Unidentified Flying Suspect (Illegal Alien Book 2) Page 15

  “I’m cleaning my house,” he said. “It’s been empty for months, you know. I did the bathroom and the living area right when I moved in, but I’m tired of living on takeout and pizza delivery, so I’m doing the kitchen. I should have cleaned out the dried goods before I left, but it’s water under the bridge now. Moldy, bug-infested water.”

  “Ewww. You need a hand?”

  The offer was reluctant, but I felt obligated.

  “Hell, no. I’m glad to have the excuse to take a break. But I hope you won’t mind if we sit out here rather than go into the house. It’s not too hot, is it?”

  “Not at all.”

  We sipped on our beers and made a little small talk for a while, but it had a strained quality to it. I kept trying to think of how to steer the conversation around to the things I wanted to know, but I couldn’t come up with a way to do it that didn’t make me seem like a total asshole. I felt like I should at least talk to the guy some before I pumped him for information, because he was really trying to be friendly, but I just couldn’t come up with things to talk about. I’d never had the best small talk skills to begin with. Somehow, endless chatting about politics and celebrity gossip left me cold, and it wasn’t like I had much in common with most people. Right now, my life consisted of detective work and exercise, with the occasional underground throttling.

  Luckily, he saved me the effort by saying, “This visit is nice and all, but why are you here? I had the feeling you didn’t want to see me again.”

  Now I felt guilty. I hung my head a little and said, “I’m sorry. I feel like we’re in this awkward no-man’s land. And I’m a little touchy about all this alien stuff for a variety of reasons.”

  “I can see that. So I should just drop that topic entirely, then.”

  “Well…no. I came over here because I had questions about it.” He gave me a startled look, and I couldn’t keep from chuckling a little. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “That’s an understatement.” He took a drink. “Okay, ask away. I’ll try to keep from scaring you off again.”

  Now I felt bad for my ambivalent feelings. I felt like I should pat him on the shoulder or react to that statement somehow, but I couldn’t come up with a way to do it that didn’t potentially communicate things I didn’t want to say. I shifted uncomfortably and just launched in.

  “Thanks. So…I was wondering about the Men in Black. I’ve read a bunch of the conspiracy books, so I know the basics. They show up when aliens have been seen; they claim to be from the government, only it’s impossible to track them down. They take all evidence of supposed alien contact, and they threaten people into staying quiet about what they’ve seen. But what evidence is there that they exist?”

  “Evidence? Not much, honestly. No one has pictures of them, or names, or anything. But if they take all the evidence with them, that would make sense.”

  “Which means there’s nothing to prove that they’re real. But you believe in them, don’t you?”

  “I know they’re real,” he said.

  “How?”

  He looked down at the ground. “I just know it. If aliens are real, the existence of the Men in Black makes perfect sense. But I don’t want to start ranting and piss you off again.”

  “So you don’t have evidence. Or any idea how I’d hunt down some Men in Black if I wanted to.”

  “Nobody finds the Men in Black. They find you. Have they?”

  I paused for a long time, trying to figure out how much I could tell him. Eventually, I settled for an “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.”

  “Audrey, this is an impossible situation. You’re interested in learning more, but you’re not quite sure what to ask. And I might know more, but I’m trying to hold back in the hopes that I don’t sound like a complete lunatic. That leaves us at an impasse, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it sure does.”

  I paused to think, but he was right. I didn’t know what questions to ask. I knew I needed answers, but to what? I had to find Agent Morgenstern, but I couldn’t get access to the tapes, and it wasn’t like I could just look up the local Men in Black office in the White Pages. Erich couldn’t possibly know anything that could help me find the agents who had broken into the lab. Or Tsishe. And they were the ones I really needed to talk to.

  In the meantime, all I could do was ask questions about conspiracy theories. I needed to know if I could trust Tsishe, and how to get her to trust me, but I didn’t know how to do that either. Erich couldn’t help me with any of these things. My brilliant idea had turned into another dead end.

  “So is that it?” he asked after I’d been silent for a while.

  “For now, I guess. I don’t think you can help with any of my questions. But if I come up with more, can I ask you?”

  “Absolutely. Would you try to punch me if I kissed you?”

  “Absolutely.” We grinned at each other a little, and the tension abated some. “At least we understand each other now, right?”

  “It’s a miracle,” he said. We clinked our beer bottles together and took a drink.

  CHAPTER 28

  Paranoia could be a killer in my line of work, which was part of the reason I was paranoid about being paranoid. Even without the alien complication, it was a stressful job. The average person might worry that someone was out to get them, but I knew it to be true without a doubt. The criminals I’d put away wanted my head. Some of their parents probably wanted the head on a pike for good measure. Of course, a lot of the criminals in question were safely stowed away in jail and hopefully wouldn’t be free for a long time, but parole happened. Their parents didn’t share in their sentencing, even though that might have been warranted in some cases. And that didn’t take into the equation the fine folks I’d tried to pin crimes on who’d managed to get away scot free. They hated me too.

  The situation made for some long nights and extra locks on my door if I wanted to sleep. Mrs. Gunderson, my landlady, really hadn’t been pleased at the unorthodox renovations, but she would have been less so if my door got kicked in, so I’d insisted.

  I’d gotten used to the low levels of anxiety that came with working as a cop after all this time. Sometimes it got worse, particularly around full moons and political elections, but I’d found ways to deal with it. But since Ronda’s death, my anxiety had gotten particularly bad. I didn’t know what dangers to expect, and so I’d tried to prepare for everything. Months of waiting had only served to worsen the problem when doubt crept in. Now, the whole alien mess had reared its ugly, no-mouthed head again, and part of me felt relieved while the rest felt paranoid as all hell.

  Agent Morgenstern and his yahoos had found out about the sample Sheila had been testing. What if they learned that I had one too? What if they stole it while I was at work, or broke in while I slept? Then I’d have nothing. I still didn’t know how to make use of the sample, but I needed it. If anything, just to help me on those days when I suspected I’d hallucinated the entire thing.

  I had to put the sample somewhere safe. My apartment definitely wasn’t—it had been broken into last winter, and I didn’t feel confident in my ability to secure the Sankanium there. I wanted to put it somewhere else, somewhere that Morgenstern might not think to check. It was probably paranoia, but I’d rather be paranoid with Sankanium than mentally stable without it.

  But where? I didn’t like the idea of stowing it somewhere public where anyone might be able to stumble over it. Most people wouldn’t think to pick up a random chunk of rock, but with my luck, the most avid amateur geologist in Lucas County would stumble on it. Normally, I’d just stash it at work, but Morgenstern had just waltzed in there. Which meant that I had to stash it with somebody. Someone I could trust. But then, I’d be putting them in danger, wouldn’t I?

  Of course, just by virtue of their connection with me, my friends and family had inherited a low grade level of danger. So if I did it smart, I wasn’t exactly upping the ante here. My best bet would be to disguise the delivery.
I put the rock in the bottom of a big bag full of assorted memorabilia I’d meant to drop off at Aunt Rose’s house. I stored a lot of stuff in her attic, since my apartment had a tragic lack of sufficient closet space. It was normal for me to drop things off to her house on the way to work. Anyone watching wouldn’t think twice about it. It was the best I could do.

  So, the next morning, I got up early and took my precious alien evidence over to Aunt Rose’s house. I’d see her at Shabbat dinner on Friday, but it set my mind at ease to check in on her throughout the week. Not that she was helpless. Even at her advanced age, she was the biggest badass I knew. If anyone tried to break into her house, I felt sorry for them. It had happened once before, and she’d chased the fools out with a shotgun. Scared the crap out of me in the process too.

  Aunt Rose met me at the door and kissed me on the cheek. Her skin felt so delicate and frail under my lips when I kissed her back, but the rest of her was as spry as ever. She pulled back from the embrace and said, “Well, isn’t that a fine hunk of man.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  She pointed at a jogger passing by the house. He was young and more hairy than I generally preferred, and his short shorts and no shirt combo left very little to the imagination. Those shorts were so tiny that I half expected his balls to pop out the bottom and start clang-clanging away.

  “Gay,” I pronounced.

  “Honey, the good ones always are,” she declared. “Come on in. Get out of the way, shit-for-brains.”

  She shoved the dog aside so I could make it through the door, but that was as far as I got. Dumbass, her giant mastiff, stopped me to demand back scratches and offer face licks in return, although I tried to keep the latter to a minimum because I had some small inkling of where that tongue had been. His tail thumped against the wall with force as I rubbed his ears, and it made me feel even better about my choice. The Sankanium would be safe here.

  “You want some coffee? I got some Bailey’s to put in it,” said Aunt Rose, who had the alcohol tolerance of the average college fraternity pledge class.

  “Plain coffee, please. I’ve got to go to work.”

  She went into the kitchen to pour, and I followed her. The place looked much the same as it had when Greg and I lived in this house with her. The same flowered wallpaper, now faded with age. The same tidy counters, and the toaster shaped like a Death Star that Greg had gotten her one year for Hanukkah. The only difference so far as I could see was that the dining table now sported three chairs instead of four.

  “You’re missing a chair,” I said, accepting a cup and blowing on it. Steam billowed out into my face, and it was already humid in the house although she had the windows open to catch the last of the day’s bearable air. “What happened?”

  “Chair yoga. They said at synagogue that it was easier for us old fogeys than the regular yoga. Easier, my ass. I went over sideways and broke the leg off the chair.”

  I looked at her in alarm. “Are you hurt? Where did you fall?”

  “On the carpeting, Audrey. Don’t have a shit fit.” She waved a hand at me, sipping her own coffee, which must have been cooler than mine on account of the alcohol she’d added. “I’m old. I’m going to fall sometimes. If I break something, I’ll go to the hospital, and maybe I’ll luck out and get some cute young doctor.”

  I snorted. “You can see the same guy I saw. Incredibly handsome, no personality.”

  “Just the way I like ‘em.” She set the cup down on the table and gave me a long once-over. “That neck of yours looks pretty nasty.”

  “It’s healing.”

  “You get the bastard who did it yet?”

  “No, but I’m working on it. The case has gotten…complicated. I’m wondering if I could stash some stuff in your attic for a while. I’ve got some of Greg’s old stuff, and there’s a thing from work. We had someone break into the office and take some stuff, so I can’t stash it there. Is that okay?”

  Her brow furrowed with concern. “Someone broke into the police department offices? How the hell?”

  “Exactly. I know it’s a lot to ask. If you’re not comfortable hiding it here, we could take it to the synagogue. No one would think to look there.”

  “Don’t be silly, Audrey. Put it in the attic with all the other junk. If somebody comes looking for it, Dumbass will appreciate the snack. If I don’t riddle them with buckshot first.”

  Now that she’d said yes, I was really second guessing the choice. I felt like I was putting my need to solve this case over the safety of my family, and I didn’t like that.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I should just carry it around with me.”

  “Audrey, a thousand caper movies say you’re wrong. Leave the damned thing here and quit worrying.” She frowned. “Although maybe you should keep yourself here too. Dumbass’ll gnaw on anybody who tries to get in here. He could use some more protein in his diet.”

  The dog lifted his head from the floor where he rested at our feet. His tail thumped once, hopefully, but when we failed to feed him or say his name again, he went back to dozing in the sun.

  I wanted to dismiss the suggestion out of hand, but Aunt Rose would have none of that. Instead, I forced myself to consider it. Did I need to stay here, for her security as much as mine?

  “Let me see how today goes,” I said finally. “If the case gets any stickier, I promise I’ll come and stay. I should probably put this stuff away and get to work.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Let me see it first.”

  Aunt Rose stood up and peered into the brown paper bag. It was full of a bunch of trophies from music competitions Greg had won over the years, along with a couple of stuffed animals I’d found tucked in the bottom of his closet, souvenirs of girlfriends past. Underneath all the clutter sat another brown paper lunch bag. My sample of Sankanium wasn’t all that big. Maybe the size of a baseball. It would blend in almost invisibly with Aunt Rose’s collection of old photos, heirlooms, holiday decorations, and other assorted crap she kept in the attic. Even if Agent Morgenstern figured out where I’d stashed it, it would take him and his yahoos at least a day to find it in all that mess during which I could come over and beat the shit out of them.

  “What is it?” asked Aunt Rose.

  If I was going to stash it here, she deserved the truth. And if Aunt Rose had demonstrated anything over all these years, it was that she was unflappable.

  “It might be a piece of an alien ship,” I said. “But I don’t know for sure just yet.”

  “I bet lots of people would be after such a thing, if that’s what it turned out to be,” she mused. “Okay. Take it up to the attic and hide it good. If anyone comes after my niece’s UFO bits, I’ll shoot them full of more holes than a block of Swiss cheese.”

  “You’re the best, Aunt Rose,” I said, rising up from my seat to hide the Sankanium like she’d suggested.

  “I know.”

  “But you make your coffee too hot.”

  “Don’t you know, dear?” she said. “That’s what liquor was invented for.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Before I left Aunt Rose’s house for work, I offered to take Dumbass out to the dog park down the street. Aunt Rose used to take him there on a fairly frequent basis, but Dumbass was a serial humper, and as amusing as that was, visits to the park seemed to agitate him. After the third dinner spent with him getting it on with one of our legs, she’d curtailed his park visits to avoid exposing him to fewer cute poodles and getting him all riled up in the process.

  Early mornings tended to be less busy, and a dog of his size needed a level of exercise that their small yard couldn’t provide. So off we went with a ball launcher and some shit baggies for a quick run before I left for the day.

  The morning had dawned pleasant and cloudless. It hadn’t gotten too humid yet, so I was quite comfortable in my work pants and short sleeved button down. When it got ungodly hot, I’d sometimes wear skirts, but they weren’t the most practical clothin
g for a chase. If I was going to slide down an embankment to chase a killer or wake up unconscious in a drainage tunnel, I preferred not to worry about exposing my underwear on top of it all.

  Dumbass behaved himself quite well at the park. It helped that the place was deserted, although he amused himself by sniffing around and spreading his piss over about fifty square feet of grass and trees. After that, I threw the ball for him for about ten minutes, trying to wear him out. He didn’t seem all that tired, but by the end, he was panting heavily, and it would have to do. I wanted to get into the office and try to make some progress on something. It felt like the whole police department stood on shaky ground, and I didn’t want to get knocked loose when the pieces began to fall. Something told me that a career change at my age wouldn’t go well, despite my internet troll for job opportunities. Realistically, I knew it wasn’t the best idea. The market for middle-aged strippers with attitude problems probably wasn’t all that great, although once I thought of it, I really wondered if that was so.

  I was amusing myself with thoughts about middle-aged women in aprons prancing around naked and nagging at people when I noticed someone sitting on a bench just outside the dog run, next to a small play structure. Another woman in a burka, and although I knew they were a dime a dozen, I moved closer to get a better look at her just in case. She watched me as I approached and nodded in acknowledgement of my presence. The gamble paid off. It was Tsishe.

  I leashed the dog and led him through the gate. As we approached, Tsishe put her hand out to him to sniff. His nose snuffled at her glove, and he seemed really interested by whatever scents he found there. He kept on rooting at her hand much longer than usual. She’d probably eaten something that morning, and the gloves picked up the smell.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” I quipped.

  She either didn’t get the joke or thought it was stupid, because she didn’t react. Instead, she looked up at me and said, “I wait for you.”

  “How do you always know where to find me?” When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to answer, I pressed on. “Are you tailing me? Got someone to inform on me? Because it’s not exactly inspiring my trust here.”