by Carey Lewis
Pretty soon the subject changed and they were all more relaxed and chatty with the booze and dope doing their jobs. Everyone except for Dax and Kenzie, who stayed quiet and tense.
Then Dax said, “I know that shirt.”
“There’s lots of them. Popular band.”
“Zax had one. Loved it.”
“He gave it to me.”
Anabelle jumped to Kenzie’s defense, joined in by Roxie as they started telling Dax how he dumped her and what a shitty person he was. Dax didn’t say a word, just stared at Kenzie, said he was sorry they broke up.
“But I wouldn’t wear that shirt. Someone might know it was Zax’s, might think you’re still with him.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she said.
“Can I have it?” Snow asked.
“We should burn it,” Roxie said like it was the best idea she ever had. “Fuck Zax, let’s burn his shirt.”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“You can take mine,” Cleon said. “Not much use for it anyway,” and he took off his plaid.
Kenzie went behind a tree and took off the shirt, held it to her face to stifle her tears. Then she put on the plaid and handed The Clash shirt to Roxie.
It took awhile to light, but it eventually did. They all stood around the smoldering shirt, not going up in a fireball like they expected. It was anticlimactic.
CHAPTER FIVE
It wasn’t hard to find, Jamal just had to look for the house surrounded by cop cars. To his surprise, the medical examiner’s van was there already. He put his badge around his neck, grabbed his coffee, and headed to the house, the uniformed officer telling him to go to the side door. That’s where he saw his partner, Ray Learner, smoking a cigarette and having a coffee.
“You’re late,” is what he said to Jamal.
Jamal held up his coffee, “figured he wasn’t going anywhere. Been in yet?”
Ray dropped the cigarette, mashed it into the ground with his foot, then put on his nylon gloves saying, “we’re all waiting on you, Lucy wants you primary.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s what she said.”
“She said that?”
“Exact words? Put that fucking Jamal on this so we can get rid of him. Then she mumbled something about coattails.”
The medical examiner came out then, an old, crabby man named Art carrying his black medical bag. “You guys like to take your time.”
“Jamal says he ain’t going nowhere.”
“Stealing my material?”
Jamal shrugged, “what do we got?”
“Two shots, one to the head, other to the chest. I could’ve phoned this in, you guys decide to get here at a decent time.”
“All the times you made us wait Art?” Ray said.
“Yeah, well,” and then Art left, not finishing his sentence.
“You haven’t been in yet?” Jamal asked.
“Lucy wants you out Jamal. Told me not to help beyond my capacity as secondary. Don’t solve this crime for him, is what she said.”
“It’s my first time being primary.”
“Because that’s what matters. Look, I’ve already sent the uniforms door to door, see if the neighbors saw anything. Pulled the kid’s sheet, nothing much, juvenile stuff, battery, some break and enters, theft under five, possession without intent, concealed weapon for a knife. Known to run a gang didn’t do much. Should be a dunk, Jamal, don’t worry.”
Jamal finished putting on his own nylon gloves, started to walk inside with Ray adding, “can’t say Lucy’s wrong though. You can’t solve this no point being a detective.”
“Yeah, well,” and Jamal went inside, down the stairs, to the area of the basement that was converted into a messy living quarters by Zax. He saw the uniformed officer, saw Zax’s body, half on the bed, half on the floor, the pool of blood under him.
Jamal walked across the room, careful not to touch anything while Ray stayed back, leaned on the door jamb. Jamal crouched down in front of Zax, looked at his wounds. He didn’t know what he was looking for.
He stood up, “first officer?” and the uniformed cop nodded.
“Parents came home late last night from a trip they took, cut it off a day early because of bears eating their food,” the cop said, reading from his notepad. “Came home, heard the TV, decided not to bother the kid, hoped to finish their vacation in bed while they weren’t expected. Came down in the morning, that’s when they saw him, called us.”
“And this is how you found him?”
“I didn’t touch him.”
“Parents didn’t touch him?”
“You think his parents touched him, they’d leave him lying on the floor like that? Don’t look comfortable, do it?”
“Excuse me?” Jamal asked.
“Man, you about as much a detective as I’m a florist,” and then the cop left the basement, passing Ray who was trying to hide his chuckle.
“Let’s get crime scene in here, get some prints,” Jamal said, “and go talk to the parents.” Then he looked around the room again. He stopped, crouched next to Zax, looking at the chest wound, hoping to see the angle of entry. He looked up to the wall that the bed was against, noticed there was no blood, then over to the chair. He looked back to Zax, the head wound now, noticed the bullet went through.
“No tampering on the door? Any of them?”
“Whoever did this was either let in or let themselves in.”
“I wonder who turned the TV off.”
Jamal looked back to the chair, figured the first shot came from there, walked over to it. He pointed his hand, like a gun, to the bed, then walked over to the body, put his hand out again, thinking it was the way the murder happened. The chair was the only other place to sit in the room, at an angle to the bed. The shot had to be an angle to hit Zax in the chest and make him fall to the side like he was.
He looked back to the chair, the guitar tucked in the corner catching his eye. More accurately, the bracelet on top of the guitar caught his eye. Jamal went over, climbed the chair, stepped on the clothes on the floor, picked up the bracelet. It was inscribed ‘he’s in love with rock’n roll whoa.’
The coroners brushed their way past Ray, asked if they could take the body.
“Yeah,” Jamal said, still looking around the room as they put Zax in a body bag and carried him out. Jamal walked around the room, into the washroom. The bottle of fruity shampoo is what jumped out at him. Wondered why a punk gang banger would have a use for a fruit smelling shampoo. A body wash too.
When he came out of the washroom, he saw the pool of blood where Zax had been. He crouched down next to it, thinking, decided to look under the bed, and that’s when he saw it.
He pulled out a similar bracelet, this one inscribed ‘he’s in love with Janie Jones whoa,’ started thinking it would be too easy if the murderer was named Janie Jones. He gave both bracelets to a crime scene tech, who put them in a plastic bag to be brought back to the station and tagged.
Turns out his name was Zack Morrison, gang name Zax. His parents were huge fans of Saved by the Bell, thought it would be funny to name their son Zack Morrison. The husband wanted Jim but the wife got her way. They came home from the cottage a day early because of bears, just like the mouthy cop told Jamal. Turns out they left food outside the first night that brought bears right up to the front door. They didn’t think that was the reason why the bears came and wouldn’t leave. They swore it was because the lady had her period, going on and on about how bad the bears wanted to fuck her, seemed to come around every time they got busy. Jamal didn’t go for that, doing it during that time of the month, but to each their own.
The only thing the parents gave them was the names of Zax’s friends and his girlfriend, not named Janie Jones.
Back at the cop shop, Jamal did a search for ‘Janie Jones’ and it turned out it wasn’t a person, but a song by The Clash. The one with the rock’n roll inscription was probably his, the other that said Janie Jones, pr
obably a gift to a Kenzie, Zax’s girlfriend.
So they had Kenzie and his best friend Lex to look at, Jamal guessed it was short for Alexander. A call to Ritchie in the gang unit told him they were part of an outfit called the Outcasts - there was a Lex, Dax, Max, and Rex to round out the crew. Jamal wondered where these people found each other.
Then Ritchie told him about other gangs in the area, rattling the names off, Jamal writing them down. Jesus there was a lot, some with better names than others.
“The best is the Clown Crown. They actually call themselves that,” Ritchie told Jamal over the phone. “You remember hearing about a guy dressed up like a clown, walked around at night scaring the shit out of everyone? Think it was Florida. These bozos thought it was a good idea. Pun intended.”
“Bozo was the pun?” Jamal asked.
“Yes, bozo being a popular clown and all. We brought them in one time, say they’re ripping off the Insane Clown Posse’s look, they say ‘who?’ Never heard of them before, asked if we can put them in touch with them.”
“What’s an Insane Clown Posse?”
“Okay Jamal, these gangs are probably a waste of time, they strut like peacocks but other than a few fights, it’s nothing serious. Don’t think any of them have murder in their eyes. They’re all under control by a crew calls themselves the Black Knights. Now they’re the real deal, only ones capable of doing it but they don’t bother themselves with the kids trying to play bad ass.”
“Black Knights? Where can I find them?”
“You find them, let us know, make us look good. All we got is they’re led by a guy goes by Mesiah. These guys keep the others in check, what all the others want to be.”
“Where do these guys get their names from?”
“The Clown Crown I was telling you about? Leader goes by Penny, short for Pennywise, the clown from ‘It?’ Another one, I shit you not, his name is Oblong.”
“Like the tea?”
“That’s oolong. Oblong, like the shape. Your name’s Jamal right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re white?”
“Yeah.”
Ritchie started laughing, “what gang you in?”
Jamal hung up.
Bulldog decided to get up early, wait at the train station to see this Cowboy The Boss was going on about. He wanted to see what the big deal was. It’s not that The Boss didn’t tell him not to go, and if he got caught, he’d just say he wanted to make sure The Boss’s man had everything.
So Bulldog waited inside the terminal not knowing when the damn train would come. He could hear The Boss’s voice in his head, telling him that’s why you know things, so you don’t waste time and look like a fool. The Boss would tell him it was a simple Google search that would save him time.
He didn’t even know what this guy looked like, just knew he was called Cowboy, so that’s what Bulldog thought he’d see. Then he started thinking maybe the man just got the name on account of how he acted. People said that all the time, ‘oh that guy’s a cowboy,’ referring to the wild nature of a person. Waiting by the platform wouldn’t do any good then if he looked like everyone else that came off the train. Guy could walk right by Bulldog and he’d be none the wiser.
Bulldog left the terminal, decided to watch the bike in the parking lot instead. Problem was, there was nowhere to go - nowhere to look like he wasn’t just hanging around waiting for someone. But maybe that wasn’t so bad. It’s a train station, people get picked up at train stations all the time.
But what if no one got off the train but the Cowboy? Bulldog couldn’t see many people riding trains anymore, it was a little old fashioned. And if that was the case, then he could wait by the platform, see just one person come off, it would have to be him.
The Boss got him thinking too much. Thinking of too many possibilities. It hurt his brain.
Keeping an eye on the motorbike was the right move, he thought. He just needed a place to sit. He heard the sound of a train coming and needed to act fast. Looked around, saw a bench on the outside of the building so he ran over to it, sat on it. It was perfect. It was higher than the parking lot, giving him a good view over the whole thing so even if there was a crowd, Bulldog could still see someone getting on the bike.
When the train pulled up and stopped at the platform, Bulldog had a hard time controlling himself. His heart was in his throat trying to pound it’s way out is what it felt like. But he couldn’t just be sitting here, looking out at the lot, that would be too obvious. If he played with his phone, it would look like he was texting the person he was there to meet.
Bulldog was proud of himself for how far he’d come in his learning.
As the crowd started making it’s way from the platform to the lot, the people hugging or getting in cars, or just trying to figure out where to go, Bulldog saw him. It had to be him. He saw the cowboy hat poking over the crowd, moving through it. The black hat stopped at the edge of the lot and the crowd parted.
“The shit looked right out of a movie,” Bulldog told Mick, relaying the experience.
“So he’s an actual cowboy?”
“Yeah, but he don’t look stupid. Guy stood there, crowd parted, and I swear it went in slow motion. Has this long brown coat billowing out around his legs.”
“A duster.”
“What?”
“That’s what they call them, those long coats. Dusters.”
“Yeah, well he has that, looks like Batman’s cape. Looks around the lot, you know, taking it all in? Got this squint like Clint Eastwood just looking at everything. Then he puts this tiny, fat cigarette in his mouth and lights it, then makes his way.”
“Not quite a cigarette, not quite a cigar?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re called cigarillos.”
“Cigarillo?”
“You never seen a western? We loved them in Ireland.”
“You have westerns in Ireland? You told me it was green.”
“American westerns you fucking mule. You ever see Once Upon a Time in the West? Haven’t seen a western until you’ve seen Charles Bronson mumble his way through the frontier.”
“This guy, wearing all that? You’d think he’d look stupid but he pulls it off. Gets on the bike, the Triumph The Boss made me drop off, swear there was a sunset come out just for him.”
“You in love with him there Bulldog?”
“Guy just looked cool is what I’m saying. Couldn’t believe it.”
“You want to go buy a cowboy hat now?”
“Been thinking about it.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Listen here all you bangers. All you bashers, batters, swatters, thrashers, maulers and just plain old cool cats. You got Asteria Nyx with you, going to bring you up to the next level by bringing you down with the soul. The mo-town, the low-down, the get-down, the go-town that makes you feel down that you know so well. You know I love you babies. And Asteria Nyx feels the love coming through these radio waves right into her very soul and it’s being put back on you baby.
“Now all you little precious honeys out there I want you to listen closely to what I’m saying. Our very own savior has requested the presence of you and yours in the tightest of fashions. So all you crackers, blasters, crankers and swankers, you make sure you head on over to the sugar tonight, get yourself the message at the Summit to hear the word, and come loose. Y’all dig?
“And of course your very own darling Asteria’s going to be providing the soundtrack to your night, reaching right through your heart and putting that funk into your very soul. So what do you say babies? Let’s get that time when the moon gives the sun the bounce started with a little Curtis Mayfield because we all moving on up.”
There was a scratch of a record, how Asteria Nyx always started her radio show, then the drums and horns kicked in.
“You get the message?”
“I did,” Cyrus said, then hung up the phone. He leaned back, listening to the radio, thinking about the message Mesiah
sent out using the DJ, Asteria Nyx, as his messenger.
The summit of all the gangs would take place at Sugar Park at sundown where Cyrus would convince them it was in their best interest to unite. No one was to be armed, and each gang was to only bring a few of their key players.
Cyrus started thinking about what he was going to say when the phone rang, just like he knew it would.
“Heard the radio man, that got to do with you?” Lex asked from the other end of the line.
“First I heard of it too.”
“Nah man, you lying. Mind if I come over, talk about what we’re going to do?”
Kenzie’s mom woke her up sometime in the afternoon. She asked for an omelet, her mom said there was a couple men downstairs to see her. At first she thought it would be Lex, but then thought her mom wouldn’t tell her it was men downstairs. She’d say boys. Anyone her age were boys in her mind.
They stayed in the park until the sun came up, Kenzie had a hard time taking her eyes off the shirt that turned to ash. Annabelle made sure of that, relighting it anytime it went out. It became her obsession. They finished off the booze and the weed, too much of both and Kenzie staggered home. She tried to be quiet, coming in with the sun coming up, but she was sure she woke her parents. Thought they let it slide because of her heartbreak.
So she didn’t know who to expect when she made her way down the stairs to the living room where her mom had sat the gentlemen. They both stood when she walked in the room, the one tall and dark, a little gray coming in on his temples. He looked like a movie star, good looking no matter how old he got. The other one, the one that introduced himself as Ray, had the beginning of a beer belly, light brown hair that was thinning he refused to cut off.
They told her Zax was dead. She didn’t know how to react so she didn’t react any different than having a couple cops in her house telling her Zax was dead. They looked at each other, a little surprised by her non reaction, asked if she was his girlfriend.
