My City by the Bay (Chapter 4, Part 1 of 4)

Station

The next few days were rough on Sig. The thought of Sal weighed heavy on his mind as he went through the day-to-day motions of his life. Conversations got garbled and meals were tasteless. Benelli did what she could to help, but could only stay out of his way. There wasn’t much that could be done. He had to sort this out and make peace with the issue by himself.

He stared at the map on the corkboard. All the red pins started to dance a bit, as he stood there motionless. There wasn’t much of a pattern, save that they were close to Old Town. That’s merely a practical move. Dead bodies showing up in the richer neighborhoods would rattle too many movers and shakers, and pressure on the police chief would be compounded.

“They wouldn’t want the bodies to get cold too much. They obviously need a chop shop, and it’s obviously in Old Town. It’s got to be large and accommodating, which says little. There are plenty of those down there. Too many drop offs would also stir the hive.”

“That is, if the hive isn’t afraid for its life. Life’s cheap in the ghetto. There’s no reason to push the envelope.” Benelli chimed in behind him.

“How long have you been standing there?” Sig twisted his head to the right.

“Long enough to listen to your little soliloquy.”

“With Sal gone, it’s going to be a little more difficult to pull out information from the area. He was one of the few people that talked to the police.” There was a lingering bit of sorrow, bring up a sore subject.

“Do you have any bright ideas? You seem to be good at them, even if they are a little reckless at times.” Benelli was trying to change the subject. Sig winced, recalling McGreavy’s words a few days ago, and she closed her eyes at the realization. After a long pause, Sig spoke, “when I was face to face with their enforcer, he said he got flowers for his girl. At first, I thought it may have been funeral arrangements but that could be it.”

“Why’s that?” Benelli was one to get straight to the point.

“Because the corpses wouldn’t be fresh enough by the time they got a hold of them. They would want the parts as soon as possible. That and I already asked the Chestnut Grove caretakers if they noticed any body parts missing on their grave robberies. It was just jewelry and fillings.” Sig stared at the board the whole time he was talking. “That means the flowers came directly from a vendor. How many flower shops are there in Old Town? I doubt the gorilla likes to go outside his comfort zone.”

“A quick search reveals five plausible locations, Sig.”

“That’s a start, at least. It sure beats staring at this board. He’s a creature of habit for sure. He’s not smart enough to deviate from a learned routine. We’ll tail him and bring him in for questioning.”

“On what? Promoting the destruction of plant life?” Painfully following the letter of the law was a favorite pastime of Benelli’s.

“Aw Hell, he’s too stupid to know. We’ll find something. Keep your eyes peeled for something that will ease your conscience.” Sig always had trouble wrapping his mind this quirk.

“I don’t like this! You can’t just do that. This is what separates us from dirty cops. I’ve looked the other way on a lot of things, but… I just can’t! No, I just can’t.” Benelli was starting to get her fur up.

“Alright! Alright! We’ll follow him and see where his sweetheart lives. We’ll question her when he’s gone. Better?” Benelli calmed down after that.

“Yes. Thank you.” She finally said.

 © 2013 by Corvidae in the Fields, all rights reserved

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My City by the Bay (Chapter 3, part 4 of 4)

The building of the now defunct Lucky Mutt Dog Food processing plant sat sulking on the banks of the Natawagachumi. Its bricks displayed a dulled and sooty appearance, which mirrored the appearance of a nursing home resident. The business was forced to shut down operations, when it was discovered the beef in the product was switched out with savory substitutes such as cat and dog. It was always rumored that they even used humans off the street, but that was never proven. Once an aesthetic building in the 1880s, it has now been reduced to tatters via vandals and time. Windows faded like memories, and were either replaced with walls, jokes of substitutes, or left as a testaments to events long since passed. The only attention paid to it was by the unsavory with no intention of reform.

Lydia Redglove stood in the belly of the beast, hovering over a recent donor. Straightening up, she put a set of lungs on the suspended scales. Her assistant quickly set up a cooler for transport. A west coast venture capitalist needed to have a fresh start from his pack a day habit. These would do nicely.

“This is just the tip of the iceberg.” She said snapping off the latex covers that gave her the namesake. “We’ve got plenty of catch up to do after that moron decided to burn his tongue on our soup.” This all came out like a disgusted mother. The assistant didn’t seem to even notice. Most associates of Dr. Redglove got over the personality quick. “Do we have any other places we can farm?”

“Yes, Dr. Redglove, I believe there are a few other bars we can work.”

“Good. Have those two idiots check it out. They can do that at least, right?”

“I’m sure.” It was quite a bit to tolerate, but the money it paid was too much to turn down.

“Miss Redglove! Miss Redglove!” A voice could be heard from the main entrance. “We’ve got someone for ya.” A slow, clumsy voice announce Tiny’s presence. Along with he and no-neck was an intruder they had caught. “This kid was sticking his nose in where it don’t belong. He was spying on us outside of Jack’s. We thought he’s might make a great volunteer.” With a little bit of energy, Sal let out some profanity.

The street rat stood bound and battered between the two goons with a look of apprehension. He had good reason to be. He, like other long-time residents of Old Town, knew no good came from this place. A few seconds passed in silence, only interrupted by the occasional drips from the rafters.

Lydia slid off her cap and mask to reveal raven black hair and full lips. She was evil, with all the beauty to propel it to diabolical proportions. Slender, porcelain fingers met her waist, and a slight foreboding smile formed on her face before she spoke.

“So, we have a ‘volunteer’ for the cause.” This was the beginning of the end for Sal, and he was unfortunate enough to know it. He decided to exercise his newly found freedom. “So, you’re the bitch stealing body parts.” He barked.

“Charming fellow, and just the right kind of subject.” Lydia turned to her assistant. “We have a new order in for kidneys. Victor, show me his back.”

As commanded, no-neck spun the specimen around and pulled up his shirt. After a brief examination, she continued with, “no marks, by the looks of it. He wouldn’t have been able to afford it anyway.”

“They’ll find you, bitch, and you’ll be the one making donations!”

“Shut your mouth, trash!”

Tiny had enough sense to take a hint and landed a right on Sal hard enough to question the state of his jaw. “We think this kid might have something to do with that cop nosing around the bar. Who knows what kind of mouths this kind of scum has.”

“Well, my dear, that was the first smart thing you’ve done all month. I was almost certain I’d have to pay Daisy a visit.”

Tiny’s face grew tense with this information. Daisy was the only thing in this world he could hold on to. She was his everything. He wouldn’t know what he’d do, if she weren’t around.

“No! No, Miss Redglove. You don’t have to do that. Don’t hurt her. Please.” He nearly wept at the thought.

“Oh, man up you big child,” Redglove snapped and slapped him for showing weakness. Immediately afterward, she began to caress his face. “Besides, you would still have me. I’m really the only woman you would ever need.”

Tiny softened, as he was trapped and attracted. Many men would be. Her crystal blue eyes would hook them in, and the often low-cut dresses would drag them down.

Sal laughed. There wasn’t much hope for him. So, he was going to make the best of it. “She’s got a big man like you whipped! You’re sad, man. Sad.” There would be no doubt that his jaw was broken after that little comment.

“Quit hitting him!” Lydia commanded, “we don’t want the merchandise damaged any further.” Her emotions turned on a dime, and it was that mercurialness that made her a danger to work with.

“As for you, filth, I won’t tolerate people who can’t mind their own business. As a matter of fact, I think there’s a judge on the East Coast who could use a new set of corneas. Kill two birds with one stone. Victor, throw him on the table.”

“You’ll burn in Hell for this, bitch!” Sal was trying to speak to the best of his abilities, given his current condition.

“Oh! Oh yes, it would be a river of boiling blood and fire for me. Too bad it doesn’t exist. Do we have the containers ready?”

“Yes, Dr. Redglove.”

“Good, I’m going to thoroughly enjoy this! Lights out, worm.”

Spring-loaded clamps pried Sal’s eyes wide open. Redglove began to slowly and carefully lift his eyes from his sockets. The screams did gymnastics off the brick walls, until he passed out from the shock. That was a bit merciful. The blood was left to drain, before they unceremoniously dropped him off at Chestnut Grove. A storm was brewing, and that would give a little more cover on any evidence they left behind.

© 2013 by Corvidae in the Fields, all rights reserved