“Back off,” shouted an assailant who had appeared from behind the cart. All of the men were hooded and wore dark clothing. The man who had issued the warning was waving a loaded crossbow.
Garrett slowed and held out an arm to stop B.S. from running in headlong. “Crossbow,” he warned breathlessly as B.S. bumped into him. Twenty yards from where they stopped, Honi was rolling on the ground, doing his best to avoid the blows raining down on him as the other three attackers laid into him with kicks and punches.
The man holding the crossbow glanced at his comrades and B.S. dropped to the ground, his hand coming up with a stone. In a whirlwind motion, he released the rock with devastating effect. His missile took the bowman on the bridge of his nose. Dropping his weapon, the man stumbled into the cart, both hands flying up to cover his gashed face. The horses jostled in their traces, edgy at the flurry of activity alongside them.
Neither Garrett nor B.S. wasted the opportunity afforded by B.S’s perfect aim. Garrett launched himself into the crowd of men beating Honi, and B.S. rushed the cringing man at the cart. Swinging wildly, Garrett took one of the men in the forehead with an ambitious strike. Not waiting to see the outcome of his assault, he was already spinning, his boot targeting the midsection of a second man. His aim was off though and he spun past his mark. He found himself on the ground, but could not remember falling. He took a kick to the ribs and rolled to avoid a second. Risking a glance at Honi, Garrett could see blood covering the detective’s face. Two men continued beating on the officer.
Garrett struggled to his knees and caught his attacker’s boot as the man tried another kick. Garrett expertly twisted the man’s leg, sending him spinning to the ground. Ignoring the fallen man, he rose and dove for the assailant on Honi’s left. This time Garrett took an elbow to the nose as the man drew back to punch the detective in the face. Garrett blanched with the sudden pain, but his weight carried him forward and pushed the attacker from above Honi.
The mugger who had hidden in the carriage grabbed Honi by the front of his jacket and lifted the man’s head from the cobbles. “You’re not welcome here, detective. Take your shit back to Cassadia and drop your investigation. Next time you won’t get a warning.” The man’s large fist slammed into Honi’s cheek and the officer grunted as his head hit the cobbles.
With his eyes watering from the elbow he had taken to the nose, Garrett scrabbled to catch a hold of the man he had fallen on. He received a punch to the forehead for his efforts and the man worked himself loose from under Garrett.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” came a scratchy shout from behind them all. Garrett rolled in time to see Maury amble into the fray. He grabbed the man hovering over Honi and threw him six feet up the roadway. Snarling, the ogre turned to come after Garrett’s assailant, but the attackers had delivered their message and the idea of brawling with a seven foot tall, intoxicated ogre was apparently too daunting. All four men scattered.
Garrett felt his stomach heave and he turned from Maury as he covered the cobbles in stale beer.
“You okay bud?” asked the ogre, coming up behind Garrett and thumping him on the back.
“Yes,” assured Garrett, wiping the back of his mouth. “The excitement just caught up with me, that’s all.”
“Were they robbing that police officer?” asked Maury glancing at the unconscious Honi.
“I don’t think so,” answered Garrett.
“They would have made it look like that if we hadn’t shown up,” said B.S., coming to them. “I’ve seen that man with the crossbow before. He’s a cop.”
“A cop?” asked Maury. “Why would one cop assault another cop?”
“They’re into something they don’t want Detective Honi meddling in,” said Garrett, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his eye.
“Yes,” agreed B.S., leaning in over Honi. “Those guys are on our payroll.”
“What?” asked Maury, looking more confused than ever. “I’d know if Mr. Kline ordered an attack on the detective.”
“I’m not saying Mr. Kline ordered the attack. I think those cops took it upon themselves to send him a message.” Shaking Honi, B.S. tried to get a response from the downed officer.
“I don’t like this,” said Garrett. “We better get him to a doctor.”
“Nobody’s open this late,” said B.S. “We’ll have to wake one.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. Let’s get him into the carriage,” snapped Garrett. Picking up the half spilled drum, he started gathering the coins.
“And then where do we take him?” asked Maury. “Mr. Kline won’t want a cop on his properties, especially when the blame for the assault could be laid at his feet.”
“We’ll take him to my place,” returned Garrett. “There’s an old man who knows a little about doctoring across the street.”
B.S. shrugged and leaned in to haul Honi to his feet. Honi groaned and tried to push the boy away. Blinking through the mess of blood, Honi stopped struggling. “You!” he wheezed, staring into the boy’s face. “It… is… you!” Then he groaned and blacked out.
13
Insult to Injury
Garrett leaned over his desk, his head cradled in his hands. A steaming cup of coffee sat untouched before him. His eyes were closed and his mind wandered over the events from the previous night. He had managed two hours sleep on the couch in the back room and his head was paying for it now.
“Why… are… you… not… drinking… your… coffee? You… said… you… were thirsty,” said P.C., interrupting the man’s thoughts. The robot stood opposite his master, a dust rag wiping the side of Garrett’s desk.
“I don’t feel like coffee,” returned Garrett. Perhaps you could get me a glass of water instead?”
“I… could,” agreed P.C. He scoured the edge of the desk, the cloth making an irritating rasping swish with each pass. He reached into his chest cavity and retrieved a sizeable jug. Placing the rag over the flagon, he flipped it upside down. When nothing came out he peered into the top of the container and grunted with disgust. “My… bleach… has… crystallised. The… heat… from… my… fight… with… that… behemoth… has… ruined… the… entire… supply. How… am… I… supposed… to… clean… this… pigsty… without… bleach?”
Garrett groaned. “P.C., Input command, fetch water.” The automaton did not reply, but jammed the jug back into his chest before heading for the interior of the complex and the water pump.
The door to the office banged inward and Merle strode into the room. The little dragon was wearing his favourite specs and carrying a folded newspaper under his arm. He stopped when he noticed Garrett was at his desk. “You’re up early,” he remarked cheerfully, and threw the paper onto his desk. Studying Garrett’s face, he looked confused. “Nice shiner,” he said at last.
“Doesn’t feel so nice,” admitted Garrett, pushing the cup of coffee toward his dragon friend. “You want this?”
Merle wrinkled his nose. “Did you drink out of it?” Garrett glared at him and Merle shrugged. “I guess if you’re not going to drink it.”
P.C. opened the two-way door and scanned the office from the other room. Extending his arm, he delivered a pail of water to Garrett’s desk. “Why… do… I… bother… making… your… bed… if… you… are… not… going… to… sleep… in… it?” he chastised Merle.
Merle shrugged. “I had a few beers last night and Frank offered me the couch. And since when do I have to answer to you, Metal Mouth?”
“You’d… better… not… be… sick… too,” warned P.C., disappearing back into the other room. “I… have… better… things… to… do… than… clean… up… your… puke. Besides,… my… bleach… is… ruined… and… he… doesn’t… care.” P.C. pointed a metal digit at Garrett. “So… if… he… doesn’t… care,… why… should… I… care?”
“P.C, execute code block 10165.”
“Shutting… up.”
“So what did I miss last night?” asked Merle, re
trieving the coffee mug and flying back to his desk.
The door to the inner rooms swung out before Garrett could respond, but this time it was the badly bruised visage of Honi that greeted them. Leaning against the doorframe, he looked as if he might pass out again. “Where am I?” he groaned. His shirt had been removed and thick bandages were wrapped around his middle. A splint on the officer’s leg was also wrapped tight with bandages.
“Mother of pearl!” squawked Merle. He lifted his glasses and grimaced when the coloring on Honi’s face did not improve. “It looks like I missed a doozy!”
Garrett jumped up and went to Honi. “You’re at my place,” said Garrett. “Mr. Bruman – my neighbour – said you should remain in bed for a few days. Judging by the bruises and swelling, it’s likely you have some cracked ribs. Your leg is broken, for sure. He left me herbs for the pain.”
“Help me to that chair,” said Honi stubbornly. Garrett hesitated, but when Honi shuffled forward, Garrett lent his arm. “I feel like a horse kicked me in the ribs.”
“Looks like he might have got you in the face too,” said Merle.
Garrett shushed the dragon and helped Honi to sit in the wooden backed chair. “Can I get you a coffee or some tea mixed with those herbs?” he asked uncertainly.
“I’m fine,” Honi’s voice was gruff. “I just need to catch my breath and then I’ll be going.”
“Didn’t I mention you have a broken leg?” asked Garrett with frustration. “I don’t think you should go anywhere until Mr. Bruman sees you again.”
“What are you? My mother?” snapped Honi. Sweat was beading on the man’s face now, and the exertion of holding himself up straight was showing.
“P.C!” shouted Garrett, and the thudding of the metal man’s feet could be heard stomping across the interior room. “P.C. I want you to get this man a glass of…” Garrett made a grab for Honi as he slid from his chair, but his reaction was slow and the officer hit the floor unconscious.
Merle’s wings buzzed in agitation as he lifted into the air above his desk to get a look at the fallen man. “You’re right,” he said. “He needs to be in bed. I’ll go fetch Mr. Bruman.”
Garrett nodded and attempted to lift Honi from the floor. “P.C. help me get him to the bed.”
“Certainly,” returned P.C. His extendable arm shot out, his fingers latching onto Honi’s collar. Roughly, he dragged the man across the floor.
“P.C!” screamed Garrett. “Carry him to the bed.”
P.C’s grip loosened and his head swivelled to look at Garrett. “Oh,” he stated. “Why… didn’t… you… say… that… in… the… first… place?”
* * * *
Garrett stood before the open doorway of Honi’s rented bungalow. He could see the overturned table and papers strewn across the room. A china cabinet had also been tipped over and broken crockery littered the hardwood floors.
“Guess you don’t need that,” commented Merle sarcastically. He nodded to the key Garrett held in his hand. They had searched Honi’s jacket before heading to the officer’s precinct. Delivering the barrel with the funds for the Molligans family, Garrett had inquired about directions to Honi’s residence. The receptionist had balked at giving out the address until Garrett flashed his badge. Now standing before the ransacked apartments, he nodded and tucked the key into his pants pocket. “Maybe we should notify the authorities,” continued Merle.
“Something tells me they already know about this.”
“Oh ya,” said Merle. “I forgot.”
Garrett entered the room guardedly, listening for signs of movement from the back room. Stepping over the strewn dishes, he made his way to the bedroom. The mattress had been separated from the bed and thrown against the far wall, and the dresser had all of its drawers removed. Clothes were scattered everywhere, and several crates had been hauled from the closet, their contents dumped on the floor.
“What were they looking for?” asked Merle from above Garrett’s shoulder. The dragon’s wings hummed as he flitted this way and that.
“Substantiation,” returned Garrett. He made his way to the mattress and examined the coverlet along the seams.
“What do you mean?”
“Anything that could incriminate them,” returned Garrett. “Deep cove is full of dirty cops and the last thing they want is a run through the laundry tub.” He threw the mattress back against the wall and moved to the empty dresser. Dropping to his knees, he looked inside before reaching into its belly and feeling along the inner wall of the furniture.
“Are you saying Honi was brought in to clean up Deep Cove?”
“No. I’m saying the cops here are an untrusting lot, and a new cop in town from the big city has their linens bunched.”
“And it’s laundry day?” returned Merle with a grunt.
“All I’m saying is they don’t trust him.” Garrett stood and made his way back out to the adjoining room. Once there, he gathered up the majority of strewn papers and flipped the dining table back onto its legs. Pulling up a chair, he browsed through the paperwork. Most of it was notes from Honi’s patrols. Nothing looked to be out of the ordinary.
“Do you think you’re going to find something they missed?” asked Merle landing lightly on the table.
“I don’t know,” admitted Garrett. He laid the papers down and looked at his dragon friend. “The men who rifled this apartment were looking for something. Honi must have given them a reason for the attack last night.”
“Maybe he threatened them,” said Merle. “And if you’re going to report a bunch of dirty cops to internal affairs you had better have proof.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s as good a guess as any.” The dragon paused and then his eyes lit up. “Hey,” he squealed, “do you remember what I said the other day about rogue cops?”
“What?” asked Garrett, looking blank.
“Kline’s book,” continued Merle excitedly.
“Sal Roger’s ledgers?”
“Yes,” agreed the dragon, a triumphant look crossing his features. He shook a clawed finger in his friend’s direction. “You wanted to know who would have stolen a list of all of Kline’s employees and I said it could have been the chief. You said no, because the chief and mayor are just as dirty as the rest of the cops. Then I suggested it could be a rogue cop who wants vigilante justice, and you said…”
“Yes I remember,” interrupted Garrett. He rubbed at his temples in an effort to alleviate his headache.
“It all fits,” insisted Merle. “Honi killed Rudy Wilson to learn of Sal Rogers. Then he killed Sal Rogers and took the ledger listing all the dirty cops.’
“What about the dozen guards dispatched outside the warehouse,” said Garrett. “I don’t think it makes sense at all Merle. From what I’ve seen Honi’s not that skilled a fighter. And even if he were, why bother stealing a ledger with their names if you’re going to kill half of them before you see them indicted?”
Merle exhaled and scratched behind his ear thoughtfully. “Maybe he enjoys killing? What if he’s not here to indict them?”
Garrett frowned, but before he could respond, a shadow fell across the room and a small boy stepped into the doorway. “Wow,” said the kid, taking in the mess. Espying Merle and Garrett he turned to run.
“Hold it,” shouted Merle, flying from the table and coming down in front of the boy. “What business do you have here? Are you looking for Detective Honi?”
The boy scowled and remained quiet for a moment. “Did you make this mess?” he asked. Garrett noted the boys balled fists.
“Easy, Merle,” said Garrett, lifting himself from the chair. “No, we did not make this mess.” He produced his badge and flipped it to the youngster.
The boy caught it, examined it and tossed it back. “Where’s his badge?” he asked, indicating Merle.
“Kid, I don’t need a badge to paddle…”
“He doesn’t need a badge, because he’s with me,” intervened Garrett. The boy look
ed hard at the pair of them before nodding. “Are you looking for the detective?”
“He asked me to come over this morning,” admitted the boy.
“Do you run errands for Mr. Honi?” asked Garrett innocently.
“I should be going,” said the boy backing up. Merle made a grab for the youngsters pant leg and was kicked for his efforts.
“Hold on a minute, son,” said Garrett. “I’m going to tell you something. It’s a secret so I have to have your word that you won’t tell anyone.” Garrett felt in his pockets, but came up empty. ‘Merle,” he said, “Give the boy that silver gon you carry.”
“Garrett,” hissed Merle, flashing the man a warning look and dropping his voice, “That’s my emergency fund.”
“It’s an emergency.”
Merle groaned and reached under a back scale. Pulling the coin free, he grudginly offered it to the kid. The boy’s eyes went wide with anticipation and he snatched the coin from the dragon.
“Mr. Honi is looking for the men that did this,” confided Garrett, “and Merle and I are helping him. Since he is busy tracking the criminals down, he sent us here to meet with you.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” asked the boy. “Where is it?”
“Where is what?” asked Garrett calmly.
“The letter.”
“Oh yes, the letter. Of course. Well, Mr. Honi was in such a hurry he told us to come here and meet with you, and to tell you that he decided he was going to keep the letter. He wanted to add some more notes to it, considering these new developments.” Garrett gestured to the room behind him and shrugged. “He wanted to make sure you were paid though.”
“Oh,” said the boy. “So I can go then?”
“You bet,” agreed Garrett. He suddenly slapped his forehead. “Um, just one more thing. The detective asked me to bring him the letter, but he was in such a hurry he forgot to tell me where he left it.”
“Sure,” said the boy, relieved he could help. Stepping around Merle, the youngster made his way to the toppled china cabinet and a white vase that had been smashed in the fall. Lifting the top half clear, he pulled out a rolled parchment bound in ribbon. “Mr. Honi always keeps his letters in here,” said the boy. “Can I go now?”
Welcome to Deep Cove (The Vellian Books Book 3) Page 13
