And Drake’s had long since expired.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dunbar hissed as he grabbed Drake’s arm and roughly pulled him down a narrow hallway. Dunbar was so angry with him that he didn’t even appear to notice the large cage in Drake’s left hand.
“I’m here to—”
Dunbar wouldn’t even let him finish his sentence. The man was royally pissed.
“That fucking thing you pulled with the Times? With Ivan? What a fucking nightmare. I’ve been… Jesus, all week it’s been crazy. And now that Tobin is in a coma—”
Drake decided not to debate the finer points or mention the fact that he’d managed to stop a serial killer in the making, and instead focused on that last thing that Dunbar had said.
“Coma? What are you talking about, coma?”
Dunbar released him and pulled back.
“Yeah, Tobin was at the newsstand on East 86th; he came to get his precious article. It looks like someone, some back-alley doctor most likely, cut his forehead open, god only knows why. The incision got infected, started to rot, and spread to the bone. Made it brittle. From all accounts, it appears as if he had a seizure of some sort and then someone from the fucking crowd fell on top of him. Caved his skull in. The asshole is lucky to be alive. But I’m guessing you knew most of that already?”
Drake pictured Tobin’s quivering corpse.
“Naw, news to me. I’m all shook up about Tobin, though. Teary-eyed.”
“That’s the story that the NYPD is releasing to the press, anyway. And it will stay official so long as Tobin stays in a coma. If he wakes up—”
“If he wakes up, nobody will believe anything the man says. But if he starts to run his mouth, I might have to pay him a little visit.”
“Drake—”
“But enough about that asshole. What about the man he killed?”
Dunbar breathed deeply.
“His name was Kenneth Leung. A fucking exchange student, if you can believe it. Poor guy.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, we found his torso wedged in the garbage chute at his apartment.”
Drake recalled the foot in the box that the biker had tried unsuccessfully to deliver to Jan Dewalter.
“Torso?”
“His head and one arm were missing, in addition to the foot,” Dunbar said almost nonchalantly. “Shipped by the same bike delivery service, but they claim to have lost the addresses.”
“Convenient.”
“No kidding.”
“Listen, thanks for the update,” Drake said, “but I’m not here to see you.”
Dunbar furrowed his brow.
“Kramer? You better not be looking for Officer Kramer.”
Drake ignored this comment.
“Officer Billups.”
“Who?”
“Officer Dean Billups.”
Dunbar’s shoulders sagged.
“I can’t help you anymore, Drake. I know I keep saying this, but I can’t do it anymore.”
Drake shrugged.
He thought of Dunbar as a friend, someone he could trust, someone who had helped them out in the past.
But he realized that Dunbar was probably better off without him.
“Thanks,” Drake said. Then, before Dunbar could say anything else, he turned his head toward the main lobby and shouted, “Anybody know Officer Billups? Dean Billups? Please tell Officer Billups to get his ass out here!”
Dunbar offered him a placating expression then backed away, leaving Drake by himself in the precinct where he’d once battled it out with Sergeant Rhodes.
“Can I help you with something?”
One glance and Drake knew that this young officer was Dean Billups.
“Yeah, I think you can,” he said, raising the heavy object in his left hand.
The man looked down at the cage for three full seconds before his eyes went wide.
“Is that… is that Cosmo?”
Drake said nothing as Officer Billups wrenched the cage from him and set it on the floor. He opened the door and a fat orange cat jumped into his arms.
“It is Cosmo!” The young officer was nearly in tears now.
Just don’t call him Jinxy…
“Give my regards to your great aunt,” Drake said, a smile forming on his face.
“She’s going to be… she’s going to be so happy. Wait, where’s Cosmo’s collar?”
Drake shrugged.
“Dunno. Looks like you might have to get him a new one.”
***
“You son of a bitch.”
At some point during the cat caper, Screech had gone ahead and redone the name on the door. No longer was the D made from electrical tape and looked like a penis. Now, the name was professionally done—DSLH Investigations—and his name was once again listed first.
Smirking, he opened the door and stepped inside.
“I love the new logo,” Drake said. Nobody looked up from their computers. “Guys?”
It was Leroy who broke first. He rose from his chair and started clapping. Hanna followed, and then Screech begrudgingly joined in.
“Oh, fuck off,” Drake said. “Too much.”
“Hey, we gave you an easy job and you completed it. You found the cat. Way to go, Hercule Poirot.”
It was clear that Screech was just trying to bring some levity to a very dark situation, but it fell just shy of the mark. Still, Drake thought the end result of the past week, while not positive, could have been worse.
Much worse.
“You know what? Clapping is all fine and good but, for me, it’s not a real celebration unless there are drinks involved. So, pack up your shit and come with me. Oh, and yeah, Screech, don’t worry, I’m paying.”
Leroy glanced at his watch.
“It’s not even noon yet.”
“Maybe not in New York… c’mon, let’s go.”
“All right,” Hanna exclaimed. “Finally, something I can get behind.”
“I’m game, too,” Leroy chimed in.
“Are you even old enough to drink?”
“Maybe not in New York…”
Drake laughed.
“Fair enough. What about you, Screech? You going to join us?”
Screech looked torn.
“Yeah, I want to, but… hold on a second.” Screech pulled his phone out and turned his back to them as he spoke into it.
“How rude,” Hanna remarked.
No kidding.
Drake waited patiently, they all did, and a minute later Screech looked back at them, just a little paler than before the call.
“Everything all right?”
Screech nodded.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll join you, but there’s something I need to take care of first.”
Drake opened his mouth to inquire further, but the expression on the man’s face suggested that this was something that he didn’t want to discuss openly.
Give him his space, he’s been through a lot, Drake thought to himself.
“All right, but you better meet us there,” Drake said. “You know what? Hanna, why don’t you give Veronica and Mandy a call and asked them if they want to join us, too?”
Hanna pouted.
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
Drake shook his head.
“No, because you’re the only one tough enough to deal with their anger after what happened on East 86th. That’s why.”
Chapter 69
Screech watched his friends go.
He was exhausted and couldn’t get the video of Kenneth Leung’s murder out of his mind.
And now this…
“It’s time to call in one of my favors.”
The man hadn’t said hello, hadn’t said his name, hadn’t said anything but that single line. In fact, Screech had muttered uh-huh several times after the other party had hung up just to make it seem more legitimate to his partners.
Regardless, Screech knew who was on the phone and what the man wanted.
&nbs
p; Which was why, after Drake, Hanna, and Leroy had left DSLH, he retrieved his stash of Johnny Blue and sucked back two fingers.
Then he got into his car and drove straight to Taglia’s.
As expected, the human refrigerator with the long braid down his back was standing out front. The man patted him down, working from his outstretched arms all the way down to his crotch.
“You want to buy me a drink first?” Screech mumbled as the man squeezed his balls.
How the fuck would I hide a weapon there?
The man’s response was to squeeze harder. Then, apparently satisfied, he spun Screech around and pushed him into the restaurant.
As with the last time he’d been here, Taglia’s was empty, and Screech followed a familiar path to the back room.
“Stephen, come on in,” Nick Petrazzino said from his spot at the round table.
“Where’s Oliver?” he blurted. Normally, Nick’s right-hand man would be either standing in the hallway sneering or hovering over his boss.
Nick frowned.
“There’s a sheet of paper on the table in front of you. Pick it up.”
Screech swallowed hard and reached for the paper. He unfolded it and was surprised to discover that it was a photograph of a good-looking young man.
At the bottom, someone had written a name.
“Tommy Wilde? Who the hell is Tommy Wilde?”
Nick pressed his lips together and Screech cursed himself for once again speaking out of turn. The head of the Casata Sacra had shown himself to be calm and fair, but if the rumors held true, the man also had a dark side to him.
And that was a side that Screech never wanted to see.
“Follow this man. Follow him and take pictures.”
Screech looked at Nick, then the photograph of Tommy Wilde, then back again.
Don’t speak… don’t say a word. Just get up and get out of here.
But he couldn’t do it.
“For how long?”
Nick reached out and grabbed the edge of the table with both hands. Then he squeezed so hard that Screech was certain he saw the thick wooden top flex.
“Until I tell you to stop. Now get the fuck outta here!”
Epilogue
“All right, people, I’m going to get the first round—and the second—but then you’re on your own… until Screech gets here. Then I’m going to try and convince him to put the DSLH credit card on the table,” Drake said to his crew. They were all here now, everyone who had taken part in the quasi-failed sting operation, minus Ivan and the ABC squad—their invitation had unfortunately been lost in the mail.
“Top shelf?” Leroy asked, with a grin.
They pretty much had the place to themselves; it was, as Leroy had mentioned, before noon on a Monday. As for the drinks, Drake had already struck a deal with his old pal Mickey.
“What do you know about top shelf? Bar shots only. Except for you, Leroy, you can only have beer.”
Veronica leaned in close and whispered something in Leroy’s ear that brought a broad grin to his young face.
“Hey! Hey, don’t corrupt the young man,” Drake joked. Then he turned to the bartender. “Mickey, let’s get the drinks flowing!”
After they’d all been served, Drake raised his glass high in the air and indicated for them all to do the same.
“One more thing, guys. I’m not one for speeches—”
“No kidding!” Hanna cried.
Drake chuckled.
“I’m not one for speeches, but this toast is for a man who would probably cringe at just the sight of me with my glass in the air. That being said, this is for you, old friend; this is for Dr. Beckett Campbell, the man who single-handedly convinced a generation of kids that even if they had a half a brain and a drinking problem worse than mine they could one day become a doctor. You will be missed, Beckett.”
“Cheers!” the crowd roared.
This is more like it… Beckett didn’t want any of that other shit, he just wanted people to get together and tell good stories.
They naturally split off into groups and started chatting, hopefully discussing their favorite ridiculous Beckett anecdote. Drake elected to stand by himself and observe the people that he’d come back from a literal paradise for.
They were his family, and he’d do anything for them.
He was sipping his beer when he felt someone come up behind him. Even before turning, Drake started to smile.
“Patty, I’m so glad you could make it,” he said. Drake reached out and hugged the woman tightly.
She looked good. Somehow, despite what she’d been through, Patty Sheer looked even better than she had on their first date.
With his arm wrapped around her shoulders, he hollered at his crew once more.
“Hey guys, I have someone I want you to meet.” The bar quieted. “This here is Patty. She’s a friend of mine.”
There was a chorus of ‘hi’ before each of them came up individually and introduced themselves. Drake was happy to see that Patty fit right in.
“Oh, before I forget… Mickey, turn that down a little? I have a very special surprise for Patty tonight.”
“So much for no speeches.”
“Be nice, Hanna.”
For the first time since entering Barney’s, Patty started to look a little uncomfortable and overwhelmed.
“A surprise?” she asked hesitantly.
Drake chugged his beer.
“Yeah, you know your SPCA shelter?”
Now Patty looked downright suspicious.
“What about it?”
“Let’s just say that I managed to speak to a local veterinarian… someone who loves animals so much that he has decided that whatever the insurance company doesn’t cover, he’ll fund out of his own pocket.”
“You’re not serious.”
Drake nodded.
“Dead serious.”
“That’s… that’s amazing.” The woman’s eyes started to well with tears.
“No, don’t do that,” Drake said softly.
“I’m an emotional girl.”
Drake laughed.
“I almost forgot. Hey, Mickey, can I get a drink for my friend here, please?”
“Absolutely. And this one’s on the house.”
“Thanks.”
“No, thank you,” Patty said, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. Leroy approached and for some reason, Drake blushed.
“You done? Mickey ain’t gonna put up with you puking all over the place.”
“Nice try. No, it’s Screech, he’s here.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Drake peered around Leroy and spotted Screech coming toward him.
“There he is! Come on over, I have someone I want you to meet.”
With every step, Drake expected Screech’s demeanor to change, for him to stop looking so damn serious.
But it never did.
“Screech?” he said, standing up straight now.
“Drake… Drake, there’s someone here to see you.”
Drake’s brow furrowed. Aside from Dunbar, everyone he knew or cared about was already right here in the bar.
“Who? Who is it?”
Screech moved to his right and a woman stepped out of his shadow.
Drake’s heart suddenly stopped beating, his lungs collapsed, and his eyes bulged.
When the woman got within three feet of him, his heart pumped again, and Drake finally managed to utter her name.
“Jasmine? Jasmine, what the hell are you doing here?”
END
Author’s Note
Drake’s back—for real this time. After a little hiatus, he has returned in fine form. So, #thrillogans, I hope you’ve enjoyed this episode in the Damien Drake saga. Some unanswered questions, sure, but, in time, the answers will come. The good news is that if you want to know what happened with Suzan and Beckett you can do so right now; take a quick jaunt over to Dr. Beckett Campbell’s series. Drake 10, Straw Man, will take place after Ex
tracting Evil, the final book in Beckett’s series. I’ll make sure to include a little recap in Straw Man for those of you who can’t handle Beckett and his unique sense of humor.
I’ve been dabbling in livestreaming on Facebook lately and have really been enjoying interacting with you guys more frequently than just at the back of my books. I’m also livestreaming my writing, so if you are at all interested in seeing how my twisted mind works or just want to say hi, stop on by: www.facebook.com/authorpatricklogan. I’m usually on every weekday for a couple of hours. Hope to see you there.
On a more serious note, while this book is undoubtedly a work of fiction, some aspects of mental illness described within it are common in today’s world: the seemingly unending repetition of thoughts, the cycle of blame, feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness. In reality, nobody’s life is as perfect as they make it out to be on their social media platforms. Nobody.
Mental illness is no joke. There is never any shame in talking to someone about how you feel or discussing the thoughts that might echo in your head. Even if you lack a personal support system, there are additional options available to you. In most cities, there is free access to counseling over the phone. I implore you to seek help before the cycle of darkness becomes suffocating.
In the meantime, I’ll be writing books, keeping you guys entertained and offering a little bit of an escape for what has become a very challenging year.
Stay well, people.
You keep reading, I’ll keep writing.
Pat
Montreal, 2020
P.S. Don’t forget to pre-order your copy of Straw Man, the tenth book in the Detective Damien Drake series today: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07ZHTNQG5.
Other Books by Patrick Logan
Detective Damien Drake
Butterfly Kisses (feat. Chase Adams, Dr. Beckett Campbell)
Cause of Death (feat. Chase Adams, Dr. Beckett Campbell)
Download Murder (feat. Chase Adams, Dr. Beckett Campbell)
Skeleton King (feat. Dr. Beckett Campbell)
Human Traffic (feat. Dr. Beckett Campbell)
Almost Infamous (Detective Damien Drake Book 9) Page 24
