44

  Captain Mallory swallowed and took a deep breath. He felt like he had aged a decade in the last three days. His guts ached constantly, and his acid reflux was so bad his breath could melt steel. He smoothed down his beard the best he could and reached a hand up to knock on the door of Albert Stubbs, chief whip for the Men of Now. He hesitated, his fist inches from the door. Nothing good was on the other side. He looked down at the green carpet and saw he was standing on a well worn patch. How many men had stood where he was right now? Hands frozen, legs trembling, fighting the urge to run and find a dark hole to hide in. Mallory clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring. He was the damn Captain of the Valderia police force, he can’t be standing here quivering in his boots. As he steeled himself to knock on the door, he was interrupted by a voice from within.

  “Get in here, Mallory!” The voice was deep and guttural.

  Mallory’s guts churned, and he felt bile bite at the back of his throat. He wrenched the door open and walked into the office. The office was as utilitarian as its inhabitant. Not a thing was excessive or out of place. There were no personal effects, or effects of any kind, in the room. It was bare, almost intimidatingly so. There was a large, expensive looking desk in the middle of the room with a single chair for guests. The chair was small and spartan, made of sturdy but uncomfortable naked wood. Sat opposite the chair was a hulking figure. There was nothing this man could have been but an authority figure. It was etched across every heavy line of his thick face. Albert Stubbs was the first man you saw when you had made a mistake and often the last you saw before taking an involuntary nap. He had a blunt head and a short, thick neck like a fighting dog. He was broad but not particularly tall, which made him look even more like a lump of man. His brawn had started melting to fat in his middle age, but there was no doubt the power still pulsed through him to separate a man from his consciousness with a single blow. His hair was grey, as were his eyes. He seemed to suck the colour from everything around him. The expensive tailored suit he wore should have been blue but had bled to grey and was too tight about his shoulders and arms. He sat, a thick cigar smouldering in an ashtray, with his hands clasped before him and a brutal look of malice on his face.

  “Albert,” Mallory said, inclining his head and sitting down on the chair, hoping the man couldn’t hear the churn of his guts as he did.

  “Do you read, Captain?” Stubbs growled.

  “Excuse me?” Mallory said, blinking in surprise.

  “Do you read? Can you understand when letters are put in a particular order to create words, which then create sentences?”

  “Of course.”

  Stubbs picked up the newspaper on his desk and tossed it across to the Captain. Mallory didn’t even look down. He had already seen the morning headlines. Even so Stubbs insisted he read with a flick of his hand. Mallory picked up the paper and began scanning the headline.

  “Outloud,” Stubbs commanded.

  “Ten dead as coppers crap out,” Mallory read.

  “And this one.” Stubbs tossed another paper at him.

  “Promises broken: overdoses continue across city.”

  “And this one.”

  “Incompetence and Scandal, another blow to Mayor Pleasently’s credibility.”

  “72 hours ago Mallory, you stood on a stage with our Mayor shaking hands and confidently pronouncing our streets to be drug free,” Stubbs said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Three days later, we have ten more bodies, two of which have made headlines from here to Genero! The fat swine Litteragi was beloved by many, including those who sign your fucking pay slips!”

  “Alb…”

  “Shut up! Shut your damn mouth!” Stubbs roared, slamming his meaty fist on the desk. “You made promises, Mallory! Even worse, you made those promises publicly!”

  Mallory deflated and looked down at his feet.

  “You have made the Mayor look a fool! You’ve made me look a fool! You’ve made this entire Government look incompetent! I told you I wanted arrests! I wanted Burn on the table! And instead, you bring me more bodies!”

  “We made arrests sir,” Mallory said weakly. “We put Burn on the table. The city has run dry…”

  “Then why are these fucking junkies still overdosing?”

  “I…” Mallory was about to utter the one phrase a subordinate cannot and should never say. “I don’t know. It’s not possible.”

  “Captain, and for how much longer I refer to you as such is undecided, you need to fix this.” Stubbs’ voice had returned to a husky growl. “We need high profile arrests. We need heads being cracked, doors being kicked in, dealers being put on parade and made to pay for their crimes. This is now your number one priority, do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Now get out of my office and do your fucking job!”

  *

  Unlike Captain Mallory, Conway was much better at avoiding the heavy hand of management. He had sent all of his detectives out on the street from sunrise to sunset trying to figure out where there was still Burn in the city. He had sent Timmy and Wally to RatHoles that morning after four more bodies were discovered. The coroners were already on the scene when they arrived at the rundown little tenement they had once gone undercover in. The residents of the RatHoles had turned out in force to stare curiously and generally be a nuisance to the police.

  Timmy and Wally ducked under the police rope and made their way into the building. It was just as dank and draughty as the first time they had been inside but was noticeably quieter. They walked up the creaking stairs to the large room where the addicts had set up camp. Inside, there were only four bodies now. They were covered in white sheets waiting to be bagged and transported to the morgue.

  “Oh man,” Wally whispered as they saw the four covered bodies. “Wot are we even meant to be doin’ ‘ere?”

  “I’m not sure,” Timmy replied as one of the coroners assistants walked up to him.

  He was a tall, pale, gangly man whose body lilted slightly like he didn't have the musculature to remain upright.

  “Oh hello detectives,” he said, his voice a gentle little whine. “My name’s Drake, I’m a junior coroner.”

  “I’m Edgewater and this is Washbottom,” Timmy said, shaking the man’s surprisingly cold and limp hand. “What are we looking at here?”

  “Four more overdoses,” Drake said, tutting sympathetically as he looked at the dead bodies.

  “No chance they all just croaked of natural causes… at the same time?” Wally asked.

  Drake looked at him curiously, and the beginnings of a wry grin disappeared from Wally’s lips.

  “No, I’m afraid not,” Drake replied. “They are presenting the same as the others.”

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  “Damn,” Timmy said. “Is there anything else you can tell us? Something that might help us figure out why this happened?”

  “No, sorry. Other than some strange bruising on one of the victims, I suppose.”

  “Bruising?” Timmy said.

  “Yes, like they were grabbed very roughly around the neck. But that could have been sustained at some other point. Unfortunately, these drug addicts are often riddled with wounds and cuts. It can be very difficult to tell when and how they happened.”

  “Yeah, I understand,” Timmy said, sighing and closing his notepad. “Do you know if there were any witnesses?”

  “I believe the other addicts have been taken downstairs, but where they are, I’m not certain.”

  “Well thanks for your time.”

  “You are welcome. We will be taking these bodies away as soon as the wagon arrives.” With that, Drake floated away back to the bodies, and Timmy and Wally went back downstairs.

  “That guy was creepy,” Wally whispered. “He looked a bit like one of them vampyrs.”

  “He did, didn’t he?” Timmy agreed.

  “Gotta be a bit weird to wanna be ‘round all them dead bodies all day long,” Wally said, and Timmy nodded his head.

  They made their way back out of the tenement where officers were trying to clear the gawking crowd to make way for the coroner’s wagon. Timmy and Wally walked over to the officer that seemed to be in charge.

  “Where are the witnesses being kept?” Timmy asked.

  The officer turned and looked the pair of gawky detectives up and down.

  “Who’s asking?”

  “I’m Edgewater and this Washbottom, we’re special detectives,” Timmy replied.

  “Special?” Again, the officer looked them up and down.

  “You can check with Lieutenant Conway if you fancy wasting ‘is time,” Wally said, jutting out his chin.

  The officer considered this and then shrugged.

  “What do you need, special detective?” The officer said with an emphasis on the word special.

  “The witnesses, where are they?” Wally said.

  "Witnesses?"

  “When those people up there overdosed,” Timmy said.

  “They were just a bunch of junkies,” the officer said with a shrug. “Didn’t think we’d need witnesses for OD’s.”

  “You let them go?” Wally said.

  “D’you see what we’re dealing with here?” the officer said sourly. “I ain’t got time to be babysitting a bunch of fiends!” With that, he turned and began shouting at the RatHole’s residents to clear a path and move on.

  “Well this was a massive waste of time then,” Wally said.

  “Guess we’ll have to wait for the coroner’s report,” Timmy said. “See if there’s anything in there that’ll tell us something.”

  “Like wot?” Wally said miserably.

  Timmy sighed and shrugged. They were blundering around blind. They had been chasing OD’s for two days now and had no idea what they were supposed to be doing. Conway had simply told them to stay out of the precinct, away from reporters and anyone important.

  “Wanna get a pastry?” Timmy asked him.

  “Yeah,” Wally said, his voice heavy. “With the powdered sugar?”

  “Yeah definitely,” Timmy said as they plodded away from the crime scene.

  “Timmy! Wally!”

  They turned and saw a hand waving at them from the crowd, followed by a head of fiery orange hair.

  “Marney?” Wally said, breaking out in a toothy smile as they saw the young girl weaving her way through the crowd towards them.

  “How are you guys?” she said, giving them both enthusiastic hugs. “I knew I would find you guys here. Still working the case?”

  Both special detectives blushed awkwardly as she hugged them.

  “Yeah… we’re still workin’ it,” Wally managed to say as Timmy’s cheeks reddened.

  “And did you… I know you’ve already done enough for me… but did you manage to talk to Trembles?” Marney asked, scratching her arm awkwardly and looking down at her beaten up shoes.

  Wally looked at Timmy guiltily. They had promised to track down this Trembles thug and scare him off, but they hadn’t even thought about it with all the madness of the last few days.

  “Umm… we’re still trying to track him down,” Timmy lied. “He’s a slippery one.”

  “Oh right, yeah, of course.” Marney said.

  “But we’re on it!” Wally said. “You leave it with us.”

  “Yeah I know, you two are awesome.” Marney smiled brightly up at them, tucking her hair behind her ears, revealing fresh livid bruises on her neck.

  They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

  “We… were gonna go get some pastries,” Wally said.

  “Oh right, yeah you two must be busy,” Marney said. “I’ll let you get on.”

  “Do you want to come?” Timmy asked her. “We’re buying.”

  Marney smiled at him and patted her non-existent stomach.

  “I could eat, I guess.”

  *

  Marney could eat. She had devoured three heavy cream filled pastries already. She shovelled flaky, sweet pastry into her mouth, cream exploding in her cheeks, as she chomped away and downed it with coffee that had barely cooled. Timmy and Wally watched her with fascination. After she managed to choke down half a pastry in a single bite, she looked up and gave them another, cream covered smile before sitting back and patting her stomach.

  “I haven’t eaten that well in ages!” she laughed.

  “Do you want anymore?” Wally asked.

  “Not right now,” Marney said. “But could I have one of those smokes?”

  “Sure,” Wally offered her the smoke and lit it for her.

  Marney took a quick drag and then pulled her feet up onto her chair, hugging her knees to her.

  “So how is the case going?” she asked them before dropping her voice. “I heard you got Cameron.”

  “Yeah we did,” Wally said. “Thanks for that tip.”

  “Me and Wally did it!” Timmy blurted out. “I mean… we were the ones that went undercover and took out the guards.”

  “Really?” Marney said, her eyes going wide. “Just you two?”

  “Yeah corse,” Wally said as if it were no big deal. “Had to go behind enemy lines and take out a couple of ‘eavies.”

  “Wally got stabbed,” Timmy blurted out again.

  “Did you!” Marney leaned forward eagerly like a child being told an exciting bedtime story. “Lemme see!”

  Wally looked around shyly before raising his shirt and revealing the patched up wound.

  “Woah!” Marney said, peering at the wound closely. “What happened to the guy that did it?”

  “Timmy bashed ‘is brains in and we arrested ‘im,” Wally said, patting the blushing Timmy on his meaty shoulder.

  “Oh wow! You guys are like those detectives from the stories! You’re proper heroes!” Marney gushed.

  “No…” Timmy said humbly. “We’re just doing our jobs.”

  “You know sometimes you gotta risk yer life in the line of duty,” Wally said blithely.

  “Man, being a detective sounds so cool!” Marney said, resting her chin on her grubby knees.

  “Yeah, it’s alright,” Wally said.

  “Except for all the bodies,” Timmy said. “That bit’s not so much fun.”

  “Yeah…” Marney said. “You must have seen a lot of ‘em.”

  “Eight in just the last two days,” Wally said.

  “All OD’s?” Marney asked, and Wally nodded. “It doesn’t even make sense!”

  “Senseless death,” Timmy said, nodding his head.

  “No, I mean there’s not even any Burn in the city no more.”

  “What?” Timmy said.

  “City has dried up, what with the Goblins jacking up all the dealers and then Cameron’s resupply getting nabbed by you lot. There’s hardly a scrap of it anywhere. Plus, no one even wants to touch Burn anymore. Most users have moved over to other stuff. It’s not as good as Burn, but at least you ain’t gonna die off of one hit!”

  “Wait, so no one’s doing Burn anymore?” Timmy clarified.

  “No one I know. Everyone’s been warned off of it. That’s why when the OD’s started again, it caught everyone off guard. I mean, there’s definitely no Burn in the RatHoles right now. People are hurting something fierce for it, but all the dealers have been warned off.”

  “So how come the OD’s started again?” Wally asked.

  Marney shrugged her bony shoulders.

  “All I know is that you couldn’t get Burn in Valderia if you had a million gold coins. No one wants anything to do with it.”

  Timmy looked at Wally.

  “Then why are people dying still?” Timmy said.

  Marney shrugged.

  “Can I have another one of those jam cakes?”

  “Yeah sure, but then we need to get back to the precinct and talk to the Lieutenant,” Timmy said.

  “Cool. What’s a Lieutenant?”