Eldritch Noir

Part VI

Alaric watched the stretcher be loaded into the back of the ambulance. The body bag was black and bulged around Ozzy's plump stomach. In Alaric's mind, he saw the bloody face of a young boy, his nose broken and his eye swollen, a paparazzi whose face Ozzy had bashed against the curb. Alaric pondered if his friend would be sent to hell, and he wondered if he'd see Alaric's father.

In the parking lot, several squad cars flashed red and blue lights on the surrounding buildings. Reneé sat in the back of another ambulance, a security blanket draped over her shoulders. She was leaning forward, and the tears on her face hadn't dried yet. She hadn't been harmed physically. Marlboro and Captain Fields questioned her from outside the ambulance. Alaric couldn't hear what they were saying, and he doubted Reneé or Marlboro would share the information with him later.

Marlboro loosened his tie by the ambulance as Fields asked Rose more questions.

"...sure you never got a good look at him?" he said.

"No," she responded. "Ozzy was going out to pick up my prescription." She was leaning forward and looking at the space between her feet. "That's why he didn't check the door. Normally, he does when someone knocks. He turned back to ask me something as he opened the door, and then I just heard three loud pops and suddenly there was all this yelling and Alar... Mr. Hawthorne was in my apartment."

"Ma'am, this residence isn't under your name," Fields reminded her. "How do you suppose this individual knew where you were?"

"I don't know... maybe he's just some sick psycho who was planning a robbery. Maybe he was on drugs or something."

Fields led Marlboro by the shoulder away a few feet before saying to him, "You really fucked up here, Marlboro."

Fields was about Marlboro's age, with a thick gray mustache and an eagle-like haircut. He had sympathetic hazel eyes that conflicted with Marlboro's rough brown ones.

"You're a good cop," Fields continued. "I know it's been a while, but I remember what it was like on the streets. I know sometimes you have to do what it takes. But you fucked up in trusting the PI."

"I didn't trust him... I don't trust him," Marlboro insisted. But that wasn't entirely true. They weren't close, but aside from the anti-Christ bullshit, Hawthorne had never lied to Marlboro until now. Marlboro felt dirty, not because Hawthorne lied to him, but because, for a short while, he had forgotten they weren't real partners. He felt like one of those dumbasses who fell in love with a hooker.

"Maybe this is a sign of the times," Fields said. "Maybe it's time I retire... and you take the captain's exam." Marlboro had expected Fields to say many things, but he hadn't expected that. Fields took a second to gauge Marlboro's reaction and then continued. "You and I have always been close. I still remember those days together in the patrol car. You were a good cop then, and you still are, but maybe it's time for me to leave, and maybe it's time for you to take a step back from the footwork."

"You don't want to leave," Marlboro stated. "You're talking like a damned idiot."

"I'd be an idiot not to admit that you're still as hotheaded as you were in your twenties. I still think about your dad. All the time. I don't want to go out like that."

In his coat pockets, Marlboro squeezed his fists shut.

"Jeff," Marlboro eased, trying not to sound angry.

"I know this hurts to hear," Fields interrupted. "But your dad didn't know when to get out. And my time is coming. I can feel it. But you still have the same fire inside that carried you through the academy. I hope you know it when your time is up."