The Most Dangerous Dame

I grinned. “You must not know what I do for a living, Nurse. Thanks for the advice, though. Now howzabout you unhook me from all these tubes and doodads so I can get back to doing what I do?”

Static buzzed agitatedly across Nurse Goodkind’s digitally distressed face. “I’m afraid you’re in no shape to—”

“Don’t worry, dollface. I’ll sign the papers absolving the hospital of any liability.”

The screen pulsed with luminosity. “In that case, we’ll get you sorted right away, Mr. Benedict.”

Natasha placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure about this, Mick? You look like you can barely stand.”

I gave her my best comforting smile. “You trust me, don’tcha?”

“You know I do.”

“Then believe me when I say I’ve never felt better. Modern medicine at its finest and all that. Meantime I still got a case to solve, something I can’t do cooling my heels in a hospital bed. And lastly, when it comes to raw manliness Mick Trubble comes second to none. So I’ll be fine.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, but to her credit didn’t bother calling my bluff. “Whatever you say, Mick.”

“Here’s the formal release form, Mr. Benedict.” The computer extended a screen my direction. “Just sign with the attached stylus and you’ll be on your way.”

I signed the release. The nurse system responded by removing all of the tubes and wires hooked to my body at practically the same time. The resulting sensation was pretty much what I imagined medieval torture would feel like.

But staying true to my manly reputation, I barely cried.

Crunch time. It pays to sit down and come up with a plan after getting shot and left for dead. The office was the best place to do that. We threw some chairs together around a table for an impromptu conference. Rain slapped against the window as I appreciatively sipped the java Angel served up. It was pretty hard to concentrate with a head clouded by meds and a body still reeling from being decorated with lead buttons, but I didn’t exactly have time to take a break and recuperate. The entire case had flipped upside down, and everything I had previously figured was thrown out the window.

“Ok, first things first. You all don’t know Natasha, so we’ll get the introductions out the way. Everyone: this is Natasha, good friend and owner of the pad where I hang my Bogart. Natasha, meet Ms. Kilby: the dame who bought out my business and signs my checks. The overprotective fella next to her is Poddar, my partner of sorts. The lovely lady to the left is Angel, who manages the office and keeps us on the straight-and-narrow. Her sour-faced boyfriend is Detective Flask, a frenemy of mine. And you’ve already met Ben the Bear, terror of the criminal underworld.”

Natasha nodded. “Nice to meet all of you.”

I was proud of the way she held her composure in the face of all the inquiring looks. Up until then I hadn’t mentioned her to anyone on account of trying to keep her out of harm’s way. But the cat was out the bag, so there was not point trying to pretend things could go back to before. Natasha was part of the tiny circle of folks I trusted, and it was best they all knew one another.

“Frenemy?” Flask shook his head. “I’m hurt, Mick. I thought we were all on the same team.”

I glared at him. “I thought so too, until I found out you lied to me. You said surveillance didn’t catch Scarlett leaving the hotel. I got it on good word that it did.”

“C’mon Mick.” Flask didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. “You know how a shakedown works. I had to put some pressure on you to find out what you knew.”

“So what else are you holding back, cop?”

“As you know, surveillance orbots sweep the districts periodically. Using their footage along with traffic and building cameras, we were able to retrace her route up to a point.”

“What point?”

Flask frowned. “Complete surveillance blackout a few miles away from the hotel. Never seen anything like it. All cameras just went dark. The killer is technically proficient in addition to being one sick bastard.”

“Surveillance is supposed to be pretty hard to crack. What’s the word inside?”

“There is no word. It’s been chalked off as an equipment malfunction. You know how it works. But the word I got is the labcoats at IT are sweating blood trying to figure out what happened.”

I frowned. “And you didn’t think I needed to know that info before going in?”

Flask shook his head. “I told you this was dangerous, Mick. You should’ve taken me up on my offer for protection.”

My mouth twisted. “C’mon, Flask. Half the coppers in New Haven are on Moe Flacco’s payroll. The other half are bought by the rest of the wise guys. If I’d been at your clubhouse I’d be modeling a brand-new toe tag right now.”

He grimaced, but didn’t bother denying the slightly exaggerated statement.”You were almost iced anyway, Mick. You look like you can barely stand. Don’t see how things have improved much.”