Detective Trigger: Books 1-3

by M. A. Owens

  “Anywho, Lucy kept waiting those tables. Worked real hard. I kept doing any job I got asked to do. I didn’t buy nothing I didn’t need to live. Stashed it all back. After a couple years of that, we finally had enough between the two of us to pay my share of the debt. I asked for a meeting with the bean counters and they agreed. I got invited over to one of the nicer locations. I put on my suit I’d got a couple years back. We treated it almost like a holiday, detective. All the other boys got sucked into the life, but all I ever thought about was getting out of it. It was all thanks to Lucy, you know? She kept me on the straight and narrow. She supported me. She knew I had to do some bad stuff, but she forgave me for it.

  “So, I show up at this place, and everybody’s real cordial. Real polite like. I get asked to come in and sit down. This older cat’s sitting at a big desk in the back. Slickest dressed cat I ever seen. His watch probably cost more than the money I’d ever see in two lifetimes. I handed him the money, and he had one of his boys count it for him. They gave it back. Said there was a problem. He opened this big black book and ran his paw along the pages. Said I was way short. Most of the other boys didn’t pay, and that meant I had to pay their share. I told him where he could stick that money I owed. I lost my cool and messed up, detective, but I was so mad. I worked hard and paid my whole share back. Plus the interest. On time. The other boys worked out their own deal and liked their new work.

  “He warned me that nobody ever crossed Mr. B and lived peaceful afterward. I thought I was a dead cat for sure. For a while, we kept our heads low, nothing happened. That bean counter must’ve been trying to pocket money on the side by asking for more because if that came down from the top, I wouldn’t have made it home that day. Talk about a stroke of luck.

  “Me and Lucy started over. She got promoted to assistant manager at the restaurant and got me hired as a waiter. I worked hard. Always showed up on time. Always did my best. Finally, we saved up enough that I bought the old grocery store down the street. Mr. B’s boys would come by occasionally to ask for more money. You know, for ‘protection’ and whatnot. I finally got to see what it was like to be on the other side of the baseball bat. I told them to get lost, and the interest grew more and more. Nobody could pay what they were asking. It was a real scam. You know the rest, detective. They stopped just asking, stopped threatening.”

  I nodded. “Does two hundred get you and your family out of this district for a while? Long enough for things to blow over.”

  “I don’t take charity,” he said, firmly.

  “I don’t take advice on how to run my business from grocers, kid. I’m paying you for the information you gave me, and not even a good rate at that, considering how valuable it is, but that’s all I got to pay. Take it or leave it.”

  He looked down at his feet. After all that’s happened, his pride must’ve shrunk to almost nothing.

  “Okay, detective. I’ll take it.”

  I handed it to him, and he rose from his chair.

  “Thanks for everything. I won’t forget it.” He didn’t wait for me to answer. He hung his head and walked out of the room in a hurry.

  I looked down at the “Final Notice” letter again and shook my head. There went my rent money right out the door. I couldn’t seem to help myself. This big heart will be the death of me one day. I’d have to figure something else out or that day would come sooner than I’d like.

  I tied a strand of black ribbon to the trash can.

  8

  The next day I headed to my office. It was unlocked, but it wasn’t Rico in the chair this time. Instead, I had the building owner looking up at me. He was a pug named Charlie. Charlie used to be an architect some ways back. Wanted to go back to his neighborhood and design beautiful buildings. He was good at it, too. Seen some of his work when I first rented the building, plans hanging on the walls and a few sketches here and there. Too bad he didn’t design this hole. Ended up getting no clients in this part of town and had to resort to renting his old office to bums like me.

  “Mr. Trigger, I believe you know why I’m here,” he said. I could hear the irritation in his voice.

  “Good to see you, Charlie. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Just water, please.”

  I poured us each a glass and sat down on the other side of the desk.

  “Mr. Trigger, have you been getting your notices in the mail?”

  “I have,” I admitted. A rhetorical question.

  “You realize that you’re now two months behind on your rent?”

  “I do.”

  “Trigger, when I rented this building out to you, I thought it would be easy money. I knew you had troubles in the past when you were a police detective, but you had a strong reputation. I believed you would solve big cases, one right after another, while having clients lined up out the door. But what I really believed even more was that you were an upstanding pooch who knew what terms like ‘late’ and ‘past due’ meant, and that you understood the fact that when you stop paying your bills, you reap the consequences. So, what happened?”

  “I think you’d make a good private detective yourself, Charlie, with the way you sneak up on a dog like that and go right in with the tough questions.”

  “It’s my building. One can hardly sneak into a place they own, with a key.”

  “Maybe I'm not the big-shot detective you thought I would be. Maybe you messed up renting me this place from the start. Maybe you’re not a great judge of character, Charlie,” I said, flatly.

  “You’ve got until the end of the month. Then, you must pack up your things and go elsewhere. I’m going to be finding another tenant as soon as possible. But, if by some miracle, you get the money, you can pay me by the end of the week. There’ll be no hard feelings, either way.”

  “You never know what could happen in a week.”

  Charlie nodded and frowned, then he got up and walked out the door. I always felt bad for Charlie, but he felt bad for me too. Guess we both fell a little short on expectations. He didn’t become a great architect after getting saddled with the debt of his first building that never sold, and it looked like I might not be a private detective for much longer. I got up and moved to my chair. I sat there looking at the notice for another couple of minutes, trying to convince myself it would all work out when I heard the door pop open on a small supply closet in the room's corner.

  “Looking to hire a private detective?” Rico asked.

  “That’s real funny,” I said, using the most sarcastic voice I could muster.

  “You didn’t tell me you would have a guest this morning.”

  “Wasn’t expecting one.”

  “I gathered. So, you thought things over?”

  “I have. I’ll hear the rest of what you had to say about the case.”

  “Very generous of you, detective. May I have a seat?”

  I nodded toward the seat in front of me. He smiled graciously and sat.

  “What made you reconsider?”

  “The grocer incident. You read about it in the paper?”

  “I don’t believe most of what I read in the paper, but yes, I heard.”

  “I helped the cat escape a good thrashing at the hands of Mr. B’s goons. I sent him on his way yesterday with a couple hundred bucks to get him and his family out of the district. I got testimony on how he recruits too.”

  “It doesn’t seem like you have cash to give out, detective.”

  “I had it. Then I gave it out. Going to tell me the plan, Rico? Or we going to gab the whole morning away?”

  “I need you to find out who Mr. B’s biggest cat, or dog, is in Adria District and get close to them,” Rico explained.

  “Adria District? You mean the upscale place with all the museums and fancy restaurants? A lot of dough moves through there.”

  “That’s right. You might remember, but a year back I picked off a couple of nice pieces from that art museum.”

  “I remember. I also remember the pieces just so happ
ened to be owned by Mr. B. So, what do you need me for if you already know all the ins and outs?”

  “I’m not in a position to go asking questions around the place. Those in the know are a little more difficult to buy off or win over,” Rico said with a smirk.

  “Think they’re going to talk?” I asked.

  “I think they will.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “There will be a bit of a mishap soon. Some expensive items will go missing, or something to that effect.”

  “I bet I can guess who the saboteur will be.”

  “Bet you can’t, detective.” There was that sly grin of his again.

  I nodded. “Glad you considered the problem in advance.”

  “They will have themselves a real genuine mystery on their hands. There’ll be rumors going around about a certain private detective. With any luck, someone will come to see you. You’ll be taking the case, getting in close, and doing your digging on the boss while solving it. Shouldn’t be too hard for a hardened pooch like you.”

  “Sounds hazardous. Requiring a sizable advance.”

  “That’ll be taken care of, detective. I’m prepared to give you a thousand up front, cash. Pay your rent and get this place cleaned up, would you? It’s disgusting. I don’t want these big shots walking into a dump, holding their nose, and walking right back out.”

  “You don’t think it adds charm?” I laughed.

  “Oh, it adds something. ‘Charm’ isn’t it.”

  He retrieved an envelope from his vest pocket, tossing it onto the table in front of me. I took the money out and counted it. I paused and gave him a suspicious glance.

  He gestured to the envelope and feigned distress. “You think I would cheat you, Trigger? You wound me.”

  “Where’s the collar?”

  “Oh, that thing? I didn’t steal it. I knew you wouldn’t believe me at the time if I said so.”

  I clenched my teeth. It was frustrating, but it was what I suspected from the start.

  “What? Believe it or not, I don’t steal everything that gets stolen.”

  “Alright, so now I have two cases to work on then. Guess I better get busy.”

  “Need a suit?”

  “I got a couple of nice suits from when I was at the department.”

  He grinned. “But do they… suit you?”

  “Hilarious,” I scoffed, “but not really.”

  He reached out his paw, I reached out mine, and we shook.

  “It’s a deal, then?” he asked.

  “It’s a deal,” I said.

  9

  He mentioned a mishap soon. That gave me some time to regroup about this collar business. While I waited for Lily to come back, there was the matter of shaping this place up.

  I walked down to Charlie’s place, letting him know I took on a new case and got a small advance. I paid the two months behind and for the current month. You should’ve seen the look on his face. Probably thought I was pulling his leg about not having the money when he came by.

  I spent the next several hours cleaning up the office. Bag after bag of trash. Old papers. Food wrappers. You name it. I did some sweeping. Wiping down the walls. Moving furniture. Even did a little mopping.

  The front lobby looked lonely now. I had a secretary a while back I had to let go when things got slow. I called her and asked her if she could come back. She was happy to oblige. Zelda was her name. A fine gal, and as old as the hills. She mostly did the job to stave off the boredom of retirement after her husband passed.

  She showed up within the hour.

  “Good to see you again, Trigger,” she said.

  “You too, Zelda. Hope you didn’t get too bored at home.”

  “I must have read about a hundred books, so it wasn’t too bad.”

  “Must’ve spent a fortune on a hundred books,” I replied with a sly grin.

  “I reread the hundred books I already own.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds like I called you just in time. You were losing your marbles.”

  She chuckled and went about setting up her desk.

  The next morning Zelda buzzed into my office. Scared the daylights right out of me.

  “There’s a Ms. Lily here to see you, detective.”

  I pressed the button on the intercom. “Send her in.”

  She opened the door and walked inside, looking surprised, if not downright impressed.

  “Mr. Trigger, I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  “Thanks.” I motioned to the seat in front of me. “Please.”

  “I wanted to check in with you to see if perhaps you’ve discovered any new leads about my stolen collar.”

  “Hit a snag with that, ma’am. See, when I was on the force, I spent a lot of time studying Rico’s markers. I went over all that in my head. This just doesn’t fit the profile.”

  “What do you mean, detective?”

  “I mean that I don’t think Rico lifted your collar. A collar is an easy thing to pocket. When was the last time you saw it?”

  “It had been in the armoire for years. I would look at it every few months, just to clean and care for it. I rarely wore it.” She paused. “I suppose I saw it about a month ago.”

  “Lot can happen in a month,” I muttered. “Who had access to the room during that time?”

  “My maid, but she’s a darling. She’d never steal a thing. Not a thing.”

  Yeah, sure. “Anyone else?”

  “Some members of my family and a few friends, but they don’t really have a reason to enter the room.”

  “Does the room stay locked?” I asked.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “What’s the maid’s address?”

  I slid her a pen and a pad of paper across the desk. She picked it up and wrote down the address.

  “Afraid I will need to talk to her about it, ma’am. It’s the best lead we’ve got at the moment.”

  She frowned. “If you must, detective, but please clarify that I don’t suspect her. She’s just such a dear. I’d hate ever so much for her to believe I think ill of her.”

  “Stop by whenever you want and check in, but I’ll ring you up when I find out anything new,” I said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Have a good day, Ms. Lily.”

  She stood and walked toward the door. “Take care, Mr. Trigger.”

  10

  Grabbing my coat and hat from the hanger, I was ready to make my way toward the maid’s place. She lived in one of the shadier parts of the district; that’s a low bar already. She was a young cat, but I still gave the precinct a ring to check on any priors. Sure enough, she had a record. A domestic with a boyfriend about a year back, and a petty theft charge about a year before that. Lo and behold, I had myself a prime suspect. Could’ve turned out to be a straightforward case.

  I walked down the street where she lived, taking in the surroundings. Everyone I passed gave me a nasty look. This was a cat neighborhood. They apparently didn’t take kindly to a dog sniffing around where he didn’t belong. Come to think of it, cats really used to get the short end of the stick. That’s why Mr. B’s somewhat of a folk hero to a lot of these kids, at least until they realize he’ll use them and throw them away just as quick as he would any dog.

  Once upon a time it was the dogs who ran this city. Cats had their own city, if you could call it that, not far away; but it was always getting attacked. That led to an agreement of free movement between them and us. A few dogs went there. A lot of cats came here. It really threw things out of balance in the city. The skills the cats brought with them weren’t much good here. A lot of dogs resented having a bunch of freeloaders coming in who only seemed to be interested in causing trouble. After just a few months, the free movement was limited to just those leaving the city, and no one was allowed in anymore. By then, though, the damage was done.

  Most of these unfortunate travelers were easy targets for criminals looking to hire cheap muscle to get the
ir point across. The dogs here didn’t trust the new residents, so cats weren’t allowed to join the police force, vote in elections, hold office, or own businesses. A lot of the cats did just fine. They found work and climbed their way up the ladder at some existing companies. The opposite type of cat settled in Black District. Things have changed a lot these days, but there’s still a lot of resentment among the cats here. And that same resentment has been passed down through the generations. They just don’t take kindly to dogs coming around.

  I finally arrived at my destination: a small, cramped apartment. One of the nicer ones in the area, actually.

  I knocked on the door.

  A young male cat answered, looking me up and down. He poked his head out, looked side to side, and then behind me. His eyes darted about, looking out for who knows what.

  “You a cop?”

  “No, I’m not a cop. Is Molly here?”

  “She in some kind of trouble?”

  “No, she’s not. I just need to ask her some questions.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You sure you’re not a cop?”

  “Wouldn’t I know it if I was a cop, kid?”

  “You’d know it, but maybe you wouldn’t want me to know it, Mister…”

  “Name’s Trigger. Going to get my name and not give me yours?”

  “That’s right,” he said. “Besides, Molly ain’t home.”

  A voice shrieked out from inside. “Robby, who’s that at the door?”

  Robby sighed and looked at me with a hateful scowl.

  “Some dog here looking for you and asking a lot of questions. I was just about to give him what for.”

  “It’s okay, Robby,” she interrupted as she came to the door. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Robby gave me one more heartfelt glare before disappearing into the apartment.

  “Am I in some kind of trouble?” she asked.