‘Where are we going?’ Rob asked keeping a steady pace with Booker.
‘To Brixton’s office.’ Booker stated, putting his hands in his pockets and walking like he was meant to be there. This was the trick when you were a detective, pretend you are where you’re meant to be, and people will believe you.
‘We don’t know which office is his.’ Rob pointed out, this was true, but Booker could make a guess.
Booker guessed it would be on one of the lower levels, Annabel didn’t have to check who he was talking about, which meant he past her regally. He probably worked close to her, floor two or three. Floor two was where the two found themselves now. Brixton was vain, his wife proved that but whereas the hard working marry their wives from college or school, he married someone young, that’s vanity, that also shows he only chose a high paying job because it was just that, high paying. It wasn’t a labour of love or something he wanted to do because it helped, but a job which was easy and paid well. So, it wouldn’t pay that well, not top floor level pay. The last thing Booker concocted in his mind the vanity level of Brixton, Brixton would have his name on the door. This floor seemed to be clear of Brixton, each door had a small grey placard with names inked on them but none of them had the name they were looking for.
‘Up one then.’ Booker said to Rob, Rob didn’t ask questions and just followed, it paid to watch and listen and learn. All of this was a learning curve for him and he was willing to curve with it.
The next floor was promising, the little grey blobs were bigger and had fancier writing on them, Booker had a good feeling about this floor. Rob had turned right coming out of the lift were as Booker had taken the left.
‘Here it is!’ Rob yelped, a large grey sign read. “A. Brixton. CEO.” Booker galloped over with some speed.
‘Oh, so his name could be Alan.’ Exclaimed Booker.
‘Won't it be locked?’ Rob rung his hands together.
‘This is an office, not an apartment block. Booker pushed down on the handle and it swung softly open showing the grey carpet all offices had.
There was some snooping, this pleased Rob no end. Draws pulled out, not from their hinges just pulled out enough so you could see the content they held. Then they were pushed softly back away, nobody would know they had been glanced at.
‘What are we looking for?’ Rob asked after pulling some draws open, goggling what was inside then closing them again.
‘A number, a little black book, some evidence.’ Replied Booker.
‘You think he killed his wife?’ Rob asked.
‘I think all couples have a pretty decent chance of killing each other. Sometimes they just do.’
‘What about his phone number?’ Rob asked looking at a little yellow pad sat on Brixton’s desk.
‘That would help, at least we’d be able to talk to him, you got that there?’ Asked Booker, he was the one who was meant to be asking the questions after all.
‘No but there’s a legal pad here.’ Rob exclaimed, he looked beyond excited, grabbing for a pen he rubbed softly over the legal pad, the yellow paper was covered with a shine of lead.
‘I saw this on a movie once.’ Rob told Booker, course he had. Letters under hand began to appear under the shine of pencil. Booker lent over, expecting what he knew was coming.
‘That’s the phone number for a laundry place, MR Wu’s.’ Booker sighed. ‘Who would write their own number down?’ he was dumbfounded. Never had he dealt with this level of stupidity.
‘There’s a business card in this draw, that’s much more helpful.’ Booker showed the card to Rob, and with a little flick of the wrist, it was gone.
The two just walked out of the building, nobody stopped them, nobody even noticed them. Rob and Booker just walked on till they made it to Rob’s car and got in.
This was the point they started breathing again. There was a noise in Rob’s car, not a normal noise, not the noises Rob’s car normally made, a new noise. It sounded like a tune he knew, an old tune from the nineties.
‘That’s my phone.’ Booker pulled his sheet of glass from his pocket and held it to his ear. He nodded, there was more nodding and some sounds which sounded like the word “okay” but more like grunts.‘That was Rich, my old cop friend. He’s got something I should see. Apparently.’ Booker explained to Rob.
‘What about Brixton.’ Asked Rob, confused about the matter, how was this so much more important than finding Brixton.
‘He’ll have to wait. We’re going to the station.’ The car started and they moved on.
10
Outside the station Rich sat on a small bench, its green paint had flecked off around the edges and showed its dirty brown rust below. Some of the green clung to his pants, they were blue and part of his uniform, pockets were attached at the knee but they weren’t very visible. Somebody had spent some time trying to hide them making them look like normal trousers. This was the uniform he wore now, he’d taken off the vest he knew Booker would only mock him for it, “if you’re meant to be shot they wouldn’t aim for your chest.” Booker would tell Rich, now Rich wore a white button-down shirt and a black jacket which looked like denim but when you felt it, it wasn’t.
Rich sat smoking a tiny cigarette he’d obviously rolled himself. It looked like a witch’s finger, all white and pail. The car pulled up in front of the station, Rich craned his head to see inside, which he barely did, noticing Booker he stood up and threw his scrap of cigarette to the ground trying to hide it as best he could, he watched it for a second to make sure the little Orange light at the end went grey.
‘You’re not still smoking, are you?’ Asked Booker, pulling himself from the car. He moved his head around to try and stretch it but couldn’t. trying to catch people smoking was so you could yell at them was a strain on the neck.
‘Just when I’m stressed.’ Rich replied.
‘You’re stressed?’ Booker continued with the questions.
‘You would be too if you’d just seen what I had.’ Rich did look shaken up, as much as a cop ever looks shaken. He pushed his hands into his pockets and padded his way over to Booker and the car. Rob was pulling himself out of the car at this point, Booker had already closed the door and met Rich at the car lights which were dimmed but still hurt if you looked at them
‘Want to lead the way? You sounded pretty shaken before and I’m in the middle of a case so the faster we can get this over with the better.’ Booker said to Rich as they met in the middle, both their hands in their own pockets, it would be weird if they were in each other’s pockets. Rich turned to head back through the constantly open door.
‘You’re probably right. Is your sidekick coming?’ Rich mumbled as he headed back in.
‘I am not his sidekick.’ Rob said locking the door of his car and trying to catch up. It was nice to know Booker was willing to drop anything to help his friend out. That was rare for alcoholics, even functioning ones.
There were long corridors, they seemed to circle onto themselves. On the right sat doors, they were even space but sat in pairs. There’d be a door, all grey and sad, inches away from another, also grey and sad, then they’d be about ten feet, then another pair of clone doors. This would continue throughout all the hallways. Each door couple was named, they used to be called interrogation rooms when Booker was around. Now they called them holding rooms, which Booker wasn’t as big of a fan of, interrogation room sounded more vicious, more violent when you saw what would happen in those rooms you’d know that name made more sense.
In holding room B, a skinny flop of a man sat in a wooden chair with his hands on the steel table. Least they didn’t get rid of those. Booker thought to himself looking at the gleam of the steel.
‘This is where we’re keeping him.’ Rich said to Booker, Booker looked through the little window carved into every door. The man inside sat, watching the wall only the back of his head was visible to Booker, the window too small for others to see. You’d only be able to see if you pressed your face up
against the window, blocking the light from outside the room glaring the opening to see in, otherwise, it was much like a very crappy one-way mirror.
‘Who is he?’ Booker asked. Rich knew and followed the rule about Booker being the one who asked questions.
‘Adam, that’s all we got from him, Adam, we ran his prints he has no criminal record. Without that, we can’t find him. It’s like he’d never been born, or he’s never done a crime. It’s not a perfect system.’ Rich explained to Rob, he was new to Rich which meant Rich could talk down to him a little.
‘Should we go in?’ Booker asked the window, which nicely bounced his voice back towards Rich.
‘Maybe I should go, Prep him a little.’ Rich always thought about who he was about to speak to before he spoke to them. This was a trait he learnt when working with Booker, short and tall were similar to good cop, bad cop, Booker was the tall bad cop. He never thought of who he was about to speak to before speaking to them if he did he’d normally think about how much of an idiot the person he was preparing to speak too was.
Booker and Rich nodded at each other, opening the door at the same time they both hurried into their individual doors, Rich the one on the left and Booker the one on the right, Rob followed Booker and the doors closed in unison. This was important to the effect that nobody was in a room next to this one.
In Rob and Bookers room there was little light and little space. A huge piece of dimmed glass sat between the room, one side Rob and Booker watched Rich walk into eyesight and pulled at the chair. Booker pressed a little button and there was a hit like an electromagnet being turned on.
‘Oh my god, is this a one-way mirror?’ Rob asked he waved at the huge glass plain with a huge amount of force in his arm.
‘Oh god. They can’t see us, can they?’ He still waved. Booker’s face as hard as stone looked at him with glaring eyes. Booker stood silent. There was a slight hum followed by.
‘No but we can hear you.’ Rich turned to face the screen, there was a sound which sounded like a walkie-talkie after somebody said over. Then silence fell.
Rob looked shocked, he pushed his chubby hands over his mouth. Booker just pulled his lips inside his mouth and still stood in silence, his hand came slowly to his face as he rubbed the centre of his head in stress.
‘Really?’ Booker was ashamed, that was the best word for it, simply ashamed.
‘What was that?’ Asked Adam, he looked around like a dim child.
‘That was my friends. The ones I was telling you about. Booker and the other guy.’ Rich realised he didn’t know Rob’s name.
‘Oh, do they have bodies?’ Adam was that kind of slow at the moment.
‘Yes, they are just in the next room.’ Replied Rich. There was silence for a second or two, some mumbling then the slamming of a door. The mumbling continued for a few seconds, then the door in Adam’s and Rich’s room opened.
‘They can’t see through the glass, that doesn’t mean they can’t hear you.’ Grumbled Booker loud enough for Rob to hear, Rob followed behind like a told off child. He’d done all the apologising he could muster and now just looked defeated. Which was the normal state for Rob to be in.
Rich pushed his hair out of his face. It only seemed to belong when it needed to be. Otherwise, it was neatly combed away. Booker made it feel long, he was the reason he had to push it out of his own. A chair scraped across the cold floor of holding. room B. It rang through Rich’s ears adding to his headache which had only seemed to appear when Booker turned up, he was the opposite of paracetamol, he gave people headaches. Like paracetamol, Booker was deadly in a large dosage.
‘This is my friend Booker.’ Rich looked back up to Adam who was sat with that grin still across his face.
Booker fell into the chair with a bounce, pulling until his chest touched the table.
‘And that’s his friend.’ Rich stopped, pointed at Rob with an open hand, and looked at him moving his eyebrows up and down.
‘I’m Rob.’ Rob reached out to Adam, one hand out and as flat as a board.
‘Hey. I’m Adam, this is also Adam.’ Adam pointed to a carpet in the corner of the room which Rob and Booker hadn’t noticed yet. Rob stood with his hand flat, Adam ignored it.
‘Hey, Adam.’ Booker did a soft wave at the carpet, his hand shooting up for a second then dropping down back to meet his other hand which lay on the table.
‘Can I ask you a few questions Adam?’ Booker asked, being polite to start was always an effective way of getting answers, he could slam his hand on the desk and kick his chair about later.
‘Yeah, sounds fine to me.’ Adam replied with that same rigid grin.
‘How did you get here?’ Booker asked, his words slow, padded out with breaths between each word.
‘I walked. With my trolley’ Adam said in a fit of phrasing.
‘Good, do you remember anything before getting here?’ Booker continued to question. Trying to piece together something together. Why he was called here, this didn’t seem that weird and weird was Booker’s expertise.
‘Just walking and the water.’ Everything Adam said seemed to come out of his mouth with force like he didn’t know how to breathe between sentences.
‘The water?’ Booker continued.
‘The water tickled my feet.’ Burst Adam.
‘We think he woke up near the river. The carpet was wet when he got here.’ Rich whispered into Booker’s ear.
‘You dragged me here for a failed mafia hit? The kids lost his memory, put out a found person report and put him in a safe house for a bit, this isn’t really my thing.’ Booker whispered back to Rich, Rich looked puzzled for a second, he knew this was the kind of case Booker worked on, it was all part of his wrong place wrong time act.
Booker’s chair squeaked on the floor as he pushed it out to escape.
‘Adam, would you show Booker your chest.’ Rich spoke to Adam like a child being asked to show a doctor a nasty rash. Adam popped a button on his shirt, this wasn’t his shirt it was powder green and didn’t fit well which made only one button being opened enough to show his chest.
A huge hole sat round and red in the centre of his chest. Rich grabbed a bin and passed it to Booker, which Booker kindly threw up into.
‘You couldn’t have led with that.’ Booker pointed out between fits of vomit.
‘Rich, Rob, Sidebar?’ Rob and Rich huddled around Booker shielding him from the gore of Adam.
‘You couldn’t have started with, hey this is Adam, he has a huge hole in his chest where his heart was.’
‘I thought I’d mentioned it.’ Rich replied.
‘We obviously not. What else did you find out from Adam?’ Booker asked this was the most excited Rich had seen him in years.
‘Not much else, just what he saw before he woke up.’
‘Which was?’
‘Some shop, he didn’t really remember much, just he described what sounded like a shop. Like a supermarket.’
‘Why am I here?’ Rob asked releasing the two of them had just been talking to one another and not really asking him anything.
‘You’re here to block out Adams holy chest.’ Booker replied.
‘You can button yourself back up Adam.’ Rich told Adam, Adam shrugged and did as he was told. Rich, Rob and Booker resurfaced. Padding back over to Adam, they continue to stand.
‘Can you tell me about what you saw before the river?’ Booker asked politely, he’d worked out talking to Adam like a child seemed to work, that’s why Rich did it. Booker just went with it.
‘The what?’ Adam asked, confused by what Booker meant.
‘The river? The water that tickled your feet?’ Booker corrected himself.‘What did you see before the water that tickled your feet?’ he repeated.
‘Oh, the big white thing? There were loads of them trolleys, people pushing them around and around, nobody carried anything like Adam’s in them, but they walked around putting little metal cans and pink stuff in, then I felt dizzy like my
head was going to pop off. There was whooshing, like when somebody blows on the back of your ears, but lots of people blowing on them, then I saw a big white thing, well lots of them, all in a line I looked at them and they hurt my eyes.’ Adam explained, he looked sad, for the first time since Booker met him Adam wasn’t grinning like an idiot he just looks sad. Although this could have been his resting face. ‘Then the top of my head tickled.’ Adam became chipper again. Booker wanted to put him into a chipper, a big wood chipper.
‘Thank you, Adam.’ Booker stood up, happy with the information he’d collected. Even if his face didn’t show it. Pushing the door open Booker left followed by Rob. Rich chatted with Adam a little, then followed the two others.
‘Weird, right?’ Rich asked closing the door behind him.
Adam was left watching his reflection in a mirror, first he pulled huge puffy faces. Blowing his cheeks out as wide as he could until they hurt and the blood which ran through the veins of his mouth was visible. Once that became unbearable, Adam allowed all the air from him to escape. He sucked in his cheeks until his lips puffed up into two small prawns on the front of his face, his eyes crossed it was such an odd sensation. He finally breathed in and decided to look at the white things in his mouth, he pulled his bottom lip down using his jaw hiding the top row of teeth. They looked nice and neat if not a little yellow and worn, but that was only very noticeable when he pulled such a face. Then he let his jaw straighten up, the muscles in his neck hurt. He curled the top lip of his face up inside itself, it was quite a skill and allowed him to look at the long sharp teeth he hid at the top, he licked them with a thick pink tongue. Shaking around his face it returned to normal as if nothing had happened, he blew a horse noise with his mouth, which amused him for another thirty seconds or so.
A Well-Timed Death (Booker Shield Book 1) Page 9
