The Troubleshooter: New Haven Blues Page 2

  Low income and a hike in questionable activity. Hop pushers, cell dealers, boozehounds, goons, and pro skirts.

  Just the type of place for a loser like me.

  The storm cleared away the regular crowd of goons, but there were always a few rubes around who didn't know to come in out of the rain. I was so jazzed on the new gig I didn’t eyeball the zones before making my exit. That mistake was made evident when a saccharine voice indicated that we had company.

  “Going somewhere, Troubleshooter?”

  The only reason I didn’t turn around throwing lead is because I knew he already had a bead on me. When you’re hunted by professional triggermen as much as I’d been lately, you realize there are two types: The ones who want to smoke you, and the ones who want to talk before they smoke you. When I casually turned around I instantly recognized this particular conversational triggerman. I should have known by the almost overbearing scent of flowers that saturated the air even in the rain.

  It was Danny the Daisy.

  An android chauffeur held an umbrella so that Danny’s glad rags didn’t get soiled. As always he was dressed to the nines, this time in a pink flogger over a bright yellow silk shirt and a red bowtie, topped off by a red bowler hat. One hand was lightly placed on his hip.

  The other aimed a diamond-coated pistol. I wasn’t sure if he meant to kill me with the heater or his brutal color coordination. All in all, he looked about as threatening as cotton candy.

  Of course I knew that the only rubes that thought to get over on Danny were pushing daisies themselves. Poddar’s hand strayed toward the inside of his flogger, but I shook my head. No point in getting both of us plugged. I didn’t like the idea of dying in the rain. It just seemed…uncomfortable.

  “Smart move, Troubleshooter.” Danny licked his glitter-coated lips. “If I wanted to kill you then you wouldn’t have seen me until you were dead.”

  The bad part about that statement was that he was right.

  I pushed my Bogart back and spread out my arms. “So you’re not here to tag me then, Danny—that it? I don’t recollect anything about a reward for me being bagged. So what’s your grift?”

  He adjusted the tilt of his daisy-embroidered bowler before answering. “Just a warning. You probably know that you have a substantial contract out on your head right now. Don’t kid yourself—I aim to collect.”

  He pursed his lips. “But there is that work you did for my niece. The Red-Eyed Killer, remember? I owe you for that. So to even the score I won’t kill you—this time. Consider this a Get Out of Death Free card. You get a chance to breeze or get yourself clipped by another triggerman, whatever’s your pleasure.”

  The pistol sparkled in the rain as it made appropriate whirly gestures. “But the next time I clap eyes on you…” he smiled and batted his thick false eyelashes. “You’re mine like fine wine.” The pistol disappeared in his jacket as he blew a kiss our direction. “Come, Jeffery.”

  Jeffery shadowed the Daisy with his protective umbrella. They sidled away with their noses high and slid into a bright red floater, one of the darb newer models that look like gleaming insects. I had just enough time enough to see the hot pink interior before the doors slid shut with a hiss and the floater immediately shot toward the skylights.

  Poddar cut a sidelong glance my way. “What was that all about?”

  “Poddar my boy, you just met Danny the Daisy. One of the deadliest Nimrods in New Haven.”

  “A triggerman? Why do they call him the Daisy?”

  “Because he clipped the lug who called him the Fairy.”

  “You shouldn’t have stopped me. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be afraid of someone like that clown.”

  “Wasn’t really him I was worried about.” I jerked my head toward the rooftops. A silhouetted figure lurked almost invisible in the shadows. At that range, the laser sight from the mech rifle was just visible. When he saw that we spotted him, he turned and vanished completely.

  “Danny might be a nance, but he’s no square. Not by a long shot. That unseen triggerman would be Silent Ray. The Daisy’s partner, though not too many know it. If you had tried anything, he’d have filled you with more holes than a cheese grater. So do us a favor and follow my lead from now on, pipe that?”

  I took another look around, but the only thing that wanted to hose me down was the weather. I tilted the Bogart back over my eyes. “Now that I got another lease on life, let’s scatter while we got the chance.” Poddar had no choice but to follow as I turned the corner to the garage. The holoband on my wrist activated the sensors, raising the rusted doors.

  Maxine waited for me inside.

  Like most wheelers, my beetle-black ride is cast after that bygone era of antique automobiles. The retro Duesenberg Ghost design calls to mind the sleek, sexy dreams of a bygone age. Designers in those days had a view of the future. They knew that style never goes out of style.

  Of course under the classic shell is a Tesla-powered thrill machine with more bite than a shark attack. The high hats might go for skimmers or floaters, but with the hike in energy cells more folks than ever had to downgrade to wheelers. Me, I prefer the feel of the road. It’s hard to get out of a jam when you’re suspended in the air.

  Maxine’s Tesla reactors hummed to life when I hit the thumbscanner. Poddar slid in the passenger seat.

  “Where to, Mr. Trubble?” Maxine’s voice was as sexy as her design. Sexy enough to make me want to take her out to one of the ritzier joints and get cozy. If she wasn’t an automated response system, that is.

  “Take the scenic route, sweetheart. I need to exercise the ol’ thought muscles.”

  "As you wish.” We blasted out of the garage into sheets of rain.

  A few skimmers hummed silently over the road, making the rain the only real noise besides Maxine’s smooth purring. Decent folks in the Flats take the Skytram, or hop on the massive air zeppelins. It’s safer. But there were a lot more evil eyes in the air. I try to avoid being shutterbugged as much as possible. The floating cameras don’t drift down to the surface too often. A lot of goons shoot them down at first sight. It’s just not worth the cost to catch a few scumbags sniping each other in the alleys.

  The sky glowed like daylight from the skylights and overhead traffic. Airlanes crisscrossed one another as automated systems directed the floaters with digital precision, while even higher up the iron zeppelins eclipsed all of them. There wasn't much light on the road. Gloom surrounded us as we cut through the shadows of colossal buildings occupied mostly by squatters. Guess the suits in City Hall figured that there was no point in wasting energy on the disadvantaged.

  As the tires gripped the wet asphalt, I wondered how I was gonna get through my current dilemma without getting clipped in the process. I tipped my flask back and let that Wild Turkey flutter. It was the hazy time of day right before evening when the sun paints the sky different shades of red. I didn’t like it. Reminded me too much of blood.

  Poddar noticed my actions and frowned. “Isn’t this going to be hard enough without drinking? I know this heap is on autodrive, but eventually you’re going to have to get out. Being able to stand up straight would be helpful.”

  “Listen Ace, if I wanted to be nagged to death I would’ve gotten married. Drinking is what real men do to get in the mood for action. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t know a thing about that. So howzabout you close your head and keep your eyes peeled. I think we caught a tail. Maxine?”

  Taking evasive action, Mr. Trubble.” She shifted and turned hard. We slid sideways and spun 180 degrees into a public parking lot.

  “Engaging camouflage mode.”

  Her exterior coat altered to a dull rusty color, blending in perfectly with the other derelict wheelers abandoned there. I killed her eyes.

  A few moments later another wheeler cruised by, gleaming in its cherry red coat. It was antique styled as well –looked like a Series 70 shell. It was hard to see in the rain, but I could barely make out a blond dame in the pa
ssenger seat. I couldn’t see the driver.

  “Friends of yours?” At least Poddar had enough sense to keep his voice low.

  “Who can tell?”

  “Exactly how many people are after you, anyway?”

  “How much time ya got?”

  Once the wheeler ghosted down the street, Maxine cranked back up. As soon as their taillights vanished, we peeled off the opposite direction.

  “Let’s head Downtown, Maxine.”

  The city’s glow had just started to replace the sun as we approached the Downtown section. Floaters zipped across the overhead lanes between buildings, guided by hovering skylights. Downtown grew brighter as we pulled away from the towering shadows.

  Leaving the Flats is like turning the page on a book. Downtown buildings are all art deco; ritzy works of classic architecture that wash the moldy taste of the Flats right out of your mind. Bright lights glittered from the windows of joints that never closed.

  The covered sidewalks were crammed with residents going about their business or pleasure. Slick dames in furs and feathers. Movers and shakers, hustlers and players. Besides the wallpaper, the only real difference from the Flats was the price of your rags.

  I needed information. Tommy was a hard man to find, and rubes that went looking for him usually ended up feeding the fish in the West River. Still, I’ve made a lot of contacts in my time. In a place like New Haven, everyone owes someone a favor. And you’d better bet that one day you’re gonna have to pay up.

  I figured it was time to cash in on Rat Face Ronny.

  Ronny used to be an informant to the brass until they sold him out to the scum that he dropped dimes on. When he was at the end of his line, he called me. I was able to get him a new life; though not quite so lavish as the one he’d been used to. I knew that he had contacts deep inside. Figured he wouldn’t mind sharing a nugget or two.

  Rat Face Ronny earned his bread as a barkeep at a dive called Night Life. Low lights, cheap booze. My kinda joint. After we pushed past a crowd of hustlers, boozehounds and half-drunk chippies, we had to wait on Ronny to show up for his shift. I passed the time by ordering a plate of steak and eggs while I watched the showgirls make a living. The steak was tough as an old boot and half as tasty, but the dames weren’t too hard on the eyes.

  “So, Poddar. How’d you end up working for Kilby? That’s a long way from India, ain’t it?”

  “I could not provide for my family where I was. The only profitable occupation was Nimrod work, so I took that up for a while.”

  I laughed. “You? A Nimrod? Get outta town.”

  Poddar worked on a spicy beef curry. “I know that it is not an honorable occupation, but the times were desperate. My work took me from place to place. I met Ms. Kilby on a job, and she recognized my skills. I have worked for her since then.”

  “Yeah, I’d guess watching over a dish like her would be a big upgrade over bagging and tagging.”

  Poddar’s face was sincere, which was a rare sight in New Haven. “Very much so. Hunting other human beings is a profession that harms the hunter in the long run. I could feel something in myself slipping away. I had to separate from it. There is a saying in my part of the world. ‘jaan hai to jahan jai.’ ‘If there's life, then there's the world.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have a clue what that means.”

  A small smile touched Poddar’s face. “It is simple, really. Nothing matters if your life is not happy.”

  A short while later Rat Face Ronny showed up at the bar. Poddar sat near the door while I slid over and tapped Ronny on the shoulder. He didn’t seem all that surprised when he turned around.

  “Mick Trubble.” His words came out in a nasal whistle through his protruding choppers. “Can’t be seen with you. Word out is that you’re a dead man.” His beady eyes slid back and forth. “Being dead is contagious in this town.”

  He was right on that count. Life is cheap in this city, especially when you’re down on your uppers. Happens so often that they have nicknames for dying, like getting fit for a New Haven trench coat. Or catching a case of the New Haven Blues.

  I gave him my most easygoing grin. “That’s too bad, Ronny, because I got business with you. Might start by telling me about a cat known as Tommy Tsunami. His whereabouts right about now would be especially helpful.”

  “Tommy Tsu—” his shoulders hunched painfully as he lowered his nasally voice. “With all the heat on you already, you’re looking to find Tommy Tsunami?” He shook his head. “If you wanna commit suicide, I got a bean shooter right here that’d do the trick.”

  “No need to crack wise, Ronny. All you gotta do is think about where you’d be right now if it hadn’t been for my timely intervention. You were being fit for cement shoes when I hauled your sorry keister out of the fire. You owe me big time, don’t forget that.”

  Even his sigh came out as a whistle. “Dammit Mick, I can get clipped for giving up the wire.”

  “You can get clipped walking down the street chewing bubble gum.”

  “Ok, ok. Fine.” He ran a finger along his elongated nose. “Listen, you didn’t hear this from me, right?”

  “Already forgot it.”

  “Uh…right.” He leaned in so close that the garlic on his breath made my eyes water. “You’ve heard of the Gaiden, right?”

  I used my Bogart to fan away the gaseous vapors. “Been there a time or two, when someone else was picking up the tab. Ritzy joint. Lots of high hats.”

  “Right. Thing is, a lotta business gets handled in private sections in the back. Seems a particular someone can be found there more nights than not. If I were you, I might start by looking there.”

  “If you were me, you’d be a lot more handsome.” I punched a code into the holoband on my wrist. The holographic display sprang up, and I slid the screen over to my accounts. They looked pretty gruesome, but I was in a decent mood. “Free round for the lookers who’ve been eyeballing me from across the way.”

  “They’re pro skirts, Mick. They got a certified motive for the attention.”

  “All the more reason, Ronny. The Lord loves a working woman.”

  He shrugged. “It’s your dime. Stay healthy if you can. If you can’t… I figure I’ll read about it in the obituary section.”

  “And here I didn’t even know you could read.” I gave the skaters a wink and tipped my Bogart as I turned to leave.

  “Alright, Poddar, let’s hit it.”

  I figured since I was probably gonna die and all, I might as well get it over with. I wheeled around until I found the clip joint called the Gaiden. The décor was Asian; not the cheap gaudy sort, but authentically detailed if you got the eye for that type of thing. I got two.

  Surrounded by botanical gardens and fountains, you could tell it was the kind of joint you had to reserve a week in advance if you wanted a seat. Strictly for fat cats. Darkened lights, cozy booths. Jazz and scotch. Not exactly the kind of place you’d expect to find a cat like Tommy Tsunami.

  Unless of course, you knew that he owned the joint.

  Usually there would be a line of patrons that trailed around the place. But the storm was pretty rough, so we got in without waiting. We paused in the lobby and eyeballed the scene. The joint was pretty lonely. Only a few high pillow boozehounds were there, drinking their lives away and listening to Fats the Jazz Man play a tune on the grand piano. He wasn’t half bad, ol' Fats. He had a reputation for playing the best tunes and keeping his eyes shut to anything shady. Smart man. I tipped my Bogart as I passed by.

  A twitchy, narrow-faced doorman greeted us. His hair was parted in the middle and was as slick as his thin mustache. “Gentlemen. Do you have a reservation?”

  I gave the place the once over. “You must be new around here. I’m a regular. Plus the joint is empty as a tomb, Ace. ”

  He frowned. “Appearances aside, no one can sit without a reservation. House rules.”

  I pulled my flogger to the side so that he could clap eyes on the cold heat I w
as packing. “I got your reservation right here, Mack. Hate for things to get ugly, but I got some business to handle. A smart chum like yourself would probably wanna take a heel-toe right about now.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I see.”

  He dashed past us into the rain outside.

  Poddar had already moved ahead. “Nice. Why don’t you just fire a shot in the air while you’re at it?”

  “Cause I’m taking the subtle route, Prince. Let’s check out the bar scene.”

  Vinny was the barkeep most nights. I was vaguely familiar with him. He had the expression of a startled ferret and a smart mouth to boot, but he knew a few things. I gave him the counter tap and he stepped over to take our orders.

  “Bulleit Neat. Ace here will have a warm glass of milk, straight up.”

  Poddar refused to get ruffled. “I’ll take a Buchanan's.”

  As Vinny served our drinks, I leaned in close and adjusted my voice right to the point where anyone with half a drum could hear me. “I understand you got your ear to the wind these days, Vinny. Maybe you can slide me a mark. I’m looking for someone. You may have heard of him. His name’s Tommy. Tommy Tsunami.”

  The piano stopped in mid-chord. Hurried footsteps shuffled away as people suddenly thought of other places to be. I swallowed my bourbon with a satisfied smile.

  “Don’t know nobody by that name.” Vinny’s face had gone the complexion of curdled milk. “You’d best go on about your business. I don’t want no trouble!”

  The reflection from my glass revealed several figures making their way across the floor. Either word got out quick, or the doorman had circled around to the back of the building. Didn’t matter much. At least Ronny’s info had been good.

  Poddar slowly stood up and cracked his knuckles. I picked up the bottle and poured the last of it in my glass.

  “Vinny my man, trouble is how I make a living.”