by Alex P. Berg
I scratched my neck and glanced over my shoulder. I’d suffered another of those odd, unsettling sensations as I headed here from dinner. I was fairly sure of what it was, but nothing jumped out of the shadows to claw my face, so I swallowed my suspicions and went inside.
The café’s interior wasn’t much better lit than the street, but its smells were an order of magnitude more pleasant. A barista at the counter nodded at me. I was tempted to reach into my pocket for change, but I’d already plowed through my fair share of the brew today and another cup would almost certainly play havoc with a sleep schedule that had been thoroughly mussed already. Instead, I headed into the gloom, past sparsely populated tables and chairs in search of the establishment’s far left corner. It reminded me a lot of Jjade’s, except without the avant-garde musical stylings and a decided lack of flair on the part of the counter jockey.
Someone heard my clumsy footsteps. “Over here. Have a seat.”
I knew the voice well. Gruff and hard and bristling with enough empathy to make a rock crack in half.
“Captain?” I spotted him as my eyes adjusted, sitting in the farthest booth from the entrance, just as he’d written he’d be. And it was indeed his handwriting on the note. His hardened grumble had knocked that tidbit out of my memory.
The bulldog nodded to the empty bench across from him, and I slid on in. He didn’t say anything, so I broke the ice. “You know, Captain, I like late night trysts as much as the next guy, but you’re not really my type. Too weathered and pessimistic and old. And male, let’s not forget that part.”
He ignored me. “I heard about you at the station today.”
I snorted. “So much for a free pass. Thanks a lot, Steele.”
“She didn’t tell me,” said the Captain. “Nor did Miss Moonshadow down in the morgue, sadly. Trust me, I had a word with both of them.”
“So how did you know?” I asked.
The Captain smiled. “I have my ways.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “You’re the one who stuck the tail on me.”
This time, it was the Captain’s turn for brow gymnastics. “You noticed? Apparently I’ll need to have a word with Peterson, too. And here I thought he was the best shadow we had.”
“To be fair, I only just figured it out,” I said. “But I first noticed it this morning. Suffered a nondescript creepy feeling.”
“That’s not important,” said the Captain. “What’s important is the conversation we had yesterday, and your inability to follow orders. What about ‘you’re off the case’ didn’t you understand?”
I sighed. “Okay, look. I’m sorry I snuck into the station earlier. I went in with the intention to say my goodbye to Griggs, which I did. It’s just that while I was there, I spotted Cairny’s exam log, and I couldn’t help myself. I mean, trust me, I’ve tried to take my mind off Griggs and the case. But I’ve met mental and physical roadblocks at every twist and turn. I tried to visit my son, but he wasn’t around. I tried walking everything off, but my feet led me to the precinct. And after getting kicked out, I tried to distract myself with literature, but that only worked for a while. The point is, I can’t stop thinking about it. What happened? What was Griggs involved in? Who killed him?”
“And you think the rest of your team isn’t good enough to solve this without you?”
“No, of course not,” I said. “I have full faith in Steele and Quinto and Rodgers. They’ll get it done. But that doesn’t mean I can shut my brain off. It doesn’t work that way. When I think about it, I want to be involved in it, especially when I know I can contribute. The difference is, this time, I don’t feel emotionally compromised. I know you’ll disagree, but that’s the honest truth. I thought I’d be ravaged, but I’m not. I just…want justice for Griggs, that’s all. He deserved better.”
The Captain chewed his lip. “That’s pretty much exactly what I thought you’d say, Daggers.”
“We’ve known each other for over twelve years,” I said. “I’m not that tough of a cookie to crack.”
“The thing I didn’t expect,” continued the Captain, “was to believe you when you said it.”
“Which part?”
“About you, not being emotionally compromised,” he said. “You are, whether you believe it or not. It’ll affect your judgment. But it’ll also press you that much harder, make you willing to take a chance on a line of reasoning or evidence you otherwise wouldn’t, as long as it might lead you to the killer.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you putting me back on the case?”
“No.”
I blinked a few times. “So…why are we here? Don’t tell me you asked for a clandestine meeting at a coffee shop to tell me to stay the hell away from the precinct until otherwise notified.”
The Captain lowered his voice. “I brought you here because I need to talk about Griggs.”
“What about him?”
The Captain stared at his hands. “You know he was my partner, right? Before we brought you on board, before I was promoted.”
“Yes, I know that,” I said.
The old bulldog kept staring into nothing, and he shook his head ever so slightly. “I didn’t want to mention anything at first. Not until I’d had time to mull it over and delve into the evidence. But now? I don’t see any other logical explanation. Not considering how he went out.”
“Captain, what are you talking about?” I asked.
The old man met my eyes. “The following conversation is strictly off the books. Do you understand?”
I nodded, and I felt my heart beat louder in my chest.
“Griggs, well…there’s no easy way to say it. He was dirty.”
19
I blinked. “Come again?”
“Are you deaf?” said the Captain. “He took hush money. Bribes.”
I saw the mark of the garrote in my mind’s eye and heard Cairny’s initial suspicions. “You mean from organized crime?”
“No. From a small-time dope pusher on the corner of thirty-seventh and Macintosh by the name of Lucky Eddie. Of course, organized crime.”
I leaned back in my booth, feeling the stiff leather upholstery push against me. My mind swirled, and a maelstrom of emotions overwhelmed me. Anger at Griggs for letting himself be corrupted. Disgust with myself for not picking up on any of the clues, as surely there must’ve been over a period of twelve years. Confusion because I didn’t understand how he could’ve let himself get involved with such a thing or how it had come back to haunt him. And most surprisingly and most unwelcome, guilt.
I still felt awful for Griggs. I still yearned to avenge his murder. Those two thoughts I understood. A former friend of mine had been murdered, and solving homicides was my job. But stripped of his sunny disposition and uplifting death glare, all the old guy really had going for him had been his golden heart, as evidenced by the tale I’d regaled Shay with. Now that gold had been shown to be nothing more than gilt, hiding a black, throbbing corruption underneath. So why did I still care so much?
Perhaps I needed more time.
The Captain read me like an open book. “It’s not exactly what you think.”
“Then explain it to me.”
The Captain glanced into the rest of the coffee shop, but no one had approached us. “Have you ever heard of the Wyverns?”
I snorted. “The Wyverns? Come on. You might as well tell me a ghost story.”
“Laugh it up, smart ass,” said the Captain. “But you’d be wise to recall you’ve only been on the force for a little over a decade, and there are others around who have more experience, more knowledge, and prettier faces. You’re looking at one.”
I let the last bit slide. Despite the deadpan, it must’ve been a joke. “Fine. Enlighten me. Tell me about the Wyverns.”
“Back when I was young,” said the Captain, “just a regular detective on the force, the Wyverns were one of the most well-known gangs in New
Welwic. But they weren’t on the streets peddling dope, or extorting people, or running protection rackets. They were smugglers, and they were the best. They had their fingers in everything from drugs to weapons to luxury goods. And more importantly, their influence extended far beyond the streets. Rumor had it so many flatfoots, elected officials, and councilmen were in their pockets that beat cops started referring to the Wyverns as the Heavycoats.
“Well, about twenty years ago now, a new DA got appointed, and he didn’t take the Wyvern threat lightly. He created a special task force, which he picked by hand, to infiltrate and dismantle the Wyverns. Against all odds, they did just that. They arrested a number of Wyvern bigwigs, which they tried and sentenced in exceedingly public fashion. Their shipments dried up and their bank accounts collapsed. It looked as if their organization had been chopped off at the head.”
I recalled having heard some of the Captain’s shared knowledge before. It was why I’d treated his mention of the Wyverns as I had. By all accounts, they no longer existed.
“I noticed your use of the words ‘looked as if.’”
The Captain shook his head. “It was too clean. One day the Wyverns were ruling New Welwic’s underworld, the next they were gone. Nothing’s ever that simple. As good as the DA’s task force was, they weren’t that good, that thorough. The Wyverns simply went dark. But the DA and the commissioner and everyone else was happy to sweep that tidbit under the rug so long as they didn’t rear their ugly mugs again.”
“This history lesson is all fine and good, Captain,” I said, “but how does Griggs fit into it?”
“Griggs was an informant,” said the Captain. “I saw him take money from a source once. It wasn’t until months later I connected the individual to the Wyverns.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Haven’t you been listening, Daggers?” said the Captain. “This was before I was Captain, when Griggs was my senior partner. It would’ve been my word against his, and who’s to say our superior’s palms hadn’t similarly been greased? I’m telling you, the Wyverns had a long arm in those days. Besides, the money Griggs took was simply for him to pass on tidbits when the time was right. To my knowledge, he never compromised an investigation. He didn’t have to. As I said, the Wyverns were smugglers. They kept their blades clean and spent money to make money. They didn’t go around killing people. At least…they didn’t then.”
“And by the time you made captain, the Wyvern threat had long since disappeared,” I said.
“Exactly,” the Captain said. “I couldn’t very well go after Griggs for something he’d done years in the past. Not when so many others had done the same thing, and especially when I didn’t have hard evidence. Besides, I was in the same boat as you. He was my former partner. I felt a measure of loyalty to the guy, even if he was eminently unlikable.”
As I listened to the Captain’s tale, some of the stronger emotions swirling in my head began to fade, including the guilt. But that didn’t mean everything made sense. “I have some questions.”
“Shoot,” said the Captain.
“How deep did this go? You think there are still Wyvern informants in our ranks now?”
“Pretty deep, and possibly,” he said. “I thought they’d all gone dark with the Wyverns, but perhaps there are some who stayed in contact. Some of the old farts, like Griggs and myself. Or maybe they recruited new blood. Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Are you sure Griggs’ death is Wyvern related?” I asked. “Could be he was involved in something else.”
“As much as it would pain me to discover Griggs had his arms elbow deep in anything else, I pray you’re right, for reasons that should be obvious from everything I’ve told you.”
“Because if it’s unrelated to the Wyverns, that would clear your guilt over his death.”
“It’s not just about my conscience, Daggers,” said the Captain. “Can you picture how this would look from the outside? Former homicide detective murdered after police captain hides evidence of gang involvement? Never mind the actual story is far more nuanced than that. When it comes to public relations, impressions are all that matter, and the papers would have a field day with this.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I clasped my hands in front of me and rubbed a thumb across the back of my opposing hand. “Why are you telling me all this, Captain?”
The old bulldog met my gaze. “I hoped it would be obvious.”
“I need to hear it from you.”
The Captain wiped a hand through his thin hair. His eyes, usually as hard as the rest of his face, wavered. “Daggers, for possibly the first time in my career, I find my self-interests at odds with what’s right. If it turns out the Wyverns were involved in Griggs’ death, then I obstruct the case by not telling the rest of your team what I know. But if I’m wrong, and Griggs’ wasn’t murdered by the ghost of a gang now dead for almost twenty years, then I risk losing my job and having my name raked through the mud for acting in a way anyone else in my position would’ve, over an action now two decades past.”
“But,” I said, “if someone else were to investigate the Wyverns—say an off duty homicide detective, acting on his own and without direction—and find they weren’t involved, all while the on duty team follows the trail of the two murders, that would absolve you of wrongdoing.”
The Captain sighed. “I can’t ask you to do this, Daggers. This is entirely your choice. I mean that. And don’t rush to judgment. This will either lead you absolutely nowhere, or it’ll put you in danger. There won’t be a middle ground.”
“You know as well as I do I’ll do whatever it takes to solve this case,” I said. “But you need to know something, too, Captain. If I do find the Wyverns and uncover a connection to Griggs, I won’t cover it up. Even if it implicates you.”
The Captain snorted. “I’m touched, Daggers, but I wouldn’t expect any less. Trust me, if this all comes crashing down, I’m prepared to take the brunt of it on my head. It’s because of my own negligence and cowardice that I’m in this position in the first place. Which is why this conversation never happened. You’re still on administrative leave, and if you try to investigate Griggs’ murder, it’ll be entirely by your own free will. Isn’t that correct?”
I nodded my assent.
The Captain wasn’t one for displays of emotion, but his head bob, chew of his lip, and simple “Thanks, Jake” spoke volumes.
“No, problem,” I said. “Now, I hope you have something else for me, because otherwise I’ll be all will and no way once I leave.”
The Captain glanced into the rest of the café once more, to assure himself of our isolation. “I don’t have much, but I’ve got something. Let’s say you were interested in investigating the Wyverns. I’d seek out a guy by the name of Left-eye Lazarus. I came across him as part of my search into Griggs’ involvement back in the day. He was an independent third party. Did odd jobs for the Wyverns when they had need of his skills, but he also informed for us. Fed us tidbits about the gang and their activities. He came across to me as an oddball, so I kept tabs on him long after the Wyverns had gone quiet.”
“And, hypothetically, where might I find this Left-eye Lazarus?”
“The last I heard—and this was a couple years ago, mind you—he was living in the municipal cistern.”
I lifted a brow.
“Told you he was odd,” said the Captain. “But I think you’ll understand once you meet the guy. Assuming you can find him. I’d check the main east west route in the original construction. Go in the morning. Tell him I sent you. He’ll treat you all right…I hope. Just don’t make any sudden moves around him.”
I rapped my fingers on the table. What a decidedly cryptic statement… “One more thing before I go, Captain.”
“Yes?”
“You’re being completely honest with me, right? About Griggs, about the Wyverns? About everything?”
The bulldog
looked me in the eyes. He nodded slowly. “Every word, Jake.”
I considered his face as I mulled his words. “Okay.”
I shifted toward the booth’s exit.
“Daggers?”
I paused, ready to leave.
“Remember,” he said, “as far as everyone is concerned, you’re on your own. So don’t drop by the precinct, and don’t tell anyone what you’re up to. And for your sake as well as mine…watch your back.”
I nodded. For once, I’d have to. I wouldn’t have a partner to watch it for me.
20
I stood on a worn patch of concrete, flanked by hulking, golden griffins. In the sky above me, a fierce battle played out. Armored angels beat back hordes of faceless, misshapen demons, their claws sharp and their teeth flashing gray in the early morning sun. At the center of the melee, a perfectly-chiseled archangel lifted his sword, ready to impale a hideous abomination bearing down on him from the thick of the teeming black mass.
Unfortunately for the participants, neither the light nor the dark appeared to be making much progress. Perhaps if the archangel were a little less chiseled—in the literal sense.
I tore my eyes from the marble frieze and pushed into the municipal library’s main branch. Inside, past a high-ceilinged rotunda adorned with more images of celestial conflicts, I found the help desk, though the term was a bit of a misnomer. It was, after all, garrisoned with a librarian.
The public servant in question—a woman in her middle years, with graying hair, a seasoned frown, and spectacles connected at the temples by a fine cord—guarded the round expanse of wood with nothing more than her matronly presence. She glanced at my legs as I approached.
“Expecting rain?” she said in a reedy voice.
My galoshes had attracted more than their fair share of sideways looks already. I wasn’t in the mood for more banter. “Not quite. I need to locate blueprints for the city’s cistern and all that it connects to. Know where I could find that?”
