Black Knight 02 - Back in Black (2 page)

"Since when? I seem to recall that being a primary part of the mission statement of private investigators. You know, investigating? Remember that? It's what we do when we're not stripper-hopping and playing grab-ass with cute policewomen."
 

"First, she's a detective. Second, I never touched her ass. Third, did you just invent the term stripper-hopping?"

"My creativity knows no bounds. Now are you driving or am I?"
 

"You drive, I want some level of plausible deniability when we get caught." I got up and grabbed my long coat from the closet. Cold doesn't bother us, but going around with a couple of firearms and a retractable baton is a lot easier in winter when you can hide the artillery under a coat. I still wear the coat in summer, but I'm a lot more self-conscious about it. Greg, having long since gotten rid of any shred of self-consciousness in his soul (assuming we still have souls), put on his utility belt.
 

We took Greg's car, not just because I didn't feel like driving, but also because his car is way cooler than mine. He drives a 1967 GTO convertible, black on black with red interior that looks like something that should be racing for pink slips in an old movie, and he's had it restored to better than perfect condition. I drive a largely invisible six-year-old Honda Civic, because it's just about the perfect stakeout car. If you don't think so, when was the last time you noticed a navy blue Civic in your neighborhood? Greg's car is much better for interviewing image-conscious witnesses, and the demographic we were heading into definitely qualified.
 

We'd just pulled out of the garage when my cell rang. I heard the theme from "COPS" blare out and knew it was Sabrina before I even got it out of my pocket. For some reason she wasn't nearly as amused by my choice of ringtones as I was. "Yo, what's up?" I answered.
 

"Are you on your way here?" She asked, and her voice was shaky. I'd seen Sabrina in some pretty heavy situations, but there was a tone there that I'd never heard before.
 

"Ummm..." I hesitated because I'm a terrible liar, one of many things that kept me dateless for much of high school.
 

"I figured. When you get here don't bother skulking around, just tell the uniforms I called you in. I need your help on this one and the Lieutenant is just going to have to live with that."
 

"We should be there in about ten. What's wrong? You don't sound good." My smooth, tactful delivery was another thing that kept me home with Greg most Friday nights.
 

"I know the victim. He's...an old friend. Get here fast, it's bad." She sounded almost like she was going to cry, and I knew if she was that close to losing it things were very bad indeed.
 

"We'll be there as fast as we can. I'm here for you. I promise." I hung up the phone and looked over at Greg. "No comments. Just drive." I'd only known Sabrina a couple of months, but going to hell with somebody, almost literally, cemented the bonds of friendship a little faster than normal living. I opened the phone and made one other call as we were on our way. He picked up on the first ring, because that's the kind of priest he is.
 

"Jimmy, what's wrong?"
 

"Hey Mike. Why does anything have to be wrong? Couldn't I just be calling to say hello?"
 

"Not at midnight, son. Now spill it." Mike was our oldest friend; the only person Greg and I had any contact with from before we were turned. Even though he was a Catholic priest, I thought he might be useful.
 

"Mike, does the church still have a thing against gays?"
 

"The official position is to hate the sin and love the sinner, James, but what does that have to do with anything? Did you and Greg finally decide to proclaim your love for one another? I'm sure your detective friend will be disappointed, but if that's how you boys really feel, we'll support you any way we can. As long as you're not looking to adopt. I think gay vampire parents might be a little much for a child to go through middle school with." Greg had almost run off the road laughing, and Mike's monologue had lightened my mood a little, too.
 

"There's been another attack downtown, and Sabrina's friends with the victim. I thought she might need somebody to talk to. You know, somebody with a more spiritual bent than me and Captain Agnostic over here."
 

"That's remarkably sympathetic of you, James. If I didn't know you better, I'd think it was a sign of maturity. But I do, so I'm sure it will pass. But of course I'll be there for Sabrina. Give me the address and I'll be there as soon as I can get dressed." I told him where to meet us and reminded him to dress warmly, kindly mentioning to him that he isn't as young as he used to be. He signed off with a decidedly un-priestly response just as we pulled up to the crime scene.
 

Chapter 3

A narrow alley separated the main branch of the public library from the arts center that had once been the First Baptist Church. Now labeled Spirit Square, the old sanctuary was more likely to see an acoustic concert than a choir singing. But tonight it was blue lights instead of bluegrass as half a dozen police cruisers and a pair of ambulances crowded into the tight space between the buildings.
 

Yellow tape stretched across the mouth of the alley and a nervous young patrolman stood guarding the entrance to the crime scene like his career depended on it. I walked up to him as nonchalantly as I could and said “What’s going on?”
 

“I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to move along.” He looked over one shoulder to make sure none of his superiors saw his chatting with a civilian.
 

“Was there another beating? Aren’t you people ever going to do anything about these horrible crimes?” I put on my best affronted look and started to raise my voice. The rookie’s head spun back and forth like it was on a swivel, and I took pity on him.
 

“Calm down, Junior. We’re here to help. Detective Law called us in. Jimmy Black, Black Knight Investigations.” I held out my hand, but the young cop just looked at me.
 

“I have orders from the Lieutenant that nobody gets past me. So if you’ll just move along, sir…” He made the mistake of looking me in the eye, and as soon as our eyes locked, I had him. I put the mojo on him in a heartbeat and leaned down, speaking quietly so only he could hear me.
 

“You will let us pass. You will forget we ever came this way. And for the next three days you will wear mismatched socks and no underpants.” The dazed kid nodded and Greg and I ducked under the tape barrier.
 

“That was petty, bro.” My partner said as we navigated the mass of cops and crime scene techs in the tight alley.
 

“Petty is my middle name, dude. Besides, I didn’t like his shoes.”
 

“He was wearing uniform shoes.”
 

“I have authority issues, what can I say?”
 

“Authority issues? You’ve got more issues than
National Geographic
.” Greg muttered as we got close enough to see Sabrina in a heated discussion with a tall black man in an expensive coat. I waved my partner over to the side and we hung out well out of human earshot, which of course was plenty close for us to hear every word.
 

"I understand your hesitation, sir, but these guys have some resources that we don't have. They have connections within the community to people who are...reluctant to speak with the police." Sabrina was saying to the tall man, whom I guessed was her Lieutenant.
 

"I appreciate that, Detective, but it's not your call to make."
 

"Then whose call is it, sir?" Sabrina was getting upset, and I could tell that her newly discovered personal relationship with the victim was not going to do her any favors with her boss. "Either I'm the lead on this case or I'm not. And if I am the lead, then my resources are mine to do with as I see fit, so if I'd rather hire a couple of investigators outside the department than just line the pockets of the same snitches all over again, I should be allowed the freedom to do that. And if I'm not..." I decided Sabrina shouldn't really give her boss that option, especially judging from the stormy look on his face, so I barged in right then, feigning ignorance of anything I shouldn't have been able to overhear.
 

"Detective Law? The uniform said we could find you back here. Excuse us, you must be...?" I extended my hand to the man, who looked at it just a second too long before shaking it with his expensive gloved one.
 

"I'm Lieutenant Joseph McDaniel. I assume you're the private investigators we've heard so much about." Someday I'll meet someone over the age of twelve who doesn't say "private investigator" like it's a venereal disease, but I doubt they'll work in law enforcement.
 

"Well, sir, I can't vouch for what you've heard, but we're here to help any way we can." I put on my best "aw shucks" face and tried not to look like I could drink every drop of blood in his oversized frame without batting an eye. Not that I think he'd recognize that look. "So what can we do to help, Detective?" I didn't put too much extra emphasis on "detective," but I made it pretty plain who we were here for. McDaniel's eyes flashed a little and I could tell my subtle dig wasn't lost on him. Too bad. There are entirely too many perceptive police officers in Charlotte for my tastes, and not all of them were friendly. Lieutenant McDaniel was definitely both perceptive and unfriendly. I hoped I wasn't going to have to drink him before the case was over.
 

Sabrina led Greg and I over to one side of the alley as McDaniel made his way back to the main street where all the reporters were waiting. "Here's where it happened, at least the last of it." She indicated a wall of the library with blood smeared at least eight feet off the ground. "It looks like he was held high against the wall somehow and pummeled. But the bloodstains and spatters are too high for that."
 

"Unless the guy that attacked him moonlights for the Bobcats. And those spots are high even by NBA standards." Greg cracked, and I kicked him in the shin. "Sorry."
 

"How is your friend?" I asked once the bossman was out of earshot.
 

"They're pretty sure he'll live, but they don't know if there's going to be brain damage. He was beaten so badly I didn't recognize him. I only knew it was Stephen when I looked in his wallet."
 

Just then a distraught young man ran into the alley and headed straight for the crime scene. He was well dressed, attractive and slender, with perfect hair and tears pouring down his face. Everything about him was the picture of modern young gay man whose partner just became a statistic. I cut him off before he could make a bigger mess of the alley and tried to get him turned around before he saw too much of the mess on the wall. "Hey, hey, hey," I murmured as I put an arm around his shoulders and steered him back the way he came. "I'm Jimmy, and I'm a detective. I'm here to help. I'm guessing that you're a friend of Stephen's?"
 

"No, he's my husband. We were married in Boston last year. Where is he?" I didn't bother to mention that gay marriage wasn't recognized in North Carolina, because it didn't matter, and since I wasn't exactly the family values candidate, I didn't care. I also didn’t bother to add the “private” to the “detective,” since the longer he thought I had some official capacity, the more information he was likely to give me.
 

"He's at Presbyterian Hospital, he's probably still in surgery. We can get someone to take you over there as soon as you answer a few questions for us, okay?" By now I'd gotten him to the back of an ambulance and had him sitting down. I motioned for a paramedic to bring over a cup of coffee and sat there with my arm on his shoulders until he pulled himself a little more together.
 

After a minute he stopped the worst of his shaking, and I asked, "Are you okay? Can I ask you a couple of questions now?" He nodded and I went on. "What's your name?"
 

"Alex Glindare."
 

"And you said that you're Stephen's partner?"
 

"Sure, if that works for you." He gave the smile of someone who was a little tired of explaining things to people like me, and I let it go.
 

"Where were you tonight?" I knew this guy could no more cause the kind of carnage I saw in the alley than I could be a Coppertone girl, but the question had to be asked.
 

"I was working late. I'm in acquisitions for Belle Fairmore, and you might have heard that we bought this little bank a few months ago." He jerked his thumb from one skyscraper to another. I knew something about banks buying each other all over town, but since I'm more of a stuff cash in my mattress kind of guy, I just took him at his word.
 

"And where was Stephen?"
 

"He had rehearsal. Down the street. He was going to come meet me at the office when he was done." Alex pointed down the street to the new headquarters of the city's premier dance company.