Chapter 19

<<It’s all downhill from here>>, tweets Hairy.

I LOVE sledding! Tule replies.

THIS IS AN ALL-CAPS DAY!!! JanusFlyTrap tweets.

I’m driving to the police station, and I imagine the van taking flight, weaving through traffic, wheels barely clipping the road. I can fly. Janus isn’t just strong. She’s invincible. I park and ease out of the van. But right before I start to crutch, I look at the crutches. A hard look. Crutches are for the weak. Do I really need them? I broke my ankle jumping from a balcony over a month ago now. Sure, the average person needs six weeks to heal, but my ankle feels pretty solid. I toss the crutches into the passenger seat and grin. I am free of them.

Strutting with a cast is something few people can do well, but I excel. I snap my fingers at a passerby.

“Bless you, my daughter,” I say to another.

I wink at a cop. I enter the precinct’s airy atrium and place my hands on my hips. I own this.

A hundred of the common people are waiting for their number to be called to pay traffic tickets or to make complaints at the kiosks on the left. To my right are a couple phones for use by criminals in need of fingerprinting. Directly ahead, an officer swipes his card and enters through the security door. I strut over to it and use my cast to catch the door before it closes.

Once inside I can see the scalps of dozens of constables who work at their cubicles. Offices along one wall are for the captain and the various sergeants who lead the major crime units like fraud, homicide, and other places everyone wants to work. Detective Williams’s cubicle is somewhere in the middle, and I recognize her straight, near-black hair as I skip to her. My cast thumps, bringing the attention of a few officers I grin at as I pass. Everyone loves me here after what I did for the sister of one of their own.

“Janus?” Williams stands in her cubicle and glances around. Okay, so everyone is watching now. Even Haines’s blockhead has emerged from his office door, fixing me with piercing eyes. “What are you doing here, Janus?” Williams asks.

“Hey there, Sergeant Haines!” I say. “Wait until I get my Haines on you, right? Ha, ha!”

He shakes his head and disappears, shutting his door.

“Janus, have you been drinking?” Williams asks.

“With the captain, you mean? Just kidding, I know he doesn’t do that and neither do I. It’s bad for you.” Just then I see she has the phone I’d lost to the evidence locker, and I grab it from her desk with a smile.

“Janus—”

“Yes, yes, why am I here, you wonder?” I say, lifting my arms in a dramatic pause. “They murdered my dad, that’s why. They killed him. Bang, bang, or maybe with a knife. Slit his throat. He’s dead.”

Williams peers at me, face a mask of concern. “Come, we’ll find a meeting room.”

All the meeting rooms are full, so we end up in the big glass room that fits twenty people, but we slide into two chairs at the end.

“The soup kitchen is great, by the way,” I say as I sit.

“What do you mean, they killed your father, Janus?” she asks.

“Well, you see, I was kidnapped last night by one of my dad’s former customers,” I use the quote signs around customers, “and he showed me where my dad was buried. It’s the same group—I’m pretty sure—who are behind this Zombie Worm, but don’t worry about that, I’m on the case. Let’s talk about the murder.”

Williams regards me for another long moment before seeming to make a decision.

“Do you have an address?”

“The woods, somewhere in Quebec.”

“That’s a pretty broad area, Janus; could you take me there?”

“I was blindfolded, but I could feel my way there.” More quotes around feel. “I saw that once in a movie where the blindfolded guy remembered all the turns. I think I can do it.”

Williams draws a deep breath. “What about this man; describe him.”

“Big,” I say. “He has a long ponytail.”

“Caucasian?”

“About my dad’s age if they hadn’t killed him,” I say, nodding. “But they did. Kill him.”

“This man killed him,” Williams replies.

“No, they did. He was my dad’s friend. Bitchain.”

“Bitchain is the friend?”

“It’s a gang. I think they’ve created the Zombie Worm that I’m a cleaner for now. You have to listen better. Aren’t you a detective? And while we’re talking on the subject, am I back on the force?”

She blinks hard and then takes my hand between both of hers. “Janus,” she says. “I’m worried about you. You’re not making very much sense. It must be really hard with your mom in the hospital. Is there anyone I can call to pick you up?”

“I’m okay. I know this is all really complicated, but I think my mom’s boyfriend is behind it all.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yes, arrest him, and then torture him,” I say. “Ha, ha, I know you can’t do that, but if we can just crack the encryption on his hard drive, we’ll have the answers.”

“Okay, so what are you going to do?” Her grip tightens and I have this weird thought that maybe she’s in on Bitchain as well. Everyone is.

“I only wanted to tell you. Let the police handle it from here,” I say. “You know me.”

It earns me a small smile and her expression softens.

“You’re going home?”

“Yep, off to the soup kitchen and then home.”

Williams releases my hands and then pats my hand. “Good girl, I want you to stay home until I call you. Promise?”

“Promise.” Beneath the table my legs are crossed so it doesn’t count.

She walks me out, and we chat about how the fiberglass companies and crutch makers are spreading rumors that broken bones need six weeks to heal in a bid to increase sales. Corruption—it’s everywhere.

Annie greets me at the soup kitchen and hands me a peeler. I chat with the potatoes as I strip away their skin and poke out their eyes.

“One potato, two potato, three potato, four. Five potato, six potato, seven potato, more! Icha bacha, soda cracker, Icha bacha boo. Icha bacha, soda cracker, out goes Y-o-u!” It’s a song that never grows old, although I think Junker makes stabbing motions a couple of times.

Then I go home, where I update Shadownet and try to stay warm.

Williams calls me back and says she hasn’t been able to reach Peter. She tells me to call her in the morning, but adds that unfortunately after this afternoon, the captain firmed up his decision to have me serve out the community service hours at the soup kitchen. Whatever.

You’re all just a sack of potatoes, Heckleena tweets. Better left in a cold, dark place.

If I were a potato, Hairy replies, I’d be baked.

I’d be a sweet potato, Frannie adds.

ME? I’D BE CRAZY CURLY FRIES, JanusFlyTrap tweets.

I try to sleep. The Geek Goddess’s mind races.