The Troubleshooter: New Haven Blues Page 4

  I held back from telling him than an amateur like him would more than likely bungle any clues he’d find. Still, I didn’t see any harm in it. At least he’d be out of my hair for a minute.

  “Knock yourself out, Ace. Just don’t get lost. You wouldn’t want me to take a sudden vacation on you.”

  “I trust you won’t back out of the deal, Troubleshooter. You need the money.” He gave a polite nod, almost a bow to Angel. “Miss.” Then he turned and strode down the hall.

  She gave a delicate sniff when she turned back to me. "Well, I must say your company is much more a gentleman than you. You had better come in quickly. I don't want the neighbors thinking I'm the sort of lady that entertains men in my apartment."

  I wondered what her neighbors thought about the last few times she had entertained me at her apartment. Still, a gentleman never argues with a lady, and neither do I.

  It didn't take her long to get her kit together. A few minutes later I sat in her brightly lit bathroom while she tortured me nice and slow. Just when I thought she was getting some payback for standing her up, the slug dropped in the bowl beside her, staining the water crimson.

  "It's ok, baby. You can stop crying now."

  “C’mon, sweetheart, you know a man in my profession doesn’t cry.” I scrubbed my eyes. "I'm not sure what's worse –the slug going in, or you getting it out."

  "Not too much tissue damage. Funny. It almost looks like it was pushing itself out. You're lucky it didn't hit the bone. Or that they weren't using bio rounds. If that carried a cyanide or nano cap, you wouldn’t have made it out the door.”

  "Yeah, lucky most goons aren’t worth the cost of arming with bio rounds.” I shrugged, then immediately regretted it. My entire arm throbbed. “This is New Haven, after all. Slugs are more common than cockroaches. Every time you turn around you’re stepping on one.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not around here you’re not.”

  “Of course not, darlin’. I was referring to where I hang my hat in the Flats. You can get a box of slugs cheaper than a box of smokes.”

  “All it takes is one to kill you, Mick.”

  She tried to sound angry, but I knew she wasn't. She couldn't stand to see anyone hurt. It's what made her a great nurse and a bad one at the same time. You have to have a certain detachment from emotion if you deal with blood and wounds every day, and that just wasn't my Angel. As much as she loved the medical field, I knew she was glad when I got her the new gig.

  Her face was so close that our lips almost touched. I wanted to kiss her, but I settled for studying her face instead. The mole on her cheek, the tired shadows under her eyes from a long day at the office.

  She was a dish.

  "Baby, I don't see how you get yourself in these jams.” She shook her head as she wrapped up the arm in a professional-looking sling. "Are you ok?"

  "Lessee, so far I've been blackmailed, tailed, grilled, lead poisoned, and half-drunk to boot. All in all, it's been an average day.” I traced her jawbone with a finger. "Nothing a little tenderness can't take care of.”

  Her violet-tinted eyes narrowed slightly, but a smile curved her lips. “You’re an injured man, Mick Trubble. I don’t think you can handle a little tenderness tonight.”

  I wrapped my good arm around her slender waist. “Only if you promise to take it easy on me, sweetheart.”

  She laughed as she traced a few of the scars I’d collected. For some reason, dames always seem to be impressed by the fact that you’ve been nearly killed a few times. “Guess I walked into that. You know better, though. Your friend will be back in a short while…”

  “I think what you’re saying is that time is short, and we gotta enjoy the moment.” I lifted her up as I stood. She weighed practically nothing, but all of that nothing felt extra soft and silky laid up against me. “Besides, you already worked me outta my shirt. Do you still have those satin sheets with the hummingbirds on them?”

  “I do. Why?” She looked demurely from over her glasses.

  “I kinda forgot what they look like. How’s about you show ‘em to me one more time?”

  Her laugh was rich and husky in my ears.

  There’s times when the body just has to recuperate, no matter what you try to do otherwise. Going a few rounds with Angel in between those hummingbird sheets was almost as strenuous as catching that slug. The lovemaking was hazy; just her body glowing softly under dim lights, moving in unison with mine like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from.

  And I didn’t, at least not for a while. I drifted straight into that deep sleep, laid out like a brand new drunkard until the sound of voices brought me halfway back. Sounded like Poddar arguing with Angel. I tried to wake up, but it was useless. Dreams found me, pulled me back into their clammy embrace…

  Black choppy waters surrounded me, along with hysterical laughter. I sank quickly; limbs heavy as stones pulled me into gloomy depths. Bubbles fled for the surface as they escaped my screaming throat. Something like glowing eyes flashed in front of me, giving me a view of—

  I’m not the kind of man that you want to wake up suddenly. The slightest touch and I had the Mean Ol’ Broad aimed right at Poddar’s eyeball, which widened slightly as his hand retreated from my shoulder. I gave him a cheerful grin.

  “Gotta take a few loud footsteps, Poddar my man. The Broad here isn’t too familiar with you yet.” I put her away and sat up slowly as Poddar regained his composure. “How long have I been out?”

  “It’s almost seven p.m. You’ve slept all day. Your lady friend would not let me wake you.”

  “That’s because he needed his rest.” Angel walked in with a steaming mug in her hand. “Here, drink this.”

  It smelled like goat urine and tasted twice as nasty. I gagged a bit, but managed to choke it down. “Trying to kill me, sweetheart?”

  “It’ll clear your head and keep the pain away. Stop being such a baby.”

  Her phone buzzed. When she left to answer it, I turned to Poddar. “Any luck in finding clues on Ms. Kilby?”

  His face twisted in frustration. “I found nothing at her apartment. No signs of struggle. I spent all of last night asking questions. No one around had seen or heard anything.” His eyes were haggard as his fists clenched tightly. “It’s like she vanished into thin air.”

  “Well, don’t get yourself too worked up, Ace. The ol’ Troubleshooter is practically good as new. Why don’t you scope out the garage for evil eyes while I say goodbye to my Angel.”

  She waited in the hall with my flogger and Bogart. “I washed your clothes while you were knocked out, Mick. Don’t know why, since you seem to like accessorizing your outfits with bloodstains.”

  “Thanks, doll.” I let her help me into the flogger. “You’re a peach, Angel. A real lifesaver.”

  “You’d do the same for me, Mick.” Her face turned almost shy all of sudden, soft and vulnerable when she looked down. “I wish you’d get away from this lifestyle of yours. I hear there’s a price out on your head.” She looked up with earnest eyes. “Why don’t we get out of town, just you and me? I have a little bit put away. We could be gone before anyone knows what’s happened.”

  I pushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “Look doll, I’d love to do that. I really would. But I got a lotta baggage right now. The type that would do you some serious damage if it fell on your pretty little head.”

  “You don’t think I’m willing to take that risk?” Her eyes smoldered with lavender fires.

  “I know you would. That’s why I gotta keep you out of it. But I’m trying, sweetheart. I just gotta take care of some debts; wrap up a few scores, that’s all. Can’t you give a man some credit for trying?”

  Even her sigh was pretty. “I used to think you meant it when you said that. But you don’t believe in change, Mick. You’re a grifter. Here one minute, all smiles and charm. But when a girl turns around, you’re gone with the first strong wind.”

  “Baby, listen—”

  “You
’re a good man, Mick. But I don’t know if I can keep doing this. A girl can’t wait forever, you know.”

  If I had a chocolate chip for every time I heard that line, I’d be neck deep in cookies. I knew exactly where the conversation was headed. I put the Bogart on my head and tilted it the way I liked it.

  “You’re right, Angel. I’m bad news. A dame like you deserves better.” She opened her mouth to protest, but I couldn’t let her add a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down.

  I hate that Mary Poppins bunk.

  “I’m gonna turn things around, Angel. Promise. Look, I gotta go. Thanks again. For everything.”

  I felt pretty depressed on my way back to the ride. Angel was one of the best dames I knew, but she did deserve better. There was nothing in my past except dark waters, and nothing ahead but storm clouds. She was better off without someone like me holding her back. I gently stroked the sling that she had carefully bundled my arm into.

  Poddar’s voice interrupted my cloud of misery. "Ok. Now we look for Donna."

  It took me a minute to realize I’d made it to the parking garage. I kinda zoned out in my cloud of self-derision.

  “Who the hell is Donna?”

  Poddar looked away, embarrassed. “Ms. Kilby. Donna is her first name.”

  "Ohhhh, yeah. You're worried about Tommy giving her the third, right? Yeah, I would be too if I had a sweet dame just vanish like that. The thought her all tied up and helpless…"

  I had to pause for a moment. Because of the blade pressed against my neck. I had barely seen him move, but the ol' Prince had pulled a twelve-inch kukri to my throat faster than I thought possible. And here I thought he was heeled with a heater the whole time.

  "You will talk about Ms. Kilby with respect.” There was a threatening darkness behind his words. Some chumps have no sense of humor.

  I tried hard not to swallow, since the edge of the blade was sharp enough to shave with. "Poddar. My man. Keep your train on the track, Ace. We’re on the same side, remember?"

  He held the blade there for a second, searching my face. Satisfied, he returned the kukri into the folds of his flogger and tried to open the car door.

  “In need of a thumb?” I scanned mine, unlocking Maxine.

  He smiled a little in embarrassment, which I was glad to see. I hate lugs that hold grudges.

  I had just put Maxine in reverse when another crate pulled up behind to block us. It was hard to tell with their brights on, but it looked suspiciously like the cherry-red wheeler I'd seen following us earlier. The doors opened and three figures stepped out. I could barely see them, but they looked like the curvy silhouettes of dames. I thought about Nimrods, but that wasn't Tommy's style. If he was responsible, Maxine would've mushroomed the moment I cranked her.

  "Get out slowly.” I gave Poddar a confident look as I opened my door. My good hand was on the Mean Ol' Broad for reassurance. "Let me do the talking."

  "This should be interesting.”

  Ol' Poddar was getting quite sardonic lately.

  They were dames, all right. Three of them: a blonde, a redhead, and a brunette. They were draped in enough black corsets, leather, and heels for a fetish convention. Armed to the teeth too, but not with heaters. They seemed to prefer blades, as they all had swords and daggers strapped to their sweet, curvaceous bodies. The brunette casually twirled a Bo staff.

  I relaxed and hooked my thumbs in my belt as I gave them my most disarming smile. "Well, well. If it isn't Charlie's Angels. Listen sweethearts, if you're looking to audition for yet another bad remake, you might wanna take into account that you’re a ways off from Hollywood. Well, that and the fact that it don’t exist anymore."

  The Bo staff blurred and cracked me right on the arm. The injured one. It hurt.

  A lot.

  The brunette’s smile was vicious. "Love that you can still tell jokes after all the trouble you've caused. You do a lot of damage for a two-bit shamus. We do more. Let me introduce us. I'm Christina. My sisters are Kelly and Jen. Our affiliation is the Gutter Girls. Which means you can be smart and do what we tell you, or you can be bunny and do it anyways after we scrub the pavement with your ugly mugs."

  "You forgot about the third option.” I casually reached for the Mean Ol' Broad. As blades whistled through the air, I realized that might have been a mistake.

  Chapter 5: Gutter Girls

  The rule about gunplay is simple: Never pull if you're not gonna squeeze off. I knew that, but pulling out the Mean Ol' Broad is kinda second nature to me when I'm in a jam. I'm a pretty quick draw too; quick enough to pull the ol' Broad out of her slip and have her steel-plated muzzle pointed right between the eyes of Christina, the Gutter Girl with a penchant for rapping men in their bum limbs with her Bo staff.

  That's when it all got screwed up.

  I don't have a problem plugging a lug who's gunning for me. In fact I get a quiet kind of satisfaction from putting down any goon who's got it coming. But my problem?

  I got a sweet spot for the dames. So even though I beat her to the punch, there was no way I was gonna pull that trigger.

  And bless her sweet lil' ass, she knew it. I could tell from the way she smiled when she cracked me on the funny bone with that staff of hers, sending the Broad flying out of my deadened hand.

  Which wasn't funny at all, actually.

  After that it was a lot of ducking and dodging. That’s a bit harder than it sounds, especially when you got a bum arm wound in a sling. I stole a quick glance at Poddar. He had his kukri out and was engaged in a nice little throw with the other two Gutter Girls—Jen and Kelly, the blonde and redheaded dames. Their Bushido swords flickered like steel lightning, but Poddar was good. Unfortunately he was focused only on defense, which meant he suffered from the same handicap as me. He was too much of a Prince to try actually hurting those crazy dames.

  My distraction cost me. The Bo staff whistled and cracked me a good one on the temple. While a marching band stomped around in my head, the pavement rushed toward me. Oddly enough, I didn’t really black out all the way. Instead my brain took a time out and switched channels on me…

  I have to kill someone. That was the first thought when I awakened. I opened my eyes. A labcoat had his back to me. He was fiddling with wires that extended to the back of a synoid’s head. I followed the long tangled line of crossed over cables.

  They were hooked up to me. I slowly reached up. A helmet-shaped device was strapped to my head. All the wires were inserted into it.

  My heart pounded. I couldn’t remember a thing. Only fuzzy, washed up images. The labcoat was someone important. He was called…something. Madman. Thief. Genius.

  I have to kill him.

  But not in my current state. I was weak, disoriented. In that condition he might have a chance of fighting me off. I slowly unstrapped the helmet device. I didn’t know what damage I would do by removing it, but I had to take the chance.

  I took it off.

  The monitors betrayed me by beeping furiously.

  The labcoat turned. He was a white-haired codger with wise wrinkles. His eyes widened. “What—you should be unconscious! How—?”

  I interrupted him by kicking the nearby table into his gut. As he staggered, I rolled off the operating table and staggered into a run. His shouts followed me, but I didn’t dare look back. I made my way to the nearest door. Just before I got there, it opened.

  An armed guard entered. His hand was on his gun, but fear was in his eyes. He knew who I was.

  I didn’t.

  My hand shot forward, crushing his throat. While he gurgled, I followed with a vicious kick to the side of his kneecap that broke something with an audible snap. As he fell wordlessly, I snatched his mech pistol from the holster. Without hesitation, I turned and fired.

  The shots scattered wildly. The mech gun was an older model. Massive firepower, horrible accuracy. Expensive-looking equipment caught most of the barrage.

  “Wait!” The labcoat rushed forward, waving
his arms wildly. “Wait! You don’t know what you’re doing! This place will blow sky high!”

  I have to kill him.

  The first shot practically spun him completely around. He looked astonished as he clutched his ruined shoulder. A large canister exploded nearby, searing my vision with flames. The rest of the lab quickly followed its example.

  In the background, I saw the silhouette of the synoid the labcoat had been operating on. It staggered around, seeming as disoriented as I was.

  I ignored it and concentrated on the labcoat. I fired as I ran; managing to drill a few more slugs before I collided into him. Seems as though he had armor on under his lab clothes, but at close range at least a couple of rounds had penetrated. He screamed curses as we tumbled, and his hand shot up to grasp my head. I barely had time to notice the rounded contraption strapped to his glove before it latched onto my temple.

  Daggers of fire torched my brain. I screamed as a million flickering images seared across my consciousness. The labcoat stared at me with a mixture of fear and triumph.

  “You brought this on yourself, assassin. You can’t report back to your masters because you’ll never remember what your mission was. You won’t remember anything! You—”

  Another explosion interrupted his tirade. Fire separated us, along with a force like being run over by a dump truck. And then hit by a freight train.

  When I regained half-consciousness I was in the West River. The lab still mushroomed in furious explosions. Dark choppy waves surrounded me, along with the labcoat’s hysterical laughter. He floundered in crimson waters, devoid of all his marbles. Flashing lights approached from the distance. It seemed New Haven’s finest were on the way.

  Good for them. Not quite so good for me.

  Whatever the labcoat had done left my brain flickering like a cheap picjector. My consciousness faded in and out before finally settling on somewhere in between. Black waters closed over my head, bubbles anxiously scattered toward the surface. I tasted the scum and filth of the river water as I tried to scream…