Read Princes of Arkwright Online
Authors: Daniel Trafford
Uriel let out a gasping sigh of impatience and said,
“Here, eat one of these.” As he spoke these words, he produced a sleeve of saltines from nowhere, for Tucker had observed the angels empty hands just a second before.
“
Saltines!” said Tucker, reaching for a cracker. “I love these things,” he added with his mouth full. “I keep buying them and losing them.”
“
I know,” said Uriel. “These are from one of the boxes you lost.”
“
Stop stealing my crackers!” said Tucker, not waiting to swallow and spraying saltine all over the sidewalk in front of him.
“
Stop leaving them in the bar,” said Uriel as they approached the road where Tucker turned to go to his apartment. The detective was just about to say that they needed to turn, but it seems the angel already knew.
“
I leave you now, Tuckerbromley,” he said. “I trust you can traverse the remaining few hundred yards without perishing. If you need me, you know where to find me.”
“
I do?” yelled Tucker, as the angel started to cross the bridge. “Where?”
“
The same place you sought me the first time, Tuckerbromley.”
“
In the bar?”
“
In the bar.”
Tucker turned around and began walking up
Lexington Avenue to his apartment. He turned to catch one last glimpse of the archangel, but he had disappeared. Tucker strained his eyes, but Uriel was nowhere to be found.
“
Well, he certainly is mysterious,” said Tucker, out loud.
“
Dum da dum dum!” sang out his cell phone. He flipped it open and said, “Hello?”
“
Oh my God!” said a familiar angelic voice. “Are you OK? I couldn’t wait any longer to call you. I was so worried about you!”
“
Victoria,” stammered Tucker. He had completely forgotten about her, and was surprised to find out she hadn’t forgotten about him. “I’m fine.”
“
What happened to you?”
“
Well, it was a pretty bad kidney stone attack, but I’m feeling much better now.”
“
But those jerks were following you. I thought they were going to kill you.”
“
No, we lost them pretty fast.”
“
Aren’t you going to arrest them?”
“
Well, I can’t,” said Tucker, trying to think back to the events in the bar, which seemed a year ago. “They never actually did anything. I can’t charge them with assault, because they never touched me. They never even actually threatened me.”
“
But they were going to. I saw them chasing you.”
“
Well, I can’t arrest people for what they’re going to do,” said Tucker. “This isn’t China.”
Victoria
laughed.
“
I’m sorry I gave you a scare, cutie,” said Tucker, feeling braver than he usually did talking to women. “I should make it up to you. Are you doing anything tomorrow?”
“
Well, I’m taking my daughter to the Autumn Carnival.”
“
Oh jeez,” said Tucker. “Is that tomorrow? Hey, why don’t you two come with me. It’s sponsored by the police. I can get you on all the rides for free.”
Tucker felt another sharp twinge in his chest as
Victoria was silent for a moment.
“
Well, OK,” she said, at last, allowing Tucker to finally exhale. “It would probably be a good idea for Lenore to meet a nice guy for a change. I’ll meet you about 1 o’clock?”
“
Sounds good,” said Tucker. “Wait! Where are we meeting?”
“
How about the bar? I’m going there anyway. My check wasn’t ready today.”
“
Perfect,” said Tucker. “I’ll see you then. Good night.”
He flipped his phone closed without waiting for
Victoria’s goodbye, and wondered how he was ever going to get to sleep tonight.
7. ALYSON KATHERINE McLAUGHLIN
T
ucker awoke to a loud buzzing sound. For a moment, he didn’t know what day it was, and couldn’t remember going to sleep the previous night.
“
Archangels,” he muttered. “Victoria … What the hell is that noise?”
He jumped out of bed to investigate. The buzzing seemed to be coming from outside his apartment door. He opened it to see
Wayne standing on the other side, wearing bicycle shorts and a brown sweater with a sunflower on it. In his hand he held a battery-operated coffee bean grinder – the obvious source of the racket.
“
Wayne,” said Tucker, squinting at his neighbor, “what the hell are you doing?”
“
Um… grinding coffee beans.”
“
I can see that,” said Tucker. “Why are you doing it outside my door?”
“
Well I needed the higher altitude,” Wayne replied, as though it should have been obvious in the first place.
“
Right,” said Tucker, slowly. “Well, do you have to do it so early in the morning? I was sleeping.”
“
Do you always sleep in a shirt and tie?” asked Wayne, scanning the detective’s outfit. Tucker looked down to see that he was still dressed as he had been the day before – right down to the badge on his belt. “Besides,” said Wayne. “It’s not morning. It’s 12:30.”
Tucker reached into his pocket for his cell phone, not trusting
Wayne even for the time of day. “Holy crap!” he shouted. “I’m supposed to meet Victoria in half an hour.”
“
Who’s Victoria?” asked Wayne, as Tucker slammed the door in his face.
He washed and shaved as quickly as he could, giving himself a nasty case of razor burn in the process. His head was spinning with thoughts of the archangel.
“That didn’t happen,” he kept repeating to himself, knowing full well that it did, as Victoria was sure to remind him in less than half an hour. He put on the first clothes he came across in his closet. They consisted of a pair of jeans and a white dress shirt. He thought it might be a little cold outside, so he grabbed a gray tweed sports jacket and ran out the door.
It was a crisp, overcast autumn day and Tucker was glad he grabbed the jacket. The maple trees seemed much redder than they had just the day before. He even caught the scent of leaves burning – a violation of municipal ordinance, he
thought, not allowing himself the joy of the scent.
He headed toward
Station Street in a jog, fearing that Victoria would leave without him if he was even a second late. When he reached the intersection where he had last seen Uriel the night before, he stopped to look at the bar on the other side of the bridge. There was no sign of Victoria. He looked at his cell phone. It read 12:31. He broke into a run and had almost reached the bar when the heavy door swung open and Victoria stepped out. Tucker gave a little sigh that only he could hear when he caught sight of her. She was wearing jeans that were the same faded blue as those Tucker had on, though considerably tighter. She wore a clingy flower-print lilac sweater with a headband of the same color. Holding her by the hand was a little girl, about 9 or 10 years old, with long brown hair and wearing a navy blue jumper.
“
Lenore,” said Victoria, bending over to put her head at the same level as her daughter’s, “this is Mr. Bromley. He’s coming with us to the carnival.”
Lenore looked up at Tucker for a few moments, assessing him with knitted brows and saying nothing.
“He’s a police officer,” added Victoria.
“
How come you’re not wearing a uniform?” Lenore asked at last, cocking her head to one side.
“
Well, today is my day off,” said Tucker, towering over the girl, but looking her directly in the eye. “Besides, I’m a detective. I don’t wear a uniform anymore. I get to wear ordinary clothes.”
“
You’re a detective?” said Lenore, her eyes widening. “You’re like Sherlock Holmes.”
“
Lenore reads a lot,” said Victoria, her facial expression alternating between proud and embarrassed. “She loves Sherlock Holmes.”
“
I love Sherlock Holmes too,” said Tucker, “what’s your favorite mystery?”
“
Umm,” said Lenore, putting her hand to her chin and looking up at the sky as though the answer was written in the clouds, “‘The Red-headed League’ is my favorite.”
“
Ah,” said Tucker, showing his dimpled smile. “Jabez Wilson and the Encyclopedia Britannica. That’s a good one. I like the ‘Hound of the Baskervilles’ the best.”
“
I haven’t read that one yet,” said Lenore. “It’s too long.”
“
You will. Some day,” said Tucker. “If you want to, you can be my Dr. Watson today.”
“
Really?” said Lenore, her eyes getting bigger still.
“
Sure,” he said, turning to Victoria. “Well, are we ready?”
“
Not quite,” she said. “There’s somebody else joining us.”
“
Who?”
“
Aly Kat.”
“
Oh,” said Tucker, with a fake smile plastered on his face. “Isn’t that nice.”
“
Oh, look” said Victoria. “Here she comes.”
Tucker turned around and caught his first glimpse of Aly since high school. She was a few inches taller than
Victoria, with milky white skin and long, luxurious dark-red hair. A proud goth chick in high school, she always balked at dying her hair black, though she had often thought about it. She made up for it by adopting a wardrobe that was various shades of ebony. She must have outgrown the habit slightly, for today she was wearing a short red plaid skirt. She still had her ubiquitous black eyeliner, and the rest of her clothes were safely black, including knee-high boots and a flimsy sweater, showing off ample cleavage that Tucker had certainly never noticed in high school.
“
Hey, pinhead!” she said, pointing to her face. “I’m up here.”
Tucker stammered out a few incoherent words of protest before settling on
“Hello, Madam.”
“
Still a great conversationalist, I see,” said Aly, not bothering to make eye contact with Tucker. “Well, let’s go.”
She took Lenore by the hand and the two of them walked ahead.
“Well,” said Tucker, “that was awkward. I wasn’t staring at her, you know.”
“
Tuck,” whispered Victoria reassuringly, “don’t worry about it. Even I catch myself staring at them sometimes. They’re hypnotic aren’t they?”
Tucker laughed and shook out his hands, which had been firmly clenched into fists since Aly
’s arrival.
“
So, what happened last night?” asked Victoria, once Aly and Lenore were out of earshot. “I was so scared. Did that guy take you to the hospital?”
“
No, not exactly,” said Tucker.
“
Who was he?” she pressed. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“
We’re not friends,” he said. “It’s kind of complicated.”
“
How mysterious!” she said, shooting Tucker one of her coquettish smiles. “Well, whoever he is, he sure helped you. I can’t believe the way he threw that gorilla against the wall. He can throw me around anytime.”
Tucker felt a sharp twinge in his chest.
“So, you like him, eh?” said Tucker.
“
Who wouldn’t?” she asked.
The carnival grounds were littered with red, yellow and orange leaves. A Ferris wheel curved over the treetops, and a live band performed weak renditions of classic rock under the end of a long green canopy. A sign hanging from the middle of it proclaimed that this was the
“beer tent.” There were so many police officers walking around that Tucker couldn’t help thinking it must be a field day for criminals in the rest of the city.
“
I know you can get us on the rides for free, Tuck,” said Victoria, “but this money goes to the fire victims fund, so I’m gonna pay.”
“
Oh,” said Tucker, “actually I lied about that so you’d go with me. I was planning on paying. I can’t get you on anything for free. In fact, when the other cops see it’s me, they’ll probably charge me double.”
Tucker pulled out his wallet, but Aly had already reached the booth and bought a two-foot-long strand of tickets. Without a word, she put Lenore on a little motorcycle ride nearby.
“All right,” said Tucker to Victoria, “Lenore seems in good hands. Come on, I’ll buy you some cotton candy.”
“
Actually,” said Victoria. “I hate cotton candy. But you can buy me a doughboy,” she said, pointing to a booth that sold fried dough with powered sugar on top.