I, the Tribunal Read online

  “Two-oh-six.”

  The bill I had was a five, and I folded it up and shoved it in the weasel’s jacket pocket. “Keep quiet kit, I’d hate to see you on this year’s fashion model’s shoulders.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The little guy almost closed the elevator door on my tail in his haste to get away.

  The apartment in question faced the street. No one answered my knock, so I put my ear to the door. Not hearing anything, I took a good sniff around the bottom. There wasn’t anything too fresh, so I decided to take a chance and pull out my ring of skeleton keys. Key number three was the charm.

  Apparently, the apartment came furnished. The only personal item of Dabrowski’s was a photo on the mantel of his younger years. Odd, or just conceited?

  There was only one bed in the bedroom, so they did sleep together. The question of who wore the dog collar popped into my head before I shook it away. In a suitcase under the bed, I found a .45 sitting pretty atop a stack of white shirts. The town was getting painted with that caliber lately. A good sniff told me it hadn’t been fired lately, so I wiped my prints and put it back.

  Everything else in the room seemed normal, though I found Styles’ photo album and flipped through it. A lot were of him in college sports of every persuasion. Jack of all trades master of none, or did he have the attention span of a squirrel? A good portion of the shots were of females. Collies, sheep, a cow, even a pig. Nice looking, just not my style, but then again, I am a predator. Near the end of the album, Dabrowski’s picture started popping up.

  One picture had me doing a double take. Both Dabrowski and Styles were in the photo, only Styles wasn’t dressed as a college kid, neither did he look too much like an Alaskan Malamute. His features were more wolf and less dog. Behind them was a display window plastered with news release photos. I could just make out the caption on one, Morro Castle burns. That happened back in thirty-four. A further search turned up nothing more.

  The sound of slamming elevator doors and the subsequent rattling of keys told me my time was up. I opened the door to see Dabrowski’s stunned face. Styles was little better.

  “Come on in Axel.”

  Fear replaced shock. “How… why…”

  “Quit sputtering. If I took a shot at you, I wouldn’t have missed. Get in here, and take a load off.”

  Both Dabrowski and Styles did as they were told. Such good dogs.

  I asked, “What’s with the artillery?”

  Dabrowski did all the talking. “For predators like you. Ones that take pot shots through windows.”

  I rolled my eyes. There was no deterring him from his one tracked mind. “You got a permit for that thing?”

  “Why don’t you ask the police? You seem to have contacts.”

  “I’d rather hear it from you. Besides, it’s a .45. The cops might want it for testing. And you know how they are, they might lose it.”

  He tried covering his nervousness by pulling out a cigar and lighting the thing.

  “So, tell me what happened, Dabrowski. Who took a shot at you?”

  “How should I know? I got tons of enemies. I was sitting at home minding my own business, and the window shatters. I dove to the floor and crawled to safety.”

  “This was a particular enemy. The same one who killed Jeremy. What’s he got on you?”

  Dabrowski was almost whining again. “I don’t know. That’s why we moved to the city, more people. At the house, anyone could get me.”

  His reasoning was funnier than a three-dollar bill, but I wasn’t getting the answer I needed. “You and Jeremy shared information on this guy. Something he’s willing to kill for. What is it? When you can figure that out, we’ll have our killer.”

  “But I didn’t really know Jeremey. I met him through Damien, and he through Miss Gamal.”

  Damien Styles sat in a chair sucking on a cigarette and was quiet as a door mouse. He looked away as I focused on him.

  “Okay Styles, let’s hear what you have to say.”

  “Alex explained everything.”

  “How’d you meet Sylvia Gamal? She’s a bit out of your league.”

  “Doctor Gamal does lectures at the college. I attended one last year on Practical Psychology. Several students were chosen to visit her clinic in New York. I was one of them. She’s been very helpful in my studies.”

  Styles’ lips curled up as an insinuation, and it irked me. Whether it was college pup exaggeration or not, didn’t matter. More likely, their relationship was purely professional. Sylvia could have any male she wanted.

  “And Jeremey? Where’d you two meet?”

  “I met him and Deloris at one of Sylvia’s dinner parties. He helped me out after a drunken brawl at a bar. I would have been expelled if not for him.” Styles took another drag on his cigarette before continuing. “Jeremey was also helpful in my studies. He helped me visit places I wouldn’t normally have access to as a student.”

  For the life of me, I still couldn’t make heads or tails of anything. None of the connections seemed to fit together but stayed compartmentalized. Frustrated, I left the apartment. I thought about telling Duke about the .45 in the suitcase but filed it away for later. It was past time to see the Patterson twins.

  I took the lift up to the fifth floor and knocked. The door opened only far enough as the chain lock would allow. A vaguely pretty face peered out.

  “Yes?”

  Not knowing which twin I was talking to I said, “Miss Patterson, I’m Mr. Wrench. I’m working on the Wilkins shooting.”

  “Oh, yes. Just a minute.” The door closed, and I heard a chain rattle before the door again opened. This time Miss Patterson welcomed me into the apartment. “Come in, please.”

  Miss Patterson wasn’t bad looking for a swan in her gray suit dress. Her feathers were still bright white, though she could have had them bleached. But her dark eyes disguised any wrinkles she may have had.

  I took off my hat and stepped inside. A quick glance around showed me it was the same setup as Dabrowski’s place, only much more feminine. She led me to a pair of divans. A coffee table sat between them.

  We sat down, and she asked, “How can I help?”

  “Why don’t we start with which twin I’m talking to.”

  “I’m Annabel, Francine is out shopping.”

  “Has Duke Barrow been to see you yet.”

  Annabel bobbed her head gracefully. “Yes. Detective Barrow said we should be expecting you.”

  “You and your sister knew Jeremey from way back. Did anything seem different about him the night of the party?”

  “Not that I noticed.” She touched a feathered hand to her cheek as if in thought. “Let’s see. Jeremy talked to Deloris, not sure what about. Damien and he were laughing about something. Everything seemed normal.”

  “What about everyone else? Anyone get singled out?”

  “Sylvia and Deloris were talking about her wedding plans, but once the dancing started, that stopped.”

  “And after the party?”

  “We had a bite to eat and came home. Other than having to wake the super to let us into our apartment, nothing eventful happened.” Annabel ducked her head behind her hands and peeked at me through her feathers. “We’re always forgetting our key.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “We didn’t know a thing until a reporter called us asking what happened. Of course, we couldn’t tell him anything, and the police didn’t show up until today to ask questions.”

  Annabel stopped talking and cocked her head. “Excuse me. I think I left the water running.” Quick as a wink, she raced out of the room. I hadn’t heard any water, but I didn’t think anything of it.

  A stack of magazines sat on the end table, and I thumbed through them while I waited. When Annabel did come back, it wasn’t in the gray number she had on. But a royal blue negligee. When she passed by the window, you could see everything. It was mind boggling. I didn’t realize a bird could have that many curves.

&nb
sp; She sat down beside me. “I’m sorry I left you alone for so long.”

  “No problem.”

  She giggled and snuggled a little closer. Of course, it could have been to get to a box containing cigarettes. I was a little distracted by the size of her breasts.

  “Smoke?” she asked.

  “Er, no thanks.” With everything going on, I did not need to complicate it with a love life. Besides, I was hoping to see Sylvia later tonight.

  I watched as she lit up and blew smoke rings at the ceiling. How she could do that with a bill, I have no idea.

  “I’m not sure what else I can tell you. You could always check with my sister, we were together the entire time.”

  The negligee was a definite distraction, and it took me a minute to register what she said and peel my eyes away.

  “Not necessary. What I really need is the details. The ones that don’t seem important. Like anything odd about Jeremy in the days before the shooting.”

  “Sorry, I’m no help there. Neither I nor my sister are into gossip, and our circle of friends are few.”

  Annabel drew her legs up and turned toward me. In doing so, the negligee fell open, and she took her time in adjusting it.

  Unconsciously I licked my lips. “How long are you in town for?”

  “Just until Francine finishes her shopping spree. She loves beautiful clothes.”

  “And you?”

  “I take pleasure in living.”

  A couple of days ago I wouldn’t have believed she would say such a thing, but here was a female who took what she wanted and damn anything or anyone else.

  “How…” I had to cough to clear my throat and try again. “How do I tell you and your sister apart?”

  “One of us has a black feather on her right hip.”

  “You or Francine?”

  “Care to find out?”

  This female was looking for trouble. I hustled my butt off the divan and stretched. “Right now, I’ve got a job to do.”

  “Oh, come on. Haven’t you ever had a swan? And you’re such a big pussy.”

  She made no attempt to keep her negligee in place. It slipped down over her shoulder, baring white feathers. Shifting, she let the light sparkle off her thighs.

  I’m just a male. I leaned over for a kiss. Her wings encircled my neck as she strained to reach me. Her body was a hot coal, as her tongue searched mine, and I knew why she’d never married. No one male could satisfy her. I managed to grab the hem of her negligee and flipped it up. She let me drink in the sight of her.

  With that, I grabbed my hat. “Guess it’s your sister who has the black feather. Later.” Bolting for the door, I expected a string of curses. Instead, I heard laughter. Part of me speculated how Duke handled her before wondering if he put her in my path, hoping to waylay me.

  Two could play that game.

  CHAPTER 6

  When I saw the light on in the office, I knew Velvet was still there. Stopping at a mirrored door, I checked for lipstick marks on my person. I managed to wipe it off my mouth but removing it from my white collar was almost impossible. The only reason for the stuff to come off a female so quick and a male so hard must have something to do with marking territory.

  I walked into the office whistling, but Velvet took one look at me and bristled. Seeing something wrong, I asked, “What?”

  “You missed a spot.”

  I checked my cuffs and pulled at my collar, before she said. “Your ear.”

  My hands shot to my ears and sure enough, lipstick. How it had gotten there I had no idea, but I wasn’t going to waste time trying to figure it out. Velvet looked about ready to gut me. I hightailed it into my office without another word.

  Velvet had laid out a clean shirt and an unwrinkled tie. If she ever quit being a secretary, she could get an act as a mind reader. I cleaned up at the washbowl in the corner and changed. I didn’t dare ask Velvet for help with the tie. She probably would have hung me with it.

  Cleaned up and back on the streets, I ducked into a bar. The clock on the wall said it was still early, so I parked my behind, ordered a few drinks, and looked over my list. Other than making a few notes, it was a stare down with a blank page. My only consolation was that Duke was in the same boat.

  Everyone from the party had an alibi with a hole in it, and anyone of them could have circled back to Jeremy’s apartment to kill him. That included Deloris, and I couldn’t imagine her killing Jeremy. But then again, I wouldn’t have imagined Annabel Patterson as a nymphomaniac. Everything I knew or read painted them as sweet loners. I was looking forward to seeing Francine Patterson. Not to mention finding out the truth about her black feather.

  The Dabrowski incident had me worried. I knew I needed to check up on that, so I decided to change watering holes. The Gazelle Club was located in a neighborhood a body doesn’t go to unless they want to chance coming out in a bag. I knew the bear who ran the place. He backed me up during a shootout, and I repaid him by convincing a badger that Pat didn’t need to pay protection money. My name means something, and Pat is left alone to run his bar as he pleases.

  Pat was behind the bar when I came in. He gave me a toothy grin and shook my hand. The cheetah and wolf sitting at the bar gave me a nasty look until they heard Pat say. “What will it be Mr. Wrench? You’ve been away for a while.”

  On hearing my name, both cheetah and wolf moved to the far end of the bar.

  Pat, on the other hand, pulled me a beer and leaned on the bar. “What can I help you with?”

  “Are the numbers still running here?”

  Pat shifted, whipped out a glass, and looked around. “Yeah, same as every other place.”

  “Is Dabrowski still involved? I wouldn’t ask, but it’s murder. And you’d rather have me as your go between when it comes to the dogs in blue.”

  Pat glanced around again before leaning closer. “Yeah. But he’s not using the personal touch. Carriers only.”

  Figures. Even the post office employs Carrier Pigeons to deliver mail. Who would notice one more bird with a package?

  “Didn’t Clancy fly for Dabrowski? Is he still hanging about?”

  “He’s in the back. But he’s had a good job for the past few months. He’s even keeping bee’s.” Pat licked his lips and grinned. “Honey bees.”

  “You and your sweet tooth. Careful you don’t get a cavity.” I downed my beer and headed for the back. When I passed the cheetah and wolf on the way to the back door, my instincts went on alert. Those two were far too curious.

  Clancy was perched in the corner, reading a book by the light of the rooms only lightbulb. The table in front of him was covered in leaflets and magazines about bees. Boxes of forgotten items were stacked near the wall along with dice tables and a roulette wheel. Someone had boarded up the single window, and the lock to the door I’d come through was busted.

  The bird didn’t notice I’d come into the room. Clancy was a good egg, if a bit dim, even for a pigeon. I leaned down to be at eye level and in a voice a little too loud, announced my presence. “Hey, Clancy. Don’t you say hello to your friends anymore?”

  His feathers puffed out in every direction, and his book dropped to the table. Once he realized it was me, he grinned like a goof ball and smoothed down his ruffled feathers. “Kaiser Wrench, Gee, it’s been ages.” Clancy stuck out a feathered hand, and I shook it. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

  “Came to see you.”

  “Really?” Clancy hopped off his perch and attempted to move an old keg for me to sit down on. “Have a seat.”

  Taking pity on him, I grabbed the keg, moved it toward the table, and sat down with my back to the door so he could regain his perch.

  “So, Clancy, Pat tells me you’ve been keeping bees.” I couldn’t interrogate the bird, or he would close up worse than a clam. But if I got him on a subject he liked, he’d talk your ear off and then some.

  “Bees are great, and they like me lots. I built their hive all by myself.�
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  “And you’ve got a new job too.”

  If he had any teeth Clancy would have been showing them. He stood ramrod straight and said, “I’ve got a title. I’m the Errand Manager.”

  “Really? You must be busy being a manager.”

  Clancy bobbed his head up and down as he talked. “I am. Delivering packages, sweeping floors, and other stuff. It’s a great job and lots of fun.”

  “Does the job pay well.”

  “Loads. I get two-bits for every delivery. Sometimes twice that much. The Park Avenue swells are really nice.” Clancy leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I made a whole fifteen dollars last week.”

  That was a lot of cash for someone who lived as simply as Clancy. “Wow, how’d you manage to land such a good job?”

  “Well, Old Derby, he’s the deer who used to shine shoes in the Park Avenue offices, he got tuberculosis and had to go to one of those places in the mountains to shine shoes. I tried taking his place, but I wasn’t very good at shining. When people started asking me to do stuff, I did it. Now I run errands. I got the day off today so that I can see a guy about a queen bee so I can have two hives. Is five bucks too much, or is it just right?”

  I didn’t know a queen bee from a joker, but I wasn’t about to say so. But I did want to get more information and took a chance that Clancy might give it to me. “A fin sounds good to me. Didn’t Dabrowski get upset when you stopped working for him?”

  “Oh, no. He was real nice about me getting a better job. He even gave me ten dollars and told me that I could have my old job back any time I wanted it.”

  I wasn’t surprised. Clancy was honest to a fault. He’d never think of skimming money like other carriers who didn’t mind risking their tailfeathers for a buck.

  The smile on Clancy’s face turned to confusion, and I knew we were no longer alone in the room. When his eyes grew wide and feathers stuck out at odd ends, I knew I had to do something and fast. The small table made a great club and even better shield, so I grabbed it and twisted around right into the cheetah. Magazines and pamphlets went flying. I’d just missed getting raked by his claws. The wolf didn’t play around. He lunged at me with a knife. Too bad he wasn’t proficient with it. I managed to grab his wrist and break his scrawny arm right at the elbow. Ignoring his high pitch yelp of pain, I raked my claws deep, down and along his backside before turning my attention back to the cheetah.