Pretty Dirty Trick

by Tabatha Kiss

  “Can I open them yet?” I ask.

  “No,” Thad answers.

  “Just another second…” Max adds.

  I count up in my head, stopping at five. “Okay, can I open them now?”

  “No, wait,” Thad says. “Maybe we should do this later—”

  “Guys.”

  They laugh.

  “He’s just kidding,” Max says. “Go ahead and open them, Phoebe.”

  I force them wide. They instantly land on the large, red box in front of me, tied off with silver and gold ribbons and bows.

  “Oh, pretty!”

  Thad and Max stand in front of the table, both looking a little nervous. I reach for the ribbon, my gaze bouncing from them to the box as I slide it free.

  The box lurches and I flinch.

  “Uh… did it just move?” I ask.

  They grin.

  I grab the lid and pull it off.

  My jaw drops.

  The puppy stands up on its hind legs and grips the rim. Tiny eyes stare up at me with excitement as the tail wags and slams against the side. A bright pink collar rests around its neck, clashing beautifully with her chocolate brown fur.

  “Oh, my god!” I lay a hand on my chest. “My heart…”

  The box nearly topples as she tries to leap out at me. I pick her up and her tongue instantly connects with my burning cheeks.

  “I think they like each other,” Max says.

  Thad nods. “I think so, too.”

  “I love her!” I say. “It’s a her, right? I don’t want to offend the pupper…”

  “Yes,” Max answers. “She’s a girl.”

  “Oh, good. My days of being outnumbered around here are finally over.”

  Thad reaches behind the couch and pulls out another present, this one a smaller bag with tassels on the side. He sits on the couch and opens it. “And today, after we’re done with breakfast, we’re all gonna walk her out to the dog park for a little fun. How does that sound?”

  I look in the bag, spotting a leash and several toys. “Yes! I can’t wait.”

  Max sits on my other side. The three of us trade her back and forth, laughing and swoon over her little, adorable face.

  I kiss her head over and over again. “Oh, I love you, I love you.” I turn to Max to kiss his cheek. “And I love you.” Then, to Thad and his stubbled chin. “And I love you.”

  * * *

  Max tosses the ball and the dog rushes after it for what feels like the fiftieth time but I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of that little face and her adorable bark.

  I glance over at Thad. He sits nearby under the shade of a tree. His back is to it and he has a new notebook in his left hand, his right scribbling along the page with a little pencil.

  I draw Max closer and give him a soft kiss. “I’m gonna go sit down for a bit.”

  He kisses me back. “I’ll be here. She’s gotta lose some of that puppy energy at some point, right?”

  I laugh as he runs after the dog. “I hope so.”

  Thad looks up as I walk closer. He flips the notebook closed and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. “Hey,” he says, smiling.

  “Working on something new?”

  He nods. “Yeah, felt a little spark of inspiration this morning.”

  “Because of me?” I ask. “Or the puppy?”

  “Little of both.”

  “Well, I look forward to reading it,” I say as I drop to my knees. “Two hours with a puppy and I’m already exhausted.”

  “She’s gonna be a handful, that’s obvious.”

  I fall the rest of the way down and lay my head on his lap. “We sure we can handle it?” I ask, staring up into the tree limbs as they wave in the wind.

  “The three of us together? Oh, yeah.” He nods. “No question. Max and I went over this for weeks, Pheebs.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, we’re gonna alternate days to come home during lunch breaks,” he says. “Make sure she doesn’t get too lonely. Take her outside. Give her a snack. And she’ll be taken care of during my days off and on the days when Max works from home. And that’s just us. Your office is only a few blocks away so you’ll be able to get home when needed, too. This’ll be easy. And it’s what you wanted, so it’s what you got.”

  I smile wider. “How did you know I wanted a puppy?”

  “Jackie,” he answers. “Max and I have been talking since like July about what to get you for your birthday and we came up with nothing. Finally just called her because we figured she knew you better than anyone. She told us you wanted a live-in butler and a cook. We told her you already had those.”

  I snort.

  “Then, she said a chocolate lab puppy with a pink collar… and we knew that was it. We went to a shelter about a week ago and there she was. Insta-love. She took us both down.”

  “Aww.” I rest my head. “She’s perfect.”

  He smiles at me. “Yeah, she is.”

  I look up in the sky, catching sight of a plane flying high up in the air with a trail of white following close behind.

  “Hey, Thad?”

  “Yes, milady?”

  “Do you miss it?” I ask, pointing up.

  He follows my finger. “Being an airline pilot?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, hell yeah. Checking into a half dozen hotels a week in amazing places all over the world with a different beautiful woman who I never have to speak to again? It was the best life ever.”

  I glare up at his smirking face.

  He brushes a few strands of red hair off my forehead. “No, Phoebe,” he says. “I don’t miss it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I still fly,” he says. “The difference now is that after a long day of being an instructor, I clock off and I come home to the same beautiful woman who I love more than life itself.” He looks forward. “And that pretty bastard.”

  I follow him across the park to see Max lying on his back in the grass with the puppy lapping at his grinning face.

  I laugh.

  “I’m right where I’m meant to be,” he says. “Never been surer of anything else.”

  “Promise?”

  He leans down to kiss me. “I pinky promise.”

  Our lips touch, gently grazing for a moment before he purses down.

  “Okay…”

  We look up as Max walks over holding the puppy in his thick arms.

  “I think I successfully wore her out,” he says as he sits down. “Finally.”

  He lays her on my lap and she settles with a little yawn that tears my heart in two.

  “Tired little… What should we name her?” I ask.

  We pause, each of us staring down at the beautiful lump of tired, brown fur.

  Thad smiles. “Stinky.”

  I gawk at him. “Stinky?”

  “Stinky Pink. It’s cute.”

  I consider it. “It does kind of rhyme...”

  He winks. “That’s kind of my thing sometimes.”

  “Why does she get my last name?” I ask.

  Max laughs. “Don’t start this argument, please.”

  “Yeah, Max and I battled over this already,” Thad says. “Ultimately, we found the best compromise was to give her your name and leave ours off.”

  “Also, doesn’t Stinky Hemsley bring back some bad fourth grade memories for you, Thaddeus?”

  Thad glares at him. “No comment.”

  “Wow…” I shake my head. “Having a puppy is a lot more complicated than I thought it’d be.”

  Max pets her head and she laps at his familiar hand. “It’s worth it,” he says.

  “Yeah,” Thad says. “Agreed.”

  I blink. “A birthday, a new puppy, and my boyfriends actually agree on something… all in one day. I’m officially shocked.”

  Thad leans down to kiss my forehead. “And we’re just getting started.”

  I look at them. My Max and my Thad. Just me and my boys against the world. And now
, our girl, too.

  Max settles beside me and rests his head on my hip. The three of us lie still, gazing up into the bright, blue sky. Happy, inside and out.

  We really are just getting started.

  Hot Sauce

  Hot Sauce

  By Tabatha Kiss

  I met the father of my child today.

  It did not go well.

  I suck at relationships. I never had the time to get them right.

  I’m Boston’s top detective and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.

  But I wanted a baby, too.

  I found a donor.

  Tall, dark, handsome. Harvard Law graduate. Impeccable health.

  On paper, he was the perfect father.

  My daughter is my world. I thought I had everything I would ever need.

  But then I arrested this guy, Milo. The prime suspect in a murder investigation.

  Tall, dark, handsome. A runner for the Irish mob. Professional scam artist.

  Why the hell does my daughter have his eyes?

  One

  Anna

  I step off the elevator with the day’s fifth cup of coffee clenched in my hand. I should cut back but it’s easy to lose track when you spend your days solving murders like I do.

  And it’s not every day a case like this gets dropped in our laps. They don’t call us unless blood starts spilling in the streets of Boston and they really don’t call the 18th precinct unless someone up top wants it taken care of quickly and quietly.

  I’d hoped I was done cleaning up after the Irish mafia in my city. Guess I was wrong.

  I nod at my team as I round my desk. They stare at me with some excitement and I can’t really blame them. It is an exciting case, one with a lot of potential to advance their careers.

  I set my coffee down and reach up to tighten the ponytail on my head. “Okay,” I say, gathering my thoughts. Six pairs of eyes continue staring at me, waiting for all their questions to finally be answered.

  “The victim’s name is Canon McGregor—”

  Half of them burst into whistles and applause while the others groan in disappointment while they reach for their wallets.

  I stare them down. “Really, guys? You placed bets?”

  My partner, Trevor, pockets his winnings from Dougie, another detective in our precinct, while Kendall, Dougie’s partner, counts her own stack of cash.

  “It was only a matter of time before the Quinns and the McGregors went there, Silva,” Trevor says to me.

  Dougie shakes his head. “I thought for sure the Quinns would draw first blood.”

  “You’re also really bad at your job,” Trevor jokes. “This is no coincidence.”

  “Murder is murder, folks,” I say, talking over them. “We don’t celebrate it. Doesn’t matter how much you think he might deserve it.”

  They all go quiet.

  I turn back to my notes. “His body was found at five-fifteen this morning by a trash man in an alley behind Hammond Street,” I say. “Uniforms are still canvassing the area for potential witnesses and a murder weapon, but so far have found neither.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” Trevor jokes, picking his teeth. “Mobster drops dead in my neighborhood, I sure as hell didn’t see anything, either…”

  I ignore it. “Once the medical examiner does her thing, we can dig a little deeper. Until then, keep your eyes and ears open. Talk to your informants and find out what Canon was up to last night and what’s going on in the streets. If the Irish mob families really are turning violent, this might not be the last body we find. Kendall, have we heard from Detective Wells yet?”

  She shakes her head. “He hasn’t reached out, no.”

  “Reach out to him,” I say. “I want to know what he knows. Let’s get to work.”

  They all disperse back to their desks, except for Trevor. He sits in his desk next to mine, waiting patiently with his thumbnail still digging into his incisor.

  “What?” I ask him, recognizing the face.

  He shrugs. “Awful lot of resources for some two-bit thug.”

  “The badge says protect and serve, Trev,” I remind him as I gather my notes. “No one’s exempt from that. Besides, everyone wins when mob-on-mob crime is solved.”

  “Hey…” He stands up from his chair and throws up his hands. “I don’t disagree, I’m just saying…”

  I pick up a crime scene photo and hold it closer to study it better. Canon McGregor, hunched over in a puddle of his own blood and rain with six gunshot wounds riddled up and down his back.

  “Anna, do you have dinner plans tonight?”

  I breathe in to speak but my desk phone rings, cutting me off. I spin away from Trevor to answer it.

  “This is Silva,” I say.

  “Hey, Anna. It’s Gloria-a-a,” she says, singing the final syllable.

  “Whatcha got for me?” I ask.

  “Come on down. You’re gonna love this. It’s — as the kids say — hot. At least, I think the kids still say that. Do they still say that? I spend a lot of time around dead people…”

  I chuckle. “Be right there.”

  I drop the phone back into its cradle. “Gloria has something,” I tell Trevor. “You coming with?”

  He plops down into his desk. “No, thanks,” he says. “I like the way you tell it.”

  I throw on my jacket. “Careful, Trev. You wouldn’t want to accidentally get some work done.”

  His eyes roll as I grin. I’m only giving him shit anyway. Trevor Rhys is one of the best detectives in the 18th Precinct. Our record since we were partnered up eight months ago is nearly spotless.

  I head downstairs and pause in the station entryway to throw up the hood on my jacket. Summer rain torrents down from the dark, gray sky and has been for the last week or more. I grab an umbrella from the bin by the door and ease onto the sidewalk with the other pedestrians. I’d drive but the medical examiner’s office is only about a mile from the police station. It’d be more trouble finding parking than it’s worth but I also like a nice walk in the rain every so often. It helps clear my head.

  After twenty relaxing minutes, I reach the ME’s office just as the rain starts to let up. The desk clerk waves at me when I walk in and I give her a kind smile while I shake off the extra droplets onto the floor mats.

  “Hey, Detective,” she says. “Gloria’s in room B.”

  I close the umbrella. “Thank you.”

  She hits a button behind her desk and the door unlocks for me. I head down the hall and veer left, easily navigating the halls but I’ve been here a hundred times before. Not that I enjoy it, of course. It’s just all part of the job.

  I walk into room B to find Gloria hunched over a table with a naked man on it. The autopsy is long over and his chest is all stitched back up but something in his mouth has piqued her interest.

  “Hey, Gloria,” I say, as I lean my umbrella by the door.

  She looks up and blinds me with the small light connected to her black-rimmed glasses. “Oh. Hey, Anna,” she says, pulling down her face mask.

  I chuckle. “Whatcha looking for?”

  “Dropped my contact lens.”

  I blink but she instantly laughs.

  “I’m just kidding,” she says, flicking her light off. “This guy has one of those inner lip tattoos. Wanted to get a closer look at it.”

  “What’s it say?”

  “Shut up, bitch.”

  I tilt my head.

  “The tattoo—” she says, pointing. “It says ‘shut up, bitch.’”

  I furrow my brow at him. “What a charming fellow.”

  “I know, right?” She shoves the drawer back in and slams it closed.

  “You said you found something?” I ask.

  Gloria takes two steps back to stand at the next drawer over. “Canon McGregor,” she says, grabbing the door handle. “Found covered in blood.”

  “Right.”

  She pulls opens the drawer and slides the body out. There’s a sheet covering him
from head-to-toe with a few spots of red seeping through the fabric.

  “I haven’t had him long, but...” She folds the sheet over and pinches the corner of his red-stained denim jacket with her gloved hand. “Smell it,” she says.

  “What?”

  “Seriously, give her a whiff.”

  I ease closer and hover a few inches above it before inhaling. My nose twitches, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of spices and sweetness.

  I recoil. “That’s not blood.”

  She smiles. “It’s hot sauce!”

  “What kind of hot sauce?”

  “No, like… the hot sauce.”

  I squint in confusion and her jaw drops.

  “You’ve never been to Hot Sauce?”

  I take an extra step away from the table to clear my nose. “Is that a restaurant, or…?”

  “It’s a taco truck,” she explains. “I go there all the time. Their sauce is legendary. The guy who runs it got the recipe from some old Mayan text or something.”

  I scoff. “Really?”

  “Well, that’s what people say.”

  “Any ideas for why this guy was covered in it?” I ask, turning my attention back to the very dead guy lying between us.

  She shrugs. “Nope. That’s your job. I just do science. My rough guesstimate is that the mix on his shirt is about sixty-percent blood and thirty-percent sweet, spicy, delicious hot sauce.”

  “And the other ten-percent?”

  “Rainwater, sweat, and other normal crap. Some trace amounts of chloroform in his nose and mouth so he may have put up a fight. I’ll keep you updated on what else I find.”

  I nod. “Thanks, Gloria.”

  “Anytime, Detective.”

  I walk back to the door to grab my umbrella.

  “Lucky dude,” Gloria mutters behind me. “If I could die covered in that stuff, I would, too.”

  She leans over and smells him again as I slink out of the room.

  * * *

  “Hot Sauce,” I say as I round my desk.

  Trevor looks up from his paperwork. “I mean, I prefer Stud Muffin, but I guess I’ll answer to that, too.”