“No.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“It’s complicated.” I had nothing more to say on the subject. I sipped my drink, uncomfortable silence taking hold.
“That was some riot,” she said after a while.
“Yeah.”
“You just about got yourself killed, you know.”
“I know.”
“What were you thinking? The sky was fucking falling, and that’s when you decided to stroll on out?”
“You ask too many questions.”
“You remind me of some of the girls around here.” She poured herself another. “I’m talking about the ones who drink and drug and fuck like they’re on a mission.”
“What kind of mission?”
“I wish I knew. It’s like they’re out to kill themselves, but they don’t have the guts to just slash their wrists and be done with it. Is that who you are?”
“No. I’m on a different kind of mission.”
“That’s what they all say.”
* * *
I tiptoed out, trying not to wake Maria, who was conked out on the sex swing. I hadn’t slept all night. My haunted thoughts wouldn’t allow it.
I found an empty room with a phone and tried to set up a conference call with Wu and Froelich. Wu answered. Froelich didn’t. I’d have to wake up that asshole in person. I told Wu to meet me at Froelich’s boat. It was time I took those two homicide bastards to task. Fuckers thought it was okay to go out gambling and not answer my calls? That shit was going to stop.
I strolled out the door and through the riot’s wreckage, my shades dimming out some of the details. This duller form of reality suited me fine. The morning was hot. A southern breeze carried scorched air from the vast southern deserts that suffocated so much of this planet. Lagarto’s only oasis was here in the jungles of the northern pole. If you could call this lizard-infested, riot-ravaged, poverty-stricken, mold-spotted city an oasis.
I chartered a skiff and rode the Koba River. A single lightbulb swayed on the end of a wire that hung from the rusted roof, golden light oozing out across black water. Pairs of monitor eyes reflected out of the darkness, accusing me with their cold, reptilian gazes.
Arriving at the dock, I handed the pilot some bills and climbed a ladder to the pier. I wandered the stalls, passing tables full of fresh fish on ice and racks of gutted ’guanas on hooks.
Spotting a small tub full of squirming salamanders, I stopped to order a taco. I stood by as the cook skewered two ’manders and dunked the squirming pair into a jar of peppery batter. They came out completely coated, their battered legs and tails wriggling as they went into the fryer. Next, she held a flatbread in one hand and used the other to spatula on a thick swath of aromatic paste made from local spice. My stomach growled as she spooned on the riverfruit salsa. Then came the sprinkle of bitter cloverweed leaves. I waited as the fryer bubbled, the smell of grease and wood smoke making my mouth water. Finally, she pulled the skewer out of the fryer, crisped ’manders impaled on the end. Folding the flatbread into a taco, she used the bread to pinch the golden-brown critters off the slender rod. “Hot sauce?”
I nodded, paid up, and bit through the flatbread, crunching on the ’manders in the center. Tangy. Must be juveniles. The older ones tasted muddy.
Wu stepped up just before I took another bite, and I decided to take a bite of him first. “Hey, asshole, you left us hanging last night.”
“Sorry, but me and Froelich, we were upriver—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I chomped into my taco, hot sauce dripping out the other end. I walked as I chewed, forcing Wu to follow.
“Kripsen and Lumbela filled me in on last night,” he said.
“Did you thank them?”
“For what?”
“For doing your job.”
“What? Now I’m supposed to be the leg breaker?”
“You and Froelich should’ve been there. And you motherfuckers better quit dodging my calls.” I chomped off another bite and kept at him, my words slurred. “I thought you were supposed to be the badass of this gang, but when the serious shit comes down you’re nowhere to be found.” I licked hot sauce off my lips, my tongue on fire. “You know what you are? You’re a pussy.”
He grabbed my arm and pulled me up close, our noses almost kissing. “You take that back.” His temples were pulsing, the scar across his forehead darkening.
“Pussy.” I grinned while I chewed, daring him to try something. His nostrils flared, and his lips pinched down so tight that they resembled the scar on his forehead. He didn’t take a swing. He couldn’t. I pressed my taco hand into his chest and pushed him out of my way, leaving a grease stain over his heart. If he didn’t like being called a pussy, then he better grow a pair and do what he was told.
I was walking again. My appetite was gone, but I forced myself to take one more bite before tossing the scraps into the weeds with the candy wrappers and broken bottles. Wu trailed behind me, but not far—I could hear his shuffling footsteps. Sulking bastard.
“This it?” I pointed my bobbing finger at a listing barge. Froelich had once told me how some of the lower compartments flooded decades ago, making the old junker sit cockeyed in the water.
“Yeah,” Wu mumbled as he stepped up alongside me. “His place is on the second deck.”
“Let’s wake him up.”
We climbed the long gangway, and reaching the top, we started across the slanted decking, our shoes sinking into spongy moss. We ducked through a bulkhead and went up a set of rust-eaten metal stairs that—due to the barge’s tilt—sat at an awkward angle.
“Heard from pretty-boy Mota?” asked Wu.
“No. But we don’t have to worry about him anymore. Not after last night.”
“Good. You know he’s a fag?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Around.”
I kept one hand on the sweating steel wall as we headed down a long corridor that leaned heavy to starboard. My shoe slipped and I went down, my knees crumpling, my left side smacking into the deck. Christ.
Wu laughed, the sound of his delight echoing up and down the corridor.
I slowly stood and evaluated the damage. One ankle felt a little gimpy, and my hip would surely bruise, but no more than that. “What the hell happened?”
“You fucking fell.”
I pushed my shades up to the top of my head and studied the floor. There’s the culprit. I reached down to touch a glob of yellow goop that had been smeared under my shoe. I held my fingers to my nose for a smell. “Fly gel.”
“Somebody must’ve spilled.”
The gel killed flies and eggs. Lagartans used it to clean cuts and abrasions. Without it, an open wound would be squirming with maggots inside five minutes. Lagartan flies acted fast. And they were damn good dive-bombers, expert at dropping their eggs from the air.
“There’s more up there,” said Wu.
We followed the sporadic trail of drops to a door painted sloppily with the name FROELICH.
“Did Froelich cut himself last night?” I asked, uncertainty creeping up my spine.
Wu shook his head no and opened Froelich’s door. I followed him in, my hand on my piece. He flicked on the lights. The cabin was small—bed, kitchenette, toilet—and from the entry, it slanted downhill to the left.
The nightstand had been toppled, contents spilled on the floor. Oils and lubes. Condoms and cock rings. My eyes turned to a splatter of gel that marked the far wall, more gel on the floor underneath, and then a trail leading behind the bed, as if somebody had thrown something against the wall, where it fell, then rolled down the slanted decking.
Wu and I stepped slowly around the bed, following the trail to a severed head. Coated in fly gel, it rested where the wall met the floor, a vertebra poking out from a savagely chopped neck stump. I toed a gooey ear with my shoe, rolling the head faceup.
Hemorrhaged eyes stared from behind the gel mask. His mouth was agape, the b
lack hole clotted with gel.
Froelich.
six
“NO,” said a shocked Wu. “No fucking way.”
I pulled my shoe away, and Froelich’s head rolled face-down, his vacant gaze aimed at the floor but angled to one side, his nose acting like a mini-kickstand. What was that on his cheek? A tattoo?
I squatted down for a closer look. A ring of interlocked snakes, two of them, each one swallowing the tail of the one in front. Where did that come from?
“No fucking way,” repeated Wu, shaking his head slowly from side to side.
Froelich was dead, reducing my crew by 20 percent. My gut was heavy with dread. Events were reeling out ahead of me, and I had no way to rein them back in. I’d lost control.
Mota. Had I misjudged that pretty-boy son of a bitch? I couldn’t believe he’d take it this far. Would he actually kill one of my crew? A fellow cop?
Wu’s face was as pale as my own, his scar a faint pink line. “He was my partner,” he said, his voice barely audible.
I sat on the bed’s crumpled sheets and tried to see it another way. Maybe it wasn’t Mota who did this. Froelich had enemies, lots of them. It might not be my fault. It might not have anything to do with me. That tattoo on his cheek was some weird shit, wasn’t it?
And why kill Froelich? Cop killings brought too much attention. Killing me was the smart move.
Unless Mota couldn’t find me.
Or he was crazy.
* * *
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Maggie’s hands were on her hips, her jaw jutted. We stood in a private corner of the barge’s deck, behind one of the cranes, isolated from the hommy dicks and the med techs. I leaned on the rail, the deck’s listing slope making it the only comfortable way to stand.
I hid behind my shades. “I don’t know anything about this.”
“Don’t give me that. Talk.”
I didn’t know what to say. That I was back in the protection business? That I broke a good kid’s legs last night? That I already got one of my crew killed?
Wishing it all away, I looked out at the river, at the black water flowing gently in the starlight. I tuned into the way the barge swayed with the silent current, my mind syncing with the lazy rocking. Maggie asked another question, but I wasn’t listening. The river. It was calling me. The mad spark lit inside me. I recognized it this time. I felt reality leaking away, and I let it go. Gladly.
I stared straight down at the water. It stared back. Smiling, inviting. All I had to do was jump this rail. After a quick drop, the river would welcome me with a burst of spray, a celebration of liquid confetti. I’d drop below the surface and let her hold me in her cradling hands. Sinking, I’d let her carry me in her cool flow until she ushered me away from this world.
A finger poked my arm. “Talk, dammit. What do you know about this?”
I was transfixed by the water. Seduced. I didn’t want to break the trance.
“I’m talking to you, Juno.”
The trance crumbled. Dizzy, I gripped the rail and willed my melting knees to lock.
“Juno?”
I ripped my gaze off the water the way you rip off a bandage. Reality was back, the spark extinguished.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I glared at her, my eyes burning straight through my shades.
“Seriously. What’s wrong?” She reached for my hand, warm fingers making contact. “You’re scaring me.”
Hearing the fear in her voice, I felt a shift inside, chafing annoyance once again getting overwhelmed by the guilt and gloom. I couldn’t handle this shit, emotions cycling like mad, moods swinging like hyper monkeys. What the fuck was wrong with me? “I’m okay.” I tried to sound believable. “Really, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Jesus, look at you. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine. I don’t see a severed head every day, okay? It’s got me a little screwed up.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” She smacked my hand. “Don’t pull that shit with me. You and I both know you’ve seen worse.”
I didn’t want to bullshit her. I really didn’t. But coming clean was out of the question. This whole fucking thing could be blowing up in my face, but I had to keep it contained as best I could. And to achieve containment I had to keep her out.
She waited for an answer. I had to say something. Something that would explain why my fingers were gripping the rail like a lifeline. Something believable.
I started into another line of bullshit, but it caught in my throat, nothing more than a mangled syllable coming out my mouth. I tried again, but couldn’t spit it out, another false start dying before I could utter it.
Maggie’s sharp eyes shone in the lamplight, her bullshit meter on full alert. I sighed, my posture deflating, my ego wilting.
“I miss Niki.” I adjusted my shades, the shades Niki had given me. Underneath, my eyes misted as painful seconds drifted by.
“I know you do. She was carrying too much weight to keep living.”
Yes, she was. For the twenty-five years we’d been together, she tried to stay afloat. She really did. But the weight dragged on her ankles like an anchor until she couldn’t swim any longer. There were things in life you just couldn’t shake, and being raped by your father was one of them.
Footsteps approached from behind. “There you are. I’ve been lookin’ all over for you two.”
Just what I need. Josephs. Mark Josephs. Maggie’s newest partner and a grade-A asshole. I rubbed my chin to cover my quivering lower lip.
“Juno, you old dog, what the fuck have you done this time?”
“He and Paolo Wu found Froelich,” answered Maggie.
I cleared my throat and tried but failed to sniffle my nose clear. Using my index finger, I stabbed away a tear that leaked out from under my shades.
He leaned in to get a closer look at me. “What the fuck? You cryin’?”
“No.”
“Cryin’ over Froelich?” He threw up his hands. “You gotta be fuckin’ shittin’ me. Why you gettin’ all weepy over that dickhead?”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m just askin’.”
“Leave him alone, Mark,” said Maggie.
“What’s today’s date? I’m gonna mark my calendar. The day Juno Mozambe cried. This shit’s historic.”
A different type of spark ignited: anger. I was well acquainted with this kind. “Fuck off,” I said, my shaky right strangling the rail.
Josephs held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, don’t get your titties twisted now. I’m just lightenin’ the mood. Bringin’ a little cheer like I always do. Why are you always so serious?”
I told myself to relax. Let it go. Just let it go. I peeled my fingers off the rail and shoved them in a pocket. I shifted my feet, muscles uncoiling, and even tried a smile.
“That’s better,” he said. “You gotta quit bein’ so touchy. Don’t be a bitch now.”
My nerves jingled and my eye twitched. I was ready to pummel this stiff. That was what I needed, a good fucking fight.
Maggie put a hand on Josephs’s shoulder. “Listen, Mark, why don’t you let me talk to Juno alone?”
“No.” He pulled his shoulder away. “We’re gonna do it together. We’re supposed to be partners, right?”
“I really think it would be better if you let me handle it.”
“Fuck that. If you didn’t wanna work with me, you shouldn’t have asked me to be your partner.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Her face screwed in disgust. “Nobody else would have you.”
“That ain’t it at all. It’s not that they don’t like me. Those dickheads don’t want to be outshined is all.” He flashed his pearlies. “Nobody likes to be fiddle number two.”
Hang in a little longer, I told myself. All I had to do was answer a few questions. No big deal. Then I could move on. I could find a bar and drink until the emotions stopped swinging. Drink until I couldn’t
feel. “Fucking ask your questions already.”
Josephs hit Maggie with a self-satisfied smile, like he’d just won a prize. The bastard was like a jungle tick the way he loved to get under your skin.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked him.
He turned to me. “How did you find Froelich?”
“Wu and Froelich went upriver last night to do some betting on the monitor fights. Wu wasn’t sure if he made it home okay. We tried calling him this morning and he didn’t answer, so we came down here to check on him.”
“That it?”
“That’s it.”
“What’s the deal with that tattoo on his cheek? You ever seen it before?”
“No. The killer must’ve stamped him.”
Maggie asked Josephs, “What’s the status on the search?”
“The unis tell me this boat’s clean. We think whoever did this did it somewhere else, then dunked Froelich’s head in fly gel to preserve it before bringin’ it here.” To me he said, “Now why don’t you tell me where you fit in with Wu and Froelich.”
“We’re buddies.” Poker face.
“Fuckin’ bullshit. You got some shit goin’ with them two, and you’re gonna tell me what it is.”
“We’re just friends. Pals.”
“We got a dead cop. We can’t let that go unanswered. You know that. If you three were into some shit, you gotta let me know. You back to your old tricks?”
Maggie chimed in. “You know who did this, don’t you, Juno?”
Possibly, I thought with locked lips.
“A cop is dead,” said Josephs. “Fuckin’ decapitated. You understand how much pressure’s gonna come down on us? If you know somethin’, you can’t keep us in the dark. You can’t.”
I felt the pressure, their combined heat bearing down on me. But I held strong. “I told you everything I know.”
Maggie seized my wrist. My heart started it was so sudden. “Don’t you dare shut me out.” She raised an accusing finger, aimed it at the spot between my eyes.
KOP Killer Page 5
