BLUE
“I’m so sorry,” I say to the patron whose lap I just dropped a full basket of bread into. Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been soup or coffee.
The guy isn’t pissed, but I’m embarrassed, nonetheless. All morning, and now the better part of the afternoon, I’ve been distracted by the instant replay of my earlier conversation with Roby. I can’t believe I actually thought that would work. Maybe if I’d been at liberty to share all the details I have, things might’ve been different, but as it stands, that call was completely pointless.
Uncle Dusty gives me ‘the look’ when I toss what otherwise appears to be perfectly good bread into the trash.
“You all right?”
I nod. “All good. Just feeling a little off.”
“Ready to tell me what happened to that hand yet?” he asks, reminding me of the cuts and gashes.
“Nope.” I force a smile as I take the burger and fries combo he just plated for one of my tables. Then, I rush off before he can question me further.
“Here you go. Enjoy your meal.”
The sweet old lady smiles up at me after delivering her food, then I’m off to grab a fresh pot of coffee to refill empty cups. If I keep busy, maybe I won’t think so much.
The chime over the door sounds and I do a double-take when Roger—one of our Sunday regulars—comes wobbling in on his cane. He’s carrying a large, thin envelope in his hand and his gaze is set on me.
“I believe this is for you, sweetheart,” he pipes up.
Wiping both hands on my apron, I approach him, confused as hell as to what’s going on.
“This is for me?”
He shrugs. “That’s what the young man told me. Or, hell, maybe it was a girl. Whoever it was, they scared the shit out of me, walking up on me wearing all that nonsense—clown mask, hoodie, gloves. There wasn’t an inch of skin showing, come to think of it. Young people are so strange these days.”
As much as I’m trying not to let paranoia continue consuming my day, I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t have it spiking all over again.
“…Thanks,” I say, hesitantly taking the envelope from Roger’s hand. He slowly makes his way over to the coatrack and I’m left staring at… whatever this is.
My name isn’t on it. In fact, the only marking on the whole thing is a thick, dark hashtag right in the center.
On cue, my stomach flips and I’m equal parts curious and terrified to know what’s inside. It feels light, and it’s so thin there can’t be more than one sheet of paper inside, but I won’t figure it out unless I open it.
Stepping behind the counter for at least some privacy, I break the seal and slip my hand inside. What I pull out has me wanting to vomit, but my first instinct is to question… is this even real?
If it is, Cypress Pointe is in for a treat.
Or, more like a nightmare.
“Roger, did you see which way whoever gave this to you went?”
“Back down the alley, I think.”
I rush out the door as soon as he’s finished speaking, hoping by some small miracle they’re still there. Maybe waiting for me to get this and, I don’t know, answer some of my questions.
Because, shit… I’ve got a million now.
Frigid air slaps me right in the face, but who cares? I need to know who handed this off to Roger and why they thought I was the right person to give it to.
I’m only somewhat shocked to find the alley empty. But desperate as I am, I even trek through the deep snow to check on the other side of the dumpster.
Nothing.
No one.
Before I can even process it all, my phone goes off—a notification from Pandora. Instead of heading back inside where it’s warm, I quickly open the app and devour the update, scouring it for clues as to what the hell is going on right now.
@QweenPandora: First things first, I’m baaaaaack, lovelies! Sorry about that brief interruption from the soon to be forgotten X, but I assure you order has been restored and things are back on track.
Now, if you’re out for your Sunday drive, might I suggest that you pull over and read carefully.
Turns out my stalker’s endeavors have turned rather dark lately, resorting to threats of exposure and even bodily harm if it’s ever discovered who it is that fills your lives with all the latest local gossip.
Thing is, this coward didn’t take into account that I don’t scare too easily. In fact, when backed into a corner, I don’t break out in a temper tantrum. No, no no… I break out the big guns.
I’ve just placed some vital information in the hands of someone who might have needed a bit of divine intervention, if you will. Little birdie—yes, you—don’t say I never gave you anything. Do with this gift what you will, but I think you know we can’t let this happen. For at least a million reasons.
According to my sources, this info will go public in a little less than two months. So, tell the world or hold this one close to the cuff, it’s up to you. But if you’ve got a plan, now would be a great time to see it put into action.
Everyone knows I don’t respond to DMs, but for you and the crew, I’m willing to make an exception for a limited time only. Looks like we’re in this one together, Little Birdie.
Later, Peeps.
—P
My breath puffs in the wind and I’m at a loss for words. What did I just read? What did I just see in that envelope? I can’t even think right now.
“What are you doing out here?” Dusty asks, snapping me out of the state of utter shock I’ve drifted into. “You’ve got a phone call.”
I don’t even bother answering his question. Instead, I’m rushing back inside where I take the call off hold and answer.
“This is Blue.”
“I took your advice and downloaded that app,” Detective Roby says on the other end. “Any chance this Little Birdie Pandora speaks of is you?”
I nod, still winded and confused. “Yes, sir.”
“So, she delivered something to you today, right? What was it?”
I glance down at the envelope I’m still clutching, and for half a second, I consider not telling him. But it’s actually the contents that has me realizing I need his help. We all do.
“It’s a proof,” I confess.
“A proof? Like an image of some sort?”
“More like for a poster.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
I so wish I didn’t understand, but I do. And Pandora was completely right—there are at least a million reasons why this absolutely cannot happen.
“It’s a campaign poster,” I finally share with the detective. “For Vin. He’s… running for mayor.”
Roby is silent on the other end at first. “Shit. Guess we now know why good ol’ Vin asked you to make a clean break by the two-month mark.”
“Actually, I don’t understand,” I cut in.
Roby sighs and when he speaks again, his tone is gentler, almost compassionate. “I assumed it was a north side versus southside thing, classism, but it’s bigger than that. With Hunter’s conviction, Golden can’t risk his family name being associated with yours. He doesn’t have a background in politics, so he’s gotta work extra hard to prove himself. Yeah, the city knows him as a staunch businessman, but not as much else. He has to appear to be above reproach when this shit goes public. That means cleaning up anything he thinks might cost him his shot.”
“He wants to control everything and everyone,” I say mostly to myself.
“Which would make it a whole hell of a lot easier to hide possible criminal activity,” Roby reasons. “Guess I know why I got so much pushback when I tried to fire up the task force. Who knows how deep this shit runs? Half this department could be on Golden’s payroll.”
“So, you believe me?” My voice is quivering when I ask, because I know I still haven’t proven my case much more than I had this morning, but it sounds like he believes me.
“We’ve got our work cut out for us, and I’m not making any promises, but… yeah, I think there could be a connection,” he finally says. “If you think of anything else that might help, don’t hesitate to call. Morning, noon, or night.”
I’m on the verge of tears. “Okay.”
And I plan to do just that. As soon as I talk to West and we agree on what’s safe to share and what isn’t, I’ll fill Roby in on the details.
“I’ll be in touch, but you stay safe in the meantime. If you see anything that seems off, call my cell. The number hasn’t changed.”
I nod and feel so much relief.
Maybe, just maybe, we have a fighting chance.
Finally.
