They’re expecting you.”

  “Oh.”

  Sophie looked disappointed. I reminded myself that she was having an adventure.

  I lowered my voice. “The dog you’re picking up is part of a top secret operation. What you’re doing today could divert a crisis for the Chicago Police Department and Bridgeport’s Ninth Precinct.”

  Cleo’s face brightened considerably.

  “Make sure you’re not followed. And until this case is over, Operation Thor is top secret. Don’t tell anyone you left town or that you brought a dog to this house.”

  “Is it okay if I tell Mama? I’ll need her to stay longer with the kids.”

  “God, no. Especially not Mama.”

  “I’ve never lied to Mama.”

  “What kind of daughter are you?”

  I was beginning to think Sophie deserved all Mama’s silver.

  She gnawed on her lip. “I suppose I can say I’m working late.”

  “Perfect. And you’re still not lying.”

  We went to my office and I rummaged through Cleo’s corner desk. There were M&M’s, romance novels, two pistols, some loose ammo, and a few back issues of PI Magazine. I found Cleo’s silver star under a Beretta Firearms catalogue. Its prickly point was dangerously close to a pack of bubble gum-flavored condoms.

  “Aha! Cleo’s badge. You’re in luck, Sister.” I slapped the silver star in her hand. “Congratulations, Detective. This is already the longest week in my life.”

  “You mean—?”

  “Yes. The badge is yours.”

  I hadn’t seen Sophie so excited since she was sixteen and won the Miss Bridgeport competition. She got to sit on Santa’s lap during the whole Christmas parade. He looked way too cheery.

  “What about Cleo? I mean when…”

  Her brow furrowed and her words hung in the air.

  “You mean what happens when she can’t find her silver star?”

  Sophie’s troubled eyes blinked and she nodded.

  “It’s all good,” I said. “I’ll tell her to eat more cereal.”

  I left Sophie in the office and got ready to be dropped off at Jack’s. I put the dishes in the sink and grabbed the Tupperware of Mama’s cannoli from the fridge. I texted Chance and asked him to call me when the DNA results came in for the honey-colored hair I pulled from the intruder’s head during our scuffle at Captain Bob’s.

  I called to Sophie from my room. “Sis, I’m ready!”

  She hollered back. “How do these things fit in here?”

  Before I could ask what she meant, my phone blasted “Wild One.” It was my assistant, Cleo Jones. She was out of town for her sister’s wedding.

  I picked up. “Hey, girlfriend.”

  The voice on the other end was snarky. “What’s going on, Cat?”

  “Cleo?”

  “So you do remember me.”

  “Do I? You’ve been gone three whole days.”

  “So, what? I’m dead to you now? Is that why you gave my job away?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Sophie. She’s at my desk as we speak.”

  “Oh. She’s helping me out when you’re gone.”

  “What does she do there?”

  “She makes me as crazy as you do.”

  “I doubt that’s possible.”

  “You underestimate my sister. How’d you know she was here? Cuz if you have a camera on your desk, it’s gonna be weird.”

  “Sophie called me. She wanted to know how to load a bullet into a chamber….”

  Holy crap!

  I dropped the phone and sprinted down the hall from my bedroom. There was a loud pop as I charged through the office door. The shot grazed my hair and I felt the hot breath of the bullet on my ear.

  “That’s how it works!” Sophie said.

  I staggered back a few steps and I couldn’t breathe. I grabbed the doorframe to keep from crashing.

  “Oops,” Sophie said. “My bad.”

  When I found my legs again, I crossed the room in long strides. I took a plastic storage container from the shelf behind my desk and tossed everything inside that could get Sophie in trouble. Guns, ammo, Cleo’s spy toys—like the pen with a secret blade, and especially the bubble gum-flavored condoms. I left her the candy, the romance novels, and Cleo’s silver star. On second thought, I took a Cadbury bar with me.

  I don’t know about Rocco, but when my life flashes before my eyes, I need chocolate.

  “Stay,” I said.

  I carried Cleo’s stuff to the kitchen and opened the secret compartment behind the pantry. I placed the storage container by the dusty bottles left over from Prohibition. Then I shut myself in the pantry with my back against the wall and ate my Cadbury bar. I took my time. When I returned to the office, the wobbles were gone.

  “You have chocolate on your mouth,” Sophie sang. She was wearing the silver star.

  “No, I don’t.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

 
Sophie stared at my lips and flicked a finger at the side of her mouth. “You missed….”

  I held up my hand. “Stop. No more guns until Max takes you to the shooting range.”

  Her lips formed a pout. “Why don’t you take me?”

  “Cuz I just might shoot you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I dug deep in my box of smokescreens and tricks. When I stretched out on the lumpy motel mattress, I was a blue-eyed blonde. I fed the Magic Fingers massage machine a roll of quarters and read a few more chapters of my mystery while Sammy’s lost brown eyes watched me from my laptop.

  Yesterday’s Law and Order marathon had played out and a flurry of Cops reruns played in room seven.

  Bad boys, bad boys, What-cha gonna do….

  I wanted to bang my head on the bedpost each time a new episode started. Baltimore cops were tackling a bad boy in an alley when someone knuckle-rapped my door.

  “Housekeeping.”

  “One moment!” I called back.

  I muted the audio, closed the laptop, and threw some towels on the bathroom floor. Then I tossed back the bedspread and rumpled the sheets before letting her in.

  The housekeeper was early twenties with short brown hair and red-framed glasses. Her nametag read Ami and her arms were laden with linens and cleaners.

  She sprayed Pine-Sol in the clean bathroom and changed the towels. She flounced across the room and swept everything that didn’t move with a feather duster. Ami chewed Juicy Fruit gum with an unsettling zeal and when she’d sucked out the flavor, she spat the chewed wad in the garbage and popped two new pieces in her mouth. She offered the package to me and I helped myself to a piece and chewed.

  I hate Juicy Fruit.

  “How’s your day going?” I said.

  “In five minutes, fabulous. Your room is my last.”

  “If I help, you’ll make it in three.”

  I took one side of the bed and she took the other. We stripped and changed the bedding. The mattress vibrated as we worked.

  “Housekeeping work is a killer on the back,” she said. “Someday I’m gonna rent a room and feed it quarters all night.”

  I dropped a few more quarters in the slot. “Go ahead. Give it a spin.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “I insist.”

  She plopped on the bed and sighed. “If I could take this home with me, I’d dump my boyfriend.”

  “My boyfriend and I split last month,” I said. “But there was more magic in his fingers than this lumpy mattress.”

  “You find a new beau?”

  “I dunno. I was checking out the guy in seven.”

  “Mr. Smith.”

  “I bet you get a lot of Smiths here.”

  She giggled. “He looks good for an older guy.”

  “I’ve been reluctant to approach him. I mean, I’ve made mistakes with men before.”

  “Who hasn’t? Men make us stupid.”

  “What’s Mr. Smith like?”

  “He don’t talk much. Except to his dog.” She giggled. “But then…”

  “Tell me.”

  “I dunno. I wouldn’t want to date him.”

  “Why not?”

  “He calls his dog “lady.” When they walk, he dresses her in a silly pink coat. Like a girl.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “The dog has a penis. He hits every tree and fire hydrant he passes.”

  I laughed. “That’s a problem.”

  “I wouldn’t want to date a guy who can’t tell the difference. Just sayin’.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Mr. Smith is nice, though. Sort of laid back. Only saw him pissed off once. And whoa! He’s got a mouth on him.”

  “When was that?”

  “This morning. A guy called the office and left a message. Said he couldn’t get ahold of him on his cell phone. I gave Mr. Smith the message.”

  “What was the message?”

  She lowered her voice. “This is your bleeping boss. Answer your bleep bleep cell phone. Stan’s bleeping appendix burst. He can’t cover your bleeping shift. I need you tonight.”

  “I think I can fill in the blanks.”

  “I wouldn’t answer my phone either. When you’ve got a week off at a sweet motel, the last thing you want is a call from the boss.”

  “Is that what the boss called him? Mr. Smith?”

  She thought a moment and shook her head. “Russell. He said ‘Russell in seven.’”

  “Thanks, Ami.” I pressed a fat tip in her hand. I’ve found when people are well compensated, they tend to keep their mouths shut.

  Ami gathered her supplies and dirty linen and I opened the door. She stepped outside and gave a low whistle.

  I poked my blond head around her and groaned.

  Max.

  The ex-spy was stalking me in Ray-Ban shades and a leather bomber jacket and a shit-ass grin. He removed the shades and his lips curled in amusement. The housekeeper wet her lips.

  “Girlfriend, if that hunk of gorgeousness is your ex, take him back.”

  I exaggerated an eye roll and pushed past her. She scooted behind me.

  “Is it true blondes have more fun?” he said.

  “You’re sitting on my car. Again.”

  Max eyes were sparking mischief. “Are you ready to come home, Love?”

  Ami slugged an elbow in my ribs. “Say yes!”

  “The kids and I miss you.”

  Ami frowned. “Kids?”

  “We have dogs.”

  “I don’t care if he’s about talking orangutans. Get your ass home, girl. If you think about Mr. Smith again, slap yourself silly.”

  “You said Mr. Smith was cute.”

  “I lied.”

  Inga jumped on Max’s legs, tail wagging. Max slid his fine bum from the hood and scratched her ears.

  Ami gawked at his rippling muscles. I was pretty sure her eyes were stuck. One look at Max had thrown her in hormonal overdrive. I pushed her toward her cart and she reluctantly wheeled away. Then I stomped to the Silver Bullet and faced Max with a growl.

  Max stared into my colored contacts and a small smile curved one corner of his mouth. “Don’t I make your green eyes blue?”

  “You’re stalking me with Tino’s tracker. I have a phone.”

  “We’re supposed to be partners and you’re holding out on me. You’re investigating the hit-and-run.”

  “You don’t know that. I’m at a sleazy motel. I could be stalking a cheater.”

  “But you’re not.”

  I gulped a guilty sigh. “Okay, you’re right.”

  “Who’s in seven?”

  “Damn, you’re good.”

  The gold flecks danced in his brown eyes. “You’ve no idea,” he said and my cheeks burned. He laughed.

  “Your eyes shot to seven when your head popped out your door.”

  “Ouch.” An amateur mistake.

  “And there’s the bogus roll of Life Savers on your dash. A tiny camera is pointed at seven’s door.”

  “Only a spy would know that.”

  “Or a tech nerd, cop, or mystery buff.”

  The door to seven shot open and the man with a frizzy, sandy ponytail emerged with Sam I Am in tow. He wore black jeans and a Grateful Dead tee and he smelled like Brute and minty mouthwash.

  Inga wasn’t fooled by her friend’s hot pink disguise. She tossed back her head with a joyful howl and bolted to Sam’s side. Sammy whimpered and they sniffed bums; a ritual that would, in the human world, almost certainly get somebody arrested.

  I blurted an awkward laugh. “My beagle has no boundaries. It’s embarrassing.”

  Perhaps the sound of my voice clicked a memory in Sam. He made a soft cry and lunged to me. My throat hurt. I dropped to m
y knees and hugged him hard.

  Mr. Smith’s face was guarded. “Daisy don’t take to people like that.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  I giggled, acting all ditzy and blond. “Gosh. Dogs love me.”

  Max pulled me to my feet. “My wife’s a dog whisperer. You’d hate to walk with her in a dog park.”

  I gave Max a playful slap.

  A smile tugged at Mr. Smith’s mouth. “You’re right there.” He took a gulp of the soda in his hand. “Say good-bye, Daisy.” And he dragged Sam away.

  He tossed the soda can in a bin by the office and they ambled down the street together.

  “That dog knows you,” Max said.

  “Yep.”

  Sam looked back once more and lifted his leg on the first fire hydrant he found.

  Max smiled. “Daisy has a surprise under that pink coat.”

  I made a face. “Yeah. That’s Sam.”

  “Tell me that gender-confused dog isn’t your client.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Max grinned. “Jeez, Cat. How’s he paying you? In dog biscuits?”

  “Sam lives with Captain Bob and Peggy. He was kidnapped from Bob’s backyard.”

  A tic worked in his cheek. “You should’ve told me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know. You can kill him with your bare hands.”

  “That option is on the table.”

  “Here’s the thing. Smith’s not working alone. There are at least two others involved. This isn’t over until we take them all down.”

  “What do these clowns want?”

  “They’re convinced Bob and Papa stole a golden lion medallion, with emerald eyes and a canary diamond mane, as Daniel lay dying in the street.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Totally. I’m not worried about Sam at this point. Smith likes him. Last night he let him sleep on the bed with him.”

  “He’s not a nice guy, Cat. Those are prison tattoos on his arm. He didn’t do time for parking tickets.”

  “Agreed. But a trip to the big house doesn’t make him a psycho. He could be an entrepreneur who grew wacky weed in his bathtub.”

  “Why are you defending this douche-canoe?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Good. Cuz I’m going to make him pay when we get Sam.”

  Max reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, walked over to the recycle bin, and retrieved Mr. Smith’s empty Sprite can.