Kilby tapped a manicured finger on the desktop. “The point I was trying to make is none of that involves what we were paid to do. We’re a freelance operation, Mick. Which means we have to make our own profits. The reason you ran your business into the ground was because you tended to lose sight of the business side of things. We weren’t hired to do anything except take care of the Johnny Knuckles situation. The case is closed, Mick.”
I gave a causal shrug. “Ok, Kilby. If it’s closed then it’s closed. No matter that we blew a couple mil worth of junk sky-high tonight. I’m sure Vitto will just chalk it up as a tax write-off. Probably won’t try to find out who did the deed and make those miserable chumps pay for such a brash course of action.”
Ms. Kilby frowned. “I… see your point, Mr. Trubble. But surely there has to be somebody within the body of law you can trust to—”
“He’s right.” Poddar had been standing quietly to side as usual, but his voice was firm when he spoke up. “We need to trace the corruption to its source. It will not go away just because we close this case.”
Ms. Kilby’s eyes narrowed. “And what next? Take down every corrupt politician and highbinder in New Haven? Are we to be the moral police now?”
I stood up. “No. There wouldn’t be a soul left in office, and you know it. But a wise man once told me that being a Troubleshooter meant taking out the trash without worrying about your hands getting dirty. We take cases and we see ‘em through. No point in doing it, otherwise.”
Ms. Kilby threw up her hands. “All right, Mick. Check out your ends and get back with me. Don’t go running into the fire without a care like you normally do.”
Her eyes flicked over to Poddar. “You have more than yourself to think about, you know.”
Poddar folded his arms and gave me a look I immediately understood.
Women.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Kilby. I’ll return your boy safe and sound. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll crash at the pad. Gotta recharge the batteries.”
I lowered my voice as I walked past Poddar. “You’re in trouble now, Ace.”
He gave me a startled look. “What—?”
“You sided with me instead of your lady. Big mistake.”
“But…you were right. I just—”
“Poddar.” Ms Kilby’s voice was distinctly chilly. “A word with you, please.”
I patted him on the shoulder. “Take your medicine like a man.”
My view was blocked by a suit when I strolled back into the front office. He leaned casually against the desk, gesturing to the sound of Angel’s delighted laughter. I wasn’t jealous at all. The only reason I walked over was to reclaim my Bogart and flogger from the rack. It certainly wasn’t so I could clap eyes on the clown. Who was I to care?
Of course once I did see who he was, I immediately wished I’d never walked in there in the first place.
Angel looked up with a bright smile. “Oh, Mick. This is the gentleman I told you about earlier. His name is Roderick—”
“Flask. Detective Flask.” My tone wasn’t exactly enthusiastic.
“Trubble.” Flask’s voice was about as friendly as mine. His average looks were marred by a permanent twist to his mouth, like he ate extra sour lemons for kicks.
Angel’s smile disappeared as she noticed Flask and I engaging in an expressionless staring contest.
“You two…know each other?”
I grimaced. “Yeah, you could say that. If you count locking a man up under false pretense and then gunning down his good friend as ‘getting to know him’, that is.”
Flask didn’t even blink. “You know as well as I do the accusations weren’t false and you’re lucky we let you walk, Trubble. As far as your friend Wiseman, you forgot to mention he was involved in a high-stakes armed robbery. And I wasn’t the one who made the call for the street sweepers. That was Captain Graves. I heard his body was found in that mess at Beck’s mansion. Funny — weren’t you there?”
“Don’t know. I don’t pay much attention to the comings and goings of dirty cops.”
Angel stood up with her arms outstretched between us. “Now look, boys. You’re going to have to behave like civilized people. I won’t have you showing out and ruining my day.”
“Oh, I’m as civilized as the next man.” I squinted at Flask as I lit a gasper.
Flask gave his best imitation of a smile as he and I kept our eyes locked. “No chance of ruining your day, Angela. Unfortunately I can’t promise that for Mr. Trubble.”
I folded my arms. “Really? Why is that, Dick?”
“Because you’re under arrest.”
He must have given the word silently, because at that same moment the boys in black barged in with their heat at the ready. Over the sound of their yelling, Angel shouting, and Ms. Kilby protesting, I barely heard the charges as they shoved me to the wall and slapped the bracelets on my wrists.
I gritted my teeth. “You’d better have a good reason for this, Flask.”
He had the nerve to look sympathetic. “Unfortunately, I do. I’m arresting you for the murder of Sophia Flacco.”
“Murder of who? Are you serious? I never even heard that name before!”
“That’s hard to believe since she was last seen in your company. But maybe you knew her by her chosen name. Scarlett.”
I heard the staccato of her heels down the hall…
Flacco nodded as the recognition dawned on my face. He motioned to the boys in black.
“Take Mr. Trubble to the station, gentlemen.”
Chapter 4: Murder of Crows
I’ve spent a few ticks in the holding tank before. One thing that can be said about the experience is it doesn’t get any more agreeable the next time around. At least I wasn’t in there long. After they let me stew for a few hours I was hustled out and into a claustrophobic room with two chairs, a table, and four walls painted in a drab gray color only used for unpleasant places.
Like interrogation rooms.
They let me sit for another couple of hours. Supposedly the waiting is designed to unnerve a perp, make him rattled and uneasy. Get his condition just nervous enough so when you tighten the screws you might get an early squeal.
I used the time to catch up on some sleep. It had been a long night and I didn’t know when I’d get another chance to catch a few ticks. My sweet dreams were quickly disturbed by the loud entrance of a burly copper with a red, splotchy face that closely resembled a slab of raw beef.
“Nap time’s over, Sleeping Beauty.” A fist the size of a canned ham slammed on the table.
I blinked away the aftereffects of disturbed sleep, making sure to put on a good show of yawning and stretching until my elbow joints crackled. I squinted at his badge. “Now that’s no way to greet an old friend… O’Hare. You ever heard of mouthwash? I hear it’s good to use every once in a while. Might wanna look into it.”
O’Hare leaned in close and blasted a potent mixture of coffee, cigarettes, and bananas in my face. “We’re not friends, shamus. You had this coming for a long time. We finally got you right where we want you.”
I leaned away from the vile aroma. “C’mon, O’Hare. You boys still sore about that little dust-up over the Red-Eyed Killer case?
His face practically caved in from his scowl. “You mean the officer assault you never got booked for? You could say that, Mick.”
“Look, the situation forced my hand. Nothing personal. You’d think a few haymakers and a room full of electronic wasps would have been forgotten by now, but you guys apparently hold on to your grudges, don’t you?”
His mouth twisted. “Know what you’re gonna be holding on to? Murder charges. You killed a lady, Mick. You’re gonna hang for it.”