The Darkness - Jason Pinter [59]
become more sensitive to what it used to be. Keenly aware
of what it was not anymore and never would be again.
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Even his old habits like drinking could not be enjoyed,
replaced by something artificial that was meant to fill the
void. If not for Henry, if not for the injection of new blood
into his old, tired veins, Jack O'Donnell knew there was
a good chance his disease would have been the end of him.
Tomorrow was a new day, and would hopefully bring
new leads. He was proud of Henry for finding out information on Brett Kaiser's possible killer. That the doorman
had seen this blond man coming and going at odd hours,
while Kaiser's wife left the apartment, left him no doubt
that this man held the key to many, many questions.
Tomorrow they would hopefully answer those, but he
also could be certain that new questions would be asked.
The key to reporting was answering the questions faster
than new ones could be asked, catching up with the trail
of lies while it was still warm. Give any suspect enough
lead time, they would cover their tracks sufficiently, prolonging the investigating or snuffing it out altogether.
Tomorrow they'd be back on the trail. Jack felt invigorated, for the first time in years knowing he was working
on something important, that his job and reputation were
no longer being held hostage by the bottle.
At some point they would unravel the whole spool of
thread. At some point, Jack would restore his damaged
reputation.
And at some point, Jack would need to know why
Henry Parker was lying to him.
23
Thursday
"So tell me about this Mr. Joshua."
Curt Sheffield held a pad of paper in his hands and a
small pen. The pen hovered above the pad as he waited
for me to speak.
We were sitting on a bench next to each other in Madison Square Park. It was early morning, just after seven
o'clock. The day was crisp and cool, and the park was
crowded with couples walking their dogs and sipping
coffee. I wasn't surprised to see a line already beginning
to form outside the world-famous Shake Shack. Possibly
the best burgers in the city, but the kind of meal your intestines could only handle once or twice a year.
Before Curt had taken out his writing utensils, there
had been a breakfast burrito that disappeared down his
throat in about 1.2 seconds. His breath smelled like fried
grease, but that's not the kind of thing you tell someone
you're approaching for help. Especially when they're
armed.
"Mr. Joshua?" I said.
"Mr. Joshua? You know, from Lethal Weapon? Played
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by crazy-ass Gary Busey, who got his blond ass handed
to him by the man from down under at the end?"
"Oh right," I said. "I kind of stopped watching Mel
Gibson movies after the whole sugartits thing."
"You know it's weird. Who would have thought that
between Gary Busey and Mel Gibson that Busey would
turn out to be the less crazy dude."
"So what's with the Joshua reference?"
"Well, you said this dude you're looking for is blond,
Mr. Joshua was blond, thought I'd give him a nickname
since you don't know who the hell he is."
"That's why I'm coming to you. So we can eventually
call him by his real name."
"Gotcha. One more anonymous baddie, coming up.
Like we don't have enough to worry about right now."
Curt spoke these words with a little more bite than I was
used to. He wasn't above bitching about his job, but there
was a current underneath this that caught my attention.
"You okay, buddy?" I asked.
"Yeah, just, you know."
"No, I don't know. What do you mean?"
Curt shifted, blew into his hands and rubbed them
together. "Department has been hit hard lately. The city's
budget's been slashed beyond belief so the mayor could
make his budget targets, and we're taking it in the ass just
like everyone else."
"In what way?"
"Well, frankly, the city has no money."
"Yeah, I remember the governor's press conference
where he made it seem like we were some sort of third
world country outpost."
"You wouldn't think it, you know? That a city where they
can charge fifteen bucks