by Martha Carr
Leira went through the gate marked private. All the regulars knew that gate was reserved for her.
They were the closest thing to family that Leira had left. The mornings were the hardest time of day. Wide awake with a full day ahead and nothing to distract her. It was too easy to think about everyone missing from her life.
“Crazy mother, safely locked away, check. Missing grandmother, doublecheck.” The troll grew restless in her pocket.
She looked down at her jacket. “It’s my routine, okay? Some people drink coffee to get their blood going. I do this,” she mumbled to the little round green and brown ball of fur.
The gate let out a loud creak and Leira made a mental note for the hundredth time to get something to fix that.
“Only problem is, mother may not be so crazy.” She shut the wooden gate behind her, till the latch caught.
She walked to the street and opened her car door. She slid into the driver’s seat of the Mustang and started it up, grateful for her leather jacket in the chilly morning air of what passed for winter in Austin, Texas.
She adjusted the seat belt carefully around the small bulge in her pocket and pulled out onto the street. “Mom, you’ll have to wait just a little longer. First, we look for Bill Somers and that necklace. Clock is ticking.”
The street was already teeming with people heading for a breakfast taco at the other end of the block. She never noticed the ball of light hovering just under her back fender, easily keeping up with her car as she headed to the precinct, keeping track of all her movements.
She told her new tiny partner. “Need to make one stop.” She turned onto 6th street, and got lucky. There was a parking spot right in front of Voodoo Doughnuts. It was nothing new for Leira. Lucky moments like that were always happening to her.
Kind of made up for all the really bad things that seemed to fall her way, too.
She checked the glove compartment, rummaging around till she found the twenty-dollar bill she kept tucked in there for just this donut place. “Got to replace that.”
Voodoo Doughnuts might be open every day, all day long, but they only took cash, no exceptions.
“Don’t suppose you could stay in the car?” she whispered, looking in her pocket. She slid the troll out carefully, still curled in her underwear, and rested him on the driver’s seat. “I’ll only be a minute, and there’s a doughnut in it for you.”
Leira glanced up at the oversized plastic American flag that stretched from floor to ceiling across one wall as she passed the doughnut-tree sculpture and the colorfully painted columns and stood behind a guy whose spiky hair looked like it had lived through a rough night.
“S’up sweetie?” he said in a deep voice, his eyes only half open. He smiled, revealing tobacco-stained teeth.
Leira gave him her best dead fish look and he turned back around, muttering something under his breath. She wasn’t much of a talker even under the best of circumstances and morning was never in that category.
“Two Old Dirty Bastards, a No Name, a Grape Ape, three Maple Bars, three Raspberry Romeos, and two Mexican Hot Chocolate doughnuts.” It was her usual order. “Two large coffees,” she added, holding up her fingers. She fished in her pocket for the twenty.
“It’ll be a minute on the coffee. Just started another batch,” the short, stocky man behind the long counter replied. Leira liked him. He was always polite but never smiled at her in the morning and never asked how she was doing.
For her, it was the perfect morning exchange of pleasantries.
She sat down at one of the tables and started to read the newspaper clippings that were decoupaged on the tops. All of them were obituaries. Leira liked the ones that gave away something about the personality. He took off to study birds in the Amazon at eighteen. Another one said, had her own radio show that was heard across five states all through the forties and fifties.
That’s a good obituary, thought Leira. It’s about their life, not their death.
She glanced up at her car and was relieved. Nothing was moving.
“Leira Berens? Your order is ready.”
She went to the counter, lost in thought, carefully balancing the box and the coffee. It took a moment to register that people were gasping behind her.
“What the hell is that?” she heard.
It was the dude who had been standing in front of her in line. He was eating a plain cake doughnut in front of the plate glass window, looking at Leira’s car. “What the…?” he asked, his mouth full of doughnut.
“No, no, no, no,” whispered Leira. She hurried toward the door, zigzagging around the tables and the other customers who were turning to look.
She rushed toward her car watching the troll get larger, his face pressed against the window. He was baring his teeth and looking straight at the man in the window.
“Deep breath, deep breath,” she chanted, resting the doughnuts and coffee on the roof and fumbling with the keys. “Happy places. How about think about arresting that guy.” She looked up to see a panicked expression on his face. His mouth hung open and half chewed bits of doughnut were dropping out.
Leira smiled at that and got her door open, just as the troll shrunk down enough to disappear from view. She wrapped him back in the underwear and tucked him back into her pocket before resting the box on the passenger seat.
“Plain cake doughnut. Says a lot about you.” She smiled as she pulled away, daydreaming about arresting sweetie-man.
The troll trilled softly.
She pulled into the back lot behind the low-slung Region Two substation, a newly built, two-story building of red brick atop white Texas stone.
She briefly considered and rejected the idea of leaving the troll in the car. Not gonna try it. My luck, you’ll bust out of the car and have a SWAT team on your tail with reports of a yeti. This town and that green hair though, someone might mistake you for a musician. Maybe. Hey, what the hell?
Leira caught a glimpse of the violet ball of light as it bounced against the ground for a moment and zipped under her car.
She got down on her hands and knees and scanned under the car, seeing the light recede into her engine.
“I know it’s you Bert!” she yelled, wondering if the Light Elf who had been her guide in Oriceran could somehow see her. Her pocket started to wiggle. “Dammit! Deep breath! Deep breath!” She shook her head. “You put a damn tracker on my car. Way to trust, dude. Pull back or I’m off the case.” She looked under the car again and the light bobbed down where she could see it, then disappeared in a small cloud of sparks.
“Thank you!” She got up and leaned into her car to grab the box of doughnuts and coffee, still talking to elves that were nowhere to be seen her voice pissed.
“Pull me all the way over to another world, another world!” She made sure she had her keys. “Ask me, no tell me, to work a damn case with a timer of less than a week on it, then don’t trust me enough to just let me do my damned job!”
“You okay?” A man’s voice called out.
Leira startled and bounced her head against the roof of her car. “Ow!” She squeezed her eyes shut. Her pocket began to jiggle furiously and was stretching to its limits. The voice was coming from directly behind her.
“Detective Berens, right? Something I can help you with?” He asked.
Leira picked up the doughnuts and coffee and pulled her head out of the car, turning her right side away from whoever it was, holding the box there, hoping it would hide the jerking, pulling and wiggling that was going on inside of her jacket. At the last second, she noticed her underwear was hanging halfway out of her pocket, but it was too late to do anything about it.
“Officer Carlton, right?” She did her best to sound nonchalant. He had been a year behind her in the academy where he earned the nickname Booger. Hard to get rid of him once he was on something. Served him well on cases, but he couldn’t take a hint. “How’s things?” she asked, hooking her heel around the car door behind her, pushing it shut.
“Just a goodwill gesture.” She slid along the car till she could turn toward the building.
“Yeah, sure, that’s why anyone gets up early to slog their way through the traffic on 6th Street and find a place to park. What’d you do, run the siren to get a good spot?”
“Didn’t need to, Carlton, spot opened up right in front.”
“Like magic, huh? You have the best luck of anyone I know, Berens.” She turned away from him and picked up the pace, walking toward the building.
Happy places, geez, I’m running dry. How about if I hum something she thought, looking down at her pocket. She started humming something she remembered from Kev Bev and the Woodland Creatures, a local band that had played at Estelle’s more than once. Their music drifted back to the guesthouse and she’d dance in the kitchen, sometimes even getting drawn back out to the patio to sit with the regulars.
“That is what my spirit needs,” she sang softly, “I got something to celebrate, cuz God knows all my bills are paid…mmmmm,” she hummed, hearing the music in her head as a trill came out of her pocket. “Workin’ real hard just to get by. Where is my social life,” she sang, doing a little two-step. “That could be my theme song,” she said looking down at her pocket, the start of a smile on her face.
“Little bit of joy in the middle of trying to save the world, right?” Just as she got to the door, someone coming out held it open for her.
“Hey Berens, what’d you do? Doughnut court? Paying penance with Voodoo! You must have cocked it up good.”
Leira ignored the ribbing and kept going, plowing down the hall with her eyes forward, to the detectives’ room and her desk.
Detectives were grouped by division and housed in different parts of the city. A few were at the Main, like Robbery and some of Homicide, along with all the top brass on what was referred to as the Fifth Floor.
The rooms were classic government fare with green cubicles, ugly metal desks, ugly grey carpet with small maroon diamonds, tech sprinkled here and there.
Most of the detectives worked elsewhere. Internal affairs, special investigations unit, organized crime and narcotics were in over on the northeast side, off Rutherford. The Motorola building over by interstate 183 housed more of the detectives and support teams.
Initially, Leira had been offered a sector detective spot to work minor cases that didn’t end up with other teams, like assaults that weren’t family violence or robberies. A way to get to know the job before picking a specialty. She’d only seen a sector detective once in the five years she had been there. Most of them worked on call during the overnight hours.
It didn’t matter, anyway. She was already set on homicide from the day she showed up at the academy.
She kept moving down the hall, ignoring the gauntlet of hoots and inquiries, and carefully slid the box onto her partner, Detective Hagan’s desk. He was swearing under his breath and typing on a keyboard with two fingers, filling out an incident report.
He turned to look at the box, then at her. “What are those for?” he asked, as she slid into her seat. “I know you never pull a boner so this has to be about a favor.” She shook her head. “No? Hmmm, then it’s to say something I won’t like. My least favorite kind of doughnut-offering.” He took out one of the Maple Bars. Leira knew he would reach for that one first.
The Grape Ape would be saved for last.
“They’re for the patient.” Leira tried a smile.
“No patient here,” he retorted. “But I’ll take them off your hands, anyway.”
“You do the weirdest thank yous, Hagan.” Leira steeled herself and blurted it out. “I’m gonna ask for a few weeks off. Take all of my PTO at once.”
Another detective lifted the lid on the Voodoo box. “Yum, Maple Bars,” he said, before Hagan slapped his hand and slid the box out of reach. “Never touch another man’s Maple Bars without permission,” he told him. There was already a little icing in his graying moustache.
A ripple of laughter went around the squad room. Leira tried to rub the outside of her jacket in an effort to keep the troll happy without looking like she was a little too into leather.
“You mean the vacation time you’ve never touched?” asked Hagan. “You’re going to take it all at once?” He gave her a sidelong glance and he bit hard into the middle of the Maple Bar.
“You’re not the tropical kind of vacationer. Too pale. Hell, your ability to spend time not working a case is limited to sleeping, eating, a little bowling and the occasional beer.” He stopped chewing and tapped the side of his head, rocking back in the metal desk chair.
“That’s what it is, isn’t it? What are you up to Berens? Working a cold case without me? Seems kind of rude.” He fished for another doughnut and pulled out the No Name, pausing long enough to swill down some of his coffee.
“Have to admit, your tactics are solid,” he admitted to her. “I appluad that. So, fill me in. What are you up to, Berens? Come on, we’re a team.”
“Mmmmmmm.” The sound came from her pocket.
His eyes narrowed. “What the hell was that?” He looked to his side and at her feet. “Was that you?” he asked, eyeing her.
Leira hesitated, wondering if she could share this with her forty-eight-year-old partner. Another realm, portals between worlds, magical creatures. This might be over the line.
Hagan narrowed his eyes and stared at her. Leira stood stock still.
“This is serious, isn’t it? Let’s head out and you can tell me in the car. Come on, grab the doughnuts,” he said, licking his fingers.
Detective Hagan stood up, brushing off the crumbs, leaving a maple smudge on his tie. “Awww,” He looked down. “Come on dammit. This is how the wife finds out these things. Not good, Felix, not good at all.” He licked a napkin and rubbed the spot as he headed for the door.
Leira took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching and lifted the lid of the doughnut box just high enough to tear off a piece and slip it into her pocket. Two small, hairy hands grabbed her fingers and held on tight, devouring the morsel. She could feel the edges of his claws but he was being careful enough not to press too hard.
“Yum,” said the troll.
Leira scooped up the box and her coffee. “So, you can learn English, but one-syllable words at a time. Good to know. You should have all of my favorite swear words down by end of shift,” she said, and realized the Captain was approaching her desk.
He was the one responsible for talking Leira into becoming a detective at what was her first opportunity, after just four years as a patrolman.
She proved to be good at standardized tests and knocked the civil service exam out of the park. It moved her up the line for a promotion.
The Captain knew her grandmother’s cold case was what drove her and had cautioned her more than once to not let it consume her.
With no leads to follow that suggestion had been easy to abide by.
Maybe all of that was changing. First, though, she had to find this archaeologist and turn him over to the Light Elves.
Damn. Her simple, orderly life was getting more complicated.
“Sir,” she said. “Headed out with Hagan.” She turned, her hand gently pressing against her pocket, making herself act normally.
“Urp!” A loud belch erupted from the troll. Fortunately, Leira had her back to Captain Napora. She turned, red-faced, determined to look him in the eye. “Ate too fast, you know how it is.”
He seemed more amused than anything as Leira gave him one last nod, ready walk as fast as she could to the car.
“Uh, Captain,” she said, looking back. “Do you have some time open later this afternoon? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
“Yeah, sure, check with me after three. I’m
sure I can find some. Slow down on the doughnuts, Berens. Voodoo can always make more,” he said, arching an eyebrow.
CHAPTER TWO
Leira headed for the car, saying a quick hello to a detective coming in the door but she didn’t give him more than a nod and a grunt. Let them think it was about a hot lead.
Hagan was waiting by the Mustang, still fiddling with his tie.
“I’ve been cheating on the Paleo diet for months now without getting caught,” he said with frustration.
Leira handed him the box of doughnuts and unlocked the car, walking around to the other side. “I don’t think that’s how a diet works. Besides, hasn’t Rose noticed you haven’t lost any weight?”
“She’s lost a few pounds and is too happy to have noticed my utter failure yet. You know what? I’ll drive today. I’m pulling rank, or age or whatever,” he said. “Throw me the keys. How did you get this sweet ride, again?” He slid the box across the roof toward Leira as she tossed him the keys.
“Just got lucky.”
“That should be your nickname, Berens,” he said, pulling the seatbelt across his belly. “What are you doing?”
Leira was on the ground, taking a quick look under the car to make sure there were no flaming balls of light attached to the bumper. It wasn’t until she stood back up again that it seeped out of the engine, a violet ball of pulsing light, bobbing just under the car.
“Thought I heard a noise earlier. Just making sure there was nothing dragging.”
“Make sure you get the doughnuts,” said Hagan, pointing toward the roof.
“Bringing you doughnuts kind of makes me your food pusher.” Leira got into her seat and put her hand in the box, pulled off another piece, sliding it into her squirming pocket.
Hagan started up the car, glancing over at her. “Can’t help but notice that you’re squirreling away doughnut for later. I do know how to share, somewhat. You can have a whole one, out in the open, wrapped in a napkin if you need to.”
She ignored him. “Where are we headed?”
“Remember that witness for the Leahy case who up and disappeared on us? The one who saw the robbery homicide in the Wag a Bag from behind the rack of Doritos?”
