It was 2:00 a.m.
Dan Fortis drove through the seedy underbelly of Los Angeles in his beat up Honda Accord looking for information. He had spent the better part of his four years at UCLA doing investigative journalism for a local underground newspaper so it seemed like a good idea to tap into those old skills when it came to the story at hand.
For the better part of the last seven days he had been cruising the streets, digging for dirt and paying off foul mouthed scum for any info they could give him about Gus Monroe and his comings and goings the days before the shootings. He’d managed to learn a few vague things about what Gus was up to the weeks leading up to that fateful night. But nothing that was going to crack the case wide open win him a Peabody Award and the corner office on the fifth floor that he so desperately desired.
Pulling the car over to the side of the road Dan signaled to a woman dressed in a leopard skin halter-top and black hot pants to come to the car to talk. Pasting a phony smile on her crimson colored lips she sashayed over to his car leaning down through the open window gagging him with the smell of cheap dime store perfume.
“What’s up baby?” She drawled her eyes wide and darting.
“Did you know a guy named Gus Monroe?” Dan backed up from the window glancing in his rearview mirror for any signs of cops that might bust him for “solicitation”.
“Baby I’ll know whoever you want me to know.”
Dan reached for the police file photo of Gus that had been running in all of the national papers for the last week.
“This guy,” Dan tapped on the picture “Did you know this guy? Or do you know anybody who would know this guy? Word on the street is that he frequented this corner for some action.” Grabbing the paper from Dan’s hands she looked it up and down tossing it back through the window into his lap.
“So what if I did know that guy?”
“What can you tell me about him?” Dan reached for his billfold sliding out two crisp ten-dollar bills. One thing he learned was that it didn’t take much for these types of people to turn on their own kind. They would stab their own mother’s in the back for few bucks to buy them beer, cigarettes or drugs.
“He was a moron.” She said glancing over Dan’s car at a white Lincoln Continental that slowed down to check out what was available. A woman in all red stepped out of the shadows across the street.
“Damn man, you totally made me lose that John. He would have probably gave me at least fifty bucks.” Reaching in his wallet Dan slid out three more ten-dollar bills.
“Okay, look I’ll match his price if you can give me some more info on Gus Monroe. Who did he hang out with?” Everybody Dan had talked with up until tonight had pretty much stuck to the story that Gus was a real loner. Pulled off most of his jobs on his own and kept to himself.
“He hung out with some guy.”
Sitting up a little straighter Dan smiled. “He hung out with a guy?”
“Yeah, some big guy with muscles and a square face. Kind of okay looking in a creepy sort of way.” Popping her gum she knelt down a little lower resting her chin on the car door. “Gus always wanted to impress the guy so he brought him to me a few times for some fun. Paid for the guy and everything.”
“What was his name?” Grabbing for his notepad Dan wrote down the vague description she had given him of the man.
“I dunno, I can’t remember.”
“You slept with the guy and you can’t remember his name?” Dan said with a small laugh.
“Hey, they don’t pay me to remember their names.” Tossing the rest of the money out the window Dan smiled.
“Too bad there was another fifty in it for you if you could have come up with his name. But thanks anyway Miss you’ve been a big help.” He said as he started to pull away.
“Hey wait!” She yelled dropping to her knees to pick up the scattered bills on the pavement. Sticking his head out the window Dan waved around a fifty-dollar bill as enticement for her memory to make a sudden return.
“I think he said his name was Mo.”
* * *
When Nick awoke the following morning he expected to see A.J. at his bedside but instead he was greeted by the sour face of his mother, sitting in the chair thumbing through a magazine and humming some random song from the 70’s that he couldn’t quite remember the name of.
“Mom?” Jane blinked twice at the word like Nick was speaking Japanese and then glanced up.
“So?” Was all she said to him, her eyebrows arched high over her heavily lined eyes.
“So?” Nick shrugged in confusion.
“So, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” She asked dropping the magazine to the floor beside her chair.
“What do you mean?” Nick shifted in the bed wincing from the pain in his gut as he tried to sit up.
“It’s all over the news.” She said reaching for the remote and clicking on the over head t.v. But at that moment the story of Nick and Brian and Howie wasn’t all over the news, instead there was a story about a security guard disappearing from his graveyard shift at The Bellhurst Storage Units.
“Well, it has been all over the news.” Jane sighed clicking off the t.v. “Tell me the truth were you and the Saintly Brian buying drugs?”
“I was shot so my stomach hurts, and I've been in a coma for like a week so I’m a little tired but other then that I’m fine….thanks for asking.” Nick mumbled.
“Were you and Brain buying drugs.” Leaning down she grabbing Nick’s face into her hand digging her long pink fingernails into his cheeks.
“Mom knock it off.” Nick pushed at her hand. “No we weren’t buying drugs.”
“How do you know?” She asked, her stupid questions making Nick’s head hurt.
“I…..I don’t know.” He replied honestly.
“If you two little shits were out there buying drugs and that is why Brian and that other guy were killed and Howie is missing then you are going to be in deep shit.” She paced the room looking back at Nick with raging disapproval.
“Mom,” Nick started but she quickly cut him off.
“You better hope to hell you get your memory back Nick and you better hope you get it back fast because if it turns out that somehow this whole thing was your own fault and it goes to trial the press is going to eat you alive.”
* * *
Mo scrubbed at the security guard’s uniform with a wet towel pissed at himself that he had not aimed the knife high enough to keep blood from splashing all over the collar. He knew he should have just choked the guy to death instead of using the knife.
As always the stupid news media had been Mo’s biggest help with figuring out which way to go next with his plan. After his little “chat” with Sergeant Cox in the hospital alley the night before Mo returned to the bowling alley to catch up on the news coverage of the Backstreet Boys case.
Leaning against the back wall a cold glass of beer in his hands he watched some loser news weasel informing the public that due to Nick’s current condition the cops had been tossed out of the hospital until Nick was able to be questioned. Which meant that the hospital would hire some stupid ass security company to watch over St. Nick getting rid of the LAPD guarding his doors. So it seemed only fitting that Mo pay a little visit to the The Bellhurst Storage Units to get himself a fancy security guard uniform that would look so nice on him when he paid Nick a friendly visit to give him his best wishes for a speedy recovery.
Inside of the closet where he was now sharing close quarters with a corpse Howie tried not to move or breathe his mind wandering as the stench of blood permeated the musty air.
Mo had dragged the body into the room sometime after sunrise throwing open the closet door and waking Howie from his deep sleep by leaning down and dragging him by the wrists out of the closet.
“I brought someone to see you.” Mo said pointing to the body crumpled in a ball on the floor beside Howie.
“Shit.” Howie moaned from beneath the gag. He could see that the neck of the person had been punctured, fresh blood coating the man’s neck and shoulders. Was it Nick? Howie swallowed hard fighting back the nausea that pitched around in his gut as Mo rolled the body over face up.
“Fooled you.” Mo laughed at the classic look on Howie’s face when he realized the dead man before him was not Nick. “You thought I brought your buddy to keep you company didn’t you? Nope sorry to disappoint you, I killed this guy because I needed his uniform, but I guess he can keep you company too.”
Howie watched in confusion as Mo stripped the dead body down to its’ boxer shorts tossing the clothing to the pile in the corner of the room before dragging the guy into the closet. He then stooped down to tighten Howie’s gag pulling off a second strip of electrical tape that he secured over the top of the first piece that held the gag in place. Making it nearly impossible for Howie to breathe.
“Okay buddy, you’re in next.” Grabbing Howie under the arms Mo hauled him up to his feet walking him back towards the closet. Howie struggled against Mo’s weight trying to break free of the horror that was unfolding but Mo just laughed.
“Howard look at you? Do you really think that you are any match for me? Hell, you aren’t even a match for that dead guy right there.” He pointed to the still and twisted body on the closet floor. “Now c’mon you’re new friend is lonely so get in there and keep him company.” Picking Howie up off of his feet Mo hauled him kicking and flailing to the closet where he proceeded to shove him inside making him fall in a heap on top of the dead security guard before shutting and locking the closet door behind him.
“Hey Howard how you doing in there?” Mo asked banging on the door to the closet. “I was feeling bad that you were so lonely I hope you like your new friend.” Laughing Mo shed his clothing pulling on the uniform that was slightly small in some places but overall would do just fine.
“Okay, well I’m going out for awhile.” He said pounding twice on the closet door on his way out of the room. “Don’t bother waiting up for me.”
* * *
It was lunchtime and instead of digging into his wife’s leftover meatloaf and mashed potatoes Sergeant Cox sat in his office staring at the corkboard where he had posted each and every detail about Nick Carter’s case for the last eight days. Shaking his head he tossed his pen at the board in frustration as his phone began to ring.
“What.”
“Sergeant,” It was Corbin one of the officers he had posted outside of Nick Carter’s hospital room. “The hospital administration is ordering us to leave the hospital grounds.” Sighing Sergeant Cox rubbed at his throbbing temple with his free hand.
“I figured they would pull that. Fine, do what they say for now and get back to the station I’ll put you two back on street patrol until we can figure something out.” Slamming the phone down he pulled Bill Connors phone number down the corkboard and dialed.
“Yes this is Mr. Connor.”
“Listen Connor you’re making a big mistake taking my guards off of Nick Carter.”
“Hello Sergeant Cox. I appreciate your concern but Nick Carter’s family does not want this turned into any more of a circus then it already is. In light of his medical condition and the fact that you don’t seem to care what your interrogations can do to his health his family does not feel comfortable with you or any persons employed by you to be in contact with their son at this time. You may take the matter up with their lawyer if you’d like I have his number right here.”
“Who is going to be watching the kid?” Cox hissed through clenched teeth, wishing he could put that sissy hospital dumb ass in a headlock and pummel him until he screamed like a woman.
“Not that it is any of your concern but we have hired some extra security men to guard his room. When and if he has his memory return and he is able to talk to you without there being a threat posed to his health the family will notify you.”
“Fuck you Connor.” Cox shouted into the phone just as Officer Park walked through the door.
“And a good afternoon to you as well Sergeant Cox.” Mr. Connor said before slamming down the phone.
* * *
Leighanne walked through the door of Nick’s hospital room a huge vase of yellow roses in her arms a smile on her face.
“Hi Nicky.” She said looking for a place to set down the flowers.
“Hey.” Nicky, she had never called him Nicky before.
“How are you feeling?” She finally set the vase of flowers down on the floor before sitting in the chair by Nick’s bedside.
“I dunno.” He answered honestly. His chest was tight, his head foggy like he had been sucking on helium and his body throbbed all over making him wish that he could just go back into the deep sleep of the coma.
“I brought you these.” Leighanne motioned in the direction of the flowers as she spoke “I thought they might make the room more cheerful or something.” Nick looked around the room trying to settle his eyes on anything but Leighanne’s face.
“Did you want some water?” She asked looking over her shoulder to the glass of water on the counter.
Nick shook his head. “You hate me don’t you? I’m sure that everybody hates me so it’s okay if you do too.”
“Why would anybody hate you Nick?”
He smiled sadly. “Because I’m alive.”
“Brian did what he had to do Nick it was his choice to make not yours. He wanted you to live.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as Leighanne said the words.
“How do you know that for sure?” Nick whispered reaching out for her hand.
“Because he told me so.” She said lacing her fingers through his and squeezing his hand tightly.