Stacia Kane - Wrong Ways Down

Were a good thing that night, causen something weren’t right on that street, and he guessed he were about to find out what it was.

The street-man were Ronnie Jay. Been with Bump maybe two years, had he a lot of friends. He straightened up when Terrible approached, started reaching into his pocket for what money he’d collected.

Terrible shook his head, but waited to talk til he were real close. “This you regular corner, aye?”

Ronnie nodded. “Almost a year. You wanting what I get so far, see how I do this night? Be busy, it is, ain’t for certain why it slowing down on the sudden twenty minutes or so past but it done. Afore that I selling lots.”

That feeling of something being wrong got stronger, and his anger rose. “What you meaning, got quiet twenty minutes past? Why you ain’t called that shit in?”

Ronnie Jay shrank back. “Sorry, sorry, only—ain’t gave it the thought til just now, you digging? Ain’t hardly gave it the notice, I figuring it just be one a them lulls, see, ain’t—”

“Ain’t doing you fucking job.” Ronnie Jay weren’t a bad dude. Worked hard and were honest. But this were fucking important, it were, and Terrible couldn’t seem to stop the hand that reached out and grabbed Ronnie Jay’s arm hard. So hard he felt the bones creak under the skin. One of the dames could be attacked right then. Somebody could be getting killed right then. “What you been told? Be on the watch, aye? Causen we got shit going down, you supposed to be watching close. Why the fuck you ain’t?”

“Been watching, got the license plates an all, been writing down what them all look like, sorry, I been watching. Just ain’t were thinking, sorry, just ain’t were thinking right up.”

Terrible looked at him close, leaned in even closer. The sharp bitter scent of dollar wine was like a blanket of rancid vapor wrapped around him. Motherfuck. “You fucked up? Been drinkin, aye? How much?”

Even in the darkness he could see the fear in Ronnie Jay’s eyes. “Only a little, I swearing, ain’t drunk, just to keep warm. Be so cold, Terrible, so cold out, an—”

Terrible punched him. Not hard—not as hard as he could, nowhere near as hard as he could—but Ronnie Jay’s head snapped back. “An what happen, dame gets attacked again? S’posed to be keeping em safe, you dumb fuck. S’posed to be payin fuckin attention. Been quiet twenty minutes an you ain’t even think be a problem?”

He let go of Ronnie Jay and turned to scan the street, plucking his phone from his pocket. Needed to get another street-man there, he did, send Ronnie Jay—whimpering behind him like a pussy—home. The street-man number was the fifth autodial button on he phone; he hit it, kept looking up and down the street and ignoring Ronnie Jay.

Malia answered. “Aye?”

“Needs me another street-man Forty-eighth an Grant,” he said. “Now. An send a van. Get a body-van up here, aye? Fast.”

He’d just spotted two kids ducking into an alley on the other side of the squat. The side where he guessed the entry was. Aye, kids could live in there. Could be heading into there for anything. But something in the way they moved, and in the way he suddenly heard what sounded like more than a couple voices over there, made he suspect he had a good idea what they were doing there. What they was looking at.

Being right fucking sucked sometimes. A crowd had formed in the alley, not big but big enough; he pushed through it and saw the corpse. He’d never laid eyes on Gav before, but he ain’t had too much doubt that were Gav lying there with a bullet through he brain and wide, blank eyes staring at the dull winter sky overhead.

Terrible knelt by the body. Shit. “Any see anything?”

Murmurs behind him. He ignored em, kept looking at the body—somebody’d speak up iffen they had knowledge for him. One shot in the head, upper left. Looked like the gun been close up when he shot, causen Terrible had seen enough bullet holes to know what them black speckles around em meant. Somebody Gav knew, then? Somebody right-handed, facing him.

No bruises or aught, so no fight, or iffen there were a fight he died so soon after there ain’t had been time for bruises to form. He skin were cold, but seeing as how it were below freezing outside, that ain’t told much. But he didn’t have a dark line on he eyeballs, so he probably ain’t had been dead more’n a couple hours.

He almost wished he had been. Iffen Gav were only dead a few hours, meant he were killed after Terrible found out who he were. Meant maybe iffen Terrible’d gotten there earlier he coulda talked to him. Meant maybe somebody knew Gav told people he’d been a look-out.

“I seen summat.” Young dude, maybe late teens, stepped forward. “Found he, I done. Seen a shape having a jumping over that there wall, I seen, jumping right over. Be a ghost. All blacked up, clothes and all, see? A ghost like a shadow.”

Fuck. That ghost shit again, and the eyes of every person in that crowd went wide.

But thanks to Chess, Terrible knew more about ghosts. Knew no way could it be a ghost done what the kid just said. “Ain’t a ghost.”

“How you knowing?” Another voice; Terrible hunted, found the one who said it. Watched his face pale and he head duck down.

“Knowing causen ghosts ain’t can jump walls, dig?” He stood up, still staring at the little fuck. “Ain’t can climb like that. This weren’t a ghost.”

“Be a ghost around, though, aye?” Another voice, a dame. Little thing wearing a huge fur coat wrapped around she twice. “I hearing be a ghost around.”

“Naw, no fuckin ghost.” He looked at the rest of the crowd, the crowd getting bigger by the second. “You dig? No fuckin ghosts here. I hear any spreading that shit I comin have a chatter with you, aye? No ghosts. Now any see anything real?”

Movement in the back of the crowd, a dark head ducking and running. Right. Terrible shoved his way after it, not paying attention to where the people he shoved fell. Anybody tried to run away from a scene like that were either real sensitive or real involved, and he bet he knew which it was.

He caught the dame before she made it halfway down the street. Weren’t hard; she were tiny, and on teetery silver heels flashing against her dark skin. And she were crying. Maybe were a lie to put he off, but he ain’t thought so; he grabbed her less hard than he planned to, and talked quieter than he would have otherwise. She looked familiar, too, under the black eye makeup running all down she face, which made him wanna be nicer until he could recall why. “You knowing he, aye? Gav? Be yours?”

She started crying again, so hard he almost ain’t could be certain she were nodding, too. “Just … just were seeing he, just seeing he on the midday. All were right up, ain’t understanding … why this happen? Ain’t getting it, Terrible, ain’t … ”

She voice fell apart then, so he couldn’t understand what she were saying. But now he knew why she looked familiar. Not causen she knew he name—everybody did—but the way she said it, the way she tilted her head and the scent of her hair, made the memory finally click. “Carrie?”

She tried a smile that ain’t made it all the way across she face. “Callie. Ain’t thinking you recalled me.”

“Aye, Callie. Coursen I do.” Sort of. Shit. Remembered he’d never given her a ring-up after, aye, but not much else.

And double shit, causen that made it harder to ask her questions. He ain’t recalled she last name, iffen he’d ever knew it, or what she done for work. Thought she had a brother worked for Bump, in one of the warehouses or aught like that, but ain’t were certain. And he couldn’t ask on any of it without admitting he ain’t thought on her at all since he left her place however the fuck long ago it were.