Detective Fog and the Mission Pigeon

Chapter 43. The End of the Night

That night as Detective Fog returned to her office to conduct additional office work regarding her investigation, she heard the woop woop of a police car and then a voice from a speaker from the car like a foghorn said, "Malyssa Alafogiannis, stop, you're under arrest. Put your hands up."

She was crushed into the cement building wall by the time the voice had finished, and her hands were barely up before Leander Prince forced them behind her back and snapped handcuffs on her. She didn't recognize the voice of the officer on the loudspeaker and wondered where Dianthea was.

"You're under arrest," said Leander, "for illegal magic." He started to pull her toward the cop car.

She didn't resist, but she did object. "Finally figured that out. It's redundant to say illegal magic when all magic is illegal," she pointed out.

"We determined that the warehouse door couldn't have been opened without magic, was blown off its hinges. You're pretty tough, but you're not the Hulk." He opened the door to the backseat and forcefully placed his hand on her head to keep her from hitting it against the car and screaming police brutality.

Then Leander got into the passenger seat next to the female driver covered in shadows who kept her head turned away but wasn't Dianthea. The conversation continued.

"You know who we usually arrest for illegal magic charges? Mafia members." Leander had a look on his mouth like he wanted to spit but wouldn't do it in the car.

"Well, when you make something illegal, the effect tends to be that the people who do that something become criminals. When you put out blanket laws to make magic illegal, whether it's used to kill people and obscure forensic evidence or to save lives, then you're going to arrest a lot of bad guys — and a lot of good guys too. That doesn't make me part of the mafia. It just makes me a lawbreaker."

The lights on stores and bars streamed by, and so did the blocks of dark empty buildings, empty lots, gray corners barely touched by streetlights. The driver missed the turn for the police department, and Detective Fog sank back in the police seat. "Where are we going?" she asked.

Neither officer responded. Seconds passed, putting them further from the safety of a holding cell and closer to the depths of the industrial wasteland between the good part of the city and the waterfront on the east end. Neither officer responded to her question, but under a minute later, Leander had more to say. "So you admit to blasting open the warehouse doors?"

"No," said Detective Fog. "I have super strength. The ordinary variety, not magic. And I want to talk to my lawyer."

"I didn't like that guy," said Leander. "I don't think we'll be calling him up anytime soon. What a smart ass attitude. No thank you, I don't feel like dealing with him. We'll work this out between just us."

"So you're not going to arrest me, I guess. Am I going straight into the bay?" She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned forward to give Inspector Prince a death glare, a challenging duel staring contest. When he met her stare and locked his eyes with hers, there was also a gun in her face.

"You're at a disadvantage, Inspector," said Fog. "You haven't killed me yet because you want something. You want to have a talk. But you can't hold me at gunpoint because you can't disarm me. I can't be disarmed. Whenever I feel it's safe to do so, I can flip this car off the road. You have no time. Pull the trigger this second, or we're all going to become vehicle crash mortality statistics. Do you have any additional leverage, or should I just make my escape right now? I'm stalling too, I'll be honest, because I'd love it if there was some other way I could get out of this alive."

"For one thing," said Inspector Prince, "we have your sister." The way he was speaking, haltingly, and with lots of pauses, suggested he was buying time for something too.