Young Writers Society

“Well that’s just a bit vague. Are you referring to the Andersons’ cat?”

Will took out a tablet with a generated mugshot of two humans and a collection of cats.

“Yes, the Lucreskis. We found the cat that they were asking for, it should be the fourth one in the slide show.”

Harry sat her glass down on a coaster, pushing the cigarette butt into the ash tray, and resisting the urge to pull Will into her lap. Now was the time to be focusing on business matters and trying not to kill some poor drug mule. Or diamond mule cat – however that terminology managed to work out.

“The uh one with the purple pearls around the collar? That had to cost a pretty penny.”

“Jud says it probably costs 20,000 bucks because it’s low grade.”

20,000?

Harry barely got paid 15,000 for blowing up a warehouse, even with the extra bonus for the gas costs. While her thoughts had previously been distracted by more intimate issues, Harry now came back to the overreaching issues of the planet. And how she had to turn to arson and murder to keep her family afloat.

How she had to deal with the worst people.

Her eyes remained on the tablet while Will’s hands moved to her shoulders. She heard the sighs and hesitations before Will began, “There’s just one slight problem.”

“Will, what is it?”

“Jud might have accidentally killed the poor thing.”

The sudden burst of laughter from the far corner was a reminder of Glenn being in the room. Even his laughs managed to echo with a southern accent from the area of Texas, reminding Harry of a joke told on the base. A joke that was far from appropriate to the present company.

Glenn eased out of his chair and leaned over the desk to say, “Now I know I’m quite the new comer here but how did you kids happen about killing the cat that I assume y’all were supposed to keep alive?”

Will took the tablet from Harry and began swiping through the pages until she presented a document to Glenn, almost shoving the pad in his face.

“The contract didn’t explicitly state the condition that we found the cat in. Just that we found the stupid thing.” Her gaze turned back to Harry before continuing, “Based on my dealings with them, they probably care more about the collar than they do the cat.”

“So Harry, you got an ASPCA on this planet?”

Harry read back over his thoughts again, then to Will’s, and noting the snub between them. Glenn wouldn’t make a friendly contact for Will and she knew for sure Will wouldn’t be willing to go the other way. There was enough tension and pressure between them to level the city block. Or at least it was enough to solidify Harry’s throbbing head ache.

“If you two want to fight, please do it verbally. Your internal screaming is such a fucking headache.”

She could feel their faces staring into her back, but Harry didn’t turn around. The door shut behind her as she pulled it with her mind and it was a quick journey across the map of images Jud was laying out on the floor. Next to the Lucreskis profiles laid the picture of what looked to be a bloody dust mop.

“Is that the cat?”

Jud was on his knees on the floor, taking a few moments to get into a standing position and then dusting the dirt off his hands.

“Unfortunately.”

“Did you kill it? Because according to Will, you killed that poor sucker.”

“Harry, I didn’t exactly kill it. It just happened to run into-”

“It just happened to run into a fucking blender?”

He sat the portfolio of print outs down on one chair and eased down into the other, scrambling to find his own crystal glass.

“It didn’t happen like that.”

“Then how did this all go down, Jud? And how long was I in there fighting with Robe for all of this to go down?”

“Awhile. I sent Leo out to look in alleyways around here and he found it in less than two minutes.”

“And?”

“And then we might have chased it into an industrial fan. No big deal, really.”

No big deal.

Harry would not have chosen that particular phrase to describe the position they were facing. But then again Harry wasn’t an ancient police detective who got fed up with the Feds and decided to retire for his grandkids. If someone could count being a private investigator as “retiring”.

“Jud has anyone ever told you that maybe you should be doing other things with your retirement?”

“Why would they ever suggest such a fucking stupid thing like that? I’m going to live for at least another two hundred years and you really expect me to stay at home with my husband?”

He took another drink until the liquid was all gone and the ice cubes were clicking around in the glass. Then he continued, “You have met my husband, yes?”

“Yes, xe’s quite charming.”

“Yeah he’s quite charming until he becomes a cheeky asshole in bed and-”

Harry put up a single finger to her lips, shut her eyes and tried to delete the image from her brain.

“Jud, I don’t need to hear about your sex life.”

“Well I’m just paying you back for every time I had to listen to your activities when you were ‘late for work’.”

Her mind clicked back to when all of those days were taking place, wishing she took sick days more often.

“Harry, stop thinking about it. Don’t deny it. I know you’re thinking about some wild fantasy with Will right now.”

“Well, I had to use something to get the image of you screwing your trophy husband out of my mind.”

The glass slammed on to the side table and Harry could feel the vibrations in the ice cubes across the room.

“He’s not my trophy husband.”

“He’s the same age as some of your grandkids. And you know, some people might call that a trophy husband.”

“Fuck you, Harry.”

“Thanks but your secretary already took care of that.”

Only the fastest reflexes in the West could manage to duck the folder chucked at Harry’s head. Fortunately, Harry had maintained that aspect of her prior life, even if it had been too long ago judging by the pain running through her neck.

“By the way, Jud, where’s Leo?”

“Uh he’s probably still in the bathroom.”

“Washing blood out of his shirt. And I think uh bit of crying, to be entirely honest with you.”

“That’s valid. He did chase a cat wearing a string of pearls into a fan and watch it get ripped apart.”

Harry tossed the folder back to Jud and asked, “Which bathroom is he in?”

“The junior detectives squad room. Jimmy is helping him find some spare clothes because his current ones are-”

“Yeah, I get the gist.”

Sometimes Harry forgot about the detectives that worked downstairs, with how little she trusted them to work on projects. Jud’s deal in the partnership of the company was to look after the first floor. Will’s position was anything to do with administration. And Harry…

Well her job was to make sure that the business stayed afloat and that no one was on their tale.

She wasn’t that much of a detective anyways.

Harry knocked on the door of the squad room while asking, “Gentlemen, are you decent?”

“Decent enough, Ms. Bivens.”

The door moved open to reveal Jimmy standing in just a cotton shirt, a bow tie and a very tightly cut mini skirt.

“Are you planning on going out on a special occasion there, Jim?”

“Ms. Bivens, I can explain. My pants are in the dryer and I gave my old spare pair of sweatpants to Leo.”

“If you’re satisfied with that answer then I’ll be satisfied with that answer. Is he doing alright?”

Jimmy looked towards the bench Leo was laying on, slowly coming back to look at Harry.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. I think it’s just early work on the job jitters. Get shaken up by uh every little surprise in the path.”

“He probably doesn’t think it’s just a little thing in the path.”

“But ma’am, you told me to remove someone of their members once and you told me it was just a little thing in the path.”

Harry sat a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder before saying, “I’ve grown soft in my old age.”

Then she crossed the room to throw a blanket over the still form on the bench.

“Do you really think that he’ll be alright, ma’am?”

“I think our little Leo here will turn out just fine.”