Life was full of patterns and repetition. The surface details changed, but the foundation was an endless loop of false starts and dead ends.
Haggis sighed as he pulled into the complex of buildings that hid Ossi-Pro. A building he had convinced himself to get because of its seclusion from prying eyes. Private. He could do what he wanted there. Make noise and not worry about neighbors.
They could have had a concert behind the building and barely competed with the traffic sounds floating down from the overpass.
The place was slowly decaying. Weeds springing up through cracks in the streets and parking lots. Trash collecting in the overgrown bushes. Nobody even came to add their tags to the graffiti anymore.
And not because it was patrolled. Because it was disappearing. Like the city itself was forgetting. That’s why he chose this building. Because nobody else cared about it. When the time came for him to move on, it wouldn’t matter that he didn’t care about it either.
As he took his old truck around the last curve before hitting the end of the street, he thought it was why Stan liked it too. Whereas Haggis was hiding from himself — pretending to put down roots like he was really going to stay for more than a couple years — Stan was just hiding.
Haggis just hadn’t figured out what he was hiding from yet.
When he saw the black car in the handicap space, he thought Stan was already here. Then he pulled into the lot and saw that instead of Stan’s BMW, it was a Dodge. One of those new Chargers.
He didn’t care for them. It was like resurrecting a legend only to cut his balls off.
He pulled his truck into the usual spot, and as he got out, the front doors of the Dodge opened. Two men dressed in summer business attire. Loose ties. No jackets. Shoulder holsters.
The driver had a hipster beard. Viking point and twisty mustache. Lacquered hair with a hard part. The passenger looked like he hadn’t seen a comb in a week but at least had shaved two days ago. Both of them were pasty white. Like they weren’t from around here or had been working nights for a decade.
The passenger smiled. Gave Haggis a small salute in greeting. The driver looked grumpy. Stared like he was trying to win a contest.
“Good morning,” the passenger said. “Are you Dan Rollins?”
Dan nodded once. “Morning.” He turned away from them to walk to the front door. He saw them following him in the window’s reflection.
“Mind if we ask you some questions?”
Haggis paused with the key in front of the lock. Turned around and dropped the key back in his pocket. He hadn’t used them much lately, but his instincts crackled. Prickly skin on the back of his neck. Tension in his shoulders. “Who’s asking?”
Grumpy kept staring. Friendly grinned and nodded his head like a cow about to lick a block of salt. “We’re just looking for some information about your boss, Stan Franklin. It could help us out quite a bit.”
Haggis tipped his head at the Dodge. “You guys don’t look disabled.”
Friendly’s grin slipped.
Grumpy edged forward. “So?”
Haggis shrugged. “That’s a handicap space you’re parked in.”
Friendly at least looked back, his shoulders hunching up in shame.
Grumpy opened his hands. “So what? There’s nobody here.”
Haggis nodded. “But there could be. Considering what we do here, maybe you should move it.”
Friendly took a step back to look up at the sign on the canopy. “What do you do?”
“We make prosthetics for disabled veterans.”
Grumpy rolled his eyes. “There hasn’t been anybody coming here in weeks. Just you and one other guy.”
Haggis leaned back against the door. Crossed his arms. “Gentlemen, this will go much easier if you move the car and tell me who you are.”
Grumpy took a step, his hand coming up to point, but Friendly caught him with a hand on his chest. “Just move it. What’s the big deal?”
“Because there’s nobody here. Jesus Christ!”
He spun away with his hands up in front of him as if praying to some invisible god. Stomped all the way to the car. Got in and slammed the door. Revved the engine and chirped the tires pulling out. Swooped around to take up two spaces on the other side of Haggis’ truck.
Slammed the door when he got out. “There. Are you happy?”
Haggis nodded as he watched Grumpy walk back up to stand next to his partner. “Yeah, I am. Thank you.”
Friendly held a hand up. “Then can we ask a couple questions?”
Haggis smiled. “Of course.”
“Good.”
“But I won’t answer until I know your names.”
“Fuck this,” Grumpy said. He snatched his pistol from the holster under his arm. Stepped in and buried the barrel in Haggis’ thick beard.
“Easy,” Friendly shouted.
“Shut the fuck up, Cooper. I told you this was gonna be pointless. Guys like this make everything harder than it needs to be.”
Haggis raised his eyebrows. “Guys like this?”
Grumpy snarled up at him, “Yeah, assholes. Ex-military loner-type assholes.”
Haggis nodded. “That’s fair.”
“Where is Stan Manning?”
Haggis tipped his head like he was confused. “I got Cooper, but I didn’t get your name.”
Grumpy growled as he pulled his gun back. So slow.
Haggis brought both hands up. One to catch the gun before the blow could land. The other to clip Grumpy’s jaw on the point of his manicured beard.
“Hey!” Cooper shouted. Jumped forward with his pistol coming out.
Haggis pushed a sagging Grumpy out of the way. Completed his rotation by bringing Grumpy’s gun down to intercept Cooper’s draw. Then swept up to catch him across the nose with the barrel.
He bent to pick up the other gun. Stepped to the side to give both men some room.
Grumpy moaned as he rolled over to get to his hands and knees. Cooper caught blood in his palm as he sat up.
Haggis tucked Cooper’s pistol into his waistband. Aimed at the ground between them with the other one. “Why didn’t you just tell me your names? I would have answered every question you had. Hell, I probably would have invited you in for coffee.”
Grumpy stood with his hands up. Blinking the haze away. “We’re cops.”
“No you’re not.”
Cooper stood up and flung blood away. Wiped his hand on his pant leg. “No, we’re not. That’s why you’re fucked.”
Haggis cocked the pistol. “Do tell.”
“Just tell us where your boss is. That’s it. And we won’t be back.”
“Well, if you’re talking about Stan Franklin, I couldn’t tell you. He hasn’t called in a while, and I ain’t his fucking secretary.”
Cooper opened his mouth, but Haggis cut him off with a chop of his hand through the air in front of him.
But, if you’re talking about Stan Manning, I definitely couldn’t tell you. Never heard of him.”
Grumpy chuckled. “You are so fucked.”
Haggis acted like he was offended. Put his hand flat on his chest. “I’m not the one calling somebody names. I’m actually a very nice guy. But if you think you got what it takes …” Haggis put Grumpy’s pistol in his waistband to join the other one. “Come on and make me fucked.”
“What about his girl?” Cooper said.
Haggis laughed. “Oh, we are well beyond that.”
“That’s okay,” Grumpy said. “We missed her last time, but we’ll get her soon. We’ll get ‘em all. Come on, Coop.”
He turned without another look, and unlike when he arrived, he smiled like he hadn’t a care in the world. Cooper looked like he wanted to cut Haggis’ liver out. Roles reversed, he stomped back to the car.
Instead of tearing out with burning tires and screaming engine, Grumpy pulled out like he was on his way to church.
Haggis watched them until he could no longer see them past the curve. Unlocked the door while watching the street in the glass. Kept one eye on the parking lot as he made the coffee he would have shared with more polite villains.
And that’s what they were.
Haggis had spent the last couple of weeks wondering about Stan. About his absence. Ty Kirby’s accusations on his dumb murder show. Even how he might be involved with the death of a senator.
Only his intuition kept him from calling the hotline and turning him in. But when Grumpy said he would get Ronnie, he had said it with such relish that Haggis knew.
He hadn’t said them. He had said her.
Whatever Stan was into, he was on the right side of it. Maybe it was time for Haggis to ask a few questions of his own.