by Jeff Elkins
“I love this,” Stacie said, taking in the room.
“Thank you,” Ami said, as she pulled the heavy steel door behind them and relocked its multiple deadbolts.
The space was small, but warm. The red brick walls were filled with various sized black-and-white photographs of Baltimore. In the middle of one of the walls was a giant screen TV. The concrete floor was covered by a golden rug. There was a small table and four chairs on the right, a desk with neat stacks of paper, a black leather coach, and a bed with a purple bedspread and a wooden dresser in the far corner. What gave the room its magical feel was the hundreds of white Christmas lights that crisscrossed the ceiling.
“I haven’t seen this one before,” Moe said, as she gazed at a picture of young boy shooting a basketball.
“Took that one a few weeks ago,” Ami said. “Over by the American Visionary Arts museum.”
Moe loved the look of determination on the boy’s face. “Did he make the shot?” Moe asked.
“Don’t know. I was focused on his expression,” Ami said with a smile.
“Where’s this one from? It’s spooky,” Stacie said, pointing at a large picture of dark alley with a shadowy figure hidden inside.
“Took that one at two in the morning over on the west side of the city,” Ami said.
“Did you know the person in the alley?” Stacie asked.
“Nope. And, I didn’t stick around to meet him,” Ami said.
“You have such an amazing gift,” Moe said, as she examined a picture of three girls crammed together on the front stoop of a row home.
“Why thank you, Ms. Watkins. Your flattery embarrasses me,” Ami said with a curtsey. “But I know you didn’t come to admire my art. You’ve got a case.”
“Standard fee?” Moe asked.
“Standard Moneta rate,” Ami said.
Moe pulled the thumb drive from her pocket and passed it over. “I brought video this time,” she said.
“Oh goodie,” Ami said with genuine enthusiasm, as she walked to the desk, pulled a tablet from the drawer, and plugged the thumb drive into it. Putting the tablet down, she said, “TV on.”
Stacie jumped, as the television mounted on the wall came to life.
“Open drive E. Play video file,” Ami said, as she stood in front of the TV.
Moe moved next to her and said, “Show off.”
“You brought a guest. I’ve got to pull out all the stops,” Ami said.
The screen in front of them came to life with the video of the hallway. They watched in silence as the light changed, the window shattered, and the men in black removed the painting from the wall. When it stopped, Ami asked, “I’m assuming you want the identity of the thieves.”
“I want to know whatever you can find,” Moe said.
Running her finger across the bottom of the screen, Ami rewound the video to the moment when the glass shattered. “Here’s what I’ve got on first watch. See how the glass is shattering in? And how it breaks all over at one time? That tells me they did this with some kind of sound cannon. Probably from the building across the street.”
“So, someone may have heard it?” Stacie asked.
“Maybe not. If it were me, I would have used something that was focused and high pitched. Also, look at this.” Ami moved her finger across the screen again to the moment when the men repelled in the window. Using two fingers, she expanded the picture to focus on the contraption on one of the men’s waists that attached him to the rope. “This equally impressive. It’s motorized, but silent and extremely fast. If someone had been in the hallway, they would have disappeared from the window before they were even seen.”
“Custom?” Moe asked.
“High-end, special order,” Ami said, squinting at the screen for better focus. “Looks like fun though. I need to get me one of those. You ever repelled off a building before?”
“Nope,” Moe said.
“Once I repelled down the wall of a sound stage that they made look like a building in post,” Stacie said.
“That’s cool,” Ami said with a nod of respect. Looking back at the screen, she said, “I’m going to need to get me one of those and try that. I bet I could get some good candid pics of people if I just dropped down in front of their window and started snapping pictures.”
“I don’t think that’s legal,” Moe said.
“Meh,” Ami replied, as she started the video again.
“TV off,” Ami said and the television went dark. As she retrieved the thumb drive, she said, “Here’s what we know. You’re looking for a team. They’re professionals and well-funded. This isn’t their first job. A job like this – with this level of security and that fast – that takes practice and preparation. Peter Parker and Miles Morales - they know what equipment they would need and the placement of the picture. They are confident enough to know they can get the painting out and be swinging on their webs again in less than two minutes. There has to be at least two more. They need Thor to send the sonic boom from next door, and Ironman to cut the power. A building like this probably has a small security force. I’d want Black Panther, in the lobby, to cause a raucous and pull security away from the prize if the Spider twins hit a snag. So, at least five. Maybe six, if one of them isn’t also doubling as a getaway driver. Also, notice how the power outage doesn’t take out the security cameras? I don’t think they expected that. The only reason to cut the power would be to knock out those cameras. So, they’ve got inside information, but it isn’t perfect. In summary, you are looking for a team of well-trained pros who have resources and have some kind of connection to the inside.”
“Where would they get equipment like that?” Moe asked.
Ami took a deep breath and put her hands on her head as she thought. “You’d have to order it special. There’s not a shop in Baltimore that makes that kind of tech.”
“Can you trace it?” Moe asked.
“That’s why you’re here, right?” Ami said.
Moe smiled.
“Give me a day or two. I’ll poke around,” Ami said.
“Thank you,” Moe replied.
“Now, payment,” Ami said. She crossed the room, sat on the leather couch and held out her hand.
Moe sat next to her and took her hand, interlocking her fingers. “What do you want to see? Happy? Sad? Scary?”
“Invigorating,” Ami said, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Have you seen Robert’s first kiss?” Moe asked.
“That was a good one. You gave it to me two times ago,” Ami said.
“How about two Russian girls diving into a lake?” Moe asked.
“No. I don’t want to feel all wet,” Ami said.
“Have I shown you Joseph’s touchdown run?” Moe said.
“Nope. That’ll do it,” Ami said, leaning back and closing her eyes.
Moe took a deep breath and searched her own mind. It took a few seconds, but the memory began to form. Squeezing Ami’s hand, she willed the memory to pass to her.
There was a cool breeze that blew the sweat off Moe’s face. The world smelled of fresh cut grass and sweat. She put her mouth guard in her mouth. It pushed her lips out. Stepping forward, she put her hands between her center’s legs. She scanned the line in front of her. Three linebackers stared back at her, their eyes revealing a mix of rage and fear.
“Down!” Moe yelled, but her voice was deep and heavy and strong. It was her brother’s voice, Joseph’s voice. She loved the sound of its low and terrifying rumble. She looked up and down her line. Her linemen were set. She caught the eye of her receiver and he nodded.
“Set!” she yelled.
She looked at the clock. Down by five. Fifteen seconds left. She thought about what she was going to do. The pivot, the six steps, throw deep. She’d done it a hundred times in practice.
“Hut!” she screamed. The ball hit her in the hands, and she took it. Spinning on her right foot, she ran down the line. There was a loud crash of helmets colliding as her fullb
ack smashed into a defensive end two steps in front of her. She cocked the ball and looked down the field. One of the linebackers had gotten loose from his block and was running parallel to with her. She only had a few seconds before he was on her.
Moe scanned the field for her wide receiver. He wasn’t where he should be. A quick glance back to the right and she discovered he’d tripped and was on the ground. She looked left for her number two, but he was caught up in a block with a cornerback.
The linebacker made his move and charged. Moe had no choice. She tucked the ball under her arm and ran at him. She saw him prepare to hit her. Her instinct said to cut left, but instead she sped up. The half second increase in speed gave her the advantage. Bending her knees, she moved underneath him and exploded into his chest with her shoulder.
The linebacker took flight. Moe stepped over him as he hit the ground. There was only one more man in front of her. The safety who’d given her problems all night. She charged him knowing she wouldn’t catch him by surprise. He approached, and she watched his hips. She saw him commit. She spun left and felt him graze her side, but she was still on her feet.
She ran for the end zone, pumping her arms and legs as hard as she could, expending the last of her energy reserves. She could hear the crowd roar. She could feel the excitement in the air. The wind blew through her facemask. There was nothing between her and the goal line.
She didn’t slow down until she crossed it. Holding the ball in the air, she screamed with joy, as she watched points being added to the scoreboard. Her fullback arrived, wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her in the air in celebration.
Moe let go of Ami’s hand. The roar of the crowd faded. The smell of the grass and sweat began to fade.
Ami jumped up with excitement. “That was amazing! And I don’t even like football!”
“Wait, what happened?” Stacie said. Then it hit her. “Did you give her a memory? I didn’t know you could do that!”
“I can do that,” Moe said.
“Oh, hell yes, she can do that,” Ami said, as she danced around the room like a running back holding a football.
“I wanna see,” Stacie whined, holding out her hand.
“Later,” Moe said with a grin.
Stacie crossed her arms. “I’m holding you to that. You’re showing me Robert’s first kiss, too,” she said.
CHAPTER NINE
“I thought we were going to be like Rizzoli and Isles, but we’re like the A-Team,” Stacie said, as she stepped out of the car.
“What are you talking about?” Moe said.
“The A-Team. Not the movie – that sucked. We’re like the TV show – which was amazing,” Stacie said.
As they crossed the street and walked toward the front door of Jake’s Diner, Moe said, “We’re nothing like the A-Team.”
“We are. Hear me out. You’ve got all the plans, so you’re Hannibal. And Ami is our specialist, so she’s like Murdock. And I’m clearly Face,” Stacie argued.
Moe paused at the door, turned to Stacie, and said, “The A-Team isn’t the A-Team without Mr. T and that black van. We don’t have either.”
“I still think it works,” Stacie affirmed.
Moe pulled open the door, stepped in Jake’s Diner, and said to the hostess, “Hey Desiree.” The poorly lit and hardly cleaned diner was where Moe’s grandfather spent most of his time. Moe had never met Jake, but regardless of what time Moe arrived, Desiree was always working the hostess station.
“Hey, Baby,” Desiree said with a smile. “And Miss Stacie,” she added, as Stacie entered the door behind Moe. “And who is this?” she asked, as Bosley came in last, having paused to investigate something on the sidewalk outside.
“This is Bosley,” Moe said, rubbing the dog’s ears. Moe glanced around the room to see if any of the lunch patrons would protest to a dog entering the restaurant, but no one seemed to notice.
Desiree bent down and grabbed the dog by his jaw. “You’re a good boy. I can tell by looking at you,” she said.
“Baba here?” Moe asked.
“Please, you know he’s out back where he always is,” she said with a dismissive wave. “You three want me to bring you something for lunch? I’ll put it on your Baba’s tab.”
“That’d be great,” Stacie said with a smile, jumping in before Moe could protest.
“I’ll surprise you with something good,” Desiree said with a wink.
Moe and Stacie made their way through the restaurant to the backdoor, both working to keep Bosley from attempting to steal food from the tables they passed. Stepping into the alley, the smell of garbage and smoke rolled over them like a wave. To Moe and Stacie’s right, there was a dumpster that Bosley took great interest in. To their left, there was an old plastic table with four plastic chairs around it, one of which was occupied by Baba.
“Baby Girl!” the old man said with a smile. Putting his cigar down, he stood to give her a hug.
“Hey, Baba,” Moe replied, accepting the embrace.
“How is my favorite granddaughter and my favorite grand-dog?” he asked, reaching down to rub Bosley’s head.
“I’m your only granddaughter,” Moe said.
Baba looked up, winked, and replied, “Don’t ruin it.”
“And Ms. Howe. It is a pleasure to see you again,” Baba said with a bow.
“Hello, Baba,” Stacie said with a flirtatious tone, that to Moe’s surprise made her feel uneasy and protective.
“Come and take a seat in my office,” Baba said, as he sat down and took back up his cigar. A mug of coffee and a plate with a half-eaten egg sandwich sat in front of him. Baba took a puff of his cigar and said, “I’ve heard that you, Miss Howe, are somewhat of a celebrity.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Stacie said.
“We’re here to talk about a case,” Moe said.
“The Sweet Life of Lizzy and Kim,” Baba said, pressing forward. “I watched some episodes. You were pretty good. Funny, in an awkward kind of way.”
“Thank you?” Stacie said.
“You watch a lot of kid’s television at night?” Moe asked with a laugh.
“It’s amazing what you can find on the internet. Just last night I was streaming a show about the golden age of Dutch painters and how much they go for on the black market. Really interesting stuff,” Baba said.
“So you’ll help?” Moe asked. In a different life, Baba had been a homicide detective with the Baltimore City Police force. But, after the death of Moe’s father and disappearance of her mother six years ago, Baba had changed. He hadn’t turned to booze like his friends had expected. Rather, he’d retired from the force and taken up residence in the alley of a crappy diner. Moe wasn’t sure if he was pouting or if he had just given up on life. She wanted more for him, but didn’t know how to help him find it.
Baba waved her off. “I’d rather talk about the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Or maybe we could talk about lacrosse. I’ve been reading up on that too. It’s really popular up in the county,” he said.
“As fun as that sounds, that’s not really why we are here,” Moe said.
“Oh no, Baby Girl. How are we ever going to get out of this pickle?” Baba replied with a sly grin.
His ability to quote Stacie’s catch phrase from a television show for children that hadn’t aired for over a decade left both Moe and Stacie speechless.
Baba laughed. Reaching across the table to squeeze her hand, he said, “You know I’ll help. Anything for my beautiful granddaughter.”
Moe was charmed. She couldn’t help it. The old man reminded her of her mother.
“How many episodes of my show did you watch?” Stacie asked, bewildered.
The back door to the diner swung open, as Desiree arrived with a tray full of plates. Between Moe and Stacie, she put a plate of French Fries smothered in brown gravy, as was the Baltimore style. In front of both of them, she placed cheeseburgers and sodas. Then, leaning down, she put a plate of ground beef in front of Bosl
ey. “Y’all enjoy,” she said, as she made her way back into the diner.
Moe didn’t realize how hungry she was until the food arrived. She took a bite out of the burger. It was juicy and melted in her mouth.
“Enough chit-chat. What’s the case?” Baba asked, stealing a fry from the plate.
“I’ve got two, and I’d like your insight on both,” Moe said.
“Look at you. Get your name in the papers for busting a human trafficking ring, and all of a sudden you’re taking to two at a time. Good for you,” he said, taking another fry.
“Let’s start with the painting was stolen from the hallway outside a law firm,” Moe said.
“Real professional crew. Bold too, repelling down the side of a building like that,” Baba said.
Even though he was retired, he hadn’t lost his connections with the detectives on the force. Moe wondered how many of them sat in the chair she was sitting in to ask the old man for advice. “That’s the one,” Moe said.
“Well, your employer probably didn’t tell you this, but it’s not this crew’s first rodeo. They’ve taken paintings from him before. Typically, he reports it for the insurance, but doesn’t press anyone to work too hard on it. The boys are all wondering why he cares so much about this one,” Baba said.
“He let the other ones slide?” Stacie said with confusion.
“He goes through the motions. But, he doesn’t give anybody any trouble. He’s even said in the past that it isn’t a big deal, he just needs the report,” Baba said with a shrug, as he took another French fry.
“Is this crew local or tourists?” Moe asked.
“Oh, they’re home grown. Disciplined, too, and young. The boys at the precinct think they are ex-military with how precise they are. I’ll ask around and see if I can get you anything else. Maybe a look at the other case files,” he said.
