Steele of the Night (Daggers & Steele Book 7)

by Alex P. Berg

  I left and did a little searching. Rodgers I found in the break room, snagging a cup of coffee. Luckily, he had a bead on Quinto, who we found in the form office rustling through the bins in search of obscure documents. Honestly, I’m not sure why he bothered. Shay was captain now. Didn’t he know he could postpone all paperwork until the police chief installed a permanent boss? Or at least I think that’s how the crony system worked…

  We all headed back to Shay’s office. To her credit, she was still awake, peering at the contents of the cork board.

  “Hey, Steele,” said Rodgers. “Daggers said you wanted a word with us?”

  She looked away from the board. “Ah. Good. I’ve got some ideas for avenues to pursue. Rodgers, you first. You said you’re familiar with Yellow Cobra, right?”

  The sunny, blonde-haired detective shrugged. “Familiar in the sense that Allison dragged me to a few of their concerts back in the day.”

  “I was hoping you might be able to tell me about the history of the band,” said Shay. “Specifically about their origins, when B. B. and Chaz first started it up. It might shed light on possible motives for Chaz’s murder.”

  “It might,” agreed Rodgers, “but unfortunately I don’t think I’m the man for that job. I don’t know their story that well. Allison might, to be honest, but even she didn’t start following them until they got popular. Although…”

  Steele lifted an eyebrow. “Although, what?”

  “Well, Allison used to subscribe to a rock magazine,” said Rodgers. “Shablam. I remember seeing it on her coffee table when we were dating. I seem to recall articles about Yellow Cobra. The magazine’s locally based, I think. I bet if I popped over to their offices, someone could give me a behind the curtains glimpse into the band and their past.”

  “Perfect,” said Shay. “Get on it quick, then. Who knows when they’ll close up shop for the night.”

  Rodgers nodded and headed out.

  “And me, boss?” said Quinto.

  Shay grimaced. “Don’t call me that. I told you, it makes me feel weird. First of all, I need to know if you managed to track down that circus, the Minestrone Brothers.”

  Quinto shook his head. “Sorry. I looked into it, but the records I was able to find showed those guys went out of business years ago. So either they’ve managed to bring the band back together, so to speak, or something fishy is going on.”

  Shay stroked her chin. “Dang. I was hoping that avenue would prove fruitful. Oh, well. For you, I’m afraid I have a more mundane task. I need you to run background checks on everyone. Diamond and Dennis from the Moxy, Benson Forsythe, Heather Cleary-Wilson, and the three remaining Cobras. Maybe something from one of their pasts will stick out. Combined with whatever information Rodgers digs up, it might give us a suspect to narrow in on.”

  Quinto smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m used to doing the mundane jobs. It’s sort of my wheelhouse.”

  “Thanks,” said Shay.

  “But what about you two?” asked Quinto. “Got any hot leads? Or do you plan to kick back and relax? Honestly, it might not be a bad idea. You’re looking worn out, Steele.”

  “Not really the best way to phrase that,” I said. “But I already brought up the issue. She says she’s good to go. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Shay smirked at me. “You always do. But we won’t be staying. I have one more place I want to visit.”

  Was that a dig at my less-than-stealthy ogling? I did enjoy watching her walk but usually from the backside. Last I checked she didn’t have eyes in the back of her head.

  “Where to then?” I couldn’t think of any stops we’d neglected to make.

  “One of the first places we probably should’ve gone after finding Chaz tied to the tree with that whip,” said Shay, standing. “Tommy Llama’s.”

  31

  As our rickshaw pulled up outside Tommy Llama’s, a few things immediately caught my eye. First, Tommy, or whoever owned the place, had an unhealthy obsession with the titular animal. A huge pokerwork art piece of a llama, burned into a five foot wide slice of redwood that must’ve weighed close to a ton, hung over the entrance, but that wasn’t all. The words ‘Tommy’ and ‘Llama’ in the store’s sign had been styled to look like standing and sleeping llamas, respectively, and a taxidermied version of the beast in question stood in one of the shop windows, tongue sticking out between his teeth as if sneering at onlookers.

  The shop had also seen better days. It wasn’t weathered or dilapidated, per se, but the entire right side of the establishment had been boarded up with plywood. Glass shards littered the ground outside, and a sign had been affixed to the boards reading, ‘Please, pardon our dust!,’ which didn’t seem like the most accurate of warnings given the glass.

  I hopped off the rickshaw, helping Shay down before opening the front door. A chime sounded as we entered, and I absorbed the interior. Shelves filled with boots of all shapes and sizes covered the walls. Clothing racks dotted the floor, filled with flannel shirts and leather jackets, heavy-duty denim pants and light-brown suede coats with frilled edges. I spotted at least a hundred hats suitable for ranch hands, and glossy, polished wood covered every square foot of the floor, walls, and ceiling.

  A big boisterous voice called out from our right. “Howdy there, folks!”

  I turned to find a broad-shouldered, heavy set man approaching from the direction of the sales counters. A wide, chocolate brown suede hat sat on top of his head, and a long, grey-tinged horseshoe moustache dripped from his lip. He wore the best duds his store had to offer, including a pair of shiny scaled boots made from the skin of a snake or armadillo.

  “Welcome to Tommy Llama’s Exotic Leathers and Apparel,” he said. “I’m the man, the legend, Tommy Llama. Can I help you find something in particular? Maybe a fox fur coat or a pair of crocodile skin boots for the missus? They’ll be a whole lot more comfortable than them man stompers she’s got on now, not to mention a dang sight more attractive, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  I thought about coming to the defense of Shay’s fashion choices, but I got distracted by the enormous rearing creature behind the man. “Is that a bear?”

  Tommy turned to the mounted beast, who stood near the cash registers with his paws lifted in the air, claws out and razor sharp. Each mitt could’ve covered my face with room to spare.

  “Better believe it,” said Tommy. “That there’s Walter. Ever been to the Koldash Nature Preserve north of the city? Well, Walter’s the largest brown bear ever caught within a hundred miles of it, or so my guide told me when I speared him. Also caught me a chamois, a musk ox, and a fully-mature cougar.” He pointed out the beasts’ locations in the store as he rattled them off. “Shot that last one right between the eyes with a crossbow. You a hunter?”

  “Um…not in the sense you are, I think.”

  “You a small game man, then?” said Tommy. “That’s a shame. No real sport in rabbits and possums, if you ask me. Not a problem, though. We’re all in it for the same reasons, am I right?”

  Tommy gave me a wink, and I furrowed my brow. What reasons was he referring to, exactly? The desire to strip animals of their skins for fun and profit? A feral love of the hunt? Or perhaps simply the opportunity to lord his youthful exploits over customers too nice to tell him to shut up and go away.

  “But enough talk,” said Tommy. “You’re here to buy, and I’m here to help? What can I do for you?”

  “We’re not here to purchase anything, Mr. Llama,” said Shay. “We’re from the police department.”

  The man’s mask of friendship disintegrated. “It’s Tommy. Mr. Llama was my father. But why didn’t you say you were cops? Explains your ridiculous getups.”

  I glanced at Shay. She responded with a lips-pressed-together look of mirth, though whether over the comment regarding our clothes or his last name I couldn’t tell.

  “Well,” said Llama. “Go on. You know where the break-in happened. Take a look.
File your vandalism report. Not like it’s going to do me any good. At least I have insurance.”

  “Sorry. Vandalism report?” said Shay.

  “Oh, for gods sakes,” said Tommy. “Yes. The vandalism report. I sent word about the break-in when I first arrived this morning. Honestly, I’m pretty miffed it took you an entire day to arrive. What kind of schedules do you idiots keep, anyway?”

  “Pretty tight ones,” I said. “We’ve had a lot on our plates today. And believe it or not, we’re not here to file a report.”

  Tommy blinked. His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “You’re not? Then what the hell are you here for? No. This is ridiculous. I won’t stand for the police relegating my concerns to gumpish flunkies. I’m going to need you to send over a superior officer for me to give them a piece of my mind.”

  I clenched my jaw, but through sheer force of will I managed not to punch the guy. “I’m a senior detective, Llama. If you want to talk to my superior, she’s standing beside me. Captain Shay Steele.”

  Steele somehow managed to remain pleasant in the face of his boorish nature and simmering sexism. “It’s alright, Tommy. I’ll be happy to take the report while we’re here. Daggers?”

  Shay held out a hand. It didn’t seem like an opportune moment for a high five, so I stretched my brain muscles, reached into my jacket, and handed her my notepad and pencil.

  Shay cracked it open to a fresh page. “Time of incident?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Tommy. “Sometime before I arrived this morning.”

  “And when was that?”

  “Eight forty-five, maybe? Before nine for sure.”

  “Who came into your store?” asked Shay.

  “How would I know?” said Tommy. “I wasn’t here.”

  “So you wouldn’t know what occurred inside your store either, then, would you?”

  “Of course not.”

  Shay looked up from the notepad. “This isn’t much of a report so far, Mr. Llama. Do you have anything useful for me to put in here?”

  “Well, of course I do,” he said. “Whoever busted in here broke all three windows on the right hand side of my store. And they stole a number of my wares. Chaps, a whip, and vambraces, at least.”

  His mention of chaps made me think of Sammy. Suddenly I no longer suspected he acquired them from the Raccoon Ranch.

  “Sorry, vambraces?” I said.

  “Forearm armor,” said Tommy. “You know, like bracers?”

  “Is that standard attire for handling lions?” asked Shay.

  “Lions?” said Tommy. “What do lions have to do with anything?”

  “I’ll ask the questions, thank you.” Shay turned toward the area with the broken windows. “I’m assuming you had the boards put in today? Did you clean the area adjacent to the break-in at all?”

  “We swept up as much of the glass as we could,” he said. “Didn’t want customers getting their shoes all cut up.”

  “So just sweeping then?” asked Shay. “No mopping?”

  “No,” said Llama. “Does it matter?”

  With Steele, details of that nature always mattered. I gave her a nod. “What are you getting at?”

  “No mud. No blood,” said Shay. “That means B. B. wasn’t here. If Ritchie was, it was before he encountered his friend the mud pit. I’d wager Chaz and the others came here in search of a whip to tame the lion, which explains how the whip got into Chaz’s attacker’s possession.”

  “Ritchie? Chaz? Who are these people?” said Tommy. “Do you have a lead on the vandals?”

  “Ding, ding,” said Shay. “We have a winner!”

  “We probably would’ve caught the guys already if not for our lax schedules,” I said.

  The heavyset store proprietor at least had the dignity to put his hole digging shovel to the side for a moment.

  Shay handed me the notepad. “I think that’ll be all, Mr. Llama. Unless you have anything else to add?”

  Llama shook his head. “Uh…no. That’s about it.”

  I tucked the pad away. “I have one last question for you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Um…sure, I guess,” he said.

  “You’re a sportsman,” I said. “Bears. Mountain lions. Things with big, sharp teeth. You ever hunt game of a more…supernatural nature?”

  Shay sighed. “Not this again. I’ll be outside.”

  She turned and headed toward the exit, leaving me standing there with a goofy look on my face and a finger in the air.

  Llama peered at me sideways, his eyes narrowed. “Supernatural? You mean like centaurs or something? What do you take me for, a barbarian?”

  I could tell I wasn’t going to get anything of use out of the man, so I gave him a more pleasant goodbye than he deserved and followed Steele out the door.

  32

  I found my partner leaning against the bricks outside Tommy Llama’s. Her body sagged, her posture resembled that of a sloth, and she seemed to be putting forth a herculean effort simply to keep her eyelids halfway open.

  “How about I make you a deal?” I said.

  Her eyes snapped open. “What was that?”

  “I said, how about I make you a deal? I’ll agree to stop bringing up the vampire angle if you agree to go home and get some rest.”

  Shay narrowed an eye, on purpose this time. “Doesn’t sound like much of a deal. If I’m not around, how would I know you’d stick to your end of the bargain?”

  “You’d have to trust me,” I said. “I’m a man of my word. Of course, I tend to speak in intentionally vague ways. Gives me more wiggle room in these sorts of situations. I blame it on all the lawyers I’ve dealt with over the last decade.”

  Steele straightened. “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” I said. “You’re exhausted. You’re practically falling asleep standing against this wall. That’s something only narcoleptics and emergency room doctors are proficient at. Besides, I made a promise to Quinto to take care of you. I wouldn’t want to let the big guy down.”

  A smile spread across Shay’s lips. “And I take it Quinto’s concern is your primary motivating factor?”

  “I’m on the job, so I’m blaming it on him, but I think you know otherwise.”

  Shay tucked her smile away for future use. “I’m touched, Daggers, but I’m telling you, I’ll be fine. Really.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. Mine were big and bushy, not like Steele’s sleek narrow ones, so the effect wasn’t as neat as when she pulled the move, but it got my point across.

  “Okay,” said Shay. “I’ll admit I could use a boost. Another coffee. Strong stuff, preferably. I’ll suffer through the taste if it gives me back the pep in my step.”

  I glanced up and down the street. I pointed. “That looks like a bodega. Pop ’n Shop. I’d wager they have coffee. Might not be the best quality, but sometimes these mom and pop stores surprise. I’d bet they have snacks, too.”

  We started walking. Shay gave me a dubious look. “Snacks? I thought I’d helped wean you off those.”

  “You have, as should be obvious from my physique,” I said, patting my midsection. “I haven’t eaten a kolache in weeks, thanks in part to my failed attempt at the coffee cart this morning. That said, between all this walking and thinking, I’m ready to wolf down a chimera, conservation status be damned. You need coffee? I need food.”

  Shay shrugged. “Well, you know me. Under normal circumstances, I’d prefer we sit down and have a decent meal, but I don’t see any restaurants nearby, and without a quick hit of caffeine, I might not last until we find one. Maybe the Pop ‘n Shop will have something…edible.”

  “That’s the spirit.” I reached the front and held open the door, which dinged upon my pull. “After you.”

  Shay walked in, and I followed. Racks of goods—some fresh, but most preserved—formed a trio of aisles in the center of the diminutive store. A dull eyed orc, with grayish green waxy skin, pointed
ears that stuck through a tuft of curly black hair, and a fat lower lip, nodded as we entered. Behind him, a coffee pot bubbled merrily. To his side on the front counter sat a pair of warming pans.

  Shay approached the guy. “Hi. Can I get a coffee? As large as you sell. And with plenty of cream and sugar.”

  The orc nodded, responding in a deep voice. “You got it.”

  “Well, I see your aversion to snacks isn’t calorie based,” I said, joining her.

  “I told you, I need a perk.”

  The orc spoke over his shoulder as he poured coffee into a tall waxed paperboard cup. “How about you?”

  “What’s in the pans?” I asked.

  “Sausages on the right, pretzels on the left,” said the orc, turning back with a full cup.

  I pursed my lips. “How old are they?”

  “Made the sausages fresh this morning,” he said. “Couple of drunks cleaned us out last night. Pretzels are fresh, too. Mostly.”

  That last bit didn’t inspire a lot of confidence, and I had my doubts about the sausages. “Do you make anything on demand?”

  The orc nodded to a vat of hot oil by the wall. “I can fry churros. Only takes a minute.”

  “Ooh, fried sugary dough,” I said. “I’ll take two.”

  The orc moved to the fryer. Shay gave me another look. I shot it down.

  “Don’t give me that. You’re the one with double sugar and cream in her coffee.”

  “And it’s only barely palatable,” said Shay, grimacing as she tasted it. “I still think we could do better on food, though. Now that I have this, anyway.”

  “Yeah, well, we don’t have time for that, do we? Have to get back to the case.”

  “We do?” said Shay. “Because unless Rodgers or Quinto dug something up, I’m not sure what our next avenue to pursue is right now.”

  She’d seen right through my churro-inspired bluff. I improvised. “What are you talking about? There’s plenty to pursue.”

  Shay wasn’t about to let me off that easy. “Like?”