Spook Squad (42 page)
Authors: Jordan Castillo Price
“Oh my God. Oh my
God
!” Laura Kim let out a very un-Director-like squeal of delight. “I promise you won’t regret it.” That sentiment was way too optimistic, but one can only adopt so many manatees, so I figured I should refrain from contradicting my new boss.
Change was in the air, and though I’d been tempted to stay the course and cling to my paper PsyCop license out of sheer stubbornness, I could see that someone needed to step in and take care of the repeaters, and the jellyfish, and the icky, grabby, self-entitled ghosts. That someone might as well be me.
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About this Story
In the late 80’s, I lived just south of Maxwell Street. It is an actual street, though the name also refers to the neighborhood around that street. It’s all different now. U of I bought up the land and built stuff on it. But back then it was its own little world.
Maxwell is a small east-west street on the South Side that only runs a few blocks before being interrupted, and Halsted is the main artery that intersects it. Heading south of Maxwell down Halsted, you’d traverse a scary viaduct (a walkable distance, though one that I would never dare walk because of the gangs, only travel by car or bus) and then end up in the Mexican neighborhood Pilsen I called home for many years. To the north was the Kennedy, and across that forbidding bridge over the highway was Greektown, home to spectacular diners (Greek potatoes!) and bakeries (baklava!), and an esoteric shop called Athenian Candle Company (still there!) which is my visual and olfactory mental image for Sticks and Stones.
To the east, the old early 20th century garment district had a few shops left, specialty fabric stores that felt industrial and forbidding inside. People came from the far suburbs to find textiles there they couldn’t get elsewhere. And the fabric was all jumbled up in big rolls with no attempt to display it enticingly. As a Fiber Arts student I spent plenty of time in these stores.
West of Halsted, six days a week, was a half-abandoned stretch of fields and parking lots scattered with a few crumbling warehouses. Until Sunday came. And on Sunday, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, a ragged bazaar sprang up—seemingly out of nowhere, like something from a dark fairy tale. People set up tables and stalls, and even sold things off the back of trucks. Cut-rate nicknacks and chachkies out the wazoo. Produce, yes, tons of produce, though it was never quite apparent what anything cost and you were taking your chances of getting ripped off just because the vendor didn’t like the look of you. Bootleg? Oh yes, all kinds of bootleg. Subtly misprinted caps and T-shirts for the “licensed” goods, cassette tapes and VHS for the media. I’m not a sports fan so the jerseys didn’t appeal to me, and I never bought any tapes, figuring I’d get home and find those tapes were either poorly dubbed, or altogether blank.
And the crowds. It was a milling throng of desperate, grim, crabby humanity. Then some dope would always be trying to drive his car through it and end up getting stuck in the pedestrian traffic. One time a car rolled over my foot…and then stopped right on it. I somehow found the presence of mind to yell, “Move, you’re on my foot!” rather than just, “Aiiii!” Miraculously, nothing was broken.
Blanketing this entire scene was the smell of roasting sausage and grilled onions emanating from the hot dog shops on Maxwell Street itself. It didn’t matter if it was the crack of dawn—and believe me, you had to show up early or everything would be picked over—and it didn’t matter if you’d eaten breakfast. One whiff of a Maxwell Street Polish and it felt like you’d never eaten before in your life. They were dirt cheap, so of course it seemed economical to get at least two. The poppy seed buns were steamy and soft. The onions were grilled to the point of caramelization. And there was always a hot pickled pepper tucked into the bun. Shoot, I need one right now. And it’s 7:30 on a Monday morning. In Wisconsin.
After I moved away, the area was cleaned up and the flea market relocated to a pavilion type thing to the east of Maxwell Street. I’ve never been there but I’m sure it’s nowhere near as seedy, and nowhere near as fun.
Crash would have enjoyed the original Maxwell Street, but I think by the time he was able to drive himself there from Arlington Heights, the urban bazaar of my memories had been paved over long ago. I’ve got Crash on the mind because I’m eager to explore more of him in a standalone. When I looked at how much of his story belonged in Spook Squad, I realized that I needed to limit him to a few key scenes that mirrored what was going on with Vic, otherwise Vic’s story would become too difficult and cumbersome to follow. But it also seemed there was a whole iceberg under the surface that would be fun to tap. Crash will get his own story, but if you’re curious about Red, his first mention is in an interview I ran in my newsletter a few years ago.
find the interview at http://psycop.com/extras
About the Author
Like Lisa, Jordan Castillo Price buys her jewelry from spinner racks in stores like Target and Sears, or better yet, at garage sales. She’d feel anxious about wearing a real diamond tennis bracelet for fear of breaking it.
Since the writing of this novel, she was been rather leery of free smoothies. Though that hasn’t stopped her from accepting them.
Connect with Jordan in the following online places:
jordancastilloprice.com
facebook.com/jordancastilloprice
twitter.com/jordancprice
Recommended Reads
The PsyCop Series
Paperback
PsyCop Partners (contains Among the Living and Criss Cross)
PsyCop Property (contains Body & Soul and Secrets)
Camp Hell
GhosTV
Ebook
Among the Living - PsyCop 1
Criss Cross - PsyCop 2
Body & Soul - PsyCop 3
Secrets - PsyCop 4
Camp Hell - PsyCop 5
GhosTV - PsyCop 6
Spook Squad - PsyCop 7
Inside Out - PsyCop Short
Many Happy Returns - PsyCop Short
Mind Reader - PsyCop Short
Striking Sparks - PsyCop Short
Thaw - PsyCop Short
In the Dark - PsyCop Short
bonus flash fiction at the PsyCop site
www.PsyCop.com
Beautiful • Mysterious • Bizarre
fiction by Jordan Castillo Price
Don’t Miss the Next Story ~ Sign up for Jordan’s Free Monthly Newsletter Today!
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Recommended Reads
Mnevermind 1: The Persistence of Memory
- Every day, Daniel Schroeder breaks his father’s heart.
While forgetting your problems won’t solve them, it does seem like it would make life a heck of a lot easier. Daniel thought so once. Now he knows better. He and Big Dan have always been close, which makes it all the more difficult to break the daily news: the last five years were nothing like his father remembers.
They’re both professionals in the memory field—they even run their own memory palace. So shouldn’t they be able to figure out a way to overwrite the persistent false memory that’s wreaking havoc on both of their lives? Daniel thought he was holding it together, but the situation seems to be sliding out of control. Now even his own equipment has turned against him, reminding him he hasn’t had a date in ages by taunting him with flashes of an elusive man in black that only he can see.
Is it some quirk of the circuitry, or is Daniel headed down the same path to fantasy-land as his old man? (Novel)
Magic Mansion
- Professor Topaz is tired of fending off advice that he should retire in Vegas where magicians his age have an easier time finding work.
Ricardo Hart’s career has sunk so low, he’s resorted to shaking his moneymaker at bachelorette parties.
But there’s a casting call for a new reality show called Magic Mansion that could change everything. (Novel)
More Stories by Jordan Castillo Price:
PSYCOP
CHANNELING MORPHEUS
TURBULENCE
STANDALONE SHORTS & NOVELETTES
STANDALONE NOVELLAS & NOVELS
Zero Hour: A Dystopian Adventure
Find these titles at
http://jcpbooks.com
Acknowledgments
Writing a book is a collaborative effort. Since this is a story about teamwork, this book is dedicated to my team.
There would be no PsyCop 7 without Dev Bentham and Clare London, who held my hand through the entire writing process and kept me motivated when I was going through the “scrap the whole project and go get a day job” phase.
I appreciate my mother going out of her way to do a read-through even though she had a bunch of home repairs that needed doing. I'm told there were days her TV was never turned on at all!
Special thanks to Andy Slayde and Cindi Sulken for helping me keep the series events from contradicting themselves, and making sure I made sense.
I’m also grateful for the generosity of Sonia Ballesteros Rey for her Spanish advice, and Sey and Andre for their assistance with Marie St. Savon’s writings.
David Warner was invaluable for troubleshooting points of legalese where I could have potentially sounded ridiculous.
All residual ridiculousness and errors are, of course, my own.
