Lady Smith Lock and Key Pt. 07

"What are you doing?" I look up and see Carroll leaning over the counter to watch me cower.

"Can I borrow a phone?" I ask.

"What the hell is going on?" she asks.

"You remember when I came in with a black eye?" I ask, and she nods. "He's looking for me."

"Climb over," she says, and I quickly scurry over the counter and sit down. She hands me her unlocked cellphone and I pull Detective Kirkpatrick's card out. My hands are shaking so much I have to delete a few numbers and try again.

"Kirkpatrick," I hear her say in a groggy voice. She's so accustomed to late night calls she's not even angry about it.

"I'll do it," I cry into the phone.

"Who is this?"

"Lady," I say, and start breaking down. I sob into the speaker and snort up my snot.

"What happened? Where are you?" She instantly sounds more alert. I hear what sounds like clothes being thrown on and zippers. "Lady, where are you?"

"Miles is...he's..."

"What about Miles?"

"Send an ambulance to my apartment," I say, and she curses.

"Lady, I'm sending a squad car to get you. Where are you?"

The bell above the door chimes, and I hold my breath.

"Lady."

"Can I help you?" Carroll asks. She leans over my body to shield me. Carroll is the most maternal figure in my life. More than my own mother.

"Looking for someone," I hear Terrence say. I place my hand over my mouth and pinch my eyes shut.

"Just me," she says. "Coffee while you wait?"

I look up and see Carroll's unflinching expression. She's not scared of him. Or she's really good at not looking it. Like she's dealt with people much scarier than him.

"Lady, where are you!" the phone screams.

"What was that?" he asks, and I end the call. I gasp, and I feel Carroll's legs press against me harder. She leans down lower, her hips touching my forehead.

"Coffee or leave, no loitering," Carroll says without skipping a beat. Terrance grabs her and tries to shove her away. Carroll holds onto him and starts swinging. I hear the slapping impacts of her blows, but Terrance manages to throw her backwards. She collides with a stack of plates that begin to tumble to the ground and shatter. I look straight up and see Terrence looking straight down.

"Gotcha!"

I start to crawl away, but he grabs my hair and pulls me up. I scream, as he starts to drag me over the counter. Carroll recovers and crashes a plate against his head. He lets me go and stumbles backwards into the window. Carroll grabs a coffee mug and throws it across the room. I hear it crash into the window and Terrence scream in anger. Carroll readies another mug, but I hear a gun shot before she releases.

Blood splatters against the window to the kitchen. Carroll's hands drop to her sides, and the mug tumbles out of her grip. It clatters to the floor and rests next to my hip. I watch as Carroll's body seems to realize what happened, and slowly falls backwards against the tray of plates again. Her body ragdolls lifelessly down, her head landing on my lap.

"Carroll, Carroll, Carroll," I beg and plead, but I know. "Carroll!"

Terrence returns and grabs my hair again. I scream, clutching Carroll, refusing to let her go. I cry and yell as he struggles to pull me over the counter.

"Look what you made me do."

My father said that after he'd beat my mother. He'd blame her for what he did. The few times my mother fought back, she got it worse. Still, she fought back. Carroll fought back. I need to fight back.

I grab the mug Carroll was ready to throw and allow him to lift me up and pull me onto the bar.

"Let me go!" I slam it into the side of his face. It doesn't break, so I swing again. And again. "Stop!"

I swing until it finally shatters. My hair is free, and I roll off the counter and make a break for the door. All my momentum is reversed when he grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me down hard to the floor. The air I have left is kicked out of my lungs. The last thing I remember was the bottom of his foot coming toward my face.

--

-Trixie Kirkpatrick-

Tuesday - May 4, 2021

Miles is holding on by a thread. He was found outside of Lady's apartment, just like she told me. Seven stab wounds to his torso. He's been in surgery for four hours. Doctors are hesitant to even tell us if he'll make it.

While he's in the hospital, I'm called to a grisly murder at a diner. On the surface it looks like a robbery. There was one hell of a struggle. Plates are knocked over and smashed. The window has a crack from something being thrown at it. The shattered mug on the floor is the likely culprit. However, everything tells me this was where Lady was snatched. She ran to a place she knew there'd be witnesses. She underestimated how ruthless they could be. Witnesses didn't deter them. They got rid of the witness.

The LT has decided to come to the scene, which she rarely does. We only get a few murders a year, so someone with rank making an appearance tells the public we're taking it seriously. Uniformed officers are keeping the block clear of spectators, but there is a crowd of people standing on the opposite side of the street.

The phone is bagged for evidence, but not before we unlock it using the victim's face. There's enough of it left. I check the outgoing calls and confirm my fears. The last number this phone called, was mine. "Fuck."

"We got an ID?" LT asks.

"Carroll Lewis," I say from behind the counter. "She's the owner."

I stand up from my crouched position and look at Ronda.

"This is connected with Miles," I say, and she wonders how I make that monumental leap.

"How do you figure?"

"The Legion tried snatching Lady at her apartment, but Miles tried to stop them. Lady ran here to hide out. They found her and killed the only witness," I summarize. I hold up the phone in the baggy to her eye level. "Last number this phone called, was mine. Last person to call me, was Lady Smith."

I tried to save her. I told her she was out of time. Even I didn't know how right I was.

"Why was Miles even there?"

"Who the hell knows, but he was. Maybe he didn't get the hint and was staking her out on his own," I say. That's probably accurate now that I think about it. Still, he tried to protect her. When it mattered, he still acted like a police officer.

"Lady could have stabbed him herself and ran," Ronda theorizes.

"No fucking way," I say, and she shakes her head at me. "We need to raid their bar before they kill her. If they haven't already."

"She made her own bed, and we have no evidence to suspect it's the Legion who did this," Ronda says, and I walk around the counter on the far side.

"Who else would? We know she's connected to them."

"A relationship last I understood, you've never proven," she says, and I scowl at her. "Think about your next words, very carefully detective."

"I'll go in there myself," I say, and storm away.

"You will do no such thing. We're a day away from the biggest bust in this department's history. Don't fuck that up!" Ronda shouts after me. She did not just say that. I know Ronda is ambitious and got passed up for Captain last year. And the year before that.

"What?" I ask and bring the storm back her way. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"You got one foot across that line detective, don't take the next step."

"This girl is just expendable? Collateral damage? Just so you can finally make Captain!?" I scream into her face. "Protect your pension and serve yourself."

"Get out of my face detective. While you're at it, get out of my crime scene. Leave your badge on the counter, you're on leave." So, it's her crime scene now. The woman who only comes to a few crime scenes a year. And only the big ones. Convenient.

I pull my lanyard with my badge off my neck and throw it across the room. I shove my gun into her chest, forcing her to take it from me. I pull the door of the diner open so fast it rips the bell off. I watch it jingle all the way across the floor and land at Ronda's feet.

I want to scream, but I keep my cool as I walk down the street and under the police tape. I start to light a cigarette when I look up and see a woman standing across the street. Why do I recognize her? Long dyed black hair with blonde roots that I can see even from here. She looks distraught, but cautious. She wants to run into the building and see what happened. Like she knows who the victim is.

"Dinah," I say aloud, and put the cigarette back into the pack. I look both ways and cross the street. She sees me coming and starts walking away, blending into the crowd. "Shit." She's an escape artist, and I lose her as fast as I found her. This woman is way too efficient at dodging a tail. She's lived a lifetime of looking over her shoulder.

"Where in the hell did she go?" I ask myself. I get to the corner and see her disappear into an alley. "Got her."

I jog after her and find her leaned over a dumpster. She is bawling like a baby and turns her head to me. Her face recoils away as I approach.

"Dinah?"

"Is it her?" she asks between breaths. I nod, but notice she isn't looking at me.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Who did it?" she asks, and I don't say anything. "Who did it!" she shrieks in a voice that gives me chills.

"I don't know," I say, and she turns back to me again.

"You're lying," she says. She moves on me like a panther. I go for my gun and remember too late I don't have it anymore. Not like it would have mattered. In a flurry I'm thrown down to the ground with her mounting me. She pushes me down with one hand and raises the other in a fist. "Give me a name. I swear I will beat it out of you!"

What the hell does this girl think she's going to do? This isn't grief; this is pure rage. Rage gets you killed. I'm not putting someone else in harm's way.

"I don't know..." and my head throttles the ground. Her fist is flush with my face.

"Liar!" I'm dazed. When the spots leave my eyes, I see her raised fist ready for another.

"I don't..." more spots.

"Give me a name, and I'll do the rest."

"What are you going to do?" I groan out.

"I will kill every last one of them."

This girl is unhinged. I've never seen this kind of bloodlust. Every time I've gone into that diner, she was a timid little girl. Now she's beating my face into the asphalt without a second thought. Worse, she knows I'm a cop, but she doesn't care.

"The 9^th Legion," I say, and her weight leaves my stomach. I roll over to my side, and grunt so hard I cough getting back to my feet. When I turn to where she was, she's dust in the wind.