by Matt Sheehan
“Unfortunately, he escaped before he could be questioned, through gross incompetence I might add. Who turns their back on a prisoner while bringing in his meal tray? Perhaps throwing that captain out the window was excessive, but I was pretty mad at the time.
“This time Silas really went to ground. I would get hits here and there, but I was always just a bit too late to catch him. In the meantime we kept a lookout for Magnus and his men. We haven’t had any luck on that front either.”
I said, “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. If he hasn’t made any noise in a while, it’s possible he gave up. Or maybe he’s dead. What about Jacob?”
“Jacob was a ghost. No one we questioned knew anything about him. And let me tell you, the questioning was thorough. Silas probably knew.” He let the last statement hang in the air for a bit.
“Where is Magnus’s disembodied arm, sir?”
First off, I was surprised Shamus was keeping up with the conversation. But second, I knew where he was going with it as soon as he asked.
“That was the breakthrough we’ve had after all these years. Nice catch, Shamus.” Shamus smiled and blushed. “It turns out that one of the men in our unit, a sergeant named Rondo, kept it as a souvenir. He took it home and had it bronzed. When Alek made major, Rondo presented it to him. Alek, upon returning home after his dealings with you two, came upon it and thought of the possibilities.”
Phoebe asked Shamus, “Why is this important, sweetie?”
“I might be able to find him using his arm. I would need to touch it to be sure. It’s a personal item, and I know he was attached to it.”
Everyone loves puns. Phoebe giggled. Ramón and I just shared a look.
“That’s what I’m hoping, my man. I’ve got the creepy thing packed away in my luggage. I’ll bring it by tomorrow morning if that’s okay.”
Shamus made a pained face. “How about afternoonish. I’ve got morning plans.” Or as I understood it, I want to sleep in.
“That will be fine.” Ramón had a big grin on his face. “I have a good feeling about this, fellas.”
I didn’t necessarily. First of all, there had been no mention of a fee. Now granted, I was in Ramón’s debt for what he had taught me, and a little pro bono work for an old friend wouldn’t be so bad. Shamus would do it without thinking.
Sha really doesn’t care about money, as long as his lifestyle is maintained. Getting him to understand that money in fact keeps his lifestyle maintained is another matter entirely. He just thinks the universe will provide what he needs, and this constant worrying about jobs simply disrupts the natural order of things. I’m no philosopher, but the way I see it, the universe or whatever provides the opportunity, and I am the intermediary that forces him to accept said opportunity. Shamus has historically agreed to disagree. I am not in agreement and continue to pester.
My main concern was where the clues would lead us. Ramón never said anything about the bones, or anyone associated with them, being in Hesperia. More likely, this was an Old World case, and truth be told, I would have been quite content to never step foot on that other hemisphere again. Back there were a lot of memories I wasn’t interested in revisiting, from a time when I had little control over the direction of my life.
My plan was to give what help we could from the comfortable surroundings of our office and send Ramón off with our best wishes for success.
We called it a night after our early dinner. Ramón took a cab back to his hotel, and I took Shamus and Phoebe back to the office. They were a bit too cuddly for my taste on the way home, so I decided to drop them off and head back to my place. I was happy when Willie didn’t greet us when I pulled up, then realized we hadn’t brought him back any steak. I decided to split before Shamus discovered his error and tried to rectify it by guilting me into going back out for more food. A little kibble wouldn’t kill him, and I was still mad about my shoe.
The night was young, my belly was full and I didn’t have plans. It may not surprise you that I began to think about an evening date with a certain friend of mine.
Chapter Five
It was an uncharacteristically warm night, and I drove with the convertible top off and some classic jump blues blaring from the speakers. I pulled up to Katina’s high-rise and called up from the pay phone. It rang a few times before she picked up.
“It’s late. This had better be good.”
“Put on your dancing shoes, baby. I’m taking you out.”
She sighed deeply. I could hear her fingers drumming on the desk she was sitting at. After a few beats she answered, “I’ll want a gimlet or two. Perhaps a shrimp cocktail. And if you want any quality time afterward, you better bring your A-game on the dance floor. I’ll be down when I’m good and ready.” With that she hung up.
I went back to the car and cooled my heels. She kept me waiting, but not too long; and honestly it was well worth it that night. The red dress she was wearing was low cut and thigh high, and filled to perfection.
“Wow, you look spectacular.” I took in the view for a bit. “I have a great idea.”
“You don’t say?”
“Why don’t we just stay in? That dress has already done its job.”
“I absolutely hate that idea.” The look she gave me was pure deadpan. “After the time I put in to look this good, the dress is staying on for many hours. Whether I go to bed in my flannel pj’s or my new lingerie...that’s still up in the air.”
I walked her around to the passenger side of the car. “Well then, I’ll do my best to sway your decision in favor of the more breathable material.” We both knew that decision was already made in favor of the sexy sleepwear, but I played along. The snappy banter was part of the fun. Her facade was beginning to crack, but she did her best to keep an aloof look on her face as I opened the door for her and helped her in.
As soon as I got in and started the engine, she slid over next to me and cozied up a bit. She looked up at me, smiled and winked. Our fight was now officially over. I put my arm around her as I drove, and we listened to some heavy trumpet fusion on the way to Cisco’s.
Cisco’s was an upscale nightclub where Katina and I liked to dance on occasion. As we pulled up, the sun was just going down, but the line to get in was already around the corner. Katina’s hair had been blown around quite a bit on the drive over, but she just did this trick where she bent over at the waist and ruffled it up a bit with her hands, and when she came back up, it was none the worse for wear.
I gave the keys to the valet and we walked right up to the front entrance, ignoring the long line and the annoyed stares of its occupants. The doorman saw us coming and unhooked the velvet rope so we could pass on through. I nodded to him as I passed by, and he tipped his cap to me. He took a not-discreet-enough glance at Katina’s neckline, but I let it slide. Honestly, I couldn’t blame him. It was hard for me to not openly stare most of the time.
I got the VIP treatment from Marty the doorman because I saved his bacon one night near closing time. Security was undermanned that night and he was having trouble with a group of rowdy drunks who were asked to leave but really didn’t want to. The fracas had drawn a crowd, but of course no one stepped in to lend a hand. When I saw it was four on one I got a little angry. With an empty beer bottle in each hand I took three of them out before they even knew they had a second opponent. The fourth I held so Marty could get a few shots in.
It’s technically illegal to hit people, especially with foreign objects. So when I have the opportunity to crack the heads of drunken jackasses with essentially no consequences, I jump at the opportunity. It was a fun time, and as an added bonus, I don’t have to stand in line at Cisco’s any longer.
I had called ahead, so Marty held a table for us. It was a good thing `cause the place was packed. We were escorted to a table for two on the lower level, close to the stage
and dance floor. I ordered an iced tea for myself and a gimlet for the lady. Our normal routine was a drink or two first, dancing and then food before heading home.
It was too loud to talk with the band playing, so we listened while we finished our first round. It was a swing-style band, being that we were in a dance club, and while swing’s not necessarily my favorite style for listening, the band wasn’t half-bad. Once Katina had drunk enough to loosen up her joints, we hit the floor and did our thing.
We always make a good pair on the dance floor, just like in all our physical endeavors, and that night was no different. Dancing is a lot like fighting in some respects. There’s not much difference between a hip toss and some of the trick throws we do on the dance floor, other than intent. Luckily I’m able to keep the techniques for fighting and dancing separate and compartmentalized. The wrong move on the street or dance floor could be hilarious or disastrous. I try not to dwell on it.
A few guys tried to cut in while we were on the floor, but Katina refused their advances graciously. One of the more resilient ones I glared at until he looked uncomfortable and walked away. Shamus says I can be rude at times. I just don’t see it.
After I was tired of twirling her about and Katina was tired of being twirled, we went back to the table and ordered our usual after-dancing food. She always gets one or two shrimp cocktails and another gimlet, and I order a plate of oysters and a black coffee. My arteries probably appreciate the momentary reprieve from my usual diet of deep-fried food.
I know oysters are supposed to be an aphrodisiac of sorts, but really, it’s just a drop in the bucket of whatever I have naturally pumping through my veins. I just like the mignonette sauce; and since there’s no chewing involved, nothing gets stuck in my teeth. Plates empty and bellies full, we left Cisco’s and made a beeline for Katina’s flat.
One of the nice things about being in a semicommitted relationship was that I had drawer and closet privileges at Katina’s. No more deciding between a trip home before heading into the office or day-old clothes with hints of perfume and lipstick smears at the collar.
I’ve tried leaving spare clothes at the office, but when Shamus is drunk and bored he likes to play pranks. I’ve pulled up to find my pants flying from the old flagpole out front. My underwear was once dyed pink, although I still made that work. Once, I discovered all my shirts frozen solid in the freezer. Then there were the days Willie would find my stash and bury the clothes in the yard. The slacks always had the crotch chewed out. I hate that dog.
At least, I assume he did the chewing.
When we got home, Katina did indeed put on her new lingerie. She was quite the sight when she walked out of her bedroom. One can never go wrong with black and skimpy. I’ve never even seen her flannel pj’s, and doubt I ever will.
“Helmut, I have so much fun with you. You make me feel like the queen of the city.”
“Well then, I guess that makes me king.”
I pulled her close to me and tipped her head back slightly.
“Hail to the king, baby.”
Chapter Six
Katina and I were up fairly late the night before, so I slept longer than usual. It still left me plenty of time to get to the office and throw together a proper breakfast before Shamus and his mangy mutt woke up.
I showered and shaved, then dressed in my usual professional yet comfortable attire: slacks and a long-sleeved collared shirt, leather shoes and belt, and my well-worn snap-brim hat. I tend to shave every three days. There comes a tipping point where ruggedly handsome turns into just looking a bit scruffy. I used the same razor Katina uses on her nether regions. It makes the mundane act a bit more exciting.
When I came out of the bathroom, Katina was sitting up in bed wearing only a seductive expression.
“I’m not through with you yet, big boy.” She looked me up and down like a butcher inspecting a piece of meat. “And you’re a bit overdressed for what I had in mind.”
It’s hard being me sometimes. So an hour or so later, after a bit of calisthenics, I was cleaned up and once again ready to face the day. This time Katina had the covers pulled up to her neck and barely opened her eyes when I kissed her goodbye. The poor lass was all tuckered out.
It was getting a little late in the day for a homemade breakfast, so I stopped by the market for a cheese pie. That’s my go-to meal whenever I’ve missed breakfast, and Sophia’s always has them fresh.
When I pulled up, Willie was on the front porch, but surprisingly he didn’t get up to water my tires when I parked the car. He raised his head to softly growl at me when I walked past him, then laid it back down on the ground and closed his eyes. The newspaper was resting under his right front paw, and I was able to pull it out without disturbing him. Shamus and Phoebe were coming down the stairs when I came in, and both looked like they had just woken up. The office didn’t yet have the smell of Sha’s morning coffee.
Shamus looked at the box in my hands, mumbled something unintelligible and pointed toward the dining room. He then went into the kitchen and started fussing over the coffeepot. I was an expert in Sha’s morning grunts, and I went right to work getting the table set and serving up slices of pie. Phoebe, who never even bothered to grunt in my direction, was at the table with her head in her arms, fast asleep. After Shamus poured us each a cup, he sat down next to her and woke her up.
I asked Sha, “So you guys stay up late last night?” I may have winked at him as well.
He frowned at me. “Yes, but not like that. Willie had some sort of respiratory infection. He was up all night sneezing.”
I was happy my pepper bomb worked, but I kept a straight face. He continued.
“Then, on top of that, we forgot to bring him home a steak. He was so disappointed.”
We, as if it is partly my responsibility. Phoebe apparently agreed that I had let them down, because she took that moment to glare at me before returning her attention to her breakfast.
“He looked exhausted when I pulled up. I was wondering why he didn’t pee on my tires this morning.”
Shamus quipped, “I can pee on your tires if it will make you feel any better.”
Phoebe thought that was hilarious. I ignored him and opened up the paper. There was an article that day about brave Officer Quick, who was to receive a medal from the mayor for saving an old woman and all eight of her cats from a burning building. I considered mentioning it to the kids, but thought better of it. Jim had been, after all, the love interest of Sha’s beautiful Amazon, before Shamus came along and swept her off her feet.
The whole morning was gone before we knew it. We just about finished off the whole pie before leaving the table. I, for one, had burned off considerable calories the night before. Then Shamus had to go outside and fuss over the dog a bit. Was he feverish? He wanted me to put my lips to the dog’s forehead to check his temperature, but I declined. Finally Shamus kissed Phoebe goodbye and went upstairs to get dressed.
I overheard Phoebe saying she had to go home to change clothes before going in to work the late shift at the precinct, and I thought I would give her a little advice.
“Phebes, you’ve gotta leave a change of clothes or two here. And whatever—” I made some vague gestures with my hands, “—girlie stuff you need to get ready for work. It saves tons of time. Take it from someone who knows.”
For a few seconds it looked like she would just make her usual rude comment and go on her merry way, but then the expression on her face softened.
“I actually wanted to do that, Helmut. Not move in or anything like that—” although the look on her face said she very much wanted to, “—just a drawer or two and some closet space. Half of Sha’s clothes are lying on the floor anyway.”
“And...?”
“Shamus didn’t want to. He said he needs his personal space to be his. Whatever that means.”
Her sleeping and whatever in his personal space didn’t seem to be much of a problem, but I didn’t say it. He’d pined over her forever, but he never thought out the long-term ramifications. I know how that is.
“I’ll talk to him. If it makes you feel any better, no one has ever had a drawer or closet space in his room before. It probably just scares him a little.”
Then, the impossible happened. She actually smiled at me. I was taken aback. She’s never really liked me. Granted I hit on her quite a bit when she first joined the force, before I knew Shamus was interested, but I knew that alone shouldn’t account for all the animosity. In a moment of extreme courage—or foolishness—I broached a sensitive subject.
“Phoebe, what have you got against me? I know you don’t really like me, but I’m not sure why.”
She answered quickly, like she had always wanted to tell me but could never quite bring herself to.
“Donatella is my very close friend. You remember her?” She must have seen my face go pale and took it as an affirmative. “She was my roommate when I moved here, and she helped me get on to the force when I was really struggling to find a career that suited me. I remember her telling me all about the handsome detective Helmut Haase, and how wonderful he was. I understand you’re a player and all, but why would you break up with her like that?”
Somehow I caught myself. I wanted to mention Donatella’s dead-fishlike responses and overall lack of imagination in bed, but a little voice in my head told me now wasn’t the time or the place. Shamus had actually termed this style of breakup technique “pulling a Donatella,” but Phoebe didn’t need to know that.
“You know, Phebes, I really regret doing that. If I could have a do-over, I would find a classier way.”
