Chapter Sixteen
"IDIOTS"
The hotel room was full of idiots.
I guess that’s a harsh way of saying it, but I’m not a guy who wastes time trying to think of the perfect word to describe something. These people were fucking idiots.
The hotel room was actually pretty big; it had to be to hold all these people. It’s what they call a suite, I suppose. Whoever sprung for this room must have a lot of money to waste, and let me tell you, none of these idiots looked like they had any of that.
The Watchman, the guy that brought me and Sandy up to the room, he stood out the most. He must have been at least a good ten or twenty years older than everyone else. I’d place him in his forties. I guess he was kind of the unofficial leader of the group. He had a calm, but authoritative voice and a real procedural way about him, but not in a militaristic way, more like a boy scout leader.
The next one I noticed was Captain Kick. This kid looked ridiculous. He wore an all white shirt and pants, with red gloves, boots, and helmet. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he had a symbol on his chest; it was a white silhouette of the bottom of a shoe surrounded by red spray paint. He must have laid the paint on thick too, because it was splattered and dripping all over the front. The jackass looked like a used tampon.
The other two didn’t put near as much effort into their costumes. Pisces wasn’t even wearing a costume really, unless you consider looking like a ridiculous hippie with flowers in her hair a costume, which I do. And Ombre, was just wearing some battered old military BDU’s and a green tank top and ski mask. The kid looked like a criminal, but he was definitely in the best shape out of everyone here. He was probably ex military; he just carried himself that way.
There was another member of the team that was not present, Super Citizen. He was supposedly out getting more information. Jennifer didn’t like him, she said he never really talked to the group and never tried to make friends. I guess he took this thing seriously. That worried me.
“Detective Calico,” said Watchman interrupting my thoughts, “we seriously can’t thank you enough for protecting Night Cat the way you did. Everybody’s been on edge since the incident and we all assumed the worst.”
“Right, yeah well you know…” I’m not good when put on the spot and couldn’t think of anything eloquent to say. All that came out was, “you’re welcome.” I suppose that was polite enough though.
While Jennifer was talking with the rest of the team, Watchman took me aside to talk. I felt bad for Sandy, she was kind of keeping to herself.
“So, Night Cat tells me that you have a friend at the police force. Someone who can help us out?” He asked.
“Yeah. Well, maybe,” I said, “I was supposed to meet him tonight, but then things got fucked up. I don’t know if he’d really want to stick his neck out for me anymore?”
“Do you trust him?”
“Do I trust him?” I echoed.
“Yeah, is he trustworthy,” he repeated.
Do I trust Detective Ross? The same Detective Ross that got me fired and took my job?
“Without question,” I answered.
It’s true, Ross and I have a history, but I can’t really blame the guy for anything he did. He did what was right. I was in a bad place at the time. My wife and just left me and took our daughter with her. I’m not saying that excuses my action, I’m just saying it had broken me down. I was drinking pretty heavily, course I had been doing that for a while anyway, but now I was doing it on the job. We were investigating a double homicide. Wife and Husband had been killed, ten year old daughter was missing. Forensics had already swept the house, I had gone back to follow up on some new information. At least, that’s what I said, I guess I really just wanted to wallow in somebody else’s despair. I heard a scuffle behind me and fired my gun. It was the kid. She had been hiding in the neighborhood since the murder and came back for a toy. Thankfully, I was too drunk to shoot straight, but the shock nearly killed me. It was the last time I ever fired a gun(until today). Ross reported it, got me suspended, forced me into AA. I quit the force shortly after. I don’t hold a grudge. I know there was no malicious intent in Ross’s action, he genuinely wanted me to get help. He even made a few follow up visits after I quit the force, just to see how I was coming along. He was a good man, though, that’s for sure. I must have been a big disappointment to him.
“That’s great!” he exclaimed, “You see, we’ve got some information about the drug heist from the other night, but we need to be real careful with it. We’ve got a positive ID on the two parties involved, but we can’t go to the cops with it. I was thinking maybe the news channels.”
“Why can’t you go to the cops?” I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.
“Because the mother fucker selling the mother fucking drugs was a cop,” said a muffled voice from across the room.
I looked over to the door and saw a young man enter the room. He was wearing black slacks and a black button up silk shirt. A small black fedora completed the outfit.
Apparently, Super Citizen had arrived.
“Super Citizen,” questioned Watchman, “why aren’t you wearing your costume?”
“What, are you retarded? We’re in a five star hotel and are currently on the run from killers. I’d like to stand out as little as possible, thank you.”
Super Citizen looked like a guy that was perpetually pissed off. The guy had the appearance of someone who wanted to be classy, but I could tell it was an act. He spoke in a low, deliberate voice, like every sentence he spoke was a performance not part of a conversation. He had a thin, barely visible mustache, and his face was covered in pock marks. As my ex-wife would have said, “he had unfortunate skin.”
They say not to judge a book by its cover, but I didn’t like him. He looked like an ass and he wasn’t really doing anything to change my opinion of him.
“Who the fuck is this?” he growled, indicating me.
“This is Frank Calico. He’s a private detective and he saved Night Cat’s life. He’s going to get our information to a good cop,” explained Watchman.
“There’s no such thing as good cops,” he spat out.
“Look,” sighed Watchman, “I’m not going to have this conversation with you again. We need to get that information into the hands of the authorities. If what you say is true—“
“Course it’s true,” interrupted Super Citizen, “I recognized that mother fucker was a cop the instant I saw him that night, and I just double checked it out with my sources. Mother fuckers name is Koslowski. Some Polish prick.”
Shit, I tell you now, when I heard that name, I was much more surprised than I should have been.
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