Spider's Game ((Book One) #Wattys2016 Winner!)

Chapter 3- The Chief of Police

The Chief of Police Berrick Trehar watched as his brother Henri entered the restaurant with a svelte gentleman. The man was tall and ebony-skinned, a color that labeled him as an alternate humanoid. Since splitting to multiple worlds, some races had departed from the original human strain, and skin the color of smoke crossing a night sky was a mutation. Reddish-black hair fell to his shoulders.

Every female eye in the dimly lit restaurant traveled to him with hunger. The reaction struck Berrick as extreme, another mutation along with the skin tone perhaps. As it was, Berrick became even more wary. Even women who had not been facing the cad, turned as if sensing his entrance.

The chatter from the other tables died. In the stillness, the clink of a single glass and a knife hitting a plate, rang like claps of thunder. The cessation of sound lasted only a moment, but when noise returned, voices throughout the restaurant remained hushed.

Where did my brother come across that man, a con artist no doubt?

On seeing Berrick's name, the hostess had seated him by the bay windows, the best seat in the house. He'd almost asked for a privacy curtain, as once it got around that the planet's chief of police was in residence, he tended to receive more attention than he desired.

Seeing his brother and this man approach him, Berrick was thankful he hadn't obtained the curtain. He didn't want to be out of public view with them. In the years since he'd seen Henri, his brother had become pudgy around the middle, and many of the thick hairs over his body had gone gray. The look in Henri's eye was the same base hunger as always, with a twist of fear.

Berrick stood, jostling the table, so the glasses clinked against each other.

Henri reached the table first and strode up beside Berrick. The other man moved with a shuffling walk that didn't fit with the graceful look he presented, and positioned himself on the other side of the table, leaning one smoke black hand on the lacy tablecloth.

Berrick wished he was back home with his daughter. Family was family and so he had come. Learned my lesson. Does no good trying to let family sort out their own messes when they crossed the law. Never again.

"Berrick, this is Halis," Henri said.

Berrick guessed he outweighed both the other men. Which might be important as resembled a villain from one of Berrick's son's old superhero comics. Even in his forties, Berrick's muscle had not translated into fat. Berrick prided himself that he'd kept both his mind and body free of sloth.

"Halis?" Berrick asked. He wanted a last name to put with that frighteningly handsome face. A name he could plunk into his computers back home and find out what foul deeds caused Halis' dark eyes to simmer.

"Just Halis," the man said, his voice a gentle baritone. "Exchanging first names is the custom among friends. Is it not? Surnames are for acquaintances and business deals."

We're not friends. Berrick fingered his badge where it rested inside his jacket pocket. Brothel City made his authority mean little, but it still calmed him. The city had its own law. He dealt with crime from over the world, but here only one power held sway. The Yahal Brothel. Its shadow covered the whole city, protecting the depraved fiends within from any outside law.

One thing was evident, Berrick didn't want this smiling gentleman to think he was on a first name basis with him. "I'm Chief Trehar."

Halis' smile broadened at the slight. He sat across from Berrick. And motioned for the others to sit. Henri put a hand on Berrick's arm, encouraging him toward his chair. Berrick returned to his chair, but kept it pushed well out from the table.