by Dale Mayer
“I’m in the back alley, so park on the main street.”
“Will do.” He ended the call, returning his attention to the traffic. Did one ever get used to heavy traffic? He followed the traffic until he came to the end of the GPS line. Seeing where the alley was, he waited for somebody to pull out from the main street, then nipped in and took a spot. Not knowing how long he would be here, but realizing there would be loads of cops, he put change into the meter, then walked around to the alley. “Jager?”
“Yep, keep coming this way.”
“Cops here?”
“Not yet.”
Geir shook his head. “Cop response time is different here, I presume?”
“Seems like it. It’s been at least thirty minutes.”
Almost before he got the words out, the sounds of a siren filled the air.
“Why the sirens now?”
The black-and-white pulled into the alley and stopped at the entrance. Geir stood beside Jager and waited. The cops approached. “Are you the ones who called us?”
Jager stepped forward. “I did.” He pointed to a heap of clothing beside a Dumpster bin. “That’s where I found the body.”
“Did you check if he was dead?”
“I did. I’d say he’s been dead at least a couple hours.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because rigor has set in.”
The cop sent him a hard glance. “Are you a doctor?”
Jager shook his head and just stayed quiet.
Geir understood. Jager had been the best medic of all of them in the unit. He had patched them up time and time again. And, if Jager said it was this many hours, then Geir believed him. But the cops would just get suspicious. And no one in the unit wanted to rehash who they were and how they came by their knowledge. Still, it was something that would likely have to be clarified at some point.
Geir stood silently while the cops talked to Jager about what he’d seen and heard.
The lead cop asked, “Do you know who it was you spoke to?”
Jager shook his head. “The guy disappeared around the corner.” He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure it was a homeless guy.”
“In this area, most likely.” The cop turned his attention to Geir. “And you?”
“I came down because he told me what he’d found.”
“Curious?”
“Supporting a friend,” he clipped out.
The cop nodded. “We need your contact information. Then you better clear out. We’ll have the coroner here in no time.”
Both willingly handed over their details and cell phone numbers. And, when they were free to go, they walked down the street and stood beside Geir’s truck. Jager’s Jeep Wrangler was parked around the corner.
Geir looked at his buddy. “I don’t think we should leave until we track down the guy you talked to. Look for a few more answers.”
“As long as we’re not seen,” Jager warned. “We know perfectly well the cops will look at us suspiciously if we get into their investigation.”
Geir nodded. “But chances of coming back here tomorrow and finding this homeless guy are not good.”
Jager agreed. “Lead the way.”
Together they sauntered down the block, turned right, went up a block to what looked like an old storefront with the windows busted out. Jager stepped to the door and pushed it open. Inside they stilled and listened. The sound of scurrying footsteps could be heard off in the far right corner. Moving quietly, they slid up the stairs and confronted two people sitting in the corner, a jug of booze between them. One man yelped, ready to run.
Jager held up his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
The other guy froze and picked up his booze bottle, taking a big slug. “I don’t know nothing,” he said.
The first man shook his head. “And I told you all I did know.”
“We’re looking for Poppy,” Geir said. “Where can we find him?”
The guy shook his head. “You don’t want to find Poppy.”
“Why is that?”
“Poppy doesn’t like cops.”
“We’re not cops,” Geir said.
“You look close enough to it, and you won’t fool Poppy.”
Geir knew that was probably true. “We’re trying to find information about a friend. His nickname is Mouse,” he said, a part of him knowing perfectly well the Mouse they were after had died in the accident that had left Jager and him and the others badly injured. But, on the off chance there were two men called Mouse, Geir wanted to make sure they covered all the bases.
“Haven’t seen him in years,” the man said, then belched aloud, an offending odor wafting Geir’s way.
“Who could we ask for more information?”
The guy shook his head.
Jager pulled out his wallet, and, all of a sudden, the man smiled. “Well now, if you got a little bit of money there, I might tell you something.”
The second man nodded his head. “We got information.”
“Yeah, really? What kind of information? We’ll pay you, depending on how valuable it is,” Jager said, his voice hard. “Poppy and Mouse. What can you tell us?”
The words spilled out. “Haven’t seen Mouse in a couple years—maybe three or four,” one man said. “Poppy is around. At least I haven’t heard anything different. I avoid being anywhere he is, so I haven’t seen him in a long while.”
“Mouse is that tall skinny guy, right?” the second man asked.
Geir nodded. “Yes, that’s him. Would have been about twenty-five, twenty-six some four years ago.”
“He was Poppy’s boy.”
“I know. That’s why we’re trying to find Poppy.”
“You don’t look like you prefer boys,” the second man said.
“We don’t,” Jager said. “But we do want to find Mouse.”
“Is he a friend of yours?” the second man asked, his eyes blurry, his face red.
Geir nodded. “A very dear friend.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have said it that way because both of the winos looked at him suspiciously. He raised both palms. “No, we don’t want him for that reason.”
Both men shrugged. “Mouse and Poppy have been together a long time.”
“Since Mouse took off, who does Poppy hang around with?”
“Others,” the second man said. “Lots of others.”
“And, when he was with Mouse, were they together-together?”
The second man nodded. “Seemed like it. Like I said, I haven’t seen Poppy in a while. He went back to his old ways.”
“What were the old ways?”
The second man froze, looked at the other guy.
The other guy picked up the story. “He likes lots of young boys. When he was with Mouse, he seemed to be stable. But, after Mouse left, he went back to little boys.”
“And the cops never caught him?”
“No, he’s looking for another Mouse. Somebody he can groom for the long term.”
“So, another boy looking for a father figure, love and attention, plus three square meals a day,” Jager said, his tone harder than before.
Both men nodded. “Exactly,” the second man said.
“So you need to help us find Poppy, so we can help these boys.”
The second man picked up the jug and took a big slug. “Check out the school.”
“Which one?”
“Around the corner,” he said. “Sometimes Poppy brings them there.”
Geir looked around at the deserted building, the drafty windows, and thought about a man bringing a young boy desperate for attention to a place like this. “For booze, drugs or sex?”
“All of them. Depends what the kids need.”
With a grim nod, Jager asked, “Do you know anything about Mouse?”
“He was tight with Poppy for a long time. And then something happened. And Mouse left.”
“Do you know for sure he left? Any chance Poppy might have taken him out?”
Both men shook their heads. “Poppy doesn’t kill,” the first man said. “He’s the kind that’ll bawl and beg before he’ll kill anyone.”
“So is that why he went off the wall after Mouse left? Grief? Broken up over the breakup? Had to find a replacement?”
The men nodded again.
“Any idea who killed the guy outside?”
Both men shared a glance and a shrug. “No,” said one of them.
“Was he a friend of Poppy’s?”
“No, but it’s not hard to imagine another man or a family member getting upset at somebody Poppy may have touched,” the other man said.
“Why haven’t they caught him?”
“Because he’s slimy and ugly on the inside, but you don’t see that on the outside,” the first man said.
Geir stiffened. “And when you say, around the school, you don’t mean hanging around the playground, looking to lure a young boy. What you mean is working in the school, don’t you?”
The second man nodded. “Yeah, he works there. You can’t miss him. He’s the one the kids all love.”
“Hence the name Poppy?” Geir surmised.
“And what’s Poppy’s real name?” Jager asked.
Both men shrugged. “I think you’ve had enough information for whatever money you’re passing our way,” the first man said.
Geir and Jager exchanged looks.
“They have been helpful,” Jager said in a low tone. He pulled forty bucks out of his wallet and stepped forward, handing each of the men a twenty.
Instantly the money disappeared, and both smiled up at him. “Thanks very much. If you ever need any more information, you know where to find us.”
“Well, considering there’s a dead man outside, you might want to change your location,” Geir said. “Somebody else might not pay you with money in return for information. They might decide to pay you by shutting you up.”
The men’s gazes turned to beady-eyed ferret-looking things. “We’ll be moving real fast,” the second man said, finally understanding.
“What killed him?” the first one asked.
“Don’t know. His head was bashed in.”
“Shit. I really liked this place. We’ll have to leave it for at least a month now.”
“Well, that’s how long we had to leave it last time,” the first man agreed.
At that, Geir asked, “How often have Poppy’s friends been killed?”
The men glanced at him. The first man said, “He goes through a lot of friends.” After that he shut up, wouldn’t say anymore.
Back downstairs and out on the street, Geir had to think about that. “So, if it’s not Poppy killing people, who is it?”
“And are any of them connected or is it just a random issue—or is Poppy hiring people to do his dirty work?”
“We’re just starting this investigation, so it’s too early to tell.”
Jager checked his watch. “I suggest we go talk to the school.”
“Well, Minx’s friend Agnes led us to a JoJo Henderson aka Poppy in the halfway house in Texas, but that went cold once he moved on. And we find no paper trail of a JoJo Henderson here in San Diego. We still have to find out what name Poppy is using here,” Geir said, falling into step beside his buddy. “But I guess working at a school would be a great place to find your next victim, wouldn’t it?”
“And potentially a lot of very angry parents, if you picked the wrong student.”
Geir nodded. “Sounds like he’s trying to replace Mouse though. Particularly if he managed to get Mouse into the navy. Poppy could be very lonely.”
“That brings up another point. We never did ask if there was any physical reason Mouse couldn’t join the navy. Maybe we need to follow up with Minx some more.”
“Would she know? He apparently was physically scarred from all these years of bodily trauma, but it’s also quite possible he wouldn’t pass the shrink exam.”
“I’m surprised any of us passed some of those tests,” Jager said quietly.
“Exactly.”
Chapter 3
The shepherd’s pie sat on the island, but nobody was here to eat it. Her four o’clock group had already called to tell her that they were running late. Morning studied the golden bubbly top and wondered about Geir and Jager. They’d given her their phone numbers, but she didn’t want to text either to let them know dinner was ready. Geir had been here when she’d put it into the oven, and he knew when dinner was planned for.
Shrugging, she got a plate and served herself a small portion. She added a green salad on the side, sat at her kitchen counter and ate alone.
It wasn’t often that her house was empty. And, while it was, she should be taking advantage of it. She looked around the kitchen, wishing she’d had the money to redo various parts of the residence. It was old, and she had had several developers already on her case, asking her to sell to them so they could drop her house and put up some big fancy million-dollar home.
If she had had anything else to do with her life, she might consider it. But this was her anchor. This was her safe place. But she wasn’t the sole owner. It was her and her father. After he had moved to Europe to do research with his new girlfriend, Morning had bought half of it. She’d needed him as a cosigner at the time.
After a few years he wanted to sell his remaining half and get the rest of his money out of his asset. She didn’t want to sell, but no way could she buy him out. Particularly with the current real estate prices. Her father had contacted her about the idea several times, but she’d always pushed back, saying she wasn’t ready. Anytime something went wrong, he should be paying half the maintenance costs, but he wasn’t—because she was the one making money off it and not sharing the profit.
But she wasn’t making tons. She made enough to live on, but that was about it. It certainly wouldn’t ever be enough to buy out her father. The decision was looming, … but it made her queasy to think about it.
She cleaned up her dishes, made herself a cup of tea and then went to her third-floor studio, adjoining her bedroom and en suite bath, her own private area. She hadn’t let herself look at the painting since Geir had been here.
She was still walking on cloud nine from his praise, but, at the same time, she knew the harshest judge of her work was herself. And what she needed was to make sure it was as good as she had first thought it was. And the second glimpse might tell her. Unfortunately the studio didn’t have a ton of light at this hour of the day.
She flicked on all the lights before walking to stand in front of the painting. She gasped for joy. It was … special. So much more of what she wanted to present to the world.
She threw on her smock again, and, with a fine paintbrush, quickly touched up the blossoms, picking up a brighter pink, adding a touch of yellow, until the entire canvas glowed.
Then her sense of self glowed too. She was absolutely overjoyed with this piece.
Finally she was satisfied and walked to the sink to wash her brushes again. She checked the clock and realized another two hours had passed.
She didn’t have a clue where the men were. Maybe they were downstairs already, and she’d missed them.
This painting had just completely sucked her into the process. That was a good thing. With a happy sigh, she turned for one last look at the canvas, feeling pride in this piece of work for the first time in a long time. “Maybe I can make that Friday appointment after all.”
After closing her studio, she walked back downstairs and around to her office. She logged off her computer, checked if anybody was around and found nobody.
“Works for me.” She made herself a second cup of tea and headed out on the back porch to the huge lounger sitting out there. She stretched out and just relaxed. Today was a good day. She’d started on a path with her painting that was something she would be proud to show somebody else.
Just then her phone rang. She pulled it out. Nancy calling. Hitting Talk, Morning said, “What’s up?”
“Wel
l, I’ve been trying to call you off and on all day,” her friend said. “Who are the two hunks living at your place? And how come you didn’t share?” her friend complained.
“Geir and Jager,” Morning said in a teasing voice. “And, if you didn’t sit there haunting the windows, watching the world walk by, you could come over and say hi when they were here.”
“I’d be right over if you told me they were there now.”
“And you obviously know they aren’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me,” she said. Her friend was a man chaser. Yet she was supershy, so she only did her chasing online.
“Well, I could come over now. Maybe they’ll come home while I’m there.”
“You could do that. Have you eaten?”
“All day long,” Nancy said with a groan. “Every time I try a diet, the first thing I do is overeat as if I’m starving.”
“You should probably talk to a shrink about that,” Morning said with a chuckle.
“Not all of us are blessed to have small trim figures, like you, and no appetite.”
“Hey, I eat,” Morning protested. “Just not as much as you do.”
“I know. How sad is that?”
“Did you get a full-time teaching job yet?”
“No, I was called in for a day of substitution at a downtown school. It’s not my favorite place, but the kids are good.”
“Midlands High School? The inner-city school?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what I’d do if they offered me a full-time job. I’m always conflicted when I go.”
“But you’re in teaching for the kids’ sakes,” Morning said. “So, if they offered you a full-time job, then you’d take it.”
“Maybe. I’ve been thinking lately about moving though.”
“Moving? Where?” Morning’s thoughts had been on the same subject earlier. Not that she had any plans to leave.
“Anywhere,” Nancy said passionately. “I feel like I’m not living anymore. I’m just existing. Going through the motions to make it from one day to the next. Nothing ever changes.”
“Change starts within. You know that,” Morning said.
“Easy for you to say. You’ve got the house for income and your art.”
“We’ve been over this before. You’re living at your parents’ house. You went to school for marketing, and yet you don’t want to work in your field.”
