Arrest, Search and Séance : Book 1 of the Fringe Society, R.D. Hunter [good english books to read txt] 📗

knew there was no way he’d get to his car and drive off with me this close. Instead, he turned down a narrow side alley and sprinted towards the opening. I gained some ground on him there, as the long, straight path really let me put the juice on. His legs were longer and he obviously knew how to run, but he hadn’t done any strenuous exercise in some time and I could already hear his labored breathing over the sound of our footfalls. My own breaths came in smooth, even increments and I knew I didn’t have to catch him. I just had to outlast him. Piece of cake.

He turned a corner and disappeared and I sped up a little, determined to keep him in sight. Bill was likely circling around from the opposite side, so we’d intersect soon enough.

But as I rounded the turn, a thick arm caught me right at the shoulders. My legs flew out from under me and I came crashing down hard on the cement. I hadn’t been prepared to take a fall like that and the back of my head bounced off the asphalt, causing bright lights to flash before my eyes and a fresh wave of pain to echo through my skull. I laid there for a few moments, stunned, with Hawkins leering over me.

He was obviously pleased with himself for clotheslining me, but underneath that I could see something else; fear. His wide eyes and jerky movements told me this was a man on edge, and I’d be well served not to underestimate him.

I didn’t even try going for my gun. He’d either be on top of me before I could clear leather or, more likely, just stomp my face in until all that was left was a bloody smear on the bottom of his shoe. Time to try something different.

“Easy, Hawkins,” I said, holding up my hands to show they were empty. “We just want to talk.” My voice was slurred and slightly thick, like I’d been drinking too much alcohol. God, I hoped I didn’t have a concussion.

A cold sneer touched Hawkins’ lips.

“Oh really?” he said. “Well why didn’t…” He was interrupted by the arrival of a 6”2, 240 lb. black man barreling into him hard enough to send his body skipping across the cement like a flat stone on a lake. Bill had arrived.

“You hurt?” he asked, helping me to my feet.

“Only my pride,” I groaned, “and everything else. Nice hit. Good distance.”

“Thanks. It’s all in the legs. It’s important to push off the ground at the right angle.” We watched for a second as Hawkins rolled around on the ground like a dazed fish on land.

“Let’s get him up,” I said. “He’s got some explaining to do.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

We took Hawkins back to Headquarters and stuck him in an interview room. We didn’t say anything the whole way and left him by himself for close to half an hour. This was a standard interrogation tactic, designed to throw potential suspects off their game.

When someone who’s guilty is left to their own devices for an extended period of time, their mind starts to play all sorts of tricks. Even better, paranoia starts rearing its ugly head. That’s when they start questioning themselves.

How much do we know? Who else knows? Did they leave any evidence behind? Did we find the evidence? And round and round it goes until they’ll almost jump at the first opportunity to confess, just so they won’t have to speculate any more. Of course, innocent people didn’t have to worry about that sort of thing, but I had a feeling Hawkins hadn’t been “innocent” since the early days of grade school.

While we were waiting for him to soften up, I called one of my best friends and the only other private investigator I knew, Lacy Shade. Unlike Hawkins, Lacey worked out of an upscale office in Atlanta. She had a secretary, an after-hours answering service, and had numerous five-star reviews on all the major online platforms. Oh, and she was also a vampire.

No, not the blood-drinking, sleep in a coffin, repulsed by holy relics vampires. Those didn’t exist, at least to the best of my knowledge. She was an energy vampire, meaning she sustained her mental and physical faculties by absorbing the emotional and life energy of those around her. She could even do a bit of magic with the excess, but it was a totally different breed from witchcraft.

We tried to meet up at least once a week for drinks or a movie, but that had fallen off lately, mainly due to my increasing work load. I had to do something about that. I couldn’t let my job be all that I had. She answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Mel,” she said cheerily. “Calling to reschedule those drinks? Remember, you’re buying the first round.” I winced. The last time I’d canceled I’d promised to make it up to her with free drinks.

“I haven’t forgot,” I said. I’d totally forgot. “Actually, I’ve got one of your colleagues up here and was wondering what you could tell me about him.”

“Who is it?”

“Darren Hawkins.” There was a retching noise on the other end of the line. “So, I take it he’s not well liked in the P.I. circle?”

“Please! He represents P.I.’s like warts and green skin represent witches.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. He’s that bad. Known for taking any case, no matter how immoral and will use all means at his disposal, be they fair or foul, to get results. Trespassing laws don’t apply to him and he’s even been known to squeeze kids for information when it suits him. Guy’s a real creep.”

“Doesn’t suit your pallet, huh?” I cracked.

“Not even with side of fava beans and a nice chianti. Anything else?”

“Nope. That’s it. Thanks, Lace.”