Karma: A Blayne Mitchell Novel

11

Chapter 11

Nothing surprised me that night. Just the night air whistling lazily through the trees and the low rumbling of the idling car. I had left the air on and the windows open. No point in suffocating. But I had forgotten how cars work, and it was out of gas by mid morning. No surprise there. Obviously my car would run out of gas while I slept.

I woke up early, completely energized, and left the empty car on the street. I took the Glock in my jacket, just in case. The breeze had picked up and menacing clouds loomed on the horizon. A storm was brewing. I had no clue as to when it would break, but it would be fairly soon.

I walked against the wind, past rows and rows of assorted buildings, ranging from liquor stores to barber shops. I ran my fingers through my hair and stroked the stubble on my chin after passing the barber shop. I was due for a cleanup. Then again, studies showed women preferred scruffier to clean shaven. I made a mental note to not shave, then resumed walking. Hopefully going somewhere, probably not. I ended up at some independent grill for breakfast. The food was hard as a rock, but it still held enough flavor to satisfy. I wolfed it down and continued the aimless stroll throughout the vacant town. Eventually I would end up somewhere worthwhile.

I didn't.

Instead I made it another five blocks before turning back towards the Porsche. If I wasn't going to use it, I could still find the relative position of the hotel from where I parked it. I remembered driving south, so I walked north. It took ten minutes of searching but I found the hotel in the end. Andrew was just on his way to the Applebee's as I approached.

"Hey, dipshit!" I called jokingly. He did a double take, then grinned.

"If Angel weren't dead, I would've thought you two were having fun. What was all that racket last night?" Andrew asked, meeting me in the middle of the road. No danger from cars.

"Not much." I waved him away, "I'll show you at the station."

Andrew shrugged, "Okay. Grabbing a bite at Applebee's. Want to join?" I shrugged back and said sure, even though I had already ate. We sauntered to the restaurant, making bets on who would be at the police station first. I betted on Dunphy, Andrew bet on Garrett. He ate while I watched awkwardly, then we climbed into his blue Civic and drove to the police department. No point in walking when you have a car. And I needed to be there before they opened the interrogation room. It would be catastrophic if I didn't.

We arrived at 8 o'clock sharp. I saw Garrett's cruiser in the lot, not Dunphy's. Apparently they drove their cruisers home. Andrew gave me the told you so look that I had grown to hate in people. Theoretically, Andrew and I were both wrong, because the unconscious thugs had been there first, but I didn't want to say that aloud. Garrett was sitting in the receptionist desk and looked up when we approached. He smiled and waved halfheartedly and rose to open the door. We waited patiently.

"Would one of you," he began savagely, "like to explain the unconscious, handcuffed people in my department interrogation room?"

"Theoretically, it's the city's department, but I'm not feeling correctional. Those people messed with the wrong person and got what they deserved." I said. Garrett led us inside and into his office. We sat down in the chairs begrudgingly.

"What allegations are you proposing, Blayne?" Garrett asked, leaning forward.

"First off, please call me Ace. It makes things easier," I began. Garrett appeared confused, but nodded anyways.

"Next, I would like to present to you," I pulled the Glock out of my pocket and laid it on the desk, "the weapon used to try and assassinate me last night." The others flinched instinctively. When a man pulls out a gun, there's a pretty good chance he's going to shoot someone.

I continued, "Three men, last night, approached my hotel at midnight. Thankfully, I had planned for it, and set up my own plan. The same plan that saved your sorry ass." I directed the last comment towards Andrew. He shrugged.

"And just how did you know they were coming?" Garrett asked incredulously.

"Easy. I didn't know if they were really going to come, but hope for the best, plan for the worst. Anywho, if someone really was framing Vance, they'd want to cover that information up tighter than a fish's asshole. So, by clearly announcing it yesterday, I provoked the instinctual reaction to tie up the loose ends. Silence the witness. The rest was just process of elimination based on what I knew and didn't know." I took the back Glock 17 and shoved it in the inside jacket pocket again.

"We should-" Andrew started, but Garrett interrupted him.

"We're not going to do anything 'till Dunphy arrives." Garrett ordered.

"What's the damn sloth gonna do?" I sneered, "You should start taking matters into your own hands, Garrett." Garrett looked thoughtful, then shook his head as if shaking away the disloyal ideas.

"No. We'll wait for Dunphy. Then we can decide what to do." Garrett said decisively.

"What to do?" I asked disbelievingly, "What to do! We throw the damn guys in jail is what we do. With or without Dunphy, these guys still tried to kill me. And that is not something I take lightly. So, what are you going to do? Get up off your lazy ass and arrest those guys for attempted homicide."

"I can't just arrest them," Garrett retorted angrily.

"Congratulations, I already did that part for you." I shot back, "They're handcuffed and unconscious, what more could you ask for?"

"Were they Mirandized? I could arrest you for aggravated assault, you know that, right?" Garrett said. I shook my head.

"No. They weren't Mirandized. The Miranda Rights could go to hell, for all I care. And no, you couldn't arrest me. You couldn't lay a finger on me. It was merely self-defense, and you know that. So shut your sorry ass up and arrest those criminals." I snarled sharply. Garrett prepared to snap back, but thought the better of it and left the room wordlessly. Andrew glanced over uneasily. He didn't want to be caught in between an argument with a police officer and a citizen. Actually, I had no idea if I was an actual citizen or not. I always carried a passport, because of nine-eleven, but I didn't know if that necessarily made me a citizen.

"It was self-defense," I repeated defensively. Andrew gave me the I believe you, but I can't help you shrug and left the office. I crossed my legs and reviewed the conversation. I hadn't said anything out of place, maybe excluding the cursing of the Miranda Rights, yet Garrett had come off as outwardly hostile. Not at all odd, considering he had to deal with the death of a comrade and friend, but unlike him to reveal it that much. Something else was bothering him, and I was going to find out what it was.