Project: Legerdemain - Pt. 2

Angelique Harper gave me everything she had on her brother, mostly what I expected, a lot of paperwork and some personal information about his routines and habits. I reviewed the police report a few times and placed some calls into my contacts on the force, the ones that were still talking to me at least. It was probably a good thing that I told her this was going to take a while because this was bothering me a little bit.

That realization hit as I poured myself the fourth scotch of the morning. Marion’s life was sprawled out on the bar in paperwork. Our dear Marion was quite the character actually, the Harpers were full of them with Angelique being the most normal out of all. A rich family from up North with fingers spread out into more pies than you could imagine and a flare for showing their wealth and influence off. Angelique and Marion’s parents though made some bad investments and perhaps some not-so-legal decisions that fell on their heads in their twilight years, leaving the kids with considerably less money and nothing but their educations and good looks to empires off of.

Wait, does she have enough money to pay more or does she intend not to…oh well, have to wait and find out. She better be glad she’s a little more than easy on the eyes. I can’t afford too many dud jobs right now. I sighed and downed the scotch as I heard sirens passing by the outside of the bar.

Marion didn’t have an arrest record. That made me nervous too, people who are too clean often shoot you in the back in dark alleyways with “Lucy in the sky with diamonds” playing in the background. No, I’m not bitter.

The few things my sources did find on Marion’s past were really small or swept under the rug by friends. He looked like a politician in the making until he spent a few years traveling the world and fell off the grid. The only pictures I could find of him from that time period were with a bottle in one hand and a topless model on the other. Sure must be nice. Maybe he was just having mid-life crisis or something.

It looks like he settled down when he got back though, spent some time with his dying father and got a real job at some small firm as an analyst. He tried to open up his own firm but got head-hunted by Siredyne a few years back. This was interesting and all but it meant shit if I couldn’t find the motive. I needed to figure out what Marion saw that put him in the line of fire. My only options now were to take the address he has on file and check out his place, or march my happy ass into Siredyne and see if they’ll be kind enough to tell me, right.

The wooden double-doors moved and let bright white into the room that was lit only by red and blue Christmas lights. Amanda stepped into the bar with sunglasses on and a piss poor disposition. Her jeans hung low on her hips and her face possibly hung lower.

“You’re here early.”

“Yeah,” she said with a defensive eyebrow raise.

“You’re usually at least twenty minutes late.”

She threw her bag up on the bar and lifted the old grey hoodie up over her head, revealing her work attire.

“Wait, sunglasses but no hangover,” I was perceptive when I wanted to be.”You’re early to work and wearing the extra low-cut white top, could this be about a girl?”

“No,” she shot back as she checked the cash register.

“So a guy? A cat? Are you just on your-“

“Dammit,” the word never held so much frustration. “Yes, it’s about a girl okay.” She threw one of the dirtied bar rags at me. “I got stood up last night by a hot professional type, think she was a doctor or something.”

“Think she might not be a lesbian?”

“Oh screw you,” she said pulling a cigarette from the pack behind the register. I only saw her smoke when she was really agitated. “I could have had a sugar-momma, woman like that could make a wife out of me.”

“Right, I’ll remember that.” I reached for my coat. The old brown duster was cool to the touch and a personal favorite of mine. Not only did it make me look like a bad-ass, it worked wonders for concealing my gun. I had a license and all but the old silver Colt .45 seemed to make people nervous, especially when you’re waving it around threatening someone’s bits. “I need to go out and check a lead, hoping it’ll get us some money in.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she said wiping down the bar as the first two customers we had seen in several nights came in.

“Welcome folks,” I said tipping a non-existing hat to them as I caught the closing door with my elbow and headed out to the street. Fuel exhaust and the smell of old baked goods hit my nose and I paused, looking up at the mid-day sun with a squint.

I turned down the alleyway between the bar and the arts complex with my head down and hands in my pockets. My mind was on Marion Harper and what kind of Pandora’s Box I could possibly be opening up by asking some tough questions at Siredyne, if it came to that. I almost dropped a brick as my heels skidded to a halt.

“Mr. M,” that little toad scared the shit out of me. “You snuck up on me; I guess I was looking right over you.”

“Always the comedian when rent is do, aren’t you Mars?”

He was a short little imp with a permanent snarl and a rather large nose. The brown suit he wore was most likely bought from the cheapest store he could find, along with the fake hair piece that looked like it was put on wrong this morning. He was a sneaky little creep though, I guess because of his height, and he was quiet too. What really bothered me were times like these though when he was just staring at me with that lazy brown left eye that looked like it was just hanging limply waiting for someone to give it a lift back home.

“Oh, is it that time already?”

“Don’t be coy,” he said as he slammed his pointer finger into my chest, I winced slightly at the pain and a lot at really not wanting him to touch me. “That check better be in my box in a week or I’m kicking your ass out of that shithole you call a bar.” He jerked his thumb to the alleyway to motion where his office was, as if I could forget. That was part of what made it so hard to avoid him. His rickety little shack of an office was in the alleyway behind our bar and he owned several of the surrounding buildings.

“I wouldn’t dream of you not getting your money,” I said trying to slip around him. “I’m actually on my way to a job right now.”

“You’re a bum.”

“Right…so you’ve said.” I began walking as he talked. I didn’t have time for another one of his lectures. Next there would be a back in my day line and twenty minutes would somehow magically pass. “Have a good day Mr. M.”

“And tell your wench to stop giving me the oogley-eyes!”

I raised an eyebrow at the last part but the hell if I was going to start up a conversation. Maybe Amanda could sweet talk him, how I don’t know. It’d be like putting two angry badgers in a room with one…whatever badgers like, I don’t know. More important things to think about than badgers or metaphors right now, Marion’s apartment was up town and I’d need to catch the L-train and hot foot it up three blocks. I wanted to get there before dark.

Uptown looked like a completely different city. It’s as if the grey cloud and piss odor just decided not to cross 75^th street. The buildings get higher and so do the gas prices. It’s almost as if the people are nicer and the trains run quieter along the rails above you. So, why didn’t I like it here? I’ll take my run down street and my dilapidated bar any day.

Marion’s building was on one of the corners of the high rent area with its own doorman. I knew he was loaded but this place was ridiculous. I certainly didn’t look like I belonged here. I could have probably slipped the door guy some money to get in but as I said, poor is being generous for what I am right now.

I slipped around the side instead. The building had a restaurant on the bottom floor, which to my advantage had two doors with people constantly coming in and out of them. I picked up a produce box and did my best to look like I belonged. I’ve found that confidence can get you into a lot of places, or at least convince people to not ask you why they don’t recognize you. They seemed busy in the kitchen anyway with the clanging of pots and the steam from the dish cleaners. There was an elevator just out of the side door and that was where I left the half-empty box of produce, after I took an apple from it. Free food is hard to pass up, I didn’t eat a lot mind you but why look a gift in the mouth.

The elevator doors slid open to tan walls and ornate hanging yellow lights on the hall. The wood stained trim lined the walls as I looked around and got my bearing on the apartment numbers. I took a large bite of the green orb enjoying the bitter taste against my mouth. It made me want a drink. I’m not an alcoholic; I’m sure you’re thinking it.

E2. That was Marion’s apartment. I took another bite of the apple as I looked over the door and noticed the scratched paint around the edges of the knob. It had been broken. I wasn’t the first one here and whoever came before me probably already took everything worth a shit. I sighed and tossed the apple in a near-by plant fixture. I pushed the wooden door with the peep-hole open to the left side to take a look in first.

There were two lights on, one in the kitchen and a lamp by the long windows that looked out over the city and the sun that was preparing to set. The furniture was mostly overturned with the cushions slit open and gutted. Paintings were torn off the wall and several parts of the carpet had been ripped up in the main room. This guy—or guys—were thorough. I shut the door behind me in case anyone passed by. Scratching my head as I moved into the bedroom I noticed the portrait above the bed, one of an old sea faring ship, had been tossed off and cut open but left behind it a grey wall safe that stood open.

I didn’t have to get much closer to see what I expected, cash, a jewelry box lay open with an expensive engagement ring, and some papers that were probably insurance policies and deeds of sale if I had to guess. Lots of valuables to go to the trouble of opening a safe and not take. Just more evidence that this wasn’t a robbery, Marion found something and now Siredyne, or whoever else is involved, wants it back. At least I was on the right track. Even if I wasn’t ready to walk my happy ass up in there and make a spectacle without having anything to show, I knew I was on the right track.

That’s when I heard the noise, had we not been in such a quiet room I would have been in a lot more trouble but I moved just in time as the object flew quickly past my head. The metal stuck into the wall next to the window, a six pointed star with a jagged curve in the design. Ok, so even if I had doubts this, this would have gotten rid of those.

The figure slipped from the closet in a black suit and white collared shirt with a heavy trench-coat wrapped around his shoulders, his face shrouded by one of Marion’s black scarves he had wrapped around his face. In his right hand was another silver star that reflected lightly in his brown eyes.

“Wait, are you really a ninja?”

Project: Legerdemain - Pt. 1

Exploding into life the match head burned a bright red then pure yellow. Fire; man’s greatest creation gives life to the cigarette and causes destruction to Marko’s lungs. Light from the match lit up his face for a moment as he leaned against his car in the dark alleyway. Under the solitary light the gangster’s men had surrounded me.

He had tricked me into the alleyway with the young woman in the purple fur coat. My kindness was repaid with her leather boot striking against my gut. Falling to one knee I grabbed at my stomach. I should remember that good deeds often go punished, as well as not making for good paydays. Smoke rolled off Marko’s lips as his goons parted so that I could see him.

“It appears my polite nudging for you to stay away,” he paused as he exhaled the smoke, watching it roll up to the moon, “didn’t work for you.” He knocked the ash from the end of his cigarette with a determined motion. “So allow me to give you my last polite, but stern reminder.”

He turned and flicked the lit cigarette against the dirty brick wall, forcing it to spray the destructed cherry across the surface. My view of him getting back into his pearl white Cadillac was obscured by the sets of legs that filled in the open space of the circle. I looked back up only for a moment, I knew it was time to look down and cover my head. My arms came up defensively. Feet began to fly as the car started up and rolled off. I felt the treads of boots and heels of dress shoes crash into me. I won’t lie, it hurt, especially the bitch in the purple coat who decided after one kick that she’d rather dig the heel of her Gucci knock-offs into my side.

I could have stopped them. I forced myself not to act though. It was too early and I didn’t know enough, no need to tip my hand. Besides, other than some stitches and maybe a cracked rib it wasn’t anything to sweat. These guys weren’t trying to permanently hurt me. I second guessed that as the bald guy with the aviator shades reached deep down and kicked me as hard as he could though. I watched my blood spray from my lip onto the ground.

Ok Marko, message received loud and clear.

I thought about what I was going to do when this was all over, assuming I didn’t pass out. I thought about the future, and asked myself why she had to walk into my bar.

Three Days Earlier

I watched the numerous potential patrons walk by and scoff at my bar.

Graffiti helped hide the many small holes in the walls. The window to the left of the door was cracked and still had metal bracers where iron security bars once rested. My establishment was old and run-down, to put it politely. I had bought a shit-ton of Christmas lights and tacky dime store paintings to help hide the desolation until I could get up some money to remodel. The bar was doing shit for business though and I don’t think it was just the appearance.

I sat staring at the large double doors under the old archway, expecting someone to come in and spend a lot of money. You could make rent with a little luck and one or two steadily drunk patrons with holes in their pockets. The old wood didn’t move though so I just kept drinking from the bottle of Jack Daniels. That probably wasn’t helping my profits come to think on it.

“If you can’t make someone come in here I’m gonna start drinking myself.”

Picking up my guitar I glanced over, “say what?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” the snarky short haired girl said, “did you not notice it was empty in here?”

I glanced around as if I hadn’t noticed, but I had.

“If no one is in here drinking and handing me money, you can’t pay me.”

“Good point, why don’t you buy something?”

“Or, I could leave and go somewhere that there are actual people.” Her mischievous smile clued me in on her intentions. She was going to be a pain if I didn’t let her go.

So I sent my lesbian bartender home, better I didn’t have to pay her for standing around and insulting me while she spent the rest of her time on Twitter. I don’t mind when she steals from the stash because frankly, she’s more tolerable when she’s drunk and gets more tips when she hits on both genders.

My other job hadn’t really been panning out either. Officially I was a licensed private investigator, but that was just because it was the close-to-legitimate license I could get in a weekend that looked semi-official. I did a little of everything to some degree. Money collecting, bodyguard work, hunting down cheating spouses: those were the most frequent, and almost always a guaranteed income. You let one person get shot in the arm though and suddenly the phone stops ringing. The fat commie bastard had it coming, and it was just a flesh wound. I hate when clients cry, pisses me off.

I had kept myself on the right side of the law through for the most part, but with money like it was, I would be lying if I didn’t say some quiet illegal activities hadn’t crossed my mind. Maybe I was just bored? That could have been it, but I didn’t want to let my flaws get me in over my head.

I remember sitting there by myself though, thinking I was in for a long night of drinking, attempting to play the guitar, and skin-a-max since I didn’t have any customers and had less drive to go out and do anything else. I’m a little fickle though and decided I needed some music to cheer me up. Shooting out, my leg extended and my boot kicked the old jukebox I had re-done for the bar. I heard the guitar and leaned back closing my eyes. My fingers mimicking the chords on my own instrument.

“-in time you’ll find, the reason I’m here. And in time all things shall pass away, in time you may come back someday. To live once more, or die once more, But in time, your time will be no more. “

This was working already, I thought to myself as I suckled the opening of the bottle for one last drink. That was the last moment of peace though, because that was when she walked in.

The old wooden door creaked on its hinges as I lazily lifted one eyelid. Her heels clicked on the floor to the rhythm the jukebox leaked out. The sound caught my attention, sending my gaze up the stocking clad legs to the coal grey skirt and tightly pulled half-coat. She wore a scarf with a silver dragon embroidered at the end that wrapped around pale skin. It wasn’t cold though unless you counted her gaze. Her look did tell me she didn’t know me so this wasn’t one of my mistakes and I shouldn’t be worrying about claiming any illegitimate children, which was good to know. She was hot enough though, I might have copped up to it.

“Mr. Mars,” she asked pulling off her stylish French beret.

“So they say.”

“A detective, Templeton, lead me to you, said you were the best private eye in the city.”

“Frankie’s too modest,” I lied. “Pull up a chair. I’ll pour you a drink.”

She eyed the barstool and brushed the top of it off with her hand. “I have a problem,” she said still glancing at the stool before finally sitting. “My brother, Marion, has gone missing and the police,” she paused and chose her words carefully, “won’t do anything.”

“Missing persons?” I asked with an intentionally bemused tone. I was okay with the investigation aspect of my career but it certainly wasn’t my specialty, that and half of these missing persons cases that come across my desk are boring as hell. It’s always some guy who just wants to get out from under his wife or people trying to get away from their families. The few actual missing persons, sadly, are never found. I really shouldn’t be turning down anything right now though that is a paying gig, and I do charge hourly even if we don’t find him. I saw her expression and realized she knew I hadn’t taken it seriously. Taking another look at her though, I changed my mind. “Tell me more.”

“I’m afraid of what happened to him, I think the police aren’t being up front with me.”

“You might want to,” I placed the guitar down by the bar and uncorked the vodka bottle, “start from the beginning.” I poured us each a shot but I ended up drinking both.

She took a deep breath before she began. That was when I noticed her hand was slightly trembling. I leaned back in my chair and propped my feet back up on the bar.

“My brother’s name is Marion Harper and he’s a financial analyzing consultant for Siredyne Industries,” She paused and gave me a once over with her eyes. She probably didn’t see much with the way that I was dressed and the fact that I smelled, well like a bar. “You’ve heard of it I trust?”

“Sure, I’ve seen the commercials, people leave a Forbes magazine here now and again.”

“Right,” noting my cynicism she continued. “Well he enjoyed his job and Siredyne pays very handsomely. He was enjoying his life until one day I noticed he hadn’t called me in several nights.”

“You two were close?”

“Are, Mr. Mars, we are still close. I knew something was wrong.”

“My apologies,” I have to stop assuming the worst. “Please continue Miss Harper.”

“I didn’t hear from him for days and when I finally did he was…different, scared. It wasn’t like him at all.” She watched me take her shot and down it since she wasn’t toughing it. “He said he had found something, he had seen things that he didn’t agree with and he felt like he had to tell someone.”

“Seen stuff as an accountant?”

“He was an analyst. He had access to records from all over the company.”

“So he sees something he shouldn’t and tells you, and now no one can find him right?” It seemed simple enough.

“Yes. I’ve done everything I can think of but the police aren’t being honest with me and Siredyne says they’ve told the police everything. They think that my brother stole money from them and ran off.”

She could tell I was about to ask.

“He wouldn’t do that, my brother is an honest man,” she looked away dealing with the emotion of the situation. “And he would have told me.”

My hand covered my mouth as I began to think about what she was telling me. I got a bit distracted watching her though and wondered if this was worth pursuing for other reasons. I couldn’t think like that right now though. I shouldn’t figure it out too soon either. Staying on the case longer meant more money and more time to test the waters.

“You really think there was foul play involved?”

“I do,” she said without hesitation.

“You believe he’s still alive?”

“Emphatically so,” she said sincerely. There was something in her eyes that told me she was going to do this with or without me.

“My fee is one-fifty an hour and five hundred each day after the first, non-negotiable but I’m flexible on my expenses.” I was stern with the price because she looked like she could afford it, and even if she couldn’t she’d figure out some way to pay me if I actually found her brother.

“Thank you Mr. Mars, I was running out of options.”

She stood and extended her hand to make. I took it, not realizing what I had just gotten myself into. If you haven’t figured it out though I’m a little cocky and thought I could handle it.