BOILER

Chapter 11

Charlie led Spice up the steps to check-in. Spice kept tripping on nothing because he wasn't picking his feet up. He was led through check-in, and then down a set of stairs to holding cells in the basement. He was feeling very sorry for himself and that's how he walked, like a stiff breeze could knock him down. A warden unlocked a cell ahead of them and beckoned them down. A man from another cell watched them go by and said, 'I'd keep an eye on him. He looks like a cutter.'

Spice looked back at Charlie. 'It smells damp down here,' he said.

'It is damp down here,' Charlie said.

'I got asthma.'

'Does damp make it worse?'

'It doesn't make it better.'

'Well then, I guess just tell someone if you stop breathing. Anything else I can do for you?'

Spice saw his new bed. 'Clean mattress?' he asked.

'Talkers get clean beds,' Charlie said. He gave him a little push — a little push was all that was needed — then he dragged the cell door shut.

Charlie felt good about himself and at ease with his world as he walked back to the stairs, but then he heard Toland's voice echoing down them. He hopped a few to see Toland standing in the entrance and leaning over a tubby patrolman.

'What do you mean he got away?' Toland asked.

'He wasn't at home,' the patrolman said, just as loud. He started pointing at no direction in particular. 'We were setting up when Mick down there saw him skulking about the street. We chased him but he had a good head start.'

Toland counted three more of the fat men sent to pick up Marcus. 'Jesus, he said. They're still out of breath.'

'He was fast,' the patrolman said.

'He didn't need to be,' Toland said.

'I told you we should've gone,' Charlie said, coming to the door.

'There's more,' the patrolman said.

Toland shook his head. 'So, now we have a fugitive. What are you doing about it?'

'We put it over the radio already. And we've had the dogs up there. Look, I'm confident we'll pick him up, but anyway, you wanted this guy for murder, right?'

'Right.'

'Well, we found something on that.' Another patrolman brought up a blackened piece of fabric. 'We found this in a fire pit out back. All this rain must've saved it.'

He folded the fabric over his forearm and pulled it about until he found a blackish-red stain. 'I don't know what you boys think, but that looks like blood to me.'

'I guess you might call that good work,' Toland said, taking the fabric.

'Did you search the house?' Charlie asked.

'Yeah, the mutts were having a good sniff, but we didn't find anything yet.'

Toland left them all at the door and went up to his desk. He put the coffee on and stood with his arms folded.

'We should've gone,' Charlie said. He picked up some papers from his desk and walked after Toland.

'They're big boys, Charlie. I didn't think we'd have to escort them. And this might wind up a win anyway. What have you got there?'

'Some stuff from public office,' Charlie said, brushing through the papers. 'He's supposed to be employed at the docks it says here. You wanna head down there?'