Authors: Mark Wheaton
“Fine. Nope, no police dog. And they haven’t put it out on the nightly news, either, because it might be too much of an embarrassment with everything else. Still, I thought it would bite somebody by now and we’d get a call.”
“Nah,” Leonhardt scoffed. “Enforcement dogs are more on point than any soldier you’ll ever see. Unless it gets told to grab somebody, it’s not going to. They’re great animals.”
Garza gaze Leonhardt a look he usually reserved for vagrants as they invented tales of woe. “You’re going to need to do better than that, detective.”
“Why? You heard them on the TV. The case is pretty much closed. Guns go missing all the time. The good thing about this gun is that, for all the police around, it was a civilian weapon. It’s time to mourn our losses and celebrate our heroes. Isn’t there even some kind of memorial march in the offing?”
As he’d barely masked his sarcasm or lowered his voice, Leonhardt’s last remark turned a couple of heads by the bar. Garza glanced over, raising a hand to avoid trouble, but then kicked Leonhardt under the table like a recalcitrant fourth-grader.
“You don’t believe that’s the end of this any more than I do. Just because you’re focusing on dumb shit like a missing dog…”
“
Dogs
.”
“…
dogs
, whatever, you know something’s fucked-up over there. So, while you’re thinking pooches, I’m thinking drugs. Who sold them to Mr. Lester? We sure Mrs. Fowler wasn’t taking something? I mean, there’s nothing about what she did that suggests rational little old lady behavior. And you were pretty certain that that Devaris kid was holding the night he took a dive. What if he wasn’t pushed? Maybe he thought he was a friggin’ bird. Are you starting to feel me?”
Leonhardt finally raised his head, staring dully back at Garza.
“Good. Then I think we should wander over there and take a look, don’t you?”
Leonhardt nodded.
“Give me a couple of minutes in the bathroom. Have a coffee and a Diet Coke waiting for me when I get back.”
“Done.”
Alvis’s apartment was in one of his sister’s names. Only, she didn’t know about it. Alvis wasn’t old enough to rent an apartment in New York, didn’t have any kind of credit, no previous addresses, etc. What he did have was cash. And as long as the rent ended up in an envelope pushed into the building manager’s office slot within the first five days of every month, no one said a word about a sixteen-year-old with his own apartment.
Even better, given the business Alvis conducted out of said apartment, his neighbors knew better than to complain about the drug dealer in Building 8. Returning the favor, Alvis’s crew kept the buyers out of the building and, for the most part, kept the halls and stairwells crime-free. This was his territory and to rob or steal on it meant answering to him and his guys. So, no one did.
The apartment itself was a kind of clubhouse-cum-crash pad for the crew. For the most part, they had other beds to go home to. But if they needed a place to stay or just wanted to keep hanging out, there were showers, beds, and food at Alvis’s.
What it was used the most for, however, was sex.
“Oh, Trey,
goddamn
,” Janice moaned as Trey went down on her.
It wasn’t like she asked, but as soon as they had started making out, it was clear she needed some convincing. She’d been so surprised when he’d stripped off her pants that he was between her thighs, plucking aside her panties, before she could push him away.
By then, she was well on her way to her first orgasm of the evening.
The door was locked, but that didn’t keep would-be onlookers from walking slowly as they passed on their way to the bathroom. For the most part, the crew respected the privacy of whoever might be screwing in one of the bedrooms. There had been one girl, whose name Trey had long forgotten, who wanted to take on the whole crew at once. This had sounded like an interesting proposition at the time, but after the first two, they all decided the girl was crazy and kicked her out.
But tonight, Janice would be all his for as long as he wanted. With all the stress of the day on his shoulders, he planned on enjoying himself.
“Ah, Trey…right there…holy
shit
…”
• • •
Back in the Baldwin apartment, Becca was getting ready to head to bed. As much as she wanted to go all Jupiter Jones and the Three Investigators on the building, she knew how much trouble she’d be in if Ken found out. So, she locked the door, made popcorn, and watched television long after she normally would.
She was just padding back to her room, Bones trailing behind, when she felt the dog go absolutely still. She turned and saw that his ears had shot straight up and his nose was now aimed back towards the front door.
“What is it, Bones?”
In response, the shepherd whipped around and scrambled back to the kitchen. Watching him jam his nose at the bottom of the door and tear at the floor with his claws, Becca thought he was about to try to dig under it.
But that’s when he got antsy. He started prancing around, whining to get Becca’s attention.
“What?” she asked quietly.
Someone pounded on the door, almost scaring Becca out of her skin.
“Hey! Trey in there?”
The voice of Alvis caused Becca to shudder. She tolerated most of Trey’s friends, but actively disliked their ringleader. Trey had always liked to get high, but Alvis was the one who got him into dealing.
“He’s not home!” Becca called out.
“You sure?” Alvis asked, not without menace.
“Yeah, I’m sure!” Becca spit back. “But I ain’t letting you in to check.”
There was a long silence. Bones continued to bounce around, obviously having picked up the scent of something that bothered him.
“Tell him to come find me,” Alvis finally barked back. “Got it?”
“I got it,” Becca replied, sounding as cowed as she felt.
She heard Alvis shuffle away. Bones continued to whine. He jammed his nose as hard as he could under the door, inhaling deep.
“You gonna take all day?” Alvis said, his voice distant now as he was calling from down the hall.
That’s when Becca heard a guttural
woof
coming from the other side of the door. She ran across the room and slid down onto her stomach. Pushing Bones aside, she saw the black snout of the massive devil dog from the night before. It had been sniffing around a little, but now, in picking up her scent, inhaled long and deep.
A growl came next, deep and threatening, an animal ready to fight. It was only as she backed away from the door that she realized the sound was coming from Bones.
“L
ord, that felt good,” Janice said, settling back onto the pillow. “Who taught you how to fuck like that? You watch a lot of porn or something?”
“Maybe I just like pleasing women,” Trey replied, trying not to sound smug.
“Ah, Mommy issues. Mother didn’t love you enough, so you’ve got to go out and please women to feel good about yourself?”
Trey laughed, but a little too bitterly. Janice smiled.
“Don’t worry. Mama will take good care of you, baby.” She put her arms around his chest and pulled his head down to her sweat-covered breasts.
Lord, get me out of here,
Trey thought.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone screaming down in the courtyard.
“Did you hear that?” Janice asked, sitting straight up.
“The scream?”
“No, the gunshots!”
Trey then realized he had, but hadn’t thought a thing about them. Two more shots followed. Trey raced to the window, carefully pulling aside the sheet that had long covered it. He didn’t see a shooter, but several people across the street were scrambling for cover while pointing at the building Trey was in, Building 9.
That’s when he realized the gun’s report was familiar.
Very
familiar.
“Shit, where’s Alvis?”
Becca had waited a few minutes before exiting the apartment with Bones in tow. She glanced up and down the dimly lit hallway, but saw no one. More than a little terrified, she shoved the German shepherd out first, though she kept his leash wrapped tightly around her right hand.
“Follow him.”
Bones didn’t have to be told twice. He moved quickly down the hallway towards the stairwell, half-dragging Becca behind him. His nose was moving fast, sniffing every square inch of floor as he strained at the leash. By the time they reached the stairs, he was ready to gallop.
“Slow
down
!” Becca commanded.
The shepherd half-listened.
A moment later, and they were in the lobby. Becca wasn’t sure if Alvis had exited or maybe gone down to the subbasement. When she tried to angle Bones around to the stairs leading under the building, however, the shepherd pulled her to the front door.
“Are you sure?”
The dog was clearly certain. Whatever trail he had picked up on the sixth floor continued out into the courtyard.
“All right,” acknowledged Becca, eyeing the darkness beyond the lobby doors with trepidation.
The passage of a few hours hadn’t convinced anyone in Neville Houses that stepping outside was a good idea. For the most part, the scrubby network of courtyards between buildings was empty. As she eyed the shadow-cloaked corners, Becca tried to imagine what would happen if she was attacked. Would Bones, free of the leash, charge on down the trail? Or would he defend her?
She hoped she wouldn’t have to find out.
The trail wove around a little, but soon it was clear that it led into Building 9. Becca realized this made sense, as this was where Alvis lived.
Duh
.
But as they moved up the steps to the Building 9 lobby, Becca slowed. She was suddenly unsure of the plan. If they cornered Alvis somewhere, was she going to try and talk it out with the drug dealer? Warn him about the dog? What if he was already lost in the dog’s thrall the way Mrs. Fowler or Mr. Lester had been?
Couldn’t this end badly and
quick
?
Bones obviously wasn’t taking any of this into consideration as he plowed ahead to the stairs. Becca thought this odd, since the elevator worked in this building.
Unless he’s being led by the dog
, Becca thought.
What do dogs know of elevators?
With this strange thought in mind, the little girl followed the shepherd up the first couple of stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, she made good progress. Becca was just stopping to take a breather on the fifth-floor landing when she heard muffled gunshots from above followed by a distant scream.
She reached into the back of her pants and touched Mrs. Fowler’s pistol. She didn’t even know why she brought it. Without bullets, she could do little more than threaten. All the same, it made her feel safer.
• • •
“Shots fired, rooftop of Neville Houses on 111th.”
Leonhardt grabbed the radio mic. “Which building?”
“Building 9,” replied the dispatcher.
“We’re en route.”
Leonhardt glanced at Garza, now sobered. “Pretty sure we’re going to have to call the CDC and quarantine the whole block after this.”
“Think some dealer decided to lace a whole batch of everybody’s regular order with PCP or something? Somebody’s idea of a joke?”
“If that’s what’s going on here, I’ll be thrilled.
That
, we can contain.
That
, we know how to handle. So I’m hoping to hell you’re right.”
Garza didn’t say anything as Leonhardt hit the gas, accelerating through a red light with the siren roaring, only three blocks to go.
• • •
Trey hurried through the apartment, seeing only Pluto smoking out in front of the television.
“You hear those shots?” Pluto asked, as if needing confirmation due to his altered state.
“Yeah, it’s up on the roof!” Trey said.
“Oh, shit,” Pluto grunted. “We know anybody with a beef?”
“No, but he’s just shooting into the street. Anybody that walks by.”
“Oh,
shit
,” Pluto said again with even less emphasis than before.
Trey pulled the pistol from under Alvis’s couch, checked the clip, and chambered the first round. Janice, having hurriedly gotten dressed, saw the gun and blanched.
“You’re not going up there.”
“Somebody’s got to stop ’em.”
Trey swung open the door in time to see something hurry past on the stairs. He barely glimpsed his half-sister, but knew it was her and their newly adopted police dog.
“Becca!” he yelled.
But she was already gone.
• • •
Alvis was annoyed. He’d imagined there’d be any number of passersby on the street below for him to shoot. But after unloading his first clip at a group of teenage girls on the corner, hitting none, he didn’t see a soul. He heard the sirens of the approaching squad cars and knew his time was almost up.
“Fuck!” he yelled, then again. “FUCK!”
Then he had an idea. He aimed his gun at nearby Building 3 and started shooting out the windows on the higher floors. The pistol had impressive range, but it was near impossible to aim all the way to the street. But when shooting at the nearby building, he found himself nailing the windows down his sights.
A male voice screamed in agony, its owner struck by a bullet.
“Ha ha!” bellowed Alvis.
He emptied the gun and popped in a third magazine. He had just pulled back the slide when he heard the door to the roof swing open. He whirled around, ready to fire, but no one was there.
“Who’s that?” he barked.
No one replied.
He stepped forward, holding the gun out in front of him. “You’d better show yourself. Or hell, maybe I’ll just start shooting.”
He didn’t even wait half a second before doing just that. Yanking back the trigger, he peppered the upper stairwell with sparks as bullets ricocheted off the door and wall. Unfortunately, the sparks and the muzzle flash only served to illuminate the fact that no one, in fact, was there hiding just within the shadows.
In any other circumstance, he would’ve had the presence of mind to count the bullets, leaving himself one in the chamber when switching out the magazine in case that was precisely what someone else was waiting on. But he was too addled this time, in too much of a hurry.