by Alex P. Berg
None came.
The Captain just stared at me. Call me crazy, but I think I sensed a modicum of concern lurking beneath his hardened leather exterior. Little chance of it seeping into whatever he planned on discussing with me, though.
My stomach rumbled. I tore a chunk out of my kolache. “So…”
“So,” said the Captain, frowning at me. “You’re a giant pain in the ass, you know that?”
I sensed this was not the time for playful banter. “Yes, sir, I do.”
“Well, then. Glad you acknowledge it. You going to keep being a pain in my ass?”
“I’ll stop being a pain in the ass when you give me something useful to do,” I said.
“And I’ll put you back on assignment when you stop being a pain in my ass.”
“It appears we find ourselves at an impasse,” I said. “How about we call off the dogs on both sides? You put me back on patrol, and I’ll stop being a thorn in everyone’s side? You know you need me out there. Quinto and Rodgers are looking a little worn around the edges.”
It was true. Both of them were burning holes in their shoes with all the extra legwork the Captain was tossing their way.
The Captain stared at me some more and added an extra bit of downward curl to his frown. Then he remixed his concoction yet again by adding some grunting. I passed the time by wolfing down the rest of my kolache.
Finally, the Captain made an articulate noise. “As much as I’d like to let you continue to storm around the office like a bull with his nuts in a vice, you’re right. I need you on the streets. Not because I know you’ll actually get work done out there, but because it might finally let the rest of us get some work done around here. But before I allow you to do anything, there’s the issue of your partner…”
I shrugged. “I’m over it. Griggs is ancient history. Just send me out with Rodgers or Quinto, and I’ll be back to filling the cells with foul-smelling punks in no time.”
“Are you kidding?” The Captain’s eyebrows shot up. “Rodgers and Quinto would kill me if I stuck them with you full time.”
“Not a problem. I work better alone anyway.”
The Captain shook his head. “Not happening. You know everyone needs a partner.”
“What then? Are you promoting someone? Is it Elmswood or Drake from upstairs? Don’t tell me you’re thinking about sticking me with that weasel-faced guy. What’s his name? Ferndale?”
“Fernandez. And no—to all of your questions.”
“Well?” I gave the old codger the inquisitive eye. “What then?”
I think the Captain grinned, but I couldn’t be sure because I’d never seen him do it before. “You’ll see.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Speak of the devil,” said the Captain. “Come in.”
7
The door swung open and in walked one of the finer creatures I’d ever seen step foot into the precinct. A woman—nearly six feet tall, with bright azure eyes that stood out like warning beacons—stepped into the Captain’s office full of muted browns and grays. Her dark brown hair swept into a pompadour before falling into a long ponytail. Based on her sharp nose, arched eyebrows, and slightly pointed earlobes, I guessed she carried elf blood in her veins, but she wasn’t a pure breed by any measure. A coffee-colored pantsuit hugged her waist and flared out over her narrow hips down to her pointed dark leather boots. While the suit’s color matched her hair, the lecherous part of me couldn’t help but think her bare skin might be a much better complement to her eyes.
“Daggers,” said the Captain. “Meet Shay Steele. Steele, Jake Daggers.”
I gave the elf-lady a wink and a smile. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart. So you know, I like my coffee black with a hint of sugar.”
Her pretty mouth contorted into a confused frown. “Um, excuse me?”
“Oh, and I tend to like fried snacks. Tolek’s kolaches from across the street are the bee’s knees. Apricot’s my favorite.” I turned to the Captain. “About time the higher-ups pitched in for a secretary.”
The Captain laid into me with a vicious glare. “No, you idiot,” he said. “This is Detective Steele. Your new partner.”
I could feel the heat radiating off the new girl’s cheeks before I turned back to look at her. Faced with the possibility of her as a partner, she suddenly seemed less of a sexpot and more of a liability. Her suit jacket couldn’t hide her skinny waiflike arms, and judging by her smooth cheeks and straight nose, the only fights she’d ever taken part in were with her dear old daddy over how much she could spend on a new pair of shoes. She was rawer than my jimmies had been following my fight with the goblin lunatics. The Captain couldn’t honesty expect to pair me with this girl, could he?
Little Miss Indignant and her hot cheeks looked at me with ill-restrained furor. I smiled, giving her a knowing wink, and turned back to the old bulldog.
“Ohhhhh…I get it,” I said. “Very funny. Let’s pull one over on old Jake Daggers.”
I heard a piqued voice from behind. “Um, pardon me but—”
“You know, if you wanted to punish me you could’ve stuck me with Ferndale.”
“You realize I’m right here don’t—”
“But this?” I said. “This is a low blow, even for you Captain. I mean to make me babysit this farm-fresh chick while you laugh it up—”
The elf-girl went into full on teakettle mode. “I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW I’M HIGHLY QUALIFIED FOR THIS POSITION. I HAVE RECOMMENDATIONS FROM THE BEST PROFESSORS IN CRIMINAL JUSTICE, AND—”
“ENOUGH!” bellowed the Captain. “Detective Steele, please have a seat. Daggers, if I so much as hear a peep out of that fat mouth of yours, I’m going to make sure you develop a fat lip to go with it.”
Miss Steele sat, her face a brilliant crimson. I kept my yapper shut.
“Detective Steele,” the Captain said. “I’d like to apologize for Detective Daggers. His cognitive abilities have suffered from taking too many blows to the head over the years.”
I frowned. That was uncalled for, even if my head was lumpier now than it had been when I’d joined the force.
“Now Detective Steele, if you could try to do so in a more subdued tone, why don’t you share a little of your background with Detective Daggers.”
The elf girl had trained her eyes on the floor during the Captain’s short address. She took several measured breaths, lifted her head, and turned to face me. Her cheeks had faded to a dull pink, but her brilliant azure eyes burned with a fierce fire.
Hmm. Perhaps I’d underestimated her.
She launched into a pre-prepared speech. “As the Captain informed you, my name is Shay Steele. I have a degree in Paranatural Ocular Postsensitivity from H. G. Morton’s school for—”
I couldn’t help myself. “Wait, what the who now? A degree in what from where?”
Elf girl pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows at me in a way that either indicated she was coming on to me, or she thought I was about as sharp as the edge of a toddler’s spoon. I assumed the former.
“As I was saying…from H. G. Morton’s school for the Exceptionally Gifted and Talented.”
“Gifted and talented how, exactly?” I asked.
“We all exhibit some form of supernatural or paranatural abilities.”
The mouse that manned the wheel in my head was taking a break. I couldn’t quite connect the dots. “So…”
“I’m a clairvoyant,” said Miss Steele.
“You like to spy on people while they get it on? Kinky. I like it. But I don’t see how that’s relevant here.”
Steam puffed from elf girl’s ears, but Captain took her off the fire before her teakettle started whistling again.
“No, you dolt,” the bulldog said. “That’s a voyeur. A clairvoyant is someone who can see into the past. A psychic, if you will.”
The mouse wheel finally made a full turn.
“I see.” I didn’t really though. “So…what then? You can walk into a crime
scene and figure out exactly what happened? See a dead body and know who the killer is with a snap of your fingers? Where does that put me? Am I getting demoted to bodyguard detail?”
Elf girl shook her head. “It doesn’t exactly work like that.”
“So, how exactly does it work?” I asked. “Enlighten me.”
“Well, you know how a tapestry is made of woven threads?”
“Of course I do. I’m a master of the loom. Don’t patronize me.”
That solicited a steely gaze and a pair of puckered lips, but Miss Steele went on. “Well, I think of time as a tapestry, one most people, like you, can’t see. Me? I can’t see the whole tapestry either, but I can make out a few threads. What I do is pick at those threads until the rest of the tapestry falls into place.”
I scratched my head. “So…you’re only marginally useful, then. Well, that’s a relief. I guess this means I’ve still got a job.”
Miss Steele threw her hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. “You’re incorrigible! Do you even know the meaning of the word ‘manners’?”
“Hey, that’s not fair. Just because I confused a clairvoyant for a sex addict—”
The Captain chose that moment to butt in. “Alright, enough Daggers. Detective Steele, please feel free to set your things up at the empty desk across from Detective Daggers’. And you—” The Captain stabbed a finger in my direction. “Stay here in my office. I need a word.”
I gulped.
8
Elf girl closed the door behind her as she left. I started to sputter, but the Captain quieted me with a vigorous shushing.
“Don’t start with me, Daggers,” he said. “I’ve put up with more of your crap than you have any right to expect. The only reason I do it is because you get results. You and Griggs had the best case closure rate of any partners in the precinct, and as much as I hate to inflate your already bloated ego, I’ll be the first to admit your success wasn’t because of Griggs. Trust me, he was my partner long before you showed up, and he was average at best.”
I think a fly flew into my mouth. Maybe a whole swarm. I’d expected the Captain to hold me back so he could chew me into pieces not heap me with praise.
He kept going.
“Look Daggers, I know this is unorthodox. She’s not a typical recruit. She didn’t work her way up the ranks like you did. And she’s a little green around the edges—”
“A little?”
“Let me finish. She’s a work in progress to be sure, but she’s a once in a lifetime find. Morton’s hasn’t had a clairvoyant emerge from their ranks in years, and the fact that she’s willing to put her skills on the line for the greater good is both shocking and commendable. As if that wasn’t enough, she wasn’t lying about her resume. She graduated at the top of her class, with high honors. Her recommendations are outstanding. Oh, and she even interned here a couple years ago. Impressed a lot of people.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? I don’t remember seeing her. And she wouldn’t be easy to forget.” She was a whole lot easier on the eyes than Quinto.
“She worked with a couple guys over in narcotics for the summer. I think she spent time in white collar, too. Regardless, she’s the real deal Daggers. And you’re the perfect partner for her.”
I gave the Captain my best fisheye. “Oh, what, and Griggs’ departure had nothing to do with this pairing?”
“Opportunity is only part of the reasoning behind my decision. You may be a numbskull, but your skills will complement hers perfectly.”
By which I’m pretty sure the Captain meant I could absorb any punches that came our way while Miss Steele could do the heavy mental lifting. “Gee, thanks.”
“Look,” said the Captain. “If you both work together as well as I think you can, you just might become the best pair of scumbag hunters this city has seen in a long time. I know you take pride in your badge, Jake. This is a real opportunity to make a difference. Don’t blow it.”
Apparently I’d underestimated the Captain yet again. He knew when to retire the rabid dog routine and break out the honey.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll give her a fair shot. Just answer me one question. Has she ever even seen a dead body?”
The Captain shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I’ll tell you this. I interviewed her before bringing her on, and she’s tough. A lot tougher than you’re giving her credit for. Don’t underestimate her.”
Tough, huh? We’d see about that. If she ended up spewing chunks all over our first stiff then I’d know how tough she really was, but I’d give her the benefit of the doubt for now. At least she wasn’t meek. Her fiery repartee with me had proven that.
Tough or not, I had no intention of sparing her my razor sharp wit and biting social commentary. Even if the Captain thought a fancy degree allowed Miss Steele to cut forward several spots in line, she wasn’t about to earn my respect so easily. For her sake, I hoped her special powers included the ability to grow thick skin at a moment’s notice.
Although, I have to admit, I liked her skin just fine the way it was. I took a peek at her from through the Captain’s windows and wondered if I might get to see more of it in the future.
9
I sauntered over to my desk and plopped down in old faithful. Elf girl made a point of ignoring me as she unpacked a box full of curios.
Behind her, Quinto, Rodgers, and a few other office fixtures peered my way—or more accurately, Shay’s way. The girl was a looker, though I couldn’t tell if the other cops were giving her an eyeball shakedown or trying to see what delicious new hijinks would break out between the two of us following the eruption of Mt. Steele in the Captain’s office. I’m sure everyone had heard. Dogs down the street were probably still howling in pain.
Rodgers tried to flash Shay his pearly whites, but she’d yet to look his way. I’m not sure why he insisted on trying to charm every pair of breasts that walked by. He was happily married with a couple of kids—cute little buggers, too. I think he just enjoyed playing the game. I tried to send him a subliminal message with a nod and got a similar one in return, as if to say, Good luck with this one, bud.
I glanced back at the farm-fresh new recruit. She’d placed a frame in one corner of her desk, probably holding a painting drawn by one of those street vendors that whipped out six portraits an hour. From my side of the desk, I couldn’t see who the portrait depicted. Was it her? I doubted it. She didn’t seem particularly narcissistic. That meant it was either a picture of her parents, her kids, or her significant other. My bet was on parents. Given her obvious desire to dive head first into a burgeoning career as one of the city’s finest, kids or a boy toy would’ve only gotten in her way. Besides, her slim hips held no traces of the aftereffects of pregnancy.
At the other far corner of the desk she placed a springy little green plant with a half dozen unopened violet buds. Not tulips, but something similar. A plant would mean she was a nurturer, something I wouldn’t have guessed based on first impressions. Perhaps her fiery demeanor was a front, intended to protect her from the cold, hard world of crime she’d willingly decided to embrace. The plant would keep her grounded, reminding her of her obligations. Regardless, she’d need to nurture the dickens out of that plant if she wanted to prevent it from dying a slow death. We didn’t get near enough natural light from the windows in the Captain’s office to support much of anything green in the pit.
She also placed a wooden carving of a mythical creature in the center of her desk. From my vantage point, it looked to be some sort of elephant-lion hybrid. Was it a symbol? And if so, for what? Power? Strength? I couldn’t discern the meaning behind that one.
The few documents she’d received from the Captain she placed in a neat stack at the front, right-hand corner of her workspace. She made a point of tapping the edges of the pages together with her fingernails so they all lay in perfect alignment with one another. Then she made sure to orient the pages with the desk itself. Clearly, I had a perfectionist on my hands—perha
ps an obsessive-compulsive.
Of course, she might’ve also been nervous. I’ve found people who are uneasy often pour their energy into inconsequential minutiae instead of facing whatever’s bothering them head on. Which in this case was likely me.
I couldn’t help but analyze her. It’s what I do. I’m a detective. Give me clues and I’ll try to figure out what they mean, whether it be at a crime scene or on a first date—not that I date that often. Of course, sometimes my imagination gets the best of me and my analyzing turns into overanalyzing. That usually doesn’t end well. It may have contributed to the end of my marriage. Or my wife might’ve left me because I’m a jackass.
Eyes still on her mementos, Miss Steele broke the silence with a frigid joust. “Can I help you with something, Detective Daggers?”
I gave her my best witty riposte. “Huh? What?”
“You’ve been staring at me and my desk for like five minutes.”
I never said I was the quickest draw when it came to processing information, but I’ll get the job done eventually. “Just checking out your desk.”
She eyed my workspace, covered in worn pencil nubs, food wrappers, and files that had been thrown haphazardly across its surface—not to mention my uneaten kolache, which languished uneaten on a pile of requisition forms.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said.
Now it was her turn to provide a witty counter. “What?”
“My kolache.” I grabbed it and tore a chunk out with my teeth. “I saw you eyeing it. If you want one, buy your own.”
“I wasn’t eyeing your donut.”
“I think your stomach is in league with your eyes, but your brain hasn’t realized it yet.”
Shay’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to figure out exactly what I meant. She shook her head and sighed. “Look,” she said in a voice that had lost some of its ice, “I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I’ll be the first to admit it was wrong of me to raise my voice the way I did as long as you admit some of your—how should I put this—playful banter was out of line. So, what do you say?”
