Chapter 10
Just What I Needed
Adam
I was a genius. Why? Because what seemed catastrophic when I woke up next to Jordan started to seem more like a stroke of genius by noon.
First, I got drunk last night and ended up at Jordan Slade’s place. Second, I used him as a pillow the entire night, but the fact was, I slept. I slept like the dead, and in the morning, I felt alive again, for the first time in days.
I left while Jordan was still asleep, but I was so grateful to him that I stopped by the pastry shop and bought him a box of doughnuts. I returned to his place to deliver them, but since I’d locked myself out, I had to leave them on his doormat.
You should have bought him flowers, stupid. Who shows his gratitude with doughnuts?
The thought that popped into my head was weird to say the least, but I attributed it to the Spanish soap opera I had been watching.
Another fact—I liked soaps. They made my life seem less complicated, and besides.
.. what else was I supposed to do during my sleepless nights?
I didn’t have any friends. I didn’t have a girlfriend.
I didn’t know a single person who would put up with me, be it a woman, a man, or a squirrel.
Rusty, on the other hand, left too big a hole in my heart for me to consider getting another dog.
After I got home, I showered and changed, feeling happy to be alive for once.
It didn’t last long because Maddox called me and said that Boris Flynn had been shot on his way to the court.
It told me two things. First, I was right when I accused Santiago of stealing from his boss.
Second, with Flynn out of the picture, Santiago wasn’t getting out of prison alive.
Third, Bull was angry, and angry people were prone to making mistakes.
When I called Jordan, it took ten rings for him to answer.
“What?” he rasped, sounding groggy. “We have a day off.”
“Not anymore. Flynn has been found dead.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. Also, it’s noon. Why are you still sleeping?”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
My lips curled into a wide smile. “Imagine that. And I slept like a baby.”
“Well, you had a supply of oxygen, so…”
“By the way, did you find the doughnuts I left for you?”
“Actually, I almost stepped into them after I opened the door when my delivery arrived.”
“What did you order?”
“A nine-inch dildo.”
I choked on the coffee I was sipping. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, I think it’s time for me to find out if I’m ‘I’ll be taking it’ or ‘I’ll be giving it’ kind of guy.”
First, too much info. Second, the thought of Jordan taking it up the ass made me feel funny. For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine him with a man. Or a woman. Or having sex.
“I’m joking,” Jordan said with a sigh. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I got lost in thought. When can I pick you up?”
“I need to shower. Give me an hour. And thanks for the doughnuts.”
An hour later, I arrived at Jordan’s building, and he scrambled into the car. He was wearing jeans and a dark green shirt, both of which complemented his perfect body. It wasn’t something I would usually notice, but I saw him half-naked too many times, so it was kind of expected.
“My head hurts,” Jordan said with a frown. “I really needed that day off.”
“Yeah, well, maybe tomorrow. Do you need Advil?”
“No, let’s just get this over with. What happened to Flynn?”
I gave him the short version Maddox gave me.
The shooting happened on the corner of Sycamore Street and Marigold Avenue.
It was the area that divided the town into two parts: the civilized part and the uncivilized part.
Sycamore Street was populated with pubs, clubs, strip bars, and casinos.
Everything south of it reeked of debauchery and crime.
Marigold Avenue, on the other hand, led to the Palisades.
It was the part of town where the rich folks lived, which meant criminals who got away with it.
“John Smith will tell you the juicy part,” Maddox said after we met him at the crime scene.
“The eyewitnesses said they saw a black car speeding down the street, and then they heard a gunshot. After the victim dropped to the ground, one of them called the police. They say the driver was the only person in the car, but it all happened so fast they can’t describe him. ”
“Who are the eyewitnesses?” I asked him.
“An eighty-year-old lady who was walking her dog and a food delivery guy from Nigeria.”
“Flynn gets assassinated in the town center in the middle of the day, and there are only two eyewitnesses?” Jordan quipped. “Why am I not surprised? CCTV?”
“Probably disabled, but we’re checking,” Maddox replied, lifting the crime scene tape. “Lots of shops around here, though. Some of them probably have cameras, so it’s worth checking. Not me, though. After I leave this in your capable hands, I’ll be tackling the double homicide in Starling Park.”
“Isn’t that Buck’s case?”
“Apparently, now it’s ours.”
“Ouch.”
“Yup.”
We approached the body that was covered with a black bag, watching John Smith take the photos.
He was a damn good forensic analyst, but a creepy individual if I were perfectly honest. Eerily silent, unnaturally calm, and with the presence of a ghost, he seemed as if he didn’t belong on an earthly plane.
His looks were average by any means except for the one in his pants, if you believed the rumor.
Ruth from HR circled it after witnessing John Smith’s scalpel accident that left him pants-less and almost ball-less.
“You didn’t live a healthy life, did you, Boris?” John Smith murmured, unaware of our presence. “To be honest, I’m not a runner myself.”
According to another rumor, John Smith talked to the corpses he worked on, but I never believed it until now. It was disturbing shit if I ever saw one… or heard one.
“He’s crazier than I am,” Maddox said, not bothering to lower his voice.
John Smith turned abruptly, looking startled. “Maddox! You’re back. Why?”
Maddox grinned, raising his arms in surrender.
“I merely accompanied my esteemed colleagues. I’m loving the welcome, though.”
John Smith mumbled something unintelligible, fiddling with a camera in his hand.
“He doesn’t like me very much,” Maddox said, yawning. “Anyway, I’m off.”
I swallowed the “I would beg to differ,” ignoring Jordan’s confused look.
“John Smith, what do you have for us?” I said instead, putting on my gloves.
John Smith raised the bag that covered the body and presented us with the sight of the now-dead Boris Flynn. The lawyer looked almost asleep, apart from the bullet wound on his forehead.
“A single, clean shot to the head did it,” John Smith stated. “The victim stopped breathing before he hit the ground.”
“A professional hitman?”
“Judging by the precision of the shot, I’d say yes. Also, if I had to guess, the bullet came out of a Beretta 71. I’ll confirm it after a ballistics match.”
“Okay. Send us the reports as soon as you have them.”
I already knew our chances of finding the killer were slim, which only made me more determined to find him. I certainly wasn’t letting Bull raise hell in this shitty town, no matter how shitty it was.
“What’s this?” Jordan said, crouching next to the body. He pointed his gloved finger at the red discoloration on the victim’s neck beneath the collar.
“It’s a hickey, my innocent child,” I replied, making John Smith choke on a laugh.
Jordan blushed, but the way he glared at me told me I should shut my mouth if I wanted to keep my sleep token.
“Has the next of kin been notified?” Jordan asked instead of retaliating.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “Flynn’s ex-wife is in Bermuda. She told Maddox, and this is a direct quote, ‘I’ll get on the first plane so I can piss all over that cheating bastard’s corpse’. His staff has been notified, too. The only living person still unaware of his passing is his dominatrix.”
“I’m guessing you want to do the honors?” Jordan said, laughing at his own joke.
“Not quite my kink,” I replied dryly. “No, I’ll visit the nearby shops and see if I can find footage that will help us solve this. You talk to the eyewitnesses and see if we missed something.”
As it turned out, my suspicions were correct.
The few shops that looked as if they ran a legitimate business weren’t of any help.
They either didn’t have cameras, or they had faulty cameras, or the footage was blurry.
After that, Jordan and I headed to Flynn’s office to talk to the staff, which was another dead end.
When I finally got home, I was hungry, tired, and in need of a friendly voice. Since I didn’t have any friends, I dialed a number I usually used for emergencies, and I bought myself one.
“Verna’s Psychic Retreat, Verna speaking.” The soothing female voice could be heard after the first ring. “What’s troubling your soul, traveler?”
“Hey, Vern,” I said, plopping onto the sofa. “It’s me.”
“Adam, hun! So sweet of you to call. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah. I have been working my ass off.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. How are you?”
“Shitty. Fine. Better. All of the above?”
Long story short, I met Verna Bulut while investigating the murder of a professional magician a few years back.
Her psychic abilities didn’t help me find the perp, but she introduced me to the benefits of massages and occasional chit-chat with a stranger.
After she gave me her card, I would call her now and then when I got lonely and needed to buy myself a friend.
“How are you, Vern? How is business?”
“Oh, I’m having a crazy day. My phone has been ringing off the hook, but it’s the weather, see. Saturn is off balance, and its influence is devastating. I assume you haven’t been sleeping much lately, especially with your insomnia.”
“Actually, I have been meaning to ask you something,” I said, kicking off my shoes. “If you were offered a sleeping pill, but it made you feel funny… would you still take it?”
“How funny, hun?”