Gumshoe

by Amanda Rohrssen


Chapter Four


The curve of the top of my cane was a blur as I twirled it intently between my hands. Though my gaze was directed toward it, my focus was not on the curved rod but on the worn wanted poster across the room. I was in the holding cell at the police station, and had been for about two hours now. Between the bars Jake’s black-and-white eyes leered at me from underneath the bold $10,000 reward. We had been having a staring competition since I had arrived. There was nothing that filled me with as much revulsion and fortitude than looking into the eyes of my greatest foe.

Mostly I was angry at myself. It had been an obvious trap, and Miss McCawber had paid the price. I had believed I would unravel Jake’s scheme by playing into it; instead, I had given him exactly what he wanted. In this game of wits we were equally matched. What it came down to was timing and bit of psychology. Every so often one would catch the other in a moment of excessive pride, and that was the time to strike. I had been so absorbed in my adroit detective work that I hadn’t actually been doing it, and Jake knew that and had taken advantage of it so that he was free to follow through with his plan.

But now was not the time for self-depreciation. I had to think of a way to warn J. Gander.

“Hey cripple, you got a light?”

Ignoring the grating voice behind me, I wondered why the Fearsome Five had been there at the exact moment that Steelbeak and more of Jake’s goons were in a nearby wing. I didn’t believe in coincidence. They couldn’t be working together…could they?

“Hey, I’m talkin’ ta you!”

A burly canine with a massive barrel-shaped chest lumbered in front of me and shoved my shoulder, momentarily jerking me from my sitting position.

“If you can call that pathetic drunken slurring of yours talking,” I replied calmly.

The prisoner snatched the collar of my shirt and wrenched me up to his eye level. “What did you say to me??” he snapped. His teeth were yellow and sharp, and his breath reeked of tequila.

“You know,” I gagged against the stench, “I’m getting really tired of everyone forcing me upright. It’s a bit rude, wouldn’t you say? Now…unhand me or else you’re going to find yourself with quite a few broken bones…and it will take more than a few drinks to numb the pain.”

“Oh, a wise guy, eh? Break dis!”

I easily ducked beneath his meaty fist, and while he was off-balance, I threw my own punch to his exposed abdomen. My hit was accurate, precisely below the rib cage, and I could hear the air being forced out of his lungs. He wheezed, angrier now, and lunged to throw me off my feet. It worked. My back slammed into the metal bars with a sickening thunk, and he struck me in rapid succession. That is, until I clamped onto his fist and leapt to my feet. With a sharp tug I spun him around, keeping hold of his hand, and jerked his arm up toward his neck. I could hear the tendons strain and snap. It only took an extra little push to break the bone.

A pain-filled howl tore through the police station, and the officers on staff paused to turn in our direction. I kept going. I had had enough of low-lifes believing they could take advantage of Jacob Mallard.

Soon his arm wasn’t the only thing broken. His foot. His nose. Two fingers. That’s when three officers came in to remove me from the holding cell.

“Knock it off! Settle down, settle down, Mallard!”

“Trublood?” The familiar voice had cut through the adrenaline, and I heaved a few deep breaths before regaining myself.

My old cop friend looked at me with concern. “Yeah, man. What happened?”

I sighed. “I’m fine. Where’s my cane?”

“Here.” Trublood handed me the ebony stick, unease continuing to inhabit his eyes. “You’re in luck, you won’t have to go back to your friend over there. Someone posted bail.”

I straightened myself, ignoring the sharp pain in my stomach where the cad had pummeled me, and raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Me.” I turned my head toward the new voice and was immediately struck dumb.

~*~

“Listen up, you sniveling simpletons!” I barked. “Jake works out of Miss Abby’s Bake Shop on Old McDonald Boulevard. I say we go over there and show him –"

The rickety phone on the wall rang haltingly, interrupting my plans. I was enraged at being cut off, but I was also curious as to who was calling. Maybe it was the mayor, trying to cut a deal since the city was still unaware of Jake’s burglary. Or maybe it was Jake himself, calling to gloat. The thought boiled my blood.

“What?!” I snapped into the receiver. I had nearly yanked the telephone off of its wall mount.

“My, my, someone’s in a bad mood,” a smooth voice purred.

It was her. “What do you want?”

“I’ve kept up my end of the deal. SHUSH is yours…or it will be in about twenty minutes.”

I had forgotten all about this little sidetrack. It only took two seconds for me to figure out how it would work to my advantage given my current situation.

“How?”

“I’ve rigged multiple gas bombs throughout the building, all set to go off at the same time. If you and your boys want to raid the labs and the records office, you’ll want to bring masks.”

“If this is a set-up…”

“Relax. I know you’re a ‘big, tough criminal.’ Now, I’d like to chat longer, but I’ve got to establish my reign in the upscale district. Ciao.”

Even her irritating demeanor didn’t pierce my sudden delight. I slammed the receiver back in its cradle for good measure, then whirled on my dark-haired hostage.

“Well, it seems I still have a use for you, doctor.”

~*~

I looked at my pocket watch impatiently. She should have been here by now.

“Hey boss!” one of my ignorant lackeys shouted from across the room.

I rolled my eyes and ground my teeth together, managing to keep my temper in check. When I was in control of Saint Canard, the first thing I was going to do was hire a new, better set of men.

“Yes?”

“It’s all set-up; should we bring in the girl now?”

My trademark sinister smirk crept over my bill. “No, Horatio, I believe I will escort the lady personally.”

“Escort? Isn’t that some kinda fancy French food?”

I sighed heavily. It was hard working with such buffoons. “I believe you are referring to ‘escargot’.”

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.”

“Idiot,” I muttered.

We had kept our young hostage in one of the many small rooms in the back, and I relished every chance I got to revel in her helpless situation.

“Knock, knock,” I said sardonically as I entered the tiny space. “Are you decent?”

She scowled at me from the corner she was curled up in.

“Aww, what’s the matter? You don’t like your room? Here, maybe this will cheer you up.” I produced a small baguette from my coat pocket and tossed it at her. She devoured it as if she hadn’t eaten for weeks. The sight made me laugh darkly. “Well, I guess this wasn’t voted the best bakery in Saint Canard for nothing!”

With a glare, she threw the remainder of bread at me, and I caught it before it could hit my face.

“Feisty, are we? Save some of it for when that second-rate detective shows up for you.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked quietly, and the fear in her voice satisfied me greatly.

“Oh, you’ll see…you’ll see.”

~*~

“Why did you do it, John?” I asked as we both walked toward his old jalopy.

“Do what?”

“Bail me out. Isn’t this interfering with ‘SHUSH business’?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

I shrugged. “Well, sure, but…I have to admit I’m a little surprised to see you.”

“I was equally surprised to hear of your arrest over the radio. I know you couldn’t have been involved in the robbery, but why were you there at all?”

“I was following a lead on a missing person case.”

He paused beside the driver’s side door with a raised brow. I smiled.

“All right, all right, it was a lead on Jake. His men jumped me and I ran into the Fearsome Five, but I bested them all.”

“Is that why they got away with the Roman Candle?”

“The Roman what?”

I slid into the beat-up seat and waited until he’d started the ignition for an answer.

“It’s a highly decorated scepter the Roman emperors used to emphasize their power. It’s rumored to hold the spirit of the thirteenth Roman emperor, Leo.”

“Why would they want that?”

J. Gander shrugged. “Why do they want anything? You know how often their acts of violence and burglary are randomized.” He was quiet for a moment before asking, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

I shook my head. “No. Just a lot more questions.”

“Well, I have a few questions of my own. The original files on the RMCD are missing.”

I wasn’t at all surprised. Though SHUSH prided itself on its security and its extremely high standards, that didn’t exempt it from corruption.

“Who has access to them?”

“Myself, Dr. Bellum, and my chief agent.”

“And I presume Dr. Bellum is still missing? Any word on her whereabouts?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmm. And what was the security like on the files?”

“W-well, they were behind two sets of lead-lined locked doorways with separate codes necessary to open them. And even then, the cabinet they were stored in only opened with the correct key.”

“Or a very nice set of lock picks.”

Apparently John didn’t appreciate my sense of humor; the rest of the drive was spent in silence.

On the way into SHUSH, I was met with a pleasant surprise. The chief agent, it seemed, was just getting off of duty.

“Ah, Miss Barrow.”

She glanced at her wristwatch, gave me a nod, and smiled. “Detective.”

“I’ll catch up with you in a moment, John. I’d like to ask your chief agent a few questions.”

The gander looked questioningly from me to Annie, but continued inside. “I’ll be in the laboratory when you’ve finished.”

I waited until John was inside before addressing Annie again. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. What brings you to SHUSH?”

“Apparently some files were stolen.”

“Yes, this morning. I don’t suppose you might relinquish the copies that you have from the late Agent Gryzlikoff’s apartment…”

“I might, for a price.”

She scoffed, then checked the time again. “Figures.”

I only shrugged. “Hey, a guy’s gotta eat.”

She regarded me silently with those intriguing hazel eyes, and I could only stare back with a blank mind.

“Mr. Mallard, may I ask you a personal question?”

I shifted my weight, breaking her spell over me. I never liked for things to get too personal. Still, what could she possibly want to know about me?

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On the question.”

She sighed, a bit exasperated with my banter, but continued. “Did Jake murder your wife and daughter just to get at you? Because of the rivalry between you?”

Immediately all humor was gone from me. This was a topic I seldom enjoyed dredging up, but I felt somehow that it was important that she know.

“No. It was vengeance.”

“Vengeance?” she repeated, her brow knitted slightly.

“I set a trap for him, one that would ensure his indictment, but I caught his brother instead. And it was he who suffered Jake’s fate. Electrocution. Jake went mad when he heard the news and killed his own wife. He blamed me for both their deaths and went after my family while I was on a case. I caught wind of his plans an hour too late…I… couldn’t save them. Only my son survived. Thank God he wasn’t home.

“Jake was never convicted for it, but I knew it was him. They could never find the murder weapon. I’ve been trying to put him away for good ever since.”

She moved forward with pity in her eyes, but my face was stone cold. I hated the look she gave me more than anything. It was the main reason I had taught myself to keep emotion at bay. That, and it was easier to move forward if I didn’t allow myself to grieve.

“I’m so sor—"

“Don’t,” I snapped, a little more harshly than I meant. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I don’t want your sympathy.”

“And what is it you do want, detective?”

I smiled darkly. “Jake’s head on a silver platter.”

Suddenly her arms were around my neck, and her beak was fiercely pressed against mine. I was so caught off guard, I could barely move. Still, I had to admit, she was a damn good kisser.

Just as my hands started to encircle her waist, she pulled back.

“Well,” she said breathlessly as she glanced at her watch, “I’d love to stay and do this more, but I’ve got a craving for something sweet.”

I smirked. “I’m not sweet enough for you, eh?”

She returned the look. “The last thing I would describe you as, Mr. Mallard, is sweet.” With that, she tossed her crimson hair over her shoulder and sauntered down the SHUSH steps.

I watched her for a few moments before heading in to find J. Gander.


The meeting was boring, as usual. My old friend was much too serious, but I humored him with promises of helping his men with their investigation. It was hard keeping the irony to myself. A time ago he had told me to stay out of SHUSH business, and here he was asking for my help. But, as he had said, we were friends.

On the way out, I happened across Miss Barrow’s office. Telling myself I wanted to go in out of a keen investigatory sense rather than because I simply wanted to find out more about her, I entered.

The first thing I noticed was that it was neat and organized, quite the foil to my own office. The second thing I noticed was that the space was devoid of any personal affects. Either Miss Barrow had no need for knick-knacks and photographs or she wasn’t planning on staying here long.

As I casually strode through the room, eyes passing over bare wall and empty desk, I thought about just how much I knew of its inhabitant, and I was not at all surprised to come up with little more than her name. She had been quick to extract my confidence, however, and that, admittedly, burned. Why had she been so interested in me? Naturally she was drawn to my charm and good looks, but there was no discernible reason she’d needed to pry into my personal life. Was it simple curiosity, or was it something more?

I opened the top drawer of her desk only to find a few sharpened pencils and blank typewriter paper. It was the next drawer that caught my attention. It was locked.

No matter. I could pick a lock in my sleep. This time I used a discarded paperclip, and when I had the drawer open, I was met with a peculiar sight. One that made the pieces begin to fall into place.

~*~

From the shadows I watched as the old clock tower near SHUSH Central struck 6:00p.m. My miserable mob was crowded behind me, burning with anticipation. The good doctor stood at the rear, between Megavolt and Quackerjack. Liquidator moved forward eagerly as the last chime of the clock faded in the air, and I yanked his watery hide back into darkness.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I hissed darkly.

“But boss,” he whined in that pathetic wavering voice of his, “it’s been twenty minutes! Time to see if results are as advertised.”

I hated the way that idiot talked. But then, I hated everyone.

“It’s time when I say it’s time.” I paused, glowering back at all of them until I was satisfied with their quivering, then grinned devilishly. “It’s time. Put your gas masks on.”

There was no one in sight to stop us as we walked through the front doors of SHUSH Headquarters. The first thing I noticed was the unconscious bodies. Most of them were huddled near doorways and windows, unsuccessful agents that had tried to flee the invisible gas. It brought a smile to my face.

As infuriating as that bothersome blonde was, she’d kept her word. SHUSH was mine.

I moved toward Dr. Bellum and seized her by the back of the head, curling my fingers into her hair and pulling her toward me. Her eyes started to grow defiant until I pulled out a pistol and aimed it at her forehead.

“Now, doctor…” I crooned lowly. “Which way to the lab…?”

She raised an eyebrow.

I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You’re gonna build me another weapon…a better weapon than the RMCD…just in case things turn sour when I confront that no-good father of mine.” My grip on her tightened, and I could hear her gasp in pain. I loved the sound. “’Cause if you don’t…I’ll blow a hole right through your little dream of winning that Nobel Prize…” I cocked the hammer of the gun to make my point and watched her eyes widen. It made me chuckle as I shoved her back into the custody of my men. “Take her to the lab and don’t bother me until she’s done! I’ve got some things to take care of.”

They hauled her off and I was left alone with the silent agents. I went room by room until I came across the one I wanted. Without caution I stalked into Director Hooter’s office and was delighted to find the old bird drooling on his desk, completely out cold.

I removed a permanent black marker from my pocket. Oh, how I was going to enjoy this…

Two minutes later I was just finishing up the last half of a thick, curly mustache drawn across the director’s bill to complete the hilarious face graffiti when I decided not to waste any more time on these shenanigans.

I had the Roman Candle, and according to the dame and Dr. Bellum, it was the only power source for the SHUSH weapon that Jake had stolen from me. I was going to use it as a bargaining tool. And if it happened that Jake somehow got the scepter from me, which was unlikely given my superior prowess, at least I had a hostage to build me a weapon that would surpass Jake’s. Either way, this city would be mine.

I added one more coat of black to the left side of Hooter’s spectacles, then set out for Miss Abby’s Bake Shop.

~*~