This was an interesting day. I went to the “write-in” at the Panera Bread in Westbrook, which is held there every Sunday in November. I couldn’t make it last week, but I wanted to go to at least one of these before the month was over to see what it was like. I ended up enjoying myself, and I think I’ll go and try to stay for longer next week.
I recently started a podcast, as some of you know, which you can find right here. I’ve dropped most of my other projects for the month, to focus on NaNoWriMo, but I didn’t want to drop the podcast completely for fear that I wouldn’t start again. So I’m working on an episode (or two) about NaNoWriMo. As part of that, I’m going to interview some people at these write-ins about it. I talked to two people yesterday, and got some great stuff (though I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and the location is very loud for recording anything), so thanks Bethany and Teresa! I’ll try to get a few more next week, so I have enough to ensure that I’ll get an episode’s worth of usable material.
As for this installment, well, it’s OK I guess. The recap is good because it allowed me to go back through what was already known and highlight a few things. Since this is an evolvving work in progress, I needed this as much as a note to myself as a reminder to the reader. The chase scene at the end, however, is just a place holder for now. I want it to be there, but it needs to be better than that. Oh well, that’s what re-writes and second drafts are for.
For Idle Hands (working title) - Day 12
After Carolyn left, I went back over everything I knew. Still, not a whole lot, and what I did know didn’t fit into any coherent whole. Dante says that Yadira has been seeing a lot of Wally recently, and thinks she’s dirty because Charlie Dyer says she sold him some stuff to sell. I don’t trust Dante, old friend or not he’s still a crook, and I haven’t been able to talk to Dyer yet. Dyer, that piece didn’t fit either. For whatever reason the police picked him up early this morning and then just brought him back. He was a crook too, a bookie who does some dealing when he can, but it would be an incredible coincidence if Gunn decided to have him brought in only hours after Yadira’s murder, and I find it hard to believe that Gunn would waste the time and resources on it in the middle of hunting down Yadira’s killer.
Speaking of Wally, how did he know that Yadira had been killed only a few hours after the fact? Sure, he probably had a police band scanner, but they were always careful not to use specific names over open channels, especially when the victim was a cop. Someone may have screwed up, but still, I doubt Gunn would let anyone he didn’t trust implicitly near the radios this morning. Detective Gunn, it had just occurred to me that he seemed to have some amount of advanced knowledge of the crime scene. He’d made a comment about Yadira being left face down in the water, but he hadn’t been on the scene for more than a few minutes at that point, and had spent those minutes barking orders like the bull dog he is. I wouldn’t consider the possibility that Gunn was dirty until every other possible explanation was exhausted, but that left a lot of grey area for my imagination to play in. I didn’t like any of the alternatives much either. Obviously, Gunn and I needed to have a little talk.
Then, of course, there was the fact that Emmett claimed to have no knowledge of what was going on. I didn’t fully buy that, Emmett always kept his ear to the ground, it was how he kept one step ahead of things. He was smart, and he knew that cutting out the middle man was a common tactic for cutting costs and increasing profits. The fact that he was still alive meant that he was good and what he did. I don’t know why he wasn’t telling me what he knew, but I would have to pay him a visit soon to find out what he was holding back. I had ways to encourage his cooperation. He thought he was in control here, but he hadn’t made me really angry yet.
And let’s not forget the three ninja off roaders who almost ran me down. I didn’t know if they were mixed up in this somehow, but it bore mentioning. Either way, that was something that someone would have to deal with, next time they may actually kill someone with their bullshit antics.
The common elements here seemed to be secrecy, drugs, and allegations of dirty cops. What a nasty combination.
I decided that it was time to pay Gunn a visit, find out what their interest in Charlie Dyer was, and what more he knew about the crime lab’s findings. The lab work itself wouldn’t be back for weeks, but the autopsy had likely already been performed, and knowing Gunn he’d been there to witness it himself.
Not that he would willingly tell me any of this, but I could still ask, and his refusals would tell me almost as much as cooperation would.
As I put the key in the lock of Derrick’s car, my cell phone rang. Butchered strains of Bach assailing me from my coat pocket. As quickly as I could, to stop the pain, I snatched the phone up and answered it. It was Derrick.
“You’re done already?”
“Hey, Nick, yeah, I’m ready to blow whenever you can get here.”
I opened the door, then froze as a car screeched to a halt at the end of the driveway. There was very little traffic this time in the morning, the early rush having subsided, and when I’d come out there were no other cars stopped at the intersection. Something wasn’t right about that.
I turned around, and there was the black Monte Carlo SS with tinted windows and a skull decal in the back window. Wally’s car. As I watched, unbelieving, the passenger side window rolled down a few inches and the business end of a double barreled shotgun poked out at me.
“Shit!” I screamed, and threw myself into the car, across the front seats, yanking the door shut as I did. The first shot blew out the front, driver’s side window and both of the windows on the passenger’s side, showering me with safety glass. The second shot slammed into the driver’s door at my feet, a few of the buckshot pellets tore through and bounced around inside the car, one embedded itself in my left shoulder, a burning ember of pain.
“Shit!” I yelled again, as much from the shock of it as from the pain.
“Nick?!” Derrick yelled from the phone in my white knuckled hand, “Nick! what the fuck was that?!”
Outside I heard the car’s tires squeal again and I sat up. He was trying to escape, but a flat bed truck hauling a modular home was blocking the intersection as it tried to navigate the sharp turn. I slammed the key in the ignition and brought the car to life.
“Derrick,” I said, my voice almost sounding calm. “This is a… fast car, right?”
“Hells yeah it is, but what the hell was that noise? It sounded like someone was shooting at you!”
“Yeah, someone was.” In the intersection in front of the office the truck had made the turn, and Wally’s car had two wheel on the sidewalk as it attempted to get by. “Say, Derrick, you have full coverage, right?”
“Um, yeah, but…”
I hung up the phone and tossed it into the passenger’s seat. I threw the car into gear and put the pedal to the floor. With dizzying acceleration, compared to Bertha’s sluggish pace, I shot across the lawn, tearing swaths of destruction as the wheels fought for purchase in the soft grass. The front end shimmied as clumps of grass were thrown left and right in my efforts to keep it straight.
I reached the other side of the lawn, and vaulted over the sidewalk into the intersection just behind the Monte Carlo, which had gotten free and was spinning its tires in an effort to get away.
He shot off towards the center of town, leaving a cloud of acrid smoke in its wake. I shot through the cloud after him, fighting momentum and sliding sideways before snapping forward. My shoulder ignited in pain as it slammed back into the seat. He already had a formidable lead and was likely still accelerating. I shifted hard, second third fourth fifth, making the engine scream as I fought to keep up.
As the Monte Carlo ripped into the first intersection going into town it swerved wide to avid a turning car, crashing over the sidewalk and tearing a wide swath through the front lawn of the Rite Aid before careening off a parked car and into the parking lot. I swerved the other way, passing the turning car and dodging another one coming the other way, and turned sharply into the parking lot after him.
Quickly down shifting, I angled to intercept him as he barreled across, dodging cars as he went. He didn’t dodge the island dividers, and bounced violently over them, throwing up sparks as he landed.
I wound between the islands and parked cars, thankful there weren’t any people walking around in this part of the parking lot. He exited the parking lot onto a side street moments before I did and roared down the road. I worked the gears furiously, cursing my automatic for spoiling me, and flew after.
He was taking this out of town and into North Idle, good, less traffic and fewer people. Though the open roads gave him the advantage with that V8 of his.
He did just that as he powered down the road, I tried franticly to keep up, but it was no good. One of the bumps I’d taken back there had jarred something loose, and I was rapidly losing control at this speed.
The flashing blue and red lights in the rear view mirror made it inescapable.
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