Chapter Twenty One
“So here’s my problem,” the policeman said, settling down across the table from Hoodoo and Rocky. Tracy was there, too. They’d brought the three of them in together, mostly due to a couple of very insistent cage-fighter managers. The policeman set a cup of coffee on the table in front of Hoodoo who reached for it. The policeman pulled it away. “Hey, that’s mine! Get your own!”
Hoodoo sighed. It was late at night, probably too late for coffee anyway, but since finding Tracy at the rally, his days and nights had become interchangeable. It sounded good. Very good. He would have confessed to anything right now had it come with the offer of a fresh cup of coffee.
“Here’s my problem,” the cop repeated. “I’m looking at a possible riot on my hands.” He pointed to Rocky. “Oddly enough, people who like to watch cage fighting are a rather violent lot. If I have someone go out there and tell them you can’t fight for their amusement because you’re in jail for fighting, they will pull this place down brick by brick.”
“I tol you,” Hoodoo said, “everythin’ we…”
“I was kidnapped!” Tracy blurted out, “by The Bandits! My bike was stolen from the museum and destroyed. BY THE BANDITS!”
“Yes, I have a copy of the theft report.” Detective Harris sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “And we took your statement about the alleged kidnapping…”
“ALLEGED?” Tracy half stood.
“… and we have your sworn affidavit,” Detective Harris said, holding up a hand to calm her. “I also have a report that this is the second time in as many days this group has been arrested for fighting The Bandits. The one thing I do NOT need is a turf war, when this isn’t your fucking turf to begin with! This, despite all appearances to the contrary, is not the old west and you do NOT take the law into your own hands!”
Tracy sank back down in her chair, a chastened look on her face. Hoodoo reached for her hand, holding it snug in her own. It wasn’t what he wanted to do right then, but it would have to suffice.
“While you’re doing all this insisting,” Rocky said quietly, “Krocker is leisurely packing his luggage and getting the hell out of your jurisdiction. He’s the cause of all of this.”
“We interviewed Mr. Krocker,” Harris said with exaggerated patience. “He claims that he was only told there was a rare motorcycle for sale and that owner wanted to sell it before leaving the rally. He claims he had no idea she was there under duress.”
“Oh come on!” Tracy said, “Joey’s too damn stupid to come up with this on his own! I had a gun on me the whole time Joey was counting out the money. He asked for cash. How suspicious do things have to look?”
“He thinks he’s descended from the Crocker who built that bike,” Hoodoo said, and snorted derisively. “He isn’t.”
Harris looked at him curiously. “How do you know?”
“What difference would it make?” Tracy said, “legally, it’s my bike no matter who he is or who his ancestors were.”
“Which is now a pile of scrap metal,” Harris said, looking at the papers on the table.
“it was a quarter-million-dollar bike,” Hoodoo interjected.
“Which was insured for the full value…” Harris said. “You have a nice little insurance claim to fill out, don’t you?”
There was dead silence for a full minute.
“What are you implying?” Tracy’s voice was half a degree from freezing when she finally spoke. Hoodoo only just kept her from adding assault of a police officer to her charges by keeping her fingers interlaced with her own, although right now they were ice cold and shaking.
“Only that if you had let us handle the case, it might still be in usable condition,” Harris said, flipping through pages.
“We did let you,” Tracy said through gritted teeth, “for two days. I even gave you the name of the man who took it, the museum gave you his name and description and you couldn’t find him. He assaulted this man,” she pointed to Hoodoo, “and you arrested him but let the thief go free!”
“It’s a very busy time for us,” Harris said, shooting her a look of dislike. “We’re a little crowded.”
“So, the cage fight is over then.” Rocky said, calm as you please.
Hoodoo bit back a smile.
“WHAT?” His manager screamed. The other man looked smug. “You can’t forfeit! Do you have any idea how much money is at stake?”
“Can’t fight while I’m arrested for fighting…” Rocky shrugged.
“Under the circumstances,” Harris said into a second pause that had filled the room with more tension than the first, “you’re free to go.” He picked up the papers on the table and swept them into a folder, then rose to go.
“Can’t do that,” Rocky said as the officer got to the door. “Can’t fight without my man in the corner.” He pointed to Hoodoo.
“I figured as much,” Harris said, leveling them each with a glare, “and I assume that you can’t do whatever that is without the rest of your gang?”
“’Gang’?” Hoodoo said innocently. “Gang implies illegal activities. We’re just a club. We get together for rides in the country.”
“You are…” Harris shuffled through papers in his folder, half spilling them onto the floor.
“Hoodoo,” Hoodoo said, introducing himself.
Harris withdrew one particular paper and looked at it critically. “Francis Comeau.”
“Francis?” Rocky’s eyes grew wide.
“Watch it.” Hoodoo growled from the corner of his mouth.
Rocky’s face froze before the grin could take hold. He stared pointedly at the table. Tracy put her head in her hands.
“Is that your name?” Harris asked again.
“It’s the name given to me by a drug-addled woman who abandoned me as a child and was only used by people who need to mock others to feel big,” Hoodoo said with a pleasant smile. “You don’t strike me as a petty man, Detective. You don’t need to do that.”
Tracy looked up at Hoodoo, her expression soft.
Harris nodded, although there was a tightness around his mouth that spoke deeply of his frustrations right now. “I don’t like fights. I don’t like people shooting at each other and most of all, I do NOT like high-speed chases down my freeway! However, I also do not like people who take the law into their own hands. Whether or not there was a kidnapping or extortion, it is a POLICE matter, not a matter for you to take over. Is that clear?”
“Very,” Rocky said.
“It is clear,” Hoodoo said, knowing when to stop rocking the boat.
Harris tucked the papers back into the folder and as he turned to go, paused for one final question, his hand on the doorknob. “Out of curiosity, who did you call?” Harris asked Hoodoo.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, who did you call? When you made your phone call, who was it? We know it was a call to Chicago, who did you call?”
“A friend.”
Rocky turned to Hoodoo, his eyebrows shot up. Hoodoo nodded. “I don’t owe him, so now… I owe him…”
“Your friend is… has a great deal of lawyers on retention,” Harris said, looking at the folder in his hand. “There have been papers filed in record time. You’ve only been here a couple of hours.” Harris shook his head and sighed. “Look, I want you gone. In the morning, the rally is over early for you, all of you. However, I don’t have the authority to enforce that. This friend of yours is… persuasive. No less than the governor called me about you lot. This Joey character is under arrest, but he’s going to be in the hospital a few days first. If you want to swear out a complaint against him…” He looked to Tracy.
“Hell, yes,” she said, not in the least mollified by any of this.
“Won’t that upset your father?” Hoodoo asked quietly.
“Daddy needs to grow up someday,” Tracy’s voice was fierce, and although she shrugged, he could see the struggle within her eyes. They would have to talk. He squeezed her hand, letting her know it was okay.
“Then… you’re free to leave.” Harris met Hoodoo’s eyes. His gaze was pure iron. “If you get into another fight…” Harris said, eyeing them each in turn, “then all the lawyers in the world won’t save your ass.”
“And my friends?” Hoodoo asked without moving.
“They can leave also. And I suggest you head over to the stage. Your loyal fans are within moments of tearing the place apart waiting for you to show up or forfeit.”
“One more thing,” Harris said as they all stood. “I was asked to tell you that there is a special counsel flying in to take over this case. They’ll be here to represent your friend’s interest. You’re to meet with them as soon as possible. Don’t worry about where, I’ll know where you are at all times. And I’ll know what you’re doing at all times.”
“Like Santa?” Rocky said, wide-eyed.
“Yeah.” Harris said. A vein in his neck began to twitch. “Just like Santa. And if you so much as fart in my town again, I will take a lump of coal…”
“Thank you, detective,” Tracy said quickly, putting up her free hand to forestall the rest of that. “We’ll be on our way.”
“I wish I could believe that,” Harris said, as he shook his head and yanked the door open and disappeared out into the hallway. The door slammed shut behind him with a bang hard enough that Hoodoo felt through his boots.
“Thank you, Hitman!” Rocky crowed when they stepped out into the dark street a few minutes later.
“Well, you don’t get a forfeit,” Rocky’s manager said to the other man, who was looking more and more uneasy.
“That’s fine,” the man said, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers. “It’s just an exhibition match anyway. Krocker will make good.”
“For ten grand?” Rocky’s man said. “Tell me the difference. Winner gets the purse.”
“It’s more than money,” Rocky said, patting his manager’s arm. “There’s love of the sport!” Rocky turned toward Krocker’s manager. “And there’s no better way to celebrate the sport than participating in it.” He smiled his gap-toothed grin. “Tell your boy that it all gets put to rest tonight.” Rocky said, his grin positively feral. “One way or another, it all ends tonight.”