Page 117 of Dancing in the Dark

“Deputy Legal Counsel Markum has brought a few… concerns to my attention,” Bower answers. He’s a balding, rounded man whose mustache hails directly from the seventies. But his glare; that fucker is as potent now as it was way back on my first day in this precinct. “Ethical concerns. Procedural concerns.”

I grind down on my molars and bring fiery eyes across to Markum. “Oh?”

“Unfortunately, I’ve attempted to mediate these concerns with you directly, detectives. It’s in everyone’s best interests for your department and mine to cooperate to the very best of our abilities. However, cooperation seems impossible when two-thirds of our trio insist on flouting the rules and skirting the consequences that come of those actions.” The weasel-faced prick drops his hands into his pockets and smiles, like this is nothing more than a friendly fuckin’ chat between pals. “Your positions within this department carry a significant level of responsibility, detectives. You deal with families in crisis, handle lives cut too short, and, at the end of the day, present a case in court that may or may not turn the key on someone else’s freedoms.”

“Improperly filed paperwork,” Bower snaps out. “Judge Mistleforth is about to blacklist our entire department because of the sheer number of warrants you’ve wasted his time with.”

“But—”

“Incorrectly filled-out subpoenas,” Bower barks out. “Lieutenant Fabian has had to sign twenty-three of the same applications for release of dock footage and manifests in the last week alone.”

“Yes, sir, but⁠—”

“You are not rookies! You’ve been in this job long enough now to know how to file the damn paperwork and follow the procedural steps.”

“Captain B⁠—”

“Do not speak!” he snarls.

I snap my lips shut.

“There is a young woman laid up in the morgue right now, a woman who had a family! A woman whose parents are grieving. They want to bury her, but they can’t make arrangements until they know when her body will be released, and her body can’t be released until your investigation is complete. Staff inside the George Stanley medical examiner’s office are being inundated with calls, not only from Ms. Waltham’s loved ones, but from the public too. News headlines are erring toward incompetence within Copeland City’s homicide division.”

No shit! Because Markum made a fucking statement and planted those seeds.

“When the public are not calling the morgue, they’re calling your lieutenant. And when they’re not getting what they need from him, they’re calling me!” Spittle flies with Bower’s shout. “I have no clue what has come over the two of you lately, but I’m done with it. Shape up.” His furious glare sizzles and cuts across to mine. “Or you will be shipped out. Do I make myself clear?”

As mud, motherfucker.

“Yes. Sir.” I grit each word through tight teeth. “I assure you, sir, Detective Malone and I are putting our best into this.”

“That’s not a comforting statement. Your best isn’t even close to good enough.” He looks to Archer. “Do I make myself clear, Detective?”

The Malone in him bristles. The mafia kid raised on the other side of the law, the contrarian who bucked familial expectations at sixteen years old, told the mafia to fuck themselves, and got himself a badge, burns.

Slowly, he drops his chin. “Clear, Captain. How can we improve our performance to best progress this case, Deputy Legal Counsel Markum?” He casts fiery eyes across to Markum. If I look at the prick, I’m gonna deck him. “For the sake of cooperation between departments, what do you need from us?”

Entirely too fucking pleased with himself, he grins and clasps his hands together behind his back. “I’m thrilled at your attitude readjustment, Detective Malone. I’m sure each of us is intelligent enough to understand the quiet intricacies of a case originating in the same place certain…” He drags his sentence out for one beat. Two. “Personal business ventures centered.”

“Your recommendations?” I snarl. “Deputy Legal Counsel.”

“For the sake of flawless accountability, I require every communication between your office and mine to be in writing from here on out. Face-to-face consultations will be recorded for posterity. Unfortunately, despite my efforts to curb this situation earlier and without escalation, I’ve had to notify the mayor.”

So you ran to Sera and complained? Got it.

“Mayor Lawrence has expressed serious concern regarding the matter, and as such, may reach out to you, Captain Bower, to discuss.” He rolls from his heels to the balls of his feet, rolling, rolling, too amped up on his power trip to realize the delight he so clearly telegraphs. “Whatever action he wishes to take is beyond my control, but I hope for everyone’s sakes our careers won’t be negatively affected by what I’m sure are temporary lapses in the detectives’ good sense.” He brings his eyes back to us. “Everyone is entitled to a bad day, however, yours seems to have stretched out to a bad week. I’m optimistic today’s meeting may be the reset you need.”

45

SERAPHINA

Alfred’s shiny black SUV idles in the street ten feet from where we stand, a small duffel bag slung over my shoulder, Mia’s hand clasped in mine, while with the other, I tap the glass of the George Stanley building and draw a security guard’s attention.

“Your surprise is visiting wif Aunty Minka?” Mia glances up at me. “I don’t fink she’s here, Fifi. It’s dark out, so she probably already went home.”

“Not visiting Aunty Minka. In fact, we’re sneaking in behind Aunty Minka’s back.” I press a finger to my lips. “Shh.”

“Ms. Lewis?” The heavy glass door opens and reveals the curious stare of a guard I worked with for years. “Hi, uh… Is everything okay?”