by M. A. Owens
“Here okay? Less than an hour’s walk to the gate. No dangers, either. Just you and some open road. Something to give you a little time to think, alone with your thoughts.”
I slid off the bike. “Thanks, Nightshade. Come visit me sometime. When the city isn’t collapsing in on itself. Someday, maybe we can track down that golden bird together that Kerdy wants so much.”
She beamed. “I think I’d like that.”
I turned to walk away, but she stopped me again.
“Oh, Detective! Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I turned, just in time to see my hat flying toward me. I caught it and put it on my head. Can’t believe I almost forgot that. Much better!
I tipped my hat and walked away. I turned once more to wave, surprised to see she was still there watching, but I never look back again.
There was a time when I was envious of those who lived in ignorance in Arc City, safe in their suites and penthouses of Adria District, out of reach of the criminals that roamed the streets, or the poverty that plagued Black District. I thought, if I could be like them, I wouldn’t hate this city so much. I wouldn’t hate myself so much. Maybe I’d be able to see hope in the city, something I’d never been able to see through my own eyes.
I realized I was wrong. Truth was, I already had it better than almost anyone in the city, because I was in the fight. I saw the worst of the worst, first-paw. I saw cats and dogs struggle to do better. To make their own lives better. To turn things around. To make the city a better place.
I saw dogs and cats who were better than me sacrifice everything, time and time again, to bring about the future they wanted. What I thought was bad luck, a bad break in life, turned out to be a gift I’d taken for granted.
The life of a private detective. Dangerous. Thankless. Staring down the ugliest of the ugly every day and taking cases even the police couldn’t be bothered to take. I never stopped complaining about what an awful job it was, but there was something about it I just couldn’t walk away from and didn’t want to. Something I was never able to put my paw on. But now, at last, I understood it.
Beneath all my cynicism, I believed in what this city could someday be. Even though it was intent on eating itself and crumbling at every turn, I still wanted to save it, to steer it along a better path. And being a private detective somehow allowed me to do it, more than once. Now, I was determined to do it again. Maybe for the last time, but nothing made me happier than the thought of trying. Maybe. Just maybe…
Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.
Epilogue
“That bad, huh?” Mr. B asked the Beagle in front of him, who was reading from the Arc Daily newspaper.
“I’m afraid so. We’re still trailing in the polls, and the election is just weeks away. We’d need a miracle to catch up at this point,” he said with a chuckle.
“Ah, Rick, and here I thought making you my campaign manager would be enough to move the needle in our favor. You’re kind of overrated, I guess.”
“Oh, really now? I could say the same thing about you. You once had this whole city in the pad of your paw, and now you can’t even win mayor.”
The two looked at one another, serious for a moment, before bursting into combined laughter.
Rick threw the paper in the trash bin. “Who are we kidding? We both know you’d win this in a heartbeat if not for all the bribes, threats, and everything else Saint is using to lie and cheat his way to victory.”
Mr. B shook his head. “Let’s not forget everyone thinks I killed Trigger, thanks to Saint spreading that rumor. A clever move on his part. Even I didn’t see that coming with everything else we were dealing with at the time.
Rick opened his mouth, but a knock at the door interrupted him.
“Come in,” Mr. B said.
Petey stepped through the door, pulling off his hat and gloves and nearly collapsing into the open seat in front of Mr. B’s desk.
“Rough day again, Chief?” Rick asked.
“When isn’t there a rough day? Another dozen refugees smuggled themselves into the district again today. Another daily record, and it just keeps rising. I’ll be doggoned if I’m going to turn any of them away, but we’re being stretched thin. Even with Mr. B’s assets and yours here in the district being used to support their settlement, we’re running out of space.”
“And money, unfortunately,” Mr. B said, shaking his head. “Saint’s done well tying up my resources in Adria District banks and preventing any of my plants from being able to smuggle anything out of the organization, as long as he’s de facto leader.”
Rick elbowed Petey’s shoulder. “Oh, come on now, you two. Look at the bright side. Between both of you making joint appearances, making your rousing speeches pleading with the people of Black District to put crime on hold, we’ve gone from the highest crime in the city to nearly zero overnight. Everyone’s joining together. I’ve got a good nose for business, and let me tell you, if we didn’t deal with all this garbage being thrown into our laps from Saint and Adria District, we’d be the most prosperous district in the city in the next five to ten years.”
Mr. B shrugged. “You know what, I can’t disagree with you. I have that same feeling. Just one big problem.”
“What’s that?” Rick asked.
“All this garbage being thrown into our laps from Saint and the Adria District,” he said.
Rick narrowed his eyes. “You don’t say?”
“Yeah, well, the refugee problem isn’t the only reason today was a disaster. Do you think I’d come here just for that? I’m getting used to that. I can handle that problem without complaining to the two of you.”
Rick and Mr. B nodded in unison.
“Sorry for cutting you off, Petey. What is it?”
“One refugee that came in today said Saint is looking to take advantage of the crisis to hire killers to hide themselves among them. I’ve been able to keep a tight barrier against Adria District assassins coming over here and causing us trouble until now. You understand I’ll do the best I can, but there’s no way we’re going to stop all of them. We can’t just turn away the refugees.”
Mr. B nodded. “Thank you, Petey. You’re right, of course, and you’ve done your best. Go home and get some rest.”
Petey just nodded and left.
“You’re not worried?” Rick asked. “I sure am.”
Mr. B shrugged. “I think the only thing that would give us a chance would be if the ghost of your old friend Trigger were to appear and inform everyone that I did not, in fact, kill him, or have him killed. Even that probably wouldn’t be enough.”
Rick sighed. “I’d prefer having the real one back, but I understand what you mean. I suppose we’ll just hold out for a miracle then, and hope some other way presents itself.”
“Let’s hope it does,” Mr. B said, tapping his paw on his desk. “Or this city doesn’t stand a chance.”
Mind if I ask for a favor?
If you made it this far, I hope that means you enjoyed the story! If you can spare a couple of minutes, it would mean the world to me if you could leave a review over on Amazon and/or goodreads. A review may not seem like much, but for a small, self-published author like me, each and every review makes a massive difference. Reviews mean reaching new readers who would otherwise never know this book exists. Trigger doesn’t have a huge marketing team behind him. All he has is you.
Thank you so much for reading.
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