Page 69 of Fish in a Barrel
Galen smiled slightly. “I do,” he said. “I’m always surprised to be asked. I don’t know if I say this enough, but I do enjoy working here with you, Ellery. Thank you so much for making me love what I do again.”
Ellery was going to answer, but then a ferocious yawn took over and he had to pause. “Thanks for being willing to work with us,” he said when he was done. “It’s not often you find someone who’s willing to put his law degree to use for less money, longer hours, and no interest at all in politics.”
He expected Galen to laugh, but instead, his colleague and friend looked at him soberly. “When John found me, I was living on the last of my settlement, and I spent my days trying hard to stretch out my supply of oxy so I didn’t blow through it all in one go. I… I could have been homeless. If John had arrived a month or two later, I would have been. This case—it feels like amends from Narcotics Anonymous, but like I’m paying back the universe for sending me somebody who gave enough of a shit to get me out of that, to get me clean. Not many jobs give you a chance to redeem yourself or to pay back a karmic debt. You make sure this firm keeps doing that and I’ll keep working here.”
Ellery nodded. “It’s why Jackson and Jade and I founded the place,” he said. “It just seems like the deck is stacked against entirely the wrong people far too often.”
“Indeed it does,” Galen said, nodding. “I’ll see you in five.”
Ellery nodded and set off toward his own office for his notebook, files, and pens, and wondered at the complicated series of karmic weights and redemption pulleys that it took to keep the universe from falling into complete chaos. He’d gotten down the hall before he decided he could barely function as it was that morning. Perhaps he’d let Jackson figure it out for him.
Guys, Just Hanging Out
SEAN KRYZYNSKIseemed achingly young at twenty-eight, but maybe that was because, until he’d met Jackson and crushed on Ellery a little, he’d still believed in Santa Cop and the Easter Police. He’d only had a little time to be cynical and distrustful of his colleagues and his chosen profession, and sometimes his innocence showed.
“Jackson, I know it’s frustrating, but just because your name came up in an investigation doesn’t mean there’s a conspiracy behind it.”
Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and prayed for Ellery’s patience before speaking into the phone again. “Sean, they sent their best team on a wild-goose chase during an active crime-scene investigation. Andreshouldhave been at the crime scene, but no, he was here, checking my video-game logs. Do you see the problem with that?”
He found hope in the beat of silence.
“Yes,” Sean said, dismayed. “Yes, I do. Look, I’m going to call Christie and see what’s doing.” He ended the call without ceremony, and Jackson stood up tentatively and started clearing away the breakfast dishes. He’d wiped down all the counters and run the dishwasher—and given Lucifer and Billy Bob their morning helping of soft food—all while singing loudly to old Neil Young songs, when his earbud buzzed again.
“Jackson?” Sean sounded troubled… and urgent.
“Yeah?”
“Billy and I will be over in an hour with copies of the crime-scene photos and case files. Billy’s getting them from Andre right now. He’s putting his career on the line for this. There must be something really fucking hinky in there.”
Jackson breathed out through his nose, a shiver of excitement coursing down his spine to celebrate the lucky guess. “I’m interested to see what it is.” And then, because Ellery had been feeding him muddy “supplemented” coffee all weekend that he was starting to suspect was tea, he asked, “Hey, you guys wouldn’t want to stop at a Starbucks and get me something ginormous, frozen, with sugar, would you?”
“Did Ellery say that you could?” Sean asked suspiciously.
“He didn’t say I couldn’t,” Jackson hedged.
He heard Sean’s careful breath, in and out. “Do you have cookies?” he asked quietly. “Because Billy keeps trying to make me healthy snacks with apple juice, and, you know, they keep me regular, but—”
Jackson turned carefully and checked the top shelf, then brought down an unopened box of fudge-covered Oreos. “I’ll hook you up,” he said with satisfaction.
“You’re a good friend,” Sean said in all sincerity. “We’ll be there in an hour.”
Word.
JACKSON GOTbored easily. By the time Sean and Billy, his totally hot live-in nurse/porn model, showed up at his door, he’d already found the purple-and-orange lights and synthetic pumpkin that Ellery had bought the year before, on Jackson’s insistence, and decorated the alcove around the front door. He figured they had at least a week before trick-or-treating, so he ordered a shit-ton of other decorations, skeletons mostly: skeletons of dogs, skeletons of cats, skeletons of scorpions, rats, and possums. He figured that entryway was big enough that they could have an entire plastic skeleton zoo to welcome the bravest of the brave, and he added a set of faux-human bones that dropped down and screamed when someone tripped the sensor and then recoiled back up afterward, so they could hang it on the tree.
As soon as the payment went through, his phone rang again. This time it was Hurricane Joey, oh he of the nine-inch dick, a thing Jackson never called him to his face. However, given Joey’s propensity for spreading chaos—and Joey’s pride in his own endowment—Jackson never regretted calling him that behind his back either.
“So yeah, Jackson,” Joey began, and Jackson sank into one of the straight-backed kitchen chairs that were easier on his stitches but tougher on his spine and sighed.
“What’s up, Joey?”
“Well, yeah. About that car.”
Jackson’s breath froze in his chest. “The one I’m driving or the one you’re supposed to be fixing?”
“Well, see, both. You know how we had to work on the CR-V because of the electrical system, right? Because it was haunted?”
“Yeah.” This had beenafterJoey had done the bodywork and given the car back “good as new” when Jackson paid him cash.