Wrong Step (Urban Fiction): A Sinister Syndicate Thriller (2 page)

It was early in the morning when Sheddi got in from Emergency. All the nurses, and doctors knew of her crazy exploits, and had a deceased pool going for her. She had been in countless times to get patched from the dangers of her job.

She opened her door at 4 in the morning. She looked to see if Moira was asleep, but her bed wasn’t disturbed. She was still out.

Sheddi grabbed some cosmetics, and a bottle of tequila. She sat at the dining room table to fix her stitches, and imbibe a bit. She didn’t want to look like she just came back from Falluja when she wore her favorite miniskirt. She clicked on her Bang & Olufsen stereo to listen to some mellow music when Moira opened the door.

“Well it seems like you had a tough day at the office.” Moira looked at her leg.

“Hi, Moira. Pitfalls of the job. I guess you didn’t have as tough of a day as I did.”

Moira went to the table, kissed Sheddi on the cheek, and grabbed the tequila bottle to take a swig.

“My day was great. Jabril is a dreadlocked hunk who can dance.”

“He’s Jamaican,” Sheddi said while dressing her leg. “I think they could do that before they get their birth certificates.”

Moira smiled.

“He gave me a present.” She took out a bag of ganja. “He called it the ‘ere fiyah.”

“You’re Irish, girl. Your Jamaican accent doesn’t quite cut it,” Sheddi joshed her. “Did he say how potent it was?”

“It’s about a few levels up from medicinal, and with your leg wound, let’s ‘fiyah’ up a spliff.”

Sheddi looked at her.

“It’s four in the morning, and I have to get these pictures to Knocks today; I’m tired.”

Moira began to roll the joint.

“You’re gonna toss and turn all morning from that wound.” She sealed the joint with her lips, and gave it to Sheddi. “This will be your super sleeping pill. Peer pressure.”

Sheddi smiled, and took the joint.

“Your logic got me, not the peer pressure. Give me a lighter.”

Moira gave her a hand torch, and they both indulged.

~~~

As 5 rolled around, the two sat on the couch listening to Reggae music, and were mellowing out.

“This stuff is dangerous, Moira. I’m on Mars right now.”

“I just came around Pluto,” Moira said. “It’s still a planet to me dammit!”

“I know he’s from Jamaica, so does he sell this stuff?” Sheddi asked.

“I don’t know, Sheddi, because I don’t know him well enough.”

“That’s a concern. How do you know him, but not know of him?” Sheddi asked.

“Carnal knowledge is easy for me. Mentality and background knowledge stumps me,” Moira said. “You’re the investigator. Be my accessory for this one. I like him, but I don’t really know if I should.”

“You want me to take pictures of him-- to spy?”

“No. Take pictures, and spy on us. I’m going out with him Friday, and it’s to a club of his choosing. I’m a little nervous.”

“You’re a hedge fund manager. You bring guys like him down every day. You aren’t nervous with them.”

“There’s one big difference, I’m not sleeping with those twerps,” she said. “When he’s been that intimate with me, I turn to Jell-O.”

“Now you want my expertise to help you,” Sheddi said “Girl, you’re high.”

“We’re both high, Sheddi. If it wasn’t for this ‘ere fiyah, we wouldn’t be talking about this.”

Sheddi understood her friend needed her. She braved crazy ruthless outfits to get the perfect shot, so why not help Moira?

“Okay, I’ll do it. He could just be a cab driver.”

“I don’t think you could pay for a five star hotel three times a week with a cab driver’s salary. He knows what I do. I just want to know what he does. Take our picture, and show it to Tanaka. He can put it in AFIS to see if he has a record.”

“That reminds me. I have to meet Knocks at twelve today, and I need some sleep. Thanks for the super sleeping pill, Moira, but I have to get up in five hours from now, duty still calls, and she’s an impatient bitch.”

“You’re always poetic when you’re high. Get some sleep, girl.” Moira got up, and went to the bathroom. Sheddi stumbled to bed, and crashed.

                                                                                     ~~~

Sheddi walked into the station at 12:00. She saw Tanaka at his desk eating a cannoli. She walked over to him with the pictures.

“I downloaded them this morning, Knocks. Did that recording come out fine?”

Tanaka looked up at Sheddi.

“How’s the leg, Dedzo? The recording was the hammer, and these pictures are the nail.” He looked over the prints.

“I’m still able to walk, Knocks,” she said. “I’m just glad it’s fall because I wear my mini skirt in the spring.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, kid. This isn’t your sworn duty. You’re not a cop.”

“I could get shot doing what I love or I could walk down the street eating a peanut butter sandwich, and get hit by a jelly truck. At least I know my danger, and won’t die funny and stupid.”

Tanaka grinned.

“You never take this seriously. When you’re bleeding out from a fatal stomach gunshot wound, just remember. I warned you,” Tanaka said.

“You’re just as crazy as I am, Knocks. With all your commendations you could be on desk duty until retirement, but you opted to head up the bunco squad.”

“We apprehend thieves in unlawful mass merchandise transfers. I haven’t heard bunco squad since Frank Nitti, and Al Capone were Popular.”

“You work in New York, and aren’t that old, Knocks, say John Gotti.”

“That’s not bunco, Dedzo, that’s rico.”

Sheddi smiled.

“That’s just a corrupt organization, not a slimy punk. You still have the same death wish I do. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“Crazy is part of my job. You could just walk away, and do photography exhibits. Crazy’s my career, but it’s your choice.”

“Well I’m taking a break from all the darkness,” she said. “I’m taking pictures of Moira, and her new boyfriend at a club Friday. No big deal, but I need your help.”

Tanaka looked suspicious. “Is Moira still out there in the dating pool trying to hold her breath until Mister Right comes along?”

“She’s my friend, Knocks. I don’t judge my friends. She could come home with a dominatrix, and I’d just offer her the rest of my pizza. She has female intuition, and that’s why I need you to run Jabril through AFIS to see if he’s legit.”

“Moira’s crazy in her own right. She doesn’t avoid bullets like you, but an STD could be just as deadly.”

“We both have been through that class, Knocks. We wear protection, and we ask first,” she said.

“And a boyfriend she wants me to put through AFIS won’t lie to her,” Tanaka said. “That girl’s playing Russian Roulette with four bullets.”

“When you find out his background, you’ll take two of those bullets away. Give her a break. She’s successful in a male dominated profession, and she wants to enjoy her success the same way the guys do.”

Tanaka didn’t want to get into that, so he opened up his desk drawer to get her digital recorder.

“Here, you may want to use this just in case Jabril goes chauvinist ass all over Moira, and you want evidence.” He gave it to her.

“Aw, Knocks! You got cannoli cream all over the parabolic microphone!” She was upset.

Tanaka gave her his handkerchief. It’ll still work. Where did you get that Bond contraption anyway?”

“I don’t have a pet Q in my secret layer. I ordered it from Delvation dot com.”

“So you went all MI6 spy from a European site, huh?”

“Europe’s good at surveillance, and we’re good at making guns. I don’t use guns. That’s your domain.”

Tanaka tried to stump her.

Where’s the catch dish? A parabolic mic has a catch dish.”

She pressed a button, and a virtual light dish surrounded the recorder.

“Like I said, the Europeans are good.”

“Well, take your space detective recording device, you might need it.”

“You have a rifle that shoots around corners now so don’t think technology just stops with law enforcement. We grow as well,” she said. “Okay, Knocks, I’ll be back Saturday with the pics.”

“Get his fingerprints too. AFIS is a fingerprint recognition system.”

She acknowledged, got up, and left Tanaka with his evidence.

~~~

“How does this look, Hun?”

Moira was in a very tight cat suit. Sheddi looked at her protruding moose knuckle, and shook her head.

“I’m doing the investigation, you’re going out with the Rastafarian Ranger to his club. He wants to show you off, but not for sale. Don’t wear that moose knuckle displayer.”

Moira looked at her tight suit, and looked back at Sheddi.

“It does have that street hooker vibe going on, doesn’t it?”

Sheddi went into the closet, and pulled out her Vera Wang dress.

“Here, you want to look like a fifty thousand dollar a night call girl. Be an elegant slut.”

Moira went to put on her dress, and Sheddi checked to see if her gear was in working order. Tanaka really ‘creamed’ her recorder.

After she did her preliminary checks of her recorder, she took test photos in the dark to see if the zero lux filter was still good.

When she capped her lens, Moira came out in the dress. Sheddi looked up, and smiled.

“You look like Roisin Murphy, Moira McGuinnes.”

“Rosheen who?”

“You’re young, and from Ireland. You not knowing Roisin is like a Scotsman not knowing who William Wallace was. She’s a singing music legend in Ireland.”

“I haven’t studied any Celtic music. All I know is Enya.”

Sheddi went to her computer, and played an MP3 of a track from Overpowered. Moira listened, and began to groove.

“Where did you find her?”

“You’re Irish, We’re friends and roommates, and I’m an investigator. I looked her up when she was with Moloko, her previous band,” Sheddi said.

”She doesn’t sound Irish.”

“You were also born in Ireland, and you don’t sound Irish either.”

“I left Galway when I was thirteen so I lost my accent.”

Sheddi referenced an interview with Roisin, and Moira heard her Irish accent.

“As you can tell, she still lives in Europe.” Sheddi said.

“I have to admit, she sounds funkier than Enya.”

“Hey, Enya’s my girl too. Don’t sleep on Enya.” Sheddi wanted to educate Moira on her own musical culture.

Their doorbell rang. “Jabril’s here. Put on your ‘do me’ pumps, and I’ll buzz him up.”

She buzzed him in. As Jabril climbed the steps, Sheddi put away her gear. He knocked on the door, and she answered it.

“Hey, Jabril.”

Jabril looked around to see just her.

“Where’s ya date, gal?” He asked her as he put his soda in the garbage.

“My date’s my pillow tonight. I’m not coming.”

“Aw, ya can tag along, Sheddi.”

“This is you and Moira’s night. I’m not third wheeling. I’m too tired to dance anyway.”

Moira finally came out looking stunning. “Hi, Jabril.”

Jabril saw her sensuality, walked up to her with the rose he bought, gave it to her, and kissed her.

“Ya look amazin’, baby.”

“Thank you. Actually, thank Sheddi for this look. I knew we were going to dance so I wore a cat suit at first. She told me of my Moose Knuckle Syndrome so she put me in this. The girl’s a Tom boy, but she knows her fashion.”

Jabril looked at Sheddi.

“Thanks, Sheddi, but ya just got ya gal in trouble. Don’t expect her in t’night.”

“I kinda figured that,” she said. “Now you should understand my third wheel decline. I designed her for an extended stay with a Rasta.”

“Ya fine, baby,” Jabril told Moira. “Ya can dance ta Sun is Shinin’ in that.”

Moira kissed him.

“We’re going out to move to some Marley, Sheddi. Don’t wait up.” Moira kissed her on the cheek, and grabbed her clutch. “What’s the name of this place again?”

“I never told ya before, Gal. We’re goin’ to tha Jamaican Jerk. Me friend’s tha deejay t’night.”

Sheddi got her information. Moira was a good operative.

As they left the apartment, Sheddi grabbed his soda can for the fingerprints, got online to locate the Jamaican Jerk club. It was 25 miles north. She put on her stealth gear to remain invisible, and locked the address in her personal GPS device. She geared up with her tourist Statue of Liberty T over her Lycra top, and looked like a Nebraska lady marveling over a real city. She went to the subway to get to the club to surveil, and snap a few shots.