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  Something Green

  Copyright © 2008 by Drew Zachary

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

  Cover illustration copyright Alessia Brio

  Used with permission

  ISBN: 978-1-60370-634-6, 1-60370-634-8

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Torquere Press, Inc.: High Ball electronic edition / February 2009

  Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

  Something Green

  By Drew Zachary

  DB didn't like crime scenes much, which put him in totally the wrong line of business. As a private investigator he wound up at a lot of them. He was often the guy calling the cops -- like this case, where he'd had to work on talking Benny Supalo out of shooting the woman Benny'd taken hostage in the head while DB waited for the cavalry to show up.

  Two minutes after the official negotiator had turned up, Benny Supalo had jumped out of the second floor window. DB was sure Benny'd been going for offing himself, but instead had only managed to cause grievous harm. The important thing was he was now in custody and the woman he'd taken was safe.

  DB had to stick around, though, and answer all the usual questions about how he'd gotten there so fast, how he'd known what was going down. There'd be the usual finger pointing and suspicions that he couldn't allay, because the truth would just get him thrown in the loony bin, and he had plans for later tonight, thank you very much.

  That wasn't the real reason he didn't like crime scenes, though.

  And it wasn't about all the lights and noise and usually-copious amounts of blood.

  No, DB didn't like crime scenes because they attracted a ton of people, drew crowds in like the horror shows they were. Gawkers. Tons of them. Human and ghost alike, and there was his problem.

  DB couldn't tell which ones were real and which ones were ghosts. Or at least he couldn't until someone walked through someone else, and then he knew. But that happened much less often than you'd think.

  He had to be careful who he talked to because nobody else could see the ghosts, and he'd be looking at that trip to the loony bin again if he was found holding conversations with himself.

  So he leaned against the side of a car, wishing he had a coffee and watching the chaos unfolding in front of him. Unfortunately, just going home made the cops cranky; someone would be over to the car to question him eventually.

  "Come on, DB." There was a hint of whine in the voice. "Can't you just... you know. Walk away? They know where to find you." Jesse was pacing a little bit, worked up enough that when he turned too fast, his hip slid through the trunk of the car. "Let's go home, okay?"

  He didn't answer. Without that coffee cup to hide his mouth behind, he was back to looking nuts if he talked to himself. He did sigh, though. It wasn't like he wanted to stay -- he was wound up, too, and going home with Jesse to get it on as best they could... well, that appealed a whole lot more than standing around waiting for Joe Friday to finally show up and grill him.

  "I hate this part." Jesse was talking with his hands, gesturing as he paced. "The rest is cool enough, you running around like a big damn hero with your big damn gun and talking away trying to save the day -- which you do, don't get me wrong! -- but this part bites. When's he gonna come and talk to you, anyway? We don't have all night, here!"

  DB shrugged. He didn't know. And, frankly, he wasn't feeling hugely heroic. He caught sight of the little brunette Benny had taken, walking away from the ambulance where they'd been checking her out. Okay, maybe he was a little heroic.

  "Oh, oh, oh!" Jesse bounced. Man, he was really riled up. "Here he comes. Talk fast, okay?"

  A cop was making his way over, his suit rumpled and his eyes tired. He had coffee, two cups of it, even. "You Black?" he asked when he got close enough to talk to DB.

  DB nodded. "But you can call me DB, everyone does."

  One cup was held out to him, steam rising up. "Donners. Detective Joe Donners. Had an exciting one this time, did you?"

  Jesse slid a bit closer. "Don't be fooled by gifts of coffee. He's a cop and he's keeping you here too long." Jesse was a little focused sometimes.

  DB managed a smile and accepted the cup. "Nobody died. That's always a plus." Though he imagined Benny was wishing he had.

  "People die on you often? Nah, they don't." Donners shook his head and sipped his coffee. "I hear you usually get there in the nick of time."

  Jesse hissed something under his breath, but thankfully moved a foot or so away.

  DB kept his smile in place; getting worked up would just make Donners suspicious -- more suspicious. Besides, he wasn't doing anything wrong. "I try."

  "Yeah, I hear ya. So do we, but you're faster. You've got really good intel or some wicked sixth sense." Donners gave him a piercing look and then gestured around them with his coffee cup. "So, tell me about this one. How'd you get here, what did you know, and then how did it go down?" He winced. "Pardon my choice of words."

  "I got a tip Benny was in a bad way. I was on my way to see him when I saw him grab the brunette. I called you guys as soon as he dug in at this place." He'd learned to keep the details to a minimum. The less the cops knew about how he really operated, the better.

  "Want to tell me about that tip?"

  Jesse snorted.

  "My sources are confidential." Actually, officer, I talk to ghosts. One of them is my unofficial partner. Yeah. That would go over a treat.

  "You're no priest, doctor, or reporter." Donners' voice was mild, though, like he wasn't going to push too hard. This time. "Your source must be golden. Or invisible."

  DB laughed that off. "Yep, you got me. He's invisible."

  "Well, he's kind of got to be." The piercing look was back. "At the station we got a list of scenes where you've turned up in the last two months. Funny thing is that no one, not one single witness, has been able to shed any light on your mystery informant. Do you know how odd that is? No one. Eight scenes and not one person sees anything before you."

  "Oh, oh." Jesse came back, looking wary.

  DB managed a loose shrug. "It's not so odd. People don't like getting involved, don't like coming forward as witnesses. If there isn't anything else..." He stood away from the car, making I've-got-to-go motions.

  "I've got a theory."

  Fuck. "I don't think you need a theory, man. Benny was pretty much desperate, and desperate men do stupid things. Besides, you can question him and get the low-down straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

  "Not about that." Donners dismissed Benny with a wave of his hand. "I have a theory about you and your knack for being where you need to be. Although why you're not better at finding paying clients puts a crimp in the whole thing. Still, can't argue with your talent when it comes to saving little girls."

  Jesse twitched. "Um, we should maybe run at this point."

  He couldn't agree more, but the place was crawling with cops and they knew where he lived. Running would only make him look guilty. More guilty. He decided to go on the offensive instead. "That's right. I've done a lot of good. Most people don't have a problem with that." He put the emphasis on most. He wasn't smiling anymore; he was done making nice.

  Donners raised both eyebrows. "Hey, I'd give you a medal. I don't have issues with people with your gift. That's my point."

  What? Wow. That was so not what'd he'd been expecting, what he was used to hearing from the cops. "My gift?"

  Donners nodded. "I think it's pretty clear what's going on, ac
tually. So maybe we can talk about it, come to an understanding."

  "What the fuck is he on about?" Jesse stepped up and waved his hands in front of Donners' face. "He can't see me."

  Not having the cops breathing down his neck all the time would be awesome. On the other hand, it could be a trap. "Maybe you'd better tell me what you're talking about."

  The casual shrug of Donners' shoulder was trying to say the whole thing was no big deal, but the way he was gripping his Styrofoam cup so hard that he was denting it was saying something else. "Well, it's not like the police never work with psychics at all. We don't make a big deal about it, but it's hardly unheard of. Hell, I've even talked to Madam Yanya myself, once or twice. But you're better than he -- she -- is."

  Oh, thank God. They thought he was psychic. Or at least Donners did.

  "Look, I don't want that kind of thing getting around, okay? Can I go now?"

  "Life might be a little less stressful for you if you talk to me," Donners said, his hand not relaxing one bit. "And a lot more stressful if you don't."

  "Are you threatening me?"

  "Now, what would I be threatening you with?" Donners shrugged one shoulder. "You can answer a lot of questions, asked by any of my fine colleagues, at every single crime scene you enter, or you can have a quick chat with me. It's entirely up to you."

  "Fine. Let's get this over with, then." He had to admit, if talking to Donners would take care of everything, it could be worth it.

  To his mild surprise, Donners started walking, clearly wanting DB to take a stroll with him. "This gift of yours been wrong yet? I mean in a spectacular way. Ever had to go be somewhere and have nothing at all happen? How clear is your information? I can't argue with your success rate, but I only know about the success, if you get me."

  Jesse laughed, walking right along with them. "Oh, man. This is going to be fun." He was almost gleeful. "Play games with him, or tell the truth? Can I lay bets?"

  DB ignored Jesse as best he could and said, "My information's pretty accurate. Sure, I've gone places and had nothing happen -- that's the nature of the PI business. Lots of surveillance -- you know how that goes." Of course, he didn't have to do nearly as much of that with Jesse as his partner, but Donners didn't need to know about Jesse.

  "You owe me twenty bucks; I totally called that." Jesse lived in a world of delusion, clearly.

  Donners nodded and drank more coffee. "Is it visions? Auditory? Feelings? Did Madam Yanya help you figure it out? She wouldn't tell me, tried to fly the confidential stuff at me, too. Frankly, I let it go because her shop was full of incense that gives me a headache."

  Jesse walked through a fire hydrant. "I like her shop," he protested. "And the only thing she helped with was our sex life. Tell him that, DB. Then take me home."

  "I don't think the hows and whys are relevant, really. What I want to know is why you believe? Most cops don't."

  Donners didn't say anything for a long time, long enough to walk to the end of the block, where he stopped and turned to look back at the scene. "I had a partner once who knew things. He could... he knew things. Anticipated things. He was right far more than he was wrong, often enough that it became a matter of course. He said, I did, and that was that. I think you're that way, too."

  "So how exactly is it you're going to keep your fellow cops off my back about the things I know?" This could work out for him.

  "You get a ping, you call me. You get into a situation you need the police, you call me. You get information you need to pass on, you call me. I am the police, as far as you're concerned. You get brought in, you call me. Basically, you're mine. Just like any other informant, though probably a much better one."

  Jesse snickered. "You're a snitch. Cool. Now can we go home?"

  "You're looking for a leg up on your cronies." Not that he was complaining about that. If the others didn't believe him and Donners did, well, that was their loss, wasn't it?

  "We all are, my friend. What's life about, if not promotions and getting ahead?"

  "Well, there's getting head." Jesse put himself in front of DB, which was a blatant violation of all rules. "I really, really need to make sure you're okay now, DB. Take me home."

  DB had to work really, really hard not to react to Jesse, but it wasn't easy. "If it'll keep you guys off my back -- hell, just for being believed -- you've got a deal."

  Donners nodded and held out a hand, his card between his fingers. Right through Jesse's gut. "All of my numbers are on there. Day or night, okay?"

  "Oh, God. Ew." Jesse moved, fast. "I hate that."

  DB's smile was honest and probably way more than Donners was expecting, but it served Jesse right -- he knew he wasn't supposed to get between DB and whoever DB was talking to.

  DB took the card. "Okay. Day or night. Got you."

  "Good." Donners started walking back to the scene. "Try not to make it tonight, though. I got paperwork to do."

  "Not to worry, I'm going home to bed." And one very insistent ghost who was going to do his best to blow DB's mind.

  Donners waved, but DB almost missed it as said ghost attempted to get things going right there, resting one tingle-inducing hand on DB's back. "Now, please. I'll be good. Promise."

  "Being good means no touching until we're home." He headed for his car, parked out of the way just past the cross-street.

  "Clarify. No touching you, or no touching at all?" Jesse was probably serious, too.

  He shot Jesse a look. "No touching at all." He was not going to try to drive with Jesse sitting there masturbating next to him.

  "What if I do it quietly? Discreetly in the back seat?"

  "Go home if you can't wait, Jesse. There will be no touching in my car." He opened the door and slid into his seat.

  Jesse appeared in the passenger seat and sighed dramatically. He did everything dramatically when he was wound up like this. He'd once told DB it was because he was stuck wearing the same clothes he'd died in, and different moods were like a wardrobe.

  He was probably making that up, though.

  "Can you drive real fast? And if I'm not allowed to start up, can we talk about Joe? He seemed kind of... not weird."

  "I am going to drive the speed limit -- we don't want to get into an accident. It would put a crimp in our evening." He started up the car and slid out of his parking spot, doing a three-point turn so he could get back to the intersection. "What do you mean, not weird? The man believes in psychics. That's pretty weird."

  "Uh, psychics are real. Believing in them isn't weird -- being one is weird. Or didn't you notice that Madam Yanya is really a big tall man named Steve who wears a dress?"

  "Most people don't believe in psychics -- so believing in them is weird. And yes, I noticed Yanya was really a big tall man named Steve who wears a dress, but I'd say that's what makes him weird, not being a psychic. Seeing ghosts? Now that's weird." They weren't that far from home, really. It would only be a few more minutes, and then he could let himself go and have fun with his own personal ghost.

  "Madam Yanya can see us, you can see us. Now, having sex with a ghost, that's weird." Jesse grinned at him. "Joe's not weird. Just another gay cop trying to make it up the ranks."

  He shot Jesse a look. "What makes you think Donners is gay?"

  "Oh, I don't know. The gift of coffee, the offering of all his phone numbers, the way he was totally checking out your ass."

  "He was trying to butter me up with the coffee, and the phone numbers are so that I can't squirrel out of the deal by saying I couldn't reach him. And he was not checking out my... wait. He was checking out my ass?"

  Joe Donners had been good-looking. Not that he'd been paying much attention; he'd been concentrating on trying to keep his secret. But now that he thought back on the guy...

  "Hey." Jesse gave him a hard look. "Don't be going there, DB. I can haunt you."

  "I didn't check him out, Jesse. I'm not in the market for another lover, alive or not." He had more than he could handle already w
ith Jesse.

  Jesse grinned at him. "You were just thinking he was kind of cute. He is, I'll give you that much. But I'm cuter, and I'm willing to let you smoke around me."

  "What makes you think Joe wouldn't?" He shook his head suddenly. "No, I'm not having this conversation with you, okay? Joe Donners is my ticket to no longer getting harassed every time I'm on a case." He pulled into a spot fairly close to his apartment building. "And that's it. End of discussion."

  "Does that mean I can touch now?" Jesse didn't wait for an answer -- surprise surprise -- and had a hand in DB's lap before he'd even stopped talking.

  "Can we get inside first? Jesus." DB jumped up and out of the car. He slammed the door closed, made sure it was locked, and hightailed it toward home.