ARC: Peacemaker (7 page)

Chapter Nine

“You find out anything from the guy before the boom?” I asked as we took the lift up to my apartment.

Sixkiller was insisting on walking me there, which irritated me more than I could say. I didn’t need a caretaker but I also wanted to keep him in my sights. Lord knows what he might do if he slipped the leash.

“No. Just the bone feather. I’ll run it through our data banks see if I can identify it.”

So the Marshall wasn’t going to share evidence. Figured.

“Right. Well let me know what you turn up. And now tell me why I stink of kidney beans and you’re hardly showing a scrape?” I said as I thumbed my key lock.

He laughed; a dry cut-off noise that could just as easily have been a cough. Glad something could amuse him.

I entered my apartment in a hurry to hit the shower but stopped dead on my cactus rug just in front of the fluorescent dead guy outline, at the sight of a naked body lying curled on my two-seater, face buried into the cushions.

Sixkiller was past me before I could speak, slipping the muzzle of his Peacemaker into the person’s ear, cocking the pistol.

“Stop!” I bellowed, recognizing the heart-shaped tattoo on the buttocks.

Sixkiller pause, flicked me a glance. “You know… him?”

I nodded carefully. Emphatically. So there could be no mistake. “Put the gun away, Nate.”

He eased his thumb off the hammer and withdrew the piece.

My lover, Heart Williams, rolled over slowly.

“We all good?”Heart asked, taking in me and Sixkiller before he got up.

Another big nod from me.

Sixkiller holstered the pistol.

The moment it hit the leather, Heart sprang up from the couch and punched Sixkiller low in the guts.

The cowboy sagged a little then straightened, murder returning as quickly to his eyes as it had left.

“Don’t ever pull a gun on me again,” barked Heart.

I stepped in between them before any more friendly-fire could be exchanged.

“Marshall Nate Sixkiller, meet my… er… friend Heart Williams.”

Heart was as almost as tall as the Marshall and I, but had a finely sculpted body. Every muscle defined. When you worked as a stripper for a living, you had to keep the bod in tip top shape. It also meant you didn’t get too worried about standing starkers in front of strangers. Right now Heart’s manhood was on full display, and he looked as confident as if he wore a suit of armor.

If Caro had been here she’d be gawking with delight.

“Do all your friends let themselves in and lie naked on your furniture?”Sixkiller sneered. His gaze swept my couch in way that said he wasn’t likely to ever sit on it again.

“Only her
close
friends,” said Heart with equal weight.

I wasn’t used to Heart bristling macho. Usually he was just a cool, funny guy who was outstanding in bed. We slept together about once a week. It was great sex, but that was all. Some light pillow talk, maybe. But no dating, being seen in public together or acknowledgment that we had any type of real liaison going between us.

“Fellars,” I drawled. “A mistake made from good intentions. Let’s just get on with our day.”

Sixkiller shot me a both a critical and questioning glance.

“I’ll call you in a while, Marshall,” I told him.

He let out a breath, spun on his heel and left.

“Did he just do that weirdly fast, or is just me?” said Heart.

I walked over and locked the door.

He still made no attempt to clothe himself.

I wanted to be mad at him for being in my place when I wasn’t here (even though I’d given him security access), but in truth I would have been pleased to see him under any circumstances. Our liaisons were the only time I felt connected to another human being, except when Caro and I got hammered and drunk-talked.

I guess that said a lot about me. I didn’t relate well to the rest of the world. It’s not that I didn’t want to. But since Dad had died… trust came hard. And before that… maybe I was just wired different.

“Looking good, Ranger,” he sarcastically, eyeing my slimy appearance.

I appraised his nakedness with equal attention. “Let me return the compliment.”

He smiled. And that was unfair.

Heart without the smile was a good looking guy with a great body. With the smile he became a weapon of mass destruction. I never could understand why he worked as a stripper when anyone would have employed him. Then add polite and quick-witted to smoking hot. But it seemed like his current job was an index finger at anyone who ever had expectations of him.

I guess we all had our
thing.
The shoulder-chip that held us back in life, made us act stupid.

“You hungry?” I asked.

He widened his smile and let his tongue rim his top lip. “Starving.”

“Let me catch just a shower,” I said.

“Let me help.”

An hour later we were dressed and sharing tea, leaning against my kitchenette.

“So who was the trigger-happy cowboy?”

“Visiting US Marshall.”

“You get all the fun,” he teased. “He here to keep you in line?”

“Something like that.” Non-committal was my default. We didn’t usually talk about our work.

He took a sip of this tea and nodded towards the couch and the outline of the dead body. “So you gonna tell me about that then?”

“Some crazy broke in here and tried to abduct me. Nate – the Marshall – shot him.”

He frowned with concern. “You OK?”

“Fine.”

“But the Marshall’s a little touchy?”

“Actually, he was just doing what comes naturally to him. We’ve had a kinda bad day. I mean… I have.”

Heart placed his hand to my waist and left if sitting there. “I’ve got no work this week. You want me to hang around a bit here? Keep you company.”

I stared into his eyes. They were almost the same red brown of the mesas in the park. “That’s sweet of you, Heart. But I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Friend to friend,” he said. “For company. I mean, you could whoop my arse in a fight, Virgin.”

I thought of the punch he’d landed on Sixkiller. Heart had an athletic build but he wasn’t a fighter. At least I hadn’t thought so… “Not so sure about that. Where’d you pull that punch from?”

“Jees, girl, I take my clothes off for a living. It’s not the first time I’ve had to switch it up to macho.”

“The other man syndrome?”

His mouth twisted in amusement. “Well sometimes from the ladies as well. But yeah… I’ve had more than one jealous boyfriend.”

“Course you have,” I sighed.

We stood for a bit, sipping some more. The tea brought a biting flavor to my palate, the sugar brought life to my limbs.

“Say, how long have we been doing this… thing?” he asked.

I tried to recall exactly. We’d met in a Western Quarter bar where he’d been working on stage and Caro and I had been drinking. While Caro put a lynch move on some guy, I’d got maudlin about my dad. Heart had walked into my craziness and hadn’t been phased by it. That day was the best sex I’d had in a century.“Bit less than a year, I guess.”

“Yeah, well since that night we met, I’ve had six or seven more guys with ego-haemorrhages come after me. Some of them bring their mates. So yeah, I’m learning how to stand up to them.”

“You could always get another job.” The words just fell out.

He took a sip of his tea and looked away, his mouth tightening.

“Jees, I’m sorry Heart. I don’t know where that came from? I’m the last person to tell you what you should do with your life.”

He shot me a sideways glance, saw my apology was real then laughed. “You sure are.”

The moment of tension between us eased.

“So should I be worried that the cowboy will come after me again?” he asked.

“Not at all,” I said a little grimly. “I’ll sort that out.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “I have to go, but I’ll come back tonight and stay for a bit if you like?”

Part of me thought the idea sounded nice. It was creepy living with a fluorescent outline on my floor and two dead bodies on my mind. But part of me resisted, not wanting to give up my privacy, even for my lover.

I liked Heart a lot and I
loved
being intimate with him, but I still didn’t know him all that well. Not share-a-bathroom-every-day well, at least. And then there was Aquila to consider. What if my “disincarnate”, aka imaginary friend, decided to visit? I wasn’t sure I could handle the strain of hiding my hallucination from him.

He could see me wavering.

“I’ll cook,” he said.

I felt my eyes widen. “Really?”

“Really.”

I put down my tea mug and draped my arms over his shoulders. “Please.
Please.
Come back and stay.”

Chapter Ten

Heart left me feeling better about some things and worse about others. It was almost dinner time and today had been a wipeout of police interviews, a few drinks and then the odd thing in the alley.

First I went down to the foyer and unlocked my post box. The package was there, still wrapped in my scarf, and I tucked it inside my jacket for the ride back upstairs.

Once inside again, I sat it on the coffee table and called Caro.

“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped. “I’ve been worried sick since you hung up on me.”

“Ummm… Stuff… to deal with…”

“Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Stay there, I’m coming around.”

“No, Caro. Caro…?”

Crap.

I went into my bedroom and tucked the camera into one of my spare work boots in the bottom of my cupboard. As an afterthought, I pulled the bedcovers up and washed the extra tea mug. Caro had an eye for detail that made me nervous.

By the time she arrived, I was scanning tattoo sites on my tablet.

She followed me around the body outline back to the couch.

“I think we should make up a name for him,” she said.

“He had a name. They told me down at the police station. Leo Teng.”

“Not the actual dead guy, I mean the
drawing
of the dead guy. Two different things. Let’s call him John Flat.”

I frowned and shook my head at her. “You’re certifiable, you know. Anyway, I hope they’ll let me rub it out soon.”

“That patch of floor will always be
where the dead guy lay
. You might as well give him a name and welcome him in.”

She was probably right, but for now I just tucked my feet underneath me so I didn’t touch the marks.

She glanced at my tablet. “You find out anything more?”

“Not yet,” I said. “You?”

“No. But I got a name for you. Kadee Matari.”

“Who’s that?”

“You’ll find him in Divine Province.”

“Yeah, but who is he?”

“I don’t know exactly but apparently if you’ve got any vodun happening, he’s the one to talk to. Your bone feather might be in his wheelhouse.”

“Your intelligence sources tell you this?”

She smiled in a slightly devious, very Caro way. When my friend had a purpose she was straight and true. But the means by which she got there… well, I’d made it my business not to ask. Rangers were too hamstrung by their connection to the law to approve of half the shit that Caro did.

“Divine, huh?” I said.

“You want me to come with you?”

“Absolutely not.”

Divine spanned two or three suburbs south of the Western Quarter: Moonee, Calder and Mystere - a little slice of the city that had been market gardens back in the day. Genuine vegie growers first then hydroponics druggies, naturists and hippies. After that, the alternative spiritualists moved in. Dad had told me a fair bit about its history because he had lots of theories about social demographics and city geography and crime.

Now, of course, there was no bare land to be had, other than the park. Only varying densities of city living.

I hadn’t been down that way in a while. Not since I’d been following a lead on Dad’s death. Some parts of Divine were safe for strangers; the commercial section where people went for psychic and tarot readings. The rest was most definitely not somewhere you went without an invitation and a guide.

Ordinarily, I stayed clear of the place. The bundles of bones knocking together in the breeze, trippy music, and smell of sacrificial animal blood was too way too hostile for my taste.

The idea of going there with Caro set my stomach churning. She survived war spots and even been kidnapped once in Afghanistan, but Divine…Her blond hair and bright attitude would be like offering a virgin to an angry deity.

“I’ll take Nate.”

“See what the man’s really made, eh?”

“Something like that.”

“So what did the police say?”

“You know a detective called Indira Chance?”

She frowned. “I think I have. Met on the Riggins case. Middle aged, panda eyes, saggy tits. Bitch on a windmill.”

“That would be her,” I said. “Riggins? He was the one who murdered his whole family and boiled them in drums.”

“Yeah. She was running point on the mother’s murder and getting nowhere, when some young hotshot detective connected the dots. She didn’t take being sidelined too well when the case broke. Decent detective but as vindictive as hell.”

“Can you find out about her background for me? She likes me for the murder in the park. Actually she’d like me for both deaths but Nate is actually on video for one.”

“Don’t stay mad at Totes. He’s a dick, but he did you a favour by having the place wired.”

“It’s still creepy,” I sighed.

“You got to respect the level of his obsession with you.”

“Totes isn’t obsessed with me. He’s just… a loser.”

“That boy is way too smart to be a loser. You remember that, Ginny.”

I made a contemptuous noise.

“But I’d be careful he doesn’t get jealous of stripper-boy.”

I gawked at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Heart Williams. You think you can keep that kinda thing from me, girl?” She lifted her chin, a gleam of triumph in her eyes. “Though I’m a little hurt you didn’t say anything.”

“You
know
Heart?”

“Darling everyone woman with a pulse in the Inner City knows about Heart. He’s the whipped cream and nuts on the ice-cream and chocolate sauce.”

I stared at her suspiciously. “You saw him leave my place.”

“No. But the womanly grapevine is unfailing when it comes to something…
someone
so delicious.”

My face burned. “Can we talk about something important?”

“Sure, Ginny. But let me say, I’m glad you’re getting some.”

I glowered at her. “This is why I don’t tell you things.”

“Prude,” she said.

“Voyeur!”

She relented. “You should find someone in Divine who knows what the bone feather means. And maybe even the tattoo. When will you go?”

I checked my tablet for the time. It was still early. “Think I’ll catch some dinner and head over there later tonight.”

“And the cowboy?”

“Let me worry about him. You find me anything you can on Detective Chance. And Leo Teng.”

“Yeah, boss girl.” She got up and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Course, I could just go talk to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well last time I saw her, she was skulking around the sidewalk outside your lobby.”

“Here? Now?”

Caro gave me a wave. “You’re welcome.”

The door shut after her with a bang. Caro loved an exit.

I tiptoed around John Flat and went into to the kitchenette. The fridge offered up a nub of salami, some blue vein cheese and two soft carrots. I grabbed the cheese and sausage and carved slabs. Dropping them on a plate, I returned to my perch and did a bit more digging online while I munched.

The tattoo came up on a couple of forums but never associated with any explanation or comments, almost like it had been seeded there as a message or code.

Frustrated, I got up and retrieved the box from the park from my work boot. It needed a clean, so I took it into the kitchenette and wiped it over with a dishrag. Definitely a camera. But what had it been recording and how did I retrieve the footage?

A quick search online told me it was a pinhole security cam with a built in motion detector that had been around for years but was still a big seller. Trouble was that the data card was missing.

Shit!

I put it back in my boot and thought about what to do next.

Food. Then Mystere,
I decided.

I used the building intercom to call down to Sixkiller’s room. No answer. It was possible he’d gone to sleep – jet lag and whatever. Even so, concern began to trickle into my stomach imagining the damage he could do alone in the city.

I returned to my bedroom and grabbed a light black overcoat. I didn’t usually wear my piece after work, but the way things had been…

Within a few minutes, I was banging on his door. The guy in the next apartment came out in his dressing gown to see what all the fuss was about.

“You seen him recently?” I asked.

“You mean the cowboy with the TV twang?”

“Yeah. That’s him.”

He shrugged and turned to go back inside. “I mind my own business.”

Right.

I pounded again, hard enough to wake him if he was sleeping. Still nothing.

Where…?

I called Totes. “Where are you?”

“Still at work. Police have been in and out all day taking pictures and samples.”

“Have you seen the Marshall?”

“Sixkiller? Only with you this morning. Why?”

“I can’t find him.”

“It’s dinner time, Virgin. He’s probably gone out for a bite.”

“He’s not that sort,” I said.

“You saying he doesn’t eat?”

I thought of the soup he’d ordered at the food court. “Apparently not.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Forget it. Just call me if you hear anything from him or about him.”

“Always.”

A thought occurred to me. “Totes, do you have his apartment wired too?”

Silence.

“Answer me or I’ll dismember Princess Puti.”

Puti was his number one doll. The one he never took out of her dustproof, fireproof, shockproof casing.

“Virgin!” he sounded horrified.

“I mean it.” And I did. I was still pissed at him for spying on me.

“Well, I had a surveillance bug in there but he found it.”

“Crap.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

“Is he smarter than you, Totes?”

“His detection technology is newer,” he replied flatly.

I’d got under his skin about something. Good.

I hung up and thought for a moment. Not much I could do, except get on with my own investigations.

I checked the time. It was just past the first sitting at most places for dinner. Maybe I’d go have a meal in the Western Quarter and then head on to Divine. See what information I could shake loose. I had a picture of the bone feather on my phone and I knew someone who might help.

My enjoyment of the T-Bone and coleslaw at Dabrowski’s Steakhouse was spoiled by the fact I had a cop sitting in the opposite booth pretending to eat curly fries. He’d been waiting outside the lobby of my apartment and had inexpertly tailed me this far. Indira Chance must have gone home for the night.

I forked mushroom sauce onto the meat and chewed slowly. Leaving through the kitchen door might be an option but was a pretty predictable way totry and shake a tail. If he was working with anyone else they’d be watching the other exits. That left me only one option.

I signaled the waitress, Greta, over to me.

“You ready for your soft serve, Ranger Jackson?”

“No thanks, Greta. But I could do with a little distraction.”

She poked at her ringlet-curled mountain of hair with her stylus, and hitched her hose up by pinching at the waist band through her uniform. “You mean that copper drowning in chicken salt over there?”

“That’s him. Is Chef Dabrowski in the kitchen?

She nodded.

“Time I told him personally how good his steak is.”

She grinned at me. “So you should.”

“If you could block my policeman friend’s view of the front door for a few seconds, I’d be most grateful.” I placed the cost of the meal and a generous tip into her hand.

She winked and made a beeline for the opposite booth. Just before her plus size girth bent in front of the cop, I leapt up and headed for the door. Once there, I opened it wide and let it swing shut. Then I ducked back and around a pillar into the kitchen. The peep-through window let me see the cop push past Greta and race out the front door. She went straight after him, chasing payment.

After an embarrassed exchange of cash on the pavement, he disappeared into the throng outside.

I grinned and turned around to find the entire kitchen staring.

“I’m… er… just…”

Chef Dabrowski stomped out of his office to see what had caused the staff’s paralysis and spotted me, saving them an explanation. His demeanor switched from stormy to sunlit in less than a second and a moment later, he scooped me up and pressed me hard against his all-in-one chest and belly.

“My little girl,” he crooned. “You never come to see me anymore.”

I arched back a little to catch my breath against the raw garlic and onion on his breath. “Not true, Chef. I eat here once a week. I just don’t like to bother you. You’re a busy man.”