The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame Page 3

  “Yeah, well observe me paying my tab.”

  Johnson glanced at Poddar. “And what can I get you, my quiet friend? You can’t tell me you didn’t see anything of interest.”

  Poddar shook his head. “No thank you.”

  I grinned as I slipped the Mean Ol’ Broad in the holster under my arm. “Poddar doesn’t believe in firearms. Not much, anyhow. He likes to kill ‘em softly.”

  Poddar folded his arms. “I prefer not to kill them at all.”

  I cleared my throat.

  Poddar frowned. “That was different.”

  I put my hands in my pockets and whistled a tune. To myself, of course.

  Poddar’s face reddened. “Ms. Kilby was in danger. I had no choice.”

  I looked up. “What? Oh–of course not, Ace. Nothing makes a man snap like his moll being kidnapped by a notorious gangster who didn’t really kidnap her at all. Right?”

  He dropped his head. “I didn’t know. She…she didn’t–”

  I patted his shoulder. “Not to worry, Poddar. Dames will turn a man’s world upside down in a heartbeat. Trust me…” my voice trailed off. “I know.”

  Johnson gave us a wry glance. “You two done with all the male bonding or do you need a room? I’m running a business here, you know. Got things to do.”

  Poddar looked around. “You work here alone? Aren’t you afraid of being robbed?”

  Johnson chuckled. “You think all these drone guns are for show? Threat detectors are on at all times. Any chump with the guts to try something will be filled with daylight before he thinks twice. And if that don’t stop ‘em…”

  His artificial arm opened with a twist of his wrist. Metal tendons separated and shifted as they reformed into a heavy mech cannon. He aimed at a mannequin target in the distance and fired a booming shot.

  The target disintegrated. Extinguishers drifted over and blasted to put out the flames.

  Johnson grinned. “I give ‘em a taste of my Johnson. Get the picture?”

  “A firearm…literally.” I took a closer look. “I usually don’t admire bioguns, but that’s pure genius, Sarge.”

  He winked as his arm smoothly folded back in place with a whir of oiled gears. “Don’t I know it. Lot more it can do, but I can’t give up all my secrets.”

  We walked back into the lobby. “Can’t say I blame you. What else do you got for me?”

  “What else do you need?”

  “Can’t think of nothing, except some rounds for my girl here.” I patted the Mean Ol’ Broad. “I got what I came for.”

  “All this heat and you walk off with a single handgun. Let’s see if you can say no to this.” He pulled a tiny handgun from one of the nearby drawers and handed it to me.

  It barely registered as weight in my hand. “What’s this peashooter do?”

  “It’s the new Ruger model. Light as a feather, but packs a major wallop. Six plus one rounds.” He held one of them up to the light. “Transparent casing so you can see what’s inside.”

  I took a closer look. “Some kind of white powder.”

  “Concentrated mercury fulminate, my friend. These slugs are manufactured to explode on impact, guaranteeing whatever you tag won’t exactly be walking away, catch my drift?”

  “Sounds messy.”

  “The best kills are.” A conniving light gleamed in his eyes. “Say you’ll take it and I’ll toss in the automated sleeve holster. Snap your fingers twice and it’ll release the pistol from the holster to your hand in less than a second. Might come in handy in a tight spot.”

  I shook my head and sighed. “You talked me into it, Sarge. You rob all your clients like this?”

  “Only the best ones.” He set the piece on the counter, tossed in a few boxes of slugs, and rang me up.

  I swiped my holoband across the sensor on the counter for payment. “Good thing my last gig actually left me with a little dib stash. Makes it a bit less painful to part with these hard-earned berries.”

  He nodded appreciatively. “Dibs are meant to be spent, my man. That’s why we do what we do.”

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  He handed my goods over with a grin. “Take it easy, Mick. Send some customers my way.”

  I tipped my Bogart. “Yeah, like you need the extra work. You already have every goon in town toting your wetware.”

  He grinned. “Never hurts to get a little more, right?”

  “Amen, brother. See you around.”

  With the Mean Ol’ Broad back, I felt pretty good as Maxine purred across the highway. Rain still slicked the road, but that was nothing new. Rain was as common as gunshots in New Haven. Hardly a day went by without one or the other. Most days featured both.

  We made it back to the office in good time. The covered sidewalks kept us from getting soaked on the way from the garage.

  “You heard from the Cowboy lately?”

  Poddar shook his head. “Not since he left New Haven. Said he was going stir-crazy. He headed out to bag a mark. His visa was about to expire anyway.”

  “You and Kilby renewed yours, though.”

  Poddar didn’t look too enthusiastic when he nodded. “We’re applying for citizen status. Ms. Kilby wants to stay here permanently.”

  “So why the long face?”

  Poddar stopped in mid-stride. “Do you like it here, Mick?”

  I shrugged. “How should I know? I don’t remember being anywhere else.”

  “But you don’t have a problem with it?”

  I paused. “Problem? Why the hell would I?”

  He sighed as we fell back in stride. “It’s…hard to explain. This is the first Haven I’ve been to, but it’s so–”

  “Filthy? Depressing? Violent?” I gestured to the surrounding Flats neighborhood, where mammoth buildings towered like crumbling mountains. The whole area was a mass of murky streets, half-lit tenements, and gutter businesses. Nothing to brag about, but to me it was home.

  He frowned. “I was going to say oppressive.”

  “Oppressive?” I rubbed the faint stubble on my chin. “That’s unexpected.”

  Poddar threw a dark glance at the surroundings. “It’s just that this place is hiding something. I know it. Something isn’t right about this Haven. I can’t put my finger on it, but the scent of dirty secrets hangs in the air like perfume.” He sighed. “It’s hard to find the words.”

  I grinned, but it felt hollow. “What, like everyone having memory implants that keeps them settled and unwilling to leave the Haven? Everyone under the watchful eye of some secret society bent on dominating from the shadows? That kind of feeling?”

  Poddar’s brows creased. “I can’t ever have a serious conversation with you, can I?”

  My answering laugh was about as wry as they get. “If only you knew, Poddar. If only you knew. You go through Customs when you got here, or did you go the ol’ fashioned palm greasing fashion?”

  “We didn’t go through Customs. The waiting list is years long. We went through a handler.”

  “Smuggled in, then. Foolproof documents installed in your holobands from an ex-Customs agent, I figure.”

  He shrugged. “Ms. Kilby handled the legal stuff. I was more concerned about getting crossed over.”

  “I don’t blame you, Ace. Don’t blame you at all.”

  I considered the revelation. If Kilby and Poddar didn’t go through Customs, it probably meant they still retained their original memories instead of the cocktail remix the labcoats at Customs served up to keep the residents blissfully unaware of the outside world. I’d often thought about sharing the truth I’d discovered about New Haven, but something always held me back. It was hard for me to believe, for one thing. And for another, the citizens of New Haven volunteered to have their memories laundered if my info was correct. Seemed hardly fair to muck up everything they’d worked for to get in the Haven in the first place.

  Not to mention those secrets were closely guarded by a secret and highly lethal organization called the Ge
stalt, which had been maneuvering events since before the Haven was even constructed. Folks like that would gladly rub out anyone who tried to expose them. Self-preservation was always a good incentive to keep mum.

  We walked into a narrow office building. ‘Kilby’s Troubleshooting and Investigation’ was emblazoned on the front window in large block letters. I remembered a time not too long ago it simply read ‘Troubleshooter.’ Back when it still belonged to me.

  I shook my head. “Still can’t believe I let your moll buy out my old office.”

  “I don’t remember you having a choice. It was in foreclosure.”

  “Yeah. Temporary setback.”

  At least Kilby had improved the place a bit, starting with the receptionist. Angel was a former flame of mine who still had the hots for me. Or so I kept telling myself. She was a creamy-complexioned redhead, and sexy as all get out. Best of all, she had a pair of violet-shaded peepers she used to hypnotize lucky saps like me into doing whatever she wanted.

  Or so I kept telling myself.

  I strolled in with my most charming smile. “Angel. Aren’t you a breath of fresh air on a smoggy night.”

  I expertly tossed my Bogart onto the hat rack by her desk and sidled up to gab while I hung up my flogger. Didn’t want her to think I held a grudge just because we weren’t seeing each other anymore. I was pretty sure she was heartbroken and all, but somehow she managed to keep it together.

  She set her chin on her fist and smiled. “It’s a smoggy morning now, Mick. You and Poddar been up burning the midnight oil?”

  “The freaks come out at night, Angel. You know how it is.”

  One perfectly arched eyebrow lifted. “Actually, I don’t. But I’ll take your word for it. Now is there something I can do for you, Mick?”

  I gave her a devilish grin. “I can think of a few things, darling.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s been a few months, Mick. I would’ve thought you’d gotten over me by now.”

  “Just taking it a day at a time, sweetheart. A man can only do what he can.”

  She returned her attention to the console screen. “Right. Well, I think what a man can do is make his report to his boss. Run along, now.”

  I peered through the open doorway. Poddar was already inside, getting caught up with Ms. Kilby. He and Kilby tried to hide the fact they were sweet on each other, but he wasn’t as good an actor as she was.

  I smiled. “I’m in no hurry, darlin’. Gotta give those lovebirds some quality time together. Speaking of quality time–you seem a little formally dressed for work. Got plans?”

  Angel gave me a coy smile as she adjusted her dark-framed eyeglasses. “As a matter of fact, I’m expecting a gentleman very soon. He’s taking me out to breakfast.”

  “Is that so? Well, make sure he takes you someplace nice. Which means nowhere around here in the Flats.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that, Mick. Like I said–he’s a gentleman.”

  I adjusted my tie with a grin. “I won’t hold it against him, sweetheart.”

  I strode past Angel into the main office. Ms. Kilby and Poddar quit making calf eyes at each other so Kilby could put on her boss face. She was a looker–one of those classy, self-assured dames who would rather you favor their intelligence than their pretty face. That didn’t stop her from wearing those sleek skirts and blouses that stirred a man’s imagination. Dames are real paradoxical that way.

  She gave me one of those cool looks she was so good at. “Poddar tells me you wrapped up that case tonight. Nice work, Mr. Trubble.”

  I crashed on the leather sofa and lit a gasper. “Well, I’m not quite ready to close that case yet, Kilby. Got a lead I’ll be following up on.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “The job I negotiated was for the investigation of Jonathan Finnegan, or Johnny Knuckles as he’s called. You were to verify the allegations against him and take action at your discretion. You did so.”

  I blew a few smoke rings toward the ceiling. “That’s right. But he squealed when we tightened the screws. Got the name of the perp behind the stash. I figured I’d chisel a bit deeper and see if I can catch him with his hands in the cookie jar.”

  Kilby gestured elegantly. “So give the info to the police. There are legal ways to handle the situation. I don’t want you ‘chiseling’ into anything. I know how that goes. It usually ends in a firefight or some building blowing up.”

  I shook my head. “If I wanted to do things the legal way I’d be shuffling paperwork with the button boys at the clubhouse. You know how these things work, Kilby. This Vitto character has already greased some palms, so he’s got coppers that’ll turn a blind eye to his operation. Since we don’t know who they are, going to the brass is out.”

  Kilby tapped a manicured finger on the desktop. “The point I was trying to make is none of that involves what we were paid to do. We’re a freelance operation, Mick. Which means we have to make our own profits. The reason you ran your business into the ground was because you tended to lose sight of the business side of things. We weren’t hired to do anything except take care of the Johnny Knuckles situation. The case is closed, Mick.”

  I gave a causal shrug. “Ok, Kilby. If it’s closed then it’s closed. No matter that we blew a couple mil worth of junk sky-high tonight. I’m sure Vitto will just chalk it up as a tax write-off. Probably won’t try to find out who did the deed and make those miserable chumps pay for such a brash course of action.”

  Ms. Kilby frowned. “I…see your point, Mr. Trubble. But surely there has to be somebody within the body of law you can trust to–”

  “He’s right.” Poddar had been standing quietly to side as usual, but his voice was firm when he spoke up. “We need to trace the corruption to its source. It will not go away just because we close this case.”

  Ms. Kilby’s eyes narrowed. “And what next? Take down every corrupt politician and highbinder in New Haven? Are we to be the moral police now?”

  I stood up. “No. There wouldn’t be a soul left in office, and you know it. But a wise man once told me that being a Troubleshooter meant taking out the trash without worrying about your hands getting dirty. We take cases and we see ‘em through. No point in doing it, otherwise.”

  Ms. Kilby threw up her hands. “All right, Mick. Check out your ends and get back with me. Don’t go running into the fire without a care like you normally do.”

  Her eyes flicked over to Poddar. “You have more than yourself to think about, you know.”

  Poddar folded his arms and gave me a look I immediately understood.

  Women.

  “Don’t worry, Ms. Kilby. I’ll return your boy safe and sound. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll crash at the pad. Gotta recharge the batteries.”

  I lowered my voice as I walked past Poddar. “You’re in trouble now, Ace.”

  He gave me a startled look. “What–?”

  “You sided with me instead of your lady. Big mistake.”

  “But...you were right. I just–”

  “Poddar.” Ms Kilby’s voice was distinctly chilly. “A word with you, please.”

  I patted him on the shoulder. “Take your medicine like a man.”

  My view was blocked by a suit when I strolled back into the front office. He leaned casually against the desk, gesturing to the sound of Angel’s delighted laughter. I wasn’t jealous at all. The only reason I walked over was to reclaim my Bogart and flogger from the rack. It certainly wasn’t so I could clap eyes on the clown. Who was I to care?

  Of course once I did see who he was, I immediately wished I’d never walked in there in the first place.

  Angel looked up with a bright smile. “Oh, Mick. This is the gentleman I told you about earlier. His name is Roderick–”

  “Flask. Detective Flask.” My tone wasn’t exactly enthusiastic.

  “Trubble.” Flask’s voice was about as friendly as mine. His average looks were marred by a permanent twist to his mouth, like he ate extra sour lemons for kicks.
>
  Angel’s smile disappeared as she noticed Flask and I engaging in an expressionless staring contest.

  “You two...know each other?”

  I grimaced. “Yeah, you could say that. If you count locking a man up under false pretense and then gunning down his good friend as ‘getting to know him’, that is.”

  Flask didn’t even blink. “You know as well as I do the accusations weren’t false and you’re lucky we let you walk, Trubble. As far as your friend Wiseman, you forgot to mention he was involved in a high-stakes armed robbery. And I wasn’t the one who made the call for the street sweepers. That was Captain Graves. I heard his body was found in that mess at Beck’s mansion. Funny–weren’t you there?”

  “Don’t know. I don’t pay much attention to the comings and goings of dirty cops.”

  Angel stood up with her arms outstretched between us. “Now look, boys. You’re going to have to behave like civilized people. I won’t have you showing out and ruining my day.”

  “Oh, I’m as civilized as the next man.” I squinted at Flask as I lit a gasper.

  Flask gave his best imitation of a smile as he and I kept our eyes locked. “No chance of ruining your day, Angela. Unfortunately I can’t promise that for Mr. Trubble.”

  I folded my arms. “Really? Why is that, Dick?”

  “Because you’re under arrest.”

  He must have given the word silently, because at that same moment the boys in black barged in with their heat at the ready. Over the sound of their yelling, Angel shouting, and Ms. Kilby protesting, I barely heard the charges as they shoved me to the wall and slapped the bracelets on my wrists.

  I gritted my teeth. “You’d better have a good reason for this, Flask.”

  He had the nerve to look sympathetic. “Unfortunately, I do. I’m arresting you for the murder of Sophia Flacco.”

  “Murder of who? Are you serious? I never even heard that name before!”

  “That’s hard to believe since she was last seen in your company. But maybe you knew her by her chosen name. Scarlett.”

  I heard the staccato of her heels down the hall…

  Flacco nodded as the recognition dawned on my face. He motioned to the boys in black.

  “Take Mr. Trubble to the station, gentlemen.”