Superbia (Book 2) Read online

  “Chief Erinnyes? Marcus Horatio. Thank you for seeing me.”

  Erinnyes did not move.

  “Do you mind if I come in and sit down?” Marcus said.

  “You may sit, but if you are here to discuss a former police officer with me, I warn you it is going to be a short conversation.”

  “Former?” Marcus said. He looked down at his notes and said, “Was she terminated?”

  “She hasn’t bothered showing up for work in almost two years. Whatever is left is sheer formality.”

  Marcus pushed the thin, wire-rimmed glasses back up on his nose and said, “With all due respect, Chief, Officer Macariah was on extended medical leave. She had a special arrangement with Chief Midas, and now that her treatment is completed she is ready to return.”

  Erinnyes leaned forward and said, “Yes, let’s talk about that illness for a moment. What exactly was the nature of it again?”

  “I couldn’t say, sir.”

  “I have spent the past year trying to unstick this police department from the godawful mess it was in when I took over. She will never return to work here, even if I have to drag her in front of a public supervisor’s meeting to discuss her leave of absence.”

  Marcus crossed his legs and propped his elbows on the armrests of his chair while the Chief spoke. When he replied, his voice was smooth and calm. “How many zeros would you like to put on my check, Chief? You violate that young woman’s right to privacy and I’ll let you start counting at six. I won’t stop until this police department has to carry slingshots because you can’t afford bullets.” Marcus smiled and said, “It can get worse for you real quick. Take your little all-white, all-male police department, Claude. I don’t think you want me anywhere near this.” Marcus snapped his business card out of his shirt pocket and laid it on the Chief’s desk. “I’ll be expecting your call telling me when my client can start.”

  Erinnyes picked up the card as Marcus stood up. He crushed the card in his pudgy hand and tossed it over his shoulder at the wastebasket. Marcus chuckled and said, “You’ll want to dig that out of there. If the phone call I got this morning is any indication, I’ll be back here real soon.”

  “And what phone call would that be?”

  “MALDEF retained my services this morning regarding your department’s hiring practices.”

  “Who the hell is Maldef?”

  “It’s not a who, it’s a what. Being that we’re such good friends now I can tell you that they are a well-funded organization with heavy political clout that specializes in defending the rights of a certain segment of the population. Equal employment rights is a particular favorite of theirs.”

  Erinnyes leaned back in his chair and said, “Are these people hiring you to represent Reynaldo Francisco?”

  Marcus pressed his hand against chest and feigned shock, “Chief Erinnyes, it would be unprofessional of me to comment on something like that. I was just letting you know that you and I will be real bueno amigos in the near future, so I think you’d better save that card.”

  ***

  The restaurant’s front door opened and Frank immediately stuck his hand in the air, waving until Marcus saw him and nodded. Marcus stopped mid-stride, eyes popping at the sight of the blonde sitting next to Frank. “Hello, hello,” he said. He picked up her hand in his and covered it with his other hand. “Please tell me you are not Mrs. O’Ryan.”

  “She’s not,” Frank said, pulling Aprille’s hand away from Marcus’s grip. “She’s your client, smooth operator.”

  “Not officially,” Marcus said, flashing a bright smile at her. “Although that’s not to say I am not owed some sort of remuneration for my services.”

  “Well now,” Aprille said. “That all depends on how good the service you give is.”

  “I give the best service.”

  “All right, all right, before I gag,” Frank said. “What happened?”

  “I went to see the fat man and made him jiggle a little. I even managed to throw something in for that Francisco kid you told me about.” Marcus held up his hand for the waiter and flagged him over.

  “Good,” Frank said. He looked down at his soda and shook the ice cubes around inside of it, taking a moment to absorb everything while Marcus ordered his drink. “Now we just wait and see what stuck.”

  “You two want to do a shot? I need one after that.”

  “I’m fine,” Aprille said.

  “We’re both fine,” Frank added quickly.

  “Okay, screw you then.” He turned to Aprille, back to being smooth, and said, “Excuse my language.”

  Aprille looked at him straight-faced. “No fucking problem.”

  ***

  “I need to go out tonight to do surveillance.”

  Dawn pulled a wet plate out of the dishwasher and wiped it off with a towel. She handed it to Frank and said, “What time?”

  “Not till after midnight.” He turned around and put the plate into the cabinet above. “And I need to take the van again.”

  “Why are you all of a sudden using our personal cars for police work?”

  “I told you, the house I’m watching is on a residential street. The van has dark windows and I can sit in the back where nobody will see me.”

  “Doesn’t your work have vans?”

  “Yes. But right now the helicopter units and Marine Division are using them.”

  “Funny. I guess it’s okay.”

  “I wasn’t exactly asking, woman. I’m the King of this Castle and all who dwell within it, so—” He stopped speaking as Dawn’s fingers tightened around his scrotum. “So what I meant was, honey can I use the van?”

  She kissed the tip of his nose and said, “Go get the bad guys, baby.”

  He watched her walk out of the kitchen and said, “I didn’t mean you had to let go.”

  ***

  At two o’clock in the morning the last light went out. All of the houses were now dark. All of the cars in the neighborhood, accounted for. Frank waited.

  At three o’clock in the morning, he took four No-Doz and drank the last Red Bull in his cooler. He found an empty Gatorade bottle in the backseat next to the booster seat his youngest little girl sat in. He unscrewed the cap and pissed into the bottle, careful not to spill any. It smelled horrific. Frank waited.

  At three thirty, he got out of the car quietly and shut the door just enough to catch. He removed four bags of trash from the trunk, two white bags, two black, and lowered the lid but did not close it.

  Frank crept across the cul-de-sac with the bags, keeping out of the lights, taking note of every truck and bush along the way and assessing their concealment capabilities if he needed to vanish. He stopped at a large oak tree and peeked around its side, getting eyes on a modest-sized rancher with blue aluminum siding. “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” was written on a wooden plaque by the front door. The Erinnyes Residence was written right below it.

  He bent over and ran, keeping low to the ground as he headed for the large green trash container set near the edge of the Erinnyes’ driveway. He dropped the bags he’d brought and quietly opened the trash can’s lid, resting it carefully on the back of the can. Frank clicked on his flashlight and looked inside.

  The blue filter mounted to the front of his light minimized the beam, but he could not tell if the bags inside the can were black or dark green. He grabbed the first bag and set it on the street. He had to tip the can forward and stick his arm down into the trash can to grab the next one. He winced at the smell and held his breath, grabbing for the next bag. A glass bottle fell out of the bag as he lifted it, clanging all the way to the bottom of the can. It sounded louder than a Howitzer in the quiet cul-de-sac.

  A light came on in the upstairs bedroom of the neighbor’s house. Frank snatched the last bag and dropped the two dark ones he’d brought inside of it. He set the trash can back in place and grabbed all of the bags from the ground, keeping his eyes up on the window to see if anyone was looking out.

  He
ran as fast as he could back to the car, throwing the bags of trash into his backseat. One of the bags was open and spilled across the floor of the car. Dawn was going to be pissed.

  4. “Hello, buddy! Same as usual?”

  Jim Iolaus nodded and said, “One medium decaf with skim milk and one extra large, black.”

  “Okay, buddy!”

  Iolaus looked at his phone. No messages.

  He waited until 0740 and wrote: You ready, boss?

  Iolaus put the phone away and pulled out of the parking lot into traffic as it slowed for a red light at the next intersection. He looked at his phone. No response. The light changed to green and someone laid on the horn for the first car to move. Iolaus looked in his side mirror and saw a business man in a red Audi driving the heel of his palm into the center of his steering wheel.

  He crept forward, waiting for the Audi to get in front of him, watching the driver run his hand through his hair and nervously tap his fingers on the passenger seat headrest. The Audi cut into Iolaus’ lane, trying to penetrate the long line of traffic, got frustrated, and cut back. They came to another light. Iolaus purposely stayed a few car lengths back.

  The light changed and the Audi slammed the horn again, honking it until the cars in front of him finally had a chance to move. Iolaus checked his phone again. It was blank. He threw the lights and siren on, waiting for the driver of the Audi to look into his rearview mirror. Iolaus pointed at him and said, “You.”

  Iolaus pulled his car behind the Audi and waited. He put on his black leather gloves and adjusted his hat. The driver opened his door to get out and Iolaus dropped his hand to his pistol and said, “Stay in your car!”

  “But I was just—”

  “Stay in your car.”

  The driver huffed and slammed his door shut. Iolaus took his time, looking in the backseat, checking the date on the inspection stickers, looking in the cup holders. “What’s the problem, Officer?”

  “License and registration, sir.”

  “What did you stop me for? I’m in a huge rush, and I can’t afford to be late.”

  Iolaus tilted his head down, looking at him over the top of his aviator sunglasses. “License and registration.”

  The driver sat up to grab his wallet out of his back pocket and then reached over to the glove compartment to grab the card. Iolaus stepped back and peered down, watching the glove compartment carefully as it opened. The driver handed the items over and said, “Can I ask you why you stopped me now?”

  “You failed to signal back there when you changed lanes. Also, you’re not wearing your seatbelt.”

  “Can I have a warning?” the driver said. “Please? I’m in a super big hurry and I just got a new job. Things are really tight at the moment, and I could use a break.”

  Iolaus stepped back from the vehicle without speaking, walking backwards to his car, keeping a careful watch on the driver. He got into his patrol car and checked his phone. Still nothing.

  He reached into his lunch bag and pulled out a plastic shaker cup with exactly one and a half scoops of protein powder sitting at the bottom. He poured a bottle of spring water into the cup and shook it up until the powder dissolved, turning the water into something cloudy and pink. He drank until the shaker was empty, eyes locked on the driver in front of him. He finished the drink, wiped off his mouth with a napkin, and checked his phone again. Nothing.

  He opened his ticket book and started to write.

  ***

  Iolaus slammed both tickets down on the secretary’s desk and said, “Why are my stats screwed up?”

  The secretary stopped typing and looked up at him. “Excuse me?”

  “The computer says I only have fifteen tickets for the month, when I wrote six new ones over the weekend. It shows me as third in the department. I should be first.”

  “I’ve been trying to get caught up and just haven’t had a chance to update the system yet.”

  “When will you?”

  “Today, I guess?”

  “Good,” Iolaus said. “Make sure you put both of those in there too.”

  The secretary rolled her eyes and went back to typing. “There’s a woman in the lobby who wants to speak to an officer.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not an officer.”

  Iolaus threw his hands up in the air and headed for the door. The woman sitting in the lobby flinched when he shoved it open and stuck his head out. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I just have a few questions.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “What do I need to get a restraining order against my husband?”

  “An act of legislation. There are no restraining orders in Pennsylvania.”

  “Oh,” is all she said. She was as tall as Iolaus and twice as thick. Her purse was decorated erratically with buttons and feathers, and she clutched the strap with large, manly hands.

  “What’s going on with your husband?”

  “We have a disabled daughter and he’s been really mean to her lately. I’m the only one working, and when I come home, Kayla isn’t clean. Ralph lets her soil herself and sit in it. He screams at her when she spits up what he feeds her.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Twenty-two, but she has the mental ability of a four year old.”

  “Nothing I can do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does he injure her at all? Is she bruised?”

  “No, not that I can see. He’s just really angry towards her. And me, too.”

  “So leave him. He sounds like a jerk.”

  She looked down at the ground, “It isn’t that easy. I’m the only one working and we have no money for anything. Where am I supposed to go?”

  “The women’s shelter.”

  “They won’t take us because of my daughter’s medical condition. They don’t have the facility for her.”

  “Listen, then I have no idea what to tell you. If he’s breaking the law, I’ll go lock him up right now. You say the word and boom. It’s done. If he’s not, there’s nothing we can do for you.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry to bother you, I guess.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Mary Polonius.”

  “Tell you what, Mary. I’ll put a report in the system to document your concerns. That way, if you ever need it, we have proof.” She thanked him, and Iolaus held up his hand and said, “Hope it all works out. Take care.” He shut the lobby door and glanced at the secretary, checking to see if she’d picked up his tickets yet. Both were still sitting there. Iolaus grunted and said, “If you think those two are bad, just wait. There’s going to be twenty more by the end of the day.”

  He left the station just as Frank O’Ryan’s blue sedan pulled into the lot. It was four minutes past the hour. Iolaus shook his head and pulled out a small notepad and pen. He flipped to the last entry and wrote the date, then FO late to work (8:04).

  Iolaus closed the notebook and looked at the set of sergeant’s stripes drawn on the front cover.

  Frank O’Ryan walked past him and waved, then stopped in front of the officer’s entrance, staring at the wall over Iolaus’ head. Iolaus looked up and said, “What?”

  Frank pointed at the small round black object mounted to the wall above the door. “Is that a camera?”

  Iolaus looked up at it and shrugged, “Hell if I know.”

  “That’s a camera,” Frank said. He walked around the side of the building to the sally port, the secure parking area used for prisoner drop offs at the station, and looked all around the walls and roof. “There’s no camera in the sally port?” Frank said.

  “Maybe the Chief couldn’t afford to do them all at once?” Iolaus said.

  Frank turned and looked at him, “So the officer’s personal entrance is a higher priority? What’s he doing, making sure nobody leaves early?”

  “Well, if guys don’t abuse the system they have nothing to worry about,” Iolaus
said.

  “Are you drinking the fucking Kool-Aid or something?”

  “So says the guy with the fancy office and title he didn’t test for.”

  “Whatever,” Frank said. He walked into the station and looked above the jail cells. “No cameras here.” He kept walking and looking, with Iolaus in tow. He checked the locker rooms and the interview rooms, but found nothing.

  Frank made his way down the stairs, checking the high ceiling above the stairwell and the storage rooms lining the hallway. Finally, he came to his office and punched in the code to open his door. He flicked on the light and a soft, muted curse escaped his lips as he looked up. “That fat mother fucker.”

  Iolaus looked up at the small black object mounted on the ceiling, looking down at his desk. “I guess there won’t be any more sleeping on duty.”

  Frank watched as Iolaus walked back down the hallway, hearing him chuckle as he headed up the stairs. Frank walked over to the closet and pushed the row of clothing aside. He found it turned against the wall in the back. He took down the framed certificate of achievement hanging on the wall and hung the large evidence poster there instead, directly behind his chair, in view of the camera.

  He stepped back and admired the massive African-American penis displayed in the blown up photograph. “There. Happy now?” he said.

  ***

  Iolaus had his phone in his hand before he reached the car, typing: Frank is freaking out over the cameras. Pretty funny stuff, boss.

  He put the phone away and sat back down in his police car. The phone buzzed before he could get the key in the ignition. He pulled it out and smiled. The response read, “Tell me EVERY thing.”

  5. The place had a real name, but nobody called it that. The locals called it Stretchmark Sally’s. Some just called it the Stretch.

  The stripper on stage was in her fifties, easy, Frank thought. He watched her swing around the pole and winced. Other dancers surrounded the bar, pressing up against the men sitting there. Beer bellies covered the front of their G-strings. Old cartoon characters tattooed on their breasts became long and stretched out, reminding Frank of the times as a kid when he’d lifted impressions with a piece of silly putty, then pulled it apart to start over. The woman on stage slapped her crotch while Lil’ Kim rapped through the speakers about making someone suck her dick.