The Detective’s Apprentice

by Edward Kendrick

  The Detective’s Apprentice

  By Edward Kendrick

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2019 Edward Kendrick

  ISBN 9781646560349

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  To all the homeless young men and women, and those who have helped them get off the streets.

  * * * *

  The Detective’s Apprentice

  By Edward Kendrick

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 1

  “You better find someplace to stay, kid. They say this—” the man pointed to the snow that had begun dusting the loading dock next to Joe, “—is going to turn into a hell of a blizzard before it’s over.”

  Joe bristled when he called him ‘kid’. “I’m nineteen, so for sure I’m no kid,” he retorted, stretching to his full five-eight-and-three-quarter inches defiantly before hopping up to sit on the dock.

  “For sure,” the man chuckled, “you’ll be acting like one if you’re too stubborn to get your ass to one of the shelters, or the churches that are opening their doors to the homeless tonight.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Joe said, although he wasn’t sure that was true if the guy knew what he was talking about. He was already shivering because of the sharp drop in temperature—doing his best to hide it. “Why do you care, anyway? What are you, one of those goody-goody outreach people?”

  “Nope.” The man bent to peer under the loading dock and Joe knew he could probably see his backpack and sleeping bag in the dim light from the fixture a few feet down the alleyway. Then he jumped up to sit beside Joe. “Hiding under there’s not going to help keep you warm, you know.”

  As if to reinforce the guy’s words, the snow began to fall faster and a stiff breeze kicked up.

  Joe knew he was right, but…“By the time I get to a shelter it’ll be full up. Same with the churches. And like I said, what’s it to you, anyway?”

  The man shrugged. “Trying to do my civic duty?” He smiled wryly. Seconds later he slid off the dock, his gaze locked on a door that was opening across the alley. He took a small camera from his coat pocket before dropping to his knees beside the dock.

  For whatever reason, he wasn’t certain why, caution he supposed, and the way the man had hidden so that he wouldn’t be seen, Joe was on the ground and under the dock seconds before two men appeared through the doorway.

  “Fuck. Snow?” one of the men muttered, shifting the boxes he was carrying to get a better grip on them.

  “Don’t bitch,” the other one said. “No one with a brain is out here in it so we’re home free.” He was carrying boxes, too.

  Joe had the distinct feeling they’d broken into the place—’Edward’s Electronics’ from the barely legible sign above the door—and were leaving with as much as they could haul away.

  Naw. They didn’t break in. If they had, alarms would have gone off. One of them probably works there and, yeah, decided to do a little after-hours shopping with his friend.

  He watched as one of the guys kicked the shop door shut and they hurried down the alley. It was snowing hard enough at that point that he couldn’t see if they had a car parked on the street at the end of the alley. If it was me, I would.

  The man who’d been talking to Joe stood, brushing snow off the shoulders of his coat and pocketing his camera.

  “You took their pictures, didn’t you?” Joe asked after he crawled out from under the dock, wrapping his worn jacket tighter around him. It was a logical question, he figured. “What are you, a detective or something?”

  “Yep. Private. Hired by Mr. Edwards to find out which of his employees had been helping themselves to some of his stock after he closed for the night.” He started to walk away, turned, and said, “Get inside, kid.” He held up a hand when Joe scowled. “Sorry. You got a name?”

  “Joe,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation.

  “Okay. I’m Derek, and I mean it, Joe. Find somewhere out of the storm. I don’t want to read about someone finding your frozen body after the snow melts.”

  “Maybe I will, if I can. You could always take me home with you,” Joe added, smirking. “Since you’re such a concerned citizen.”

  “Could and will are two different things,” Derek replied. “But…Get your stuff.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your pack and sleeping bag. Get it.”

  Wondering what Derek had in mind, Joe did as he’d asked. “Now what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Uh-uh. Tell me or get lost. I’m not stupid enough to go somewhere with a dude I don’t know. You might have designs on my hot body.”

  Derek looked him over and laughed. “I’d say, from the way you’re shivering, it’s a pretty damned cold one. Okay. I’ve got a house, with a garage. I’m willing to let you stay in the garage until the storm’s over.” He started walking, saying over his shoulder, “No strings attached.”

  A cold blast of snow-filled wind hit Joe at that moment, which made his decision a hell of a lot easier. He hurried to catch up, his pack slung over his shoulder, his ratty sleeping bag tucked under his arm.

  When they got to the street Derek said, “I’m parked over there,” pointing to a lot half a block away.

  Joe followed him, hoping he wasn’t making his biggest mistake yet in a life already filled with them.

  * * * *

  The weather was getting worse as Derek inched his way down the increasingly snow-packed streets. Only an idiot would be out in this. Which would be me, I guess. I should have put off my surveillance after I heard the weather report. Hell, that punk and his friend should have postponed stealing from Mr. Edwards again, but they didn’t.

  “You do this a lot?” Joe asked, breaking into Derek’s thoughts.

  “What? Staking out a place? When I’m hired to, although…” Derek shook his head. “I try not to do it in a blizzard if I can help it.”

  “No. I mean helping guys like me. Giving them a place to stay.”

  “Nope. You’re the first one. Mostly I’ll toss a dollar or two in their cup or hat if they look legit. That’s it.”

  “Then why me? And don’t say your civic duty because of the weather. That won’t wash.”

  Derek sent him an amused look. “E
ven if it’s the truth?” He slowed down again to make the turn off the main thoroughfare onto the side street that would take him to his house. If I don’t end up sliding into the curb first.

  “Is it?” Joe asked. He was leaning forward, obviously trying to soak up the warmth coming from the car’s heater. A definite odor emanated from him—wet clothing that hadn’t been washed anytime recently, body odor, slightly sour breath when he spoke. Something in Derek’s expression must have telegraphed his thoughts, because Joe pulled back into the corner of the seat with a muttered, “Yeah, I don’t smell like a rose.”

  “Didn’t expect you to,” Derek replied. “To answer your question, you remind me of someone I couldn’t help. He had the same dark hair, soulful blue eyes, and scrawny build.”

  “Scrawny? If he lived on the streets that’s pretty much a given.”

  “He did, at the end.”

  “A friend?”

  “Brother, and let’s drop it, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Derek nodded while he poured every bit of his attention into driving at that point, as the street was almost impassable. If his car hadn’t been an Outback with four-wheel drive they’d have been stranded soon after he made the last turn.

  Finally he saw his house, looking dark and lonely in the dim light from the streetlight on the corner of the block. He pulled into the driveway, hit the remote to open the garage door, and took the last few feet at a snail’s pace.

  “Home sweet home,” Derek said when the door came down behind them.

  “You live in your garage?” Joe asked with a weak smile.

  “Thankfully, no. It might be heated, but it lacks certain amenities, like furniture.” Shutting the car off, Derek got out. When Joe didn’t move, he said, “You coming?”

  “I thought I was crashing here.” Joe waved a hand to encompass the garage.

  “I reconsidered. Don’t argue. I wouldn’t make my dog sleep out here tonight.”

  As Joe slid out of the car he said, “You’ve got a dog?” He didn’t look too happy about that.

  “Yep. Sherwat. Big old mutt that I rescued from the pound. Part Golden Retriever, part Shepherd, part who knows what. Friendly as can be unless I tell him otherwise.”

  “Sher what?”

  Derek chuckled as he unlocked the door to let them into the kitchen. “Sherwat. It’s a combo of Sherlock, as in Holmes, and Watson, his sidekick.”

  There was a skittering of claws on the linoleum of the kitchen floor as Sherwat dashed in from the living room. He came to an abrupt stop when he saw Joe, cocking his head before looking at Derek.

  “He’s a friend, be nice,” Derek said. “Joe, hold out your hand.”

  With obvious reluctance, Joe did. The dog approached, sniffed, and then licked it.

  “Well, one part of me’s clean, now,” Joe wisecracked as he pulled his hand back.

  “Put you gear over there,” Derek said, pointing to a corner of the kitchen next to the fridge. “Then I’ll show you where you can shower.”

  “Uh…You don’t have to do that,” Joe replied, putting his things where Derek had said.

  “If you’re going to spend the night, I’d rather not have to smell you, to put it succinctly. Come on. Oh, do you have anything clean in your pack.”

  Joe stared down at the floor, shaking his head.

  “Okay. Let’s start with laundry, then the shower. Get your stuff and follow me.”

  Derek opened the door to the garage first. Sherwat dashed out, and through the dog-door in the rear of the garage. Then Derek led the way down to the basement after turning on the light. “Dump everything in the washer except your sleeping bag.” When Joe did, Derek resisted commenting at how few clothes there were. “Wait here. I’ll get a pair of my sweats so you can wash what you’re wearing, too.”

  When he returned he found Joe standing barefooted in only his jeans. He handed him the sweats then turned around to give him a modicum of privacy to put them on. He heard rustling, then the sound of the washer door closing. Turning to look, he saw Joe reaching for a bottle of detergent. The young man frowned while he tried to figure out where to pour it. Derek opened the drawer on the front of the washer, telling him a capful would be enough. “And the same with the softener,” he added.

  Joe followed his directions and stabbed the button to start the machine. Then Derek took him back up to the first floor and the small guest bedroom off the living room. “The shower’s in here.” He opened the door to the bathroom. “Take your time. Your clothes won’t be ready for an hour between washing and drying.”

  Derek had the feeling Joe was overwhelmed by everything from the way he meekly nodded before going into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  If a stranger had done this for Jace would it have made a difference? Would he still be alive? Probably not. He was too far gone by the time he ended up on the streets.

  Pushing thoughts of his brother to the back of his mind, as much as possible, Derek went into the kitchen to let Sherwat in again, and after drying him off, began to fix a late night meal for Joe. He’d eat with him, since he didn’t want the young man to feel any more uncomfortable than he did already.

  The washer dinged to say it was finished at the same time Joe appeared in the kitchen. Without a word, he hurried down to the basement, presumably to put his clothes in the dryer. A few minutes later he was back. By then, Derek had supper, burgers and fries, on plates which he took into the dining room.

  “Have a seat,” he said when Joe stood hesitantly in the doorway. The young man did, and began to eat. From the way he went through his first burger, Derek wondered how long it had been since he’d eaten.

  As if reading Derek’s mind, Joe said, “I’m not really a pig, but the last thing I ate was half of a breakfast burrito someone threw away this morning.”

  “I pretty much figured it had been a while.” Since he’d already finished his burger, Derek leaned back, sipping his coffee as he watched Joe slow down his eating, seemingly wanting to taste his food now that his initial hunger was partially sated. “You don’t have to answer, but how did you end up on the streets?”

  Joe shrugged and swallowed before replying, “Family problems. Or, I guess, my problems with my family. My folks were, are good people. They just didn’t understand that I wasn’t my brothers. I did okay in school, mostly, but it wasn’t my thing. Neither were sports.”

  “What was your thing, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Acting, and I was pretty damned good at it,” Joe replied with a bit of pride in his voice.

  “Nothing you’ve said explains why you’re homeless.”

  Joe took time to finish his burger. From his expression he was debating how to answer—or if he would. Derek had decided not to push it when Joe said, his words rushed together as if he needed to get them out now or he never would, “This happened at the end of my junior year. I’d starred in a school show and this man was in the audience, or so he claimed. He came backstage afterwards to talk to me. He said I was good enough that he thought he could get me a job with a film company he worked for. Because my folks weren’t there, they’d seen the show Thursday night, he took me out for something to eat while he explained that it was a new company and they were looking for young guys like me for a picture they were producing. Something along the lines of Mockingbird. I was excited, of course, and told my folks later that night.” He grimaced. “They told me in no uncertain terms it wasn’t happening. They said I was too young. That I still had a year to go before I graduated and there was no way they’d give their permission, presuming the guy was legitimate to begin with.”

  Derek frowned. “He wasn’t, I suspect.”

  “No, but I didn’t find out until too late. I’d given him my number and he called the next afternoon. I told him what my folks had said and he…it was Saturday, so he suggested I meet him and he’d show me the studio and all that, and then if I wanted, he’d let my folks see it, too, once I knew it was
for real.”

  Derek had a strong premonition that he knew what came next but didn’t state it out loud, letting Joe finish his story his way, instead.

  “I knew I was being pigheaded because I didn’t like my folks trying to keep me from doing what I wanted—which was taking a chance to become a real actor,” Joe continued, his words less rushed. “I told my mom I was going to a movie with some friends and then met him at the same place he’d taken me to eat after the show. He said the studio was on the west side, which was across town from where I lived.” Joe paused before adding. “It wasn’t here. I didn’t live here. I grew up on the east coast. Anyway, we drove to this big building that looked like a warehouse. When we got inside, he took me into one part of it where there were cameras and lights and…everything. It looked real, like a movie set of a bedroom, even though no one was there filming. Then he said he wanted me to meet the director. We went upstairs to an office. The man wasn’t there so the guy asked if I wanted a cola while we waited. He got me one. I was nervous, so I gulped down half of it.” Joe’s mouth tightened and his hands clenched. “That’s the last thing I remember until I woke up naked, tied to a bed with…with a…a creep fucking me so hard I wished I’d die. It…it was in the same studio the guy showed me when we first got to the warehouse.” His voice petered out and his eyes teared up. He wiped the tears away before burying his face in his hands.

  “Take a deep breath,” Derek said quietly. “You don’t have to tell me anything more if you don’t want to.”

  Joe did as he said, breathing in and out until he calmed down enough to say, “There’s not much more to tell. They kept me drugged most of the time for the first few days, except when they were making those movies. Porn of course, if you didn’t figure it out already. If I gave them any trouble they threatened to send a couple of the videos to my folks. About a week later, I guess, they moved me to a different city and it started all over again.”

  Derek nodded. “Your basic human trafficking, only they weren’t selling your body to some pervert. They were using it to make their films.”