8

We stopped outside a boxy brick building featuring rows upon rows of square windows, evenly spaced and in need of washing. Either the architect had been a big fan of cubism, or the building’s bankrollers had been big fans of not paying their architects well.

I pointed at the place with a half-eaten churro. “That’s the VA?”

“It houses a bunch of government offices, not just veteran’s affairs.” Griggs glanced at my breakfast. “You plan on bringing that in with you?”

“You think they’ll care about cinnamon sugar falling on their floor?”

Griggs scowled. “Why haven’t you finished it yet? You bought it right after leaving the station.”

I took another nibble. “I’m easing my stomach back into a groove. I had a rough night.”

Griggs grunted and headed on in. I followed him.

After consulting with a directory in the lobby, we headed up the stairs to the second floor. There, we followed the signs to the veteran’s affairs office, a broad expanse of weathered desks and ratty corkboard partitions that reminded me of our own pit, except without the same smells of must, old cigarettes, and sweaty, overweight guys who’d eaten one too many donuts. It did smell of stale coffee, however, unless that was my own lingering scent. I doubted it, though. Today, I smelled like fresh coffee.

A secretary at the front desk looked up. “Here to talk with Health or Benefits?”

“Neither,” I said, producing my badge. “NWPD. Got a few questions relating to an arson from a couple days ago. You familiar with a man by the name of Rufus Guzmann?”

The secretary lifted a practiced eyebrow, one that fully conveyed both her complete and total disinterest as well as her contempt. “Should I be?”

“He died in the fire we’re investigating,” I said. “He was a vet. Got regular visits from your social workers every few months.”

The secretary pointed down a corridor between the cubicles. “First right at the intersection. Ask Tannyth, Kieran, or Susan. They’ll be able to point you in the right direction.”

I followed the lady’s instructions, passing a dozen or so desks before taking a right and arriving at another cluster. A trio of females sat at their stations, a pair of slender elves with dark hair and a young blonde woman, all of them filing paperwork of various kinds.

“Pardon me, ladies,” I said, holding up my badge. “Detective Jake Daggers. NWPD. This is Griggs. Mind if I have a moment of your time?”

I felt like a big man, standing there with my shiny badge, but to the lovelies in front of me, I might as well have been a janitor. They regarded me with indifference that rivaled the secretary’s. Maybe the churro in my other hand deadened the effect of the badge.

“What do you need?” asked one of the elves.

I turned to her, her face dusky and angular. “I’m looking for someone who worked with one of your charges, specifically the person who worked with a man named Rufus Guzmann. Big guy, took a spear to the knee in the Jade Mountain Invasion?”

“Rufus. Yeah,” said the blonde woman. “I worked with him.”

“You’re Susan?” I said.

“Kieran,” she said. “That’s Susan.”

She pointed at the dusky elf. The elf pointed to a nameplate on her desk and affixed me with an evil glare, like she thought I was a racist or something. How should I know the elf’s name was Susan?

There was a chair in front of Kieran’s desk, so I pulled it out and sat in it. If Griggs wanted a place to sit, I’m sure he could find a spare seat somewhere.

“Is Rufus in some sort of trouble?” she asked.

I gave her the once over. She was pretty enough, with dirty blonde hair that hung to her shoulders and a small mouth that looked as it would be great for pouting. A pair of thin glasses perched over her nose, giving her a bookish air that didn’t prevent her from being cute at the same time. As far as a memorable rack, though, she wasn’t in possession of one. At least I couldn’t see it under the heavy sweater she wore. In her current attire, I doubt anyone could’ve confused her for a prostitute, but in a racy dress, without the glasses…maybe.

“Rufus isn’t in any trouble,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean he’s okay. In fact, he’s dead.”

Kieran’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Burned to death in a fire two nights ago,” I said. “Griggs and I are investigating his possible murder.”

Kieran put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my goodness. That’s terrible.”

Behind me, I heard Griggs mutter something indistinct, probably about the lack of chairs. Not my fault if he was too lazy to find another.

“You worked with him?” I asked, taking a bite of my breakfast.

“He was one of the vets assigned to me, yes,” said Kieran, glancing at my churro. “I checked in on him every few months, just to make sure he was doing okay.”

“Is that normal behavior for your line of work? Checking in on veterans to make sure they’re getting by?”

“It is for me,” said Kieran. “I’m in skilled home care, specifically working with substance abuse patients.”

“Substance abuse?” I said. “Guzmann was a drug user?”

Kieran shook her head. “No, but I understand your confusion. The VA doesn’t have a specific department to cover guys like him, so he fell into my lap. To be fair, he was a substance abuser. It just so happened that substance was food, not narcotics.”

I blinked. I’d known he was fat, but I didn’t realize he was an addict. “So being overweight classifies as an addiction nowadays?”

“In his case, yes.”

I furrowed my brow. Behind me Griggs muttered once more. “Come again?”

Kieran looked at me over her glasses. “Addiction is extremely common among injured veterans, Detective. Most of them turn to drugs or alcohol, but it’s not rare for them to get addicted to any number of activities. Eating. Gambling. Sex, if they can get it. I could go into the psychological arguments for why if you’re interested.”

“I’m not.”

“I didn’t think you would be.”

Kieran didn’t let go of her judgmental look, keeping her eyes on me and my churro. I wasn’t getting any sort of sexpot vibe from her. She probably wasn’t the harlot, if indeed there was one.

“Guzmann’s neighbors described him as incredibly obese,” I said. “How big was he, exactly?”

Kieran shrugged. “I don’t know. Four, five hundred pounds, maybe? I don’t think he’d stepped on a scale since his time in the army.”

I would’ve whistled if I possessed the ability. It took real effort to put on that sort of weight. “What else can you tell me about him?”

“I…don’t know. I didn’t see him often. Once every two or three months. I spend my afternoons making house calls to the vets I’m assigned to. I get through a couple a day, usually. It takes me a few months to cycle through them all.”

“Surely you can tell me something,” I said. “Did he have any friends? Enemies? You realize we’re investigating a possible murder here, depending on how the fire department’s arson investigation goes.”

Kieran shook her head. “I don’t think he had many friends, if any. Possibly some guys from his time in service, but that was almost twenty years ago if I’m remembering correctly. You talked to his neighbors, right? Did they mention anyone?”

Griggs snorted. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was mirthful. I didn’t think he knew the meaning of the emotion.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” I said. “What about Jim Worth? That name ring any bells?”

Another judgmental, over the glasses sort of look. “Should it?”

“He died in another fire last night. We’re trying to see if there’s a connection.”

Kieran sighed. “Well, if I’ve ever heard the name, I don’t remember it. Look, I’m terribly sorry to hear about Guzmann, and of course I’m willing to help in your investigation, but I didn’t know him that well. With that said though, he did serve in the military.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“You should know. You work for the government. It means there’s an extensive file on him. Again, mostly about his time in service, but I document my work, too. I’d be happy to lead you down to the store room.”

Griggs grunted again, and for once, I mirrored his enthusiasm.

“Great,” I said. “Just how I wanted to spend the morning.”

“Does that means you want me to show you the way?”

“Oh, I don’t want you to,” I said. “But I suppose you should anyway. Go on. We’ll follow.”