by B Branin
* * * * *
Though I felt like I needed to shower in acid and scrub with lye soap after making a deal with the ruski slob, the noose was no longer around my neck. Whoever had set me up was going to be in for an unpleasant surprise when they found out some poor sap was confessing to the murder that was suppose to fall into my lap.
Thanks to Buggy’s superb skills in delaying the DNA evidence, there wasn’t anything linking me to the crime. It was more than likely that this murder wasn’t going to become a media feeding frenzy as I had first feared. The cops were probably going to take whatever idiot Zotkin sent to confess and keep him out of the media spotlight to the best of their abilities while they figured out what the hell was going on.
It was understandable why the police would want this case to be hush-hush since it was all suspicious from the get go. Some rookie stumbles across a murder victim then they can’t run the DNA evidence because of computer glitches and now someone waltzes in to confess to the murder? The police chief would keep this crime quiet and brush it under the rug ASAP. The only loose end would come in the form of the witness who had attempted to identify me but I had a sneaking suspicion that whoever the cult had sent to play the role would have vanished by now.
I brooded over my next move in this dangerous game of wits I found myself in. Winning this game meant shutting down a cult, clearing my good name and getting on Zotkin’s good side (until the next time I ripped him off). Perhaps I’d even be able to squeeze some profit out of this mess.
Of course losing this game meant death or life in prison, but hey, we can’t always choose the stakes.
After a few slugs from a hipflask that Kurt had been so kind to provide, I decided to head back to my office and hope that whoever had trashed it had been sloppy enough to leave some sort of clue behind. Or a death threat. Hell, any information I could get on the Daughters of All would be useful right about now.
“Have you ever tried your hand at detective work?” I asked West as we drove further and further away from the docks.
“I’ve spent my entire life running from cops,” West replied in his rolling thunder voice, “So no. Why?”
“We’re going to look for some clues.” I replied as I reached into my pocket to grab my phone.
“You’re on your own there.” West replied bluntly.
“Figured.” I laughed and gave Buggy a ring.
Technically the hacker didn’t have a phone but some sort of computer program that let him use a headset as a phone. That allowed him to partake in a ritual of running several different tracers to see who was calling, a precaution against any big bad government conspiracy trying to shut him down. His commitment to battle a conspiracy that most likely existed only in his head was impressive. Buggy even kept a giant magnet in a lead box underneath his computer desk, a contingency plan so if he ever needed to destroy the information stored on his computers, he’d just have to kick open that box.
This all meant that it took about twelve rings before Buggy finally answered.
“Hello Alice,” Buggy spoke into the phone, already knowing it was me.
“I want a new code name.” I deadpanned, “So what’s the word?”
“I’m monitoring the police frequencies and it seems Zotkin’s boy just confessed to the murder, claiming he had been stalking the girl for a few weeks now.” Buggy informed me and when I glanced at my watch I was surprised it had taken a little over an hour for the crime boss to find a patsy, “But that’s not why I called you Alice. I was referring to Lewis Carroll’s character, in Alice in Wonderland because the rabbit hole just gets deeper for you, man.”
“Is Fiona alright?” I asked immediately, much to my own surprise. What kind of hold did this barely-legal, possibly insane girl have over me?!
“Wha? Oh yeah, she’s fine. Too bad we can’t say the same for a Miss Kristy Campbell,” Buggy continued, pausing to make a ‘tsk tsk’ sound, “Turns out she had a bit of bad luck.”
“Um, Buggy. I don’t know any Kristy.” I replied, trying to keep my cool. Needless to say my encounter with Zotkin had left me a little on edge.
“I expected as much. She was the witness who gave your picture to the police sketch artist.” Buggy replied over the hum of keystrokes, “And it gets better. I searched her cell phone records and she happened to call an apartment in the docks. The very same apartment that was going to be visited by the cops before they discovered the body of Iris Roth. Damn man, you were right! There is a conspiracy out to get you!”
West gave me a funny look as I let out a curse and punched the dashboard. I wasn’t sure how to take this news. Without the eye witness, the DNA and with Zotkin’s patsy’s confession, odds are this case was shut. For good. That excited me but at the same time I was disappointed. Without the witness who had tried to frame me, I had lost a potential lead on nailing this fucking cult.
If these fanatics had been willing to kill Iris Roth in an attempt to frame me for her murder, then it wasn’t too much of a stretch to conclude that this girl Kristy was another victim of theirs. Throw in Fiona’s dead (and supposedly revived) sister, this brought the Daughters of All’s body count to three…and that’s just within the forty or so hours I’ve known about them!
“How did…I mean, was it murder?” I asked.
“Head on collision.” Buggy replied, “She was driving to work this morning and lost control of her vehicle and crashed into a semi-truck that compacted her car into a toaster. Pretty gruesome.”
“What’s the 5-O’s take on this?”
“Everyone agrees this is suspicious but no one is willing to take a stance on it one way or another. The police brass wants to wash their hands of this entire ordeal.”
“They’re not even investigating a potential murder?”
“How can they? Her car was practically disintegrated! Everyone is chalking it up as a freak accident and we might as well too. Nothing we can do about it in any case.”
“You’re right…”
“I always am.”
Head on collision. Could fate honestly be that cruel to snuff out my best lead on the cult with a freaking car crash?!
I nearly dropped my phone.
The words car crash echoed in my head and in my mind’s eye I saw the words being spoken by Iris Roth at the Hell Scratch.
“Buggy!” I nearly shouted into the phone, “See if you can’t work your magic and find out if the murdered girl had a friend in a car crash recently!”
“What? Which girl? The first murdered girl or the second one?”
“The first one! Iris!”
“Gimme a second.”
My heart was racing as West pulled over to the side of the street. Directionless, he decided to wait for my orders instead of driving around aimlessly. Kurt pulled up along side us on his bike and killed the engine. The Twins began casually discussing future plans of theirs and I tried to ignore them but it was hard considering the words “petro bombs” were mentioned several times.
I managed to focus on the sound of the keys being punched over the phone.
“Social networking sites be praised! Iris poured her life into her private webpage.” Buggy reported a few minutes later, “And yes, you’re right. She dedicated an entire blog to her friend Ellen who was in a bad car crash recently. Why?”
“I don’t know.” I replied trying to make sense of the jumbled information inside my skull, “But I think Ellen might be a member of this cult too. It’ll be worth a look.”
“Don’t worry man. I’ve spent my entire life trying to crack real conspiracies. I’m sure we can figure this all out between us.”
“Thanks Buggy, that means a lot.”
“I was serious!”
“Me too.”
“Oh, ok. What’s you’re next move?”
“Sleuthing.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
After hanging up, West looked at me expectantly. I could see the boredom in both his and Kurt’s face. The
y had been excited to help me out with the Zotkin situation because there had been the chance of havoc and gunfire but with that opportunity gone they were losing interest. The Twins were by no means fickle so I didn’t expect them to bail on me but it might be safer to cut them loose…before their boredom caused them to do something reckless and bring more unwanted attention down upon my head.
“Drop me off at my office.” I said while reaching into my pocket and handing West a fifty dollar bill, “Then get to the Bin and have a few rounds on me. Thanks for watching my back.”
“Not a prob, Broker.” West rumbled with a gleaming grin as he pocketed the money, “We figured with all the shit that usually falls into you’re lap, it’s only a matter of time before the bullets start flying.”
“And that’s fun you don’t wanna miss out on?” I ask wearily.
“Fuck yeah.” Kurt confirmed, bringing his bike back to life and shooting off down the street. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The Twins were like sharks and if they smelled blood on the horizon then sure as sunrise there was going to be bloodshed and soon.
I just hoped it wasn’t going to be my blood spilt.