Naked Dragon (12 page)

"Oh, nice. Really nice." Robbie shook his head in disgust.

"How am I supposed to find him stuck in the back seat of this thing? Huh?"

"Fine, we'll walk with you." Agent Skinner nodded for Agent Green to pull over.

"Three men in black suits? You think that'll be inconspicuous? We'll look like three fucking G-men! Keep driving, John. Don't listen to him. He's clueless."

Agent Green muttered, "I don't know what the difference is. He already knows we're here looking for him."

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"Oh, he knows it all right." Robbie snorted in annoyance.

"My luck I'll be sniped as we crawl around the same stupid streets. Pull the fuck over!"

"You're not going out alone!" Agent Skinner shouted.

"Oh, what are you my fucking mother?"

"No! You mother-fucker, I'm the senior agent on this assignment and you answer to me!"

"Since when?" Robbie sat up to lean over the seat to argue. "You both cringed when I was assigned to go with you.

Don't think I didn't see it.
A psychic
? you shivered in revulsion. Remember?
Not that stupid long-haired weirdo
!

You think I'm stupid?"

The men exchanged guilty glances.

"Stop the fucking car and let me find this lunatic before he kills another human being!"

Agent Green pulled over on South Lane Street.

When Robbie noticed Agent Skinner climbing out he shouted, "I don't need a baby-sitter!"

"Shut the fuck up, Taylor! One of us has to come with you.

So, just get on with it."

Throwing up his hands in frustration, Robbie started walking north since they were at the very edge of the district.

Agent Skinner leaned into the car. "Just cruise around. I'll call you over our frequency when he gets tired of being a jerk."

Nodding, Agent Green pulled out into traffic and vanished.

Though he was trying to lose him, Robbie heard Agent Skinner shouting for him to wait up. He spun around and gestured to him in anger. "Look at the two of us? Huh? One of 112

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us walking around looks like maybe a business man. Two?

Agents! Instantly!"

"Shut up. This asshole knows you anyway." He looked at the passing cars. "Which way, Mr. Psychic?"

"I swear I'm beginning to hate this job," Robbie mumbled.

"I get mocked and then when I have some success I get a noose around my neck."

"Yadda, yadda, yadda ... shut up and find him."

Walking at a very brisk pace hoping to strain the little annoying man's legs, Robbie remembered to turn on his police radio and checked the small mike on his collar, hiding it under his lapel. When he heard Dave's voice over the air answering up for a domestic disturbance call, he couldn't hide his smile. He just aimed it away from the annoying nasally little man.

* * * *

Nodding he understood, writing notes, Dave was already bored with the retelling of an argument between husband and wife. His back-up yawned tiredly as if wishing he could clear and find something more interesting to do.

"Can you just separate for a few hours to cool down?"

Dave asked the wife.

"Make him go! I'm not going anywhere!"

Again Dave pleaded, "Just for an hour or so? Maybe go for a walk."

The man snorted sarcastically, then threw open the door and left. Dave sighed with relief. "Right. I'm going to write up 113

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this as a disturbance, but if it gets physical, next time someone has to go to jail."

She nodded and showed them to the door. Stuffing the pad back into his pocket, Dave checked the time anxiously. It was getting close to the dangerous time of day for young Asian men.

"What happened to that mustache you were growing, bro?" Officer Williams asked.

"Huh? Oh, changed my mind."

"See ya on the next one," Officer Williams said as he waved and climbed back into his patrol car.

"See ya, Ken," Dave shouted back. He dropped into the driver's seat, tossed his hat on the passenger seat, then left to find a quiet place to write. Wanting to be near the chaos if and when it began, he parked in Uwajimaya's parking lot, and quickly wrote up the report for his domestic disturbance, his ear cocked to the radio.

* * * *

It was almost as if Robbie had to work with constant static in his ear. Agent Skinner's annoyance was clear on his pocked-marked face. He wasn't paid to walk the beat, he was paid to sit on his derriere and cruise around in a cozy air-conditioned sedan. That irritating mental chatter was becoming a hazardous distraction to him. He was this madman's bull's eye and he needed to keep alert.

"I need a cup," Agent Skinner nodded to a Starbucks.

"So? Go?"

"You coming? I'll buy."

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"No. I'll wait out here."

A sour expression followed. "No, you won't. You'll vanish on me!"

"Just get your fucking coffee!"

With his finger pointed into Robbie's face in warning, Agent Skinner said, "If I come out and you're gone, they're be hell to pay."

"Oh? And if I see our man and don't go after him? Will there be hell to pay then?"

After another warning glare, Agent Skinner entered the dim café.

Rubbing his face tiredly, Robbie looked up and noticed a young Asian boy with a tiny framed white man walking away from him and across the busy street. "Shit." He dodged between cars causing two to jam on their brakes to avoid hitting him. When it inevitably brought the sound of a car horn on, the couple walking stopped and looked back to see what was going on.

Instantly Robbie knew it wasn't him. He halted and spun around to walk back to the coffee shop. As he jogged across the street, Agent Skinner was waiting for him, a cup of java in his hand and a stern expression on his face.

"Shut up," Robbie snapped before he said anything, and they continued their walk down 12th Avenue South.

* * * *

Dave finished his report and checked to see what was waiting to be dispatched in their district. Not much was holding for a change on this calm Thursday afternoon. He 115

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cleared the domestic call and alerted the dispatcher he was out on foot in his sector. He was acknowledged over the air.

After locking up the patrol car and sticking his hat on his head and his nightstick in his gun-belt, he began his stroll along South Main Street just to have a look around.

* * * *

"Christ, it stinks back here." Agent Skinner held his nose.

"Restaurant dumpster." Robbie nodded to it.

"Do you have to find every stinking alley in the area?"

"Don't follow me!" Robbie shouted, weary of his constant whining.

"I have to pee now. Too much coffee. I'm going to go into that restaurant."

"Go!" Robbie waved him off.

"Stay here."

"Yeah, yeah..." Shaking his head in irritation, Robbie watched as he vanished through a back door. Feeling exhausted on his feet and badly in need of a vacation, Robbie moved to the uneven brick wall behind the restaurant and leaned back against it to rest his knees. The rotting smell soon became overwhelming. Shaking his head and moving away from where he stood, he noticed something odd and walked closer. Crouching down near the dumpster, he could swear the dark dried color on the side was not rust, it was blood.

Taking out a pair of rubber gloves, he stretched them on over his knuckles, then held his breath and pushed the lid open. The flies went swarming in a black cloud and he choked 116

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at the reek. Covering his face with his jacket, he poked his head in and at first found nothing unusual. Backing up for a breath, he then located a long piece of narrow wood and leaned back over the garbage to poke around with it.

Agent Skinner stepped out of the back door and was immediately hit with the stink. "What the hell are you doing, Taylor?" He choked waving his hand in front of his face.

Carefully, with one hand holding his jacket to cover his face, Robbie lowered the piece of wood to show him.

Agent Skinner was staring at a bloody shirt. "It's probably from the kitchen help!"

Robbie backed away from the open dumpster and inspected the garment. "Sorry to inform you, no. It's not."

"How the hell did you think of looking in that thing anyway?"

"Over here." Robbie waved him to the side of the metal bin. "Blood. Hand print? What do you think? He always uses the victim's blood to alert someone."

"Shit. Where the hell are we?" Agent Skinner looked around.

"Hold this. I'll go check for a street sign or something." He handed him the stick of wood with the soggy shirt hanging limply off it and walked down the back alley.

Just before he moved to the street beyond, he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Spinning around, his hand on his gun, he looked up and down that narrow space lined with black soot and blue and white graffiti covered brick walls, scattered broken bottles, used condoms, needles, and trash, and then found it. "Oh, no." He sighed in defeat and moved 117

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closer. A metal trash can with its lid askew stood before him.

Dangling out of the partly opened container was something resembling a string of sausage. But it wasn't sausage at all.

He keyed his microphone when there was a break in the air traffic. "X-ray 440 Adam," he said.

Radio repeated his call sign.

"Please send an SPD supervisor to my location." He continued to walk to the end of the street and read the road sign. "Seventeen and Weller, west side alley."

"Copy, X-ray 440 Adam. A supervisor and a unit to back at X-ray 440's location?"

"Two-George," Sgt. Wilson responded.

"Two-George," the dispatcher echoed.

"Send it to my screen."

"Two-George-three."

"Two-George-three," the dispatcher answered Dave's call sign.

"I'll go."

"Copy. Two-George-three is backing two-George."

Hearing Dave's voice in relief, Robbie stuck his mike back onto his lapel and then stood staring at the trash can. A shout caught his attention from down the alley. Agent Skinner, standing there with his stick and the bloody shirt wanted to know what he was doing. Robbie waved him over.

Grumbling profanity under his breath, Agent Skinner opened his mouth to complain about being left holding the bag, when Robbie nodded to the trash can. They both paused to stare at it. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes," Robbie said, then moved closer to it.

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"Open it."

Making sure his gloves were on properly, Robbie held his breath and reached for the top of the lid handle. Feeling his jaw clench down hard in anticipation, he counted to three in his head and pulled off the lid, then looked in. "Oh, Christ."

Agent Skinner shook his head in anguish. "Poor kid."

"Look." Robbie nodded to the contents again. When Agent Skinner moved closer, Robbie said, "What's that note say?"

"It says
Surprise
. Sick fucker." Agent Skinner backed away. "He knows you're patrolling the alleys, Taylor. He left it for you to find."

The sense of grief overwhelmed him just as the sound of a familiar voice approached.

* * * *

Dave's heart was pounding as he ran back to his car and then drove to Robbie's location. He imagined when he got there being led to yet another apartment house. Maybe they were flagged down by the manager this time. They looked like detectives. Anyone would think they were officials in those suits.

He arrived almost at the same time as his sergeant.

Nodding to him in greeting, he put his hat on and followed him down the alley. "What do you think, sarge? Someone flagged them down?"

"Most likely." His face was grim.

Looking past Sgt. Wilson, he spotted only Robbie and that skinny agent. They greeted each other. Dave was confused that they weren't being shown into another apartment 119

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building. When he met Robbie's worried eyes Dave wanted so much to hold him he ached.

"What the hell's that?" Sgt. Wilson pointed to the trash can.

"Intestines," Robbie said dryly.

"Shit." Sgt. Wilson took out his mobile phone. "I need to call homicide."

"Unfortunately you do." Robbie sighed, "That's a bloody shirt I found in the dumpster. My guess is it's the victim's."

"Okay." Sgt. Wilson nodded solemnly, then turned away from the sight of the trash can as he connected to the detective's office once again.

Dave moved closer to Robbie and whispered, "You all right?"

"He left a note for me. It says
Surprise
. Isn't that nice?"

"How the hell did you find him in this back alley?"

"Dumb luck."

"No. In your case, intuition." Dave glanced at the skinny detective as he hovered close to them, listening. "You want an evidence bag for that?" Dave asked Agent Skinner.

"Please," Agent Skinner replied.

"I'll be back."

As Dave jogged out of the alley, Agent Skinner said, "I'm glad it's him. He's the only one who doesn't get sick around here."

Robbie just smiled at the comment.

Holding out the plastic bag for Agent Skinner, Dave helped him get the bloody shirt inside without touching it, then he set it aside and began taping off the scene so no one could 120

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get in and obstruct or taint the investigation. The sound of the approaching homicide detectives and crime lab men's voices reached them. Dave had finished setting up the crime scene tape and paused to watch as they opened the lid of the trash can for themselves.

"Jesus," Max shook his head as he moaned.

"Is the coroner on his way? We can't do much with the body. We just need an autopsy of the pieces and to check if they are all there," one of the Washington State crime lab men said.