Authors: Olivia Connery
Love and Gravity
Detective Jack Malone looked down
at the crumpled, lifeless body that lay at his feet. It was a sixteen year old
girl he’d seen around at the station. The angry red welt around her throat said
she’d been strangled. It was the third time this week he’d stood over the empty
husk of a working girl with this same cause of death.
Malone was sure these had to be
professional hits. These girls weren’t robbed, and they weren’t raped, and
there were no witnesses to any of the three attacks. In Gravity City,
professional hit meant Nikky Poplovick, known as Pop to his crew. Pop was the
first name in organized crime in Gravity.
“Left on the street like trash.
This is no way for someone to go.” Malone couldn’t believe how small and young
she looked, how young they had all looked.
Malone’s partner, Detective Sam
Mueller stood beside him, seeming unaffected by the sight before him.
“She stopped being ‘someone’ when
she started spreading her legs for every guy with five bucks and some blow.”
Mueller held a cigarette between his lips, lighting it with the brilliant flash
of a match.
“Mueller, you can be such a
prick.”
Malone didn’t try to hide his
contempt. Their partnership was a part of the job neither of them enjoyed. “You
could at least show some appreciation. I bet you employ girls just like her
every night.”
“Well with what I see on this job
I’ve got every right to drown my sorrows in whatever, or whoever, I want. Keep
your goddamned nose out of it,” Mueller growled angrily.
He was tired of Malone and his
sanctimony. Malone thought he was better than everyone on the force. Sure there
were a lot of dirty cops in Gravity. And yeah, Mueller was one of them. But you
did what you needed to survive here. Morality was an investment with poor
returns in this city.
Mueller was tired of looking at
Malone, tired of being out in the hot summer night, wasting his time.
“Let’s just mark this down as suicide
and close the books on it, huh? I got a tall shot of whiskey waiting for me at
home.”
“Jesus Christ. Take a look around
this goddamn crime scene! We have a serial murderer on our hands, and as far as
I’m concerned none of the working girls in this city are going to be safe until
we clean house. Your whiskey can wait. Anyway, don’t you usually have to pay
girls like this to spend time with you? What’s your hurry now that it’s free,”
Malone asked?
“Yeah, yeah, wise guy. I’ll take a
look around but I can tell you now, whatever junkie pimp killed her is probably
already dead in the gutter himself.” Mueller knew this wasn’t true, but he was
sure Malone didn’t know it. He wanted Malone to feel disheartened enough to
quit.
“This’ll never make it to any trial,”
Mueller continued. “Who would want to waste another taxpayer cent on this dirty
bitch? She already used enough of our money getting free food and board in the
clink all those times we picked her up for being a pro.”
Malone rolled his eyes in
exasperation.
“The only wasted taxpayer money is
your salary, Mueller. Why don’t you just go home? You’re useless to me here.”
Malone was tired of trying to
wrangle his partner into action. He knew Mueller was trying to discourage him
but he didn’t care. He ignored everything Mueller had to say, thoroughly
suspecting him of being a dirty cop. If there was any evidence to be found on
this girl it was probably better for Malone to find it alone anyway.
“Yeah alright super-cop, you take
care of it,” Mueller said, looking Malone in the eye angrily. He flicked the
ashes of his cigarette over the body and some of them snowed down onto the dead
girl. Malone’s eyes flashed with hatred but he said nothing. He knew Mueller
was trying to challenge him and Malone just wanted him to get the hell out of
there.
As he watched Mueller head towards
his car he thought about his next move. Malone was sure Pop had to be behind
these killings, and he knew he needed to find someone willing to talk. He
wanted to take Pop down. This was going be the case that finally broke for him;
he was going to make sure of it. He needed some strong evidence and he was
getting tired of hoping it would fall into his lap while girls kept dying.
Malone looked down at the body at
his feet. He knew there was only one thing left that he hadn’t tried yet. He
decided to go to Altitude later that night. Altitude was the bar Pop owned and
used a legitimate front for his business. All his boys drank there, and much of
his illegal business went on in back. It was time for Malone to get closer.
It was a night like every other in
Gravity City. Margot Kidman was tending bar at Altitude. The clutter of
glasses, the haze of cigar smoke, and the quivering waves of laughter and
backslapping made the air feel as thick as cotton in the small front room.
Behind the bar, Margot was in a
different world. She was thinking about her father, remembering how he smiled.
She was remembering the first time that she'd determined to surprise him with breakfast.
She could only have been five or
so at the time and she had never made breakfast before. She'd watched her
father make it so many times she was sure she could do it alone. She tried to
cut a grapefruit in half and cut deeply into her left palm. She woke her father
up with her bloody hand wrapped in a dish towel.
Her father's eyebrows had furrowed
with concern above his warm grey eyes. He got dressed hastily and took her to
the emergency room. Margot got five stitches. When they got home her father put
her back in bed to sleep.
"Are you going to get some
rest for me, my little bird?"
She could still hear his voice;
still feel his breath on her cheek. She told him that she didn't want to be
alone while she slept. He said he had just the thing. He left her room and came
back with an armful of her stuffed animals from the living room.
"You're a very beloved girl
Margot! All of your friends want to come and stay with you!" He threw the
stuffed animals up in the air above Margot's head, and when they landed
Margot's whole entire body was covered by them.
Margot had taken a big stuffed
horse off her face and smiled at her father. She was sleepy from the medication
the doctor had given her.
"Sleep little bird" her
father had said. He brushed her short blonde hair back with his palm and kissed
her forehead.
Now Margot looked down at the old
scar on her palm, touching it with her fingers as she always did when she was
anxious. She felt so tired.
"Hey Margey, I said come give
me another round," Puddy shouted to her from the back end of the bar.
"Right, coming," said
Margot. She turned to grab the whiskey bottle behind her and noticed someone
new sitting at the bar by the door, surveying the place. She hadn't noticed him
enter, and hadn't seen him there before. Fresh faces in Altitude were rare. She
looked closely for a moment, observing his posture, his suit, his hands on the
bar. She immediately made him for a detective. She felt a surge of contempt
come into her chest from some wellspring deep inside her.
"Margey, for Christ's sake,
what's the hold up," Puddy asked?
"Alright, I'm coming. Here I
am." Margot turned her back on the detective and felt his eyes drilling
holes in the back of her skull. She could practically feel her brain vibrating.
She walked over to Puddy and started pouring him a shot.
"Hey Puddy, don't make a big
deal about looking or anything, but did you see the cop at the end of the
bar?"
"Yeah we all saw him. Came in
about five minutes ago. Don't worry love, I've got my eye on him. Nothing to
worry about."
Puddy squeezed her hand as he
reassured her. He was the only one of Pop's boys that Margot liked, really a
good guy in a lot of ways. His only failing was that he was loyal to Pop for
some reasons he never really talked about. But then she was a lot like Puddy
that way.
"Hey are you deaf? I said
you're not welcome here. Now you need to leave!"
Shouting came from the bar by the
door. Margot turned back around to see a guy named Eddie pressing his finger
into the detective's chest.
"You want to rethink touching
me friend."
The detective spoke with a strange
calm in his voice. It reminded Margot of smoke from an old pipe, warm and
languid.
"You don't tell me what to
think," Eddie shouted, pressing his finger deeper into the detective's
chest. Almost before he'd finished his sentence though, the detective had stood
up and grabbed Eddie's wrist, spun him around and slammed his face into the
worn mahogany wood of the bar. He grabbed Eddie's greasy black hair and pulled
his head back up, twisting his wrist harder. He spoke into Eddie's ear.
"Now I expect you to let me
go about my business. Are we clear?" He banged Eddie's head back down onto
the bar.
"Yeah, yeah, okay! Just let
me go."
The detective let Eddie go. All
the other boys in the bar had gathered around in a tight semi-circle and Eddie
backed up into it, pressing his hand to his injured face.
"Whady'a say fellas? Am I
welcome here, or do I need to invite some friends?"
The detective looked coolly into
the eyes of the men surrounding him and sat back down at the bar. The boys each
backed off, slowly and reluctantly, keeping a wary watch on their visitor. A
couple of guys ushered Eddie off to the other corner of the bar and gave him
some ice from an empty cocktail for his eye.
Margot watched all of this with
interest. She hated Eddie, and found the skill and force the detective used
against him somewhat exhilarating. But she hated cops, too, and along with
feeling exhilarated, she felt a sense of outrage that this one would come into
her bar and act like he owned the place. Fueled more by simmering anger from
her past than anything, she found herself walking over to this new face, unsure
of what she had to say to it but still feeling compelled to speak.
As she came closer to him he turned
to face her. His eyes held a quiet determination, eyes that upon closer
inspection were a startling glacier blue. He seemed a little older than her,
maybe thirty-one or thirty-two, with dark black hair. His face was thin and
firm, ending in a squared jaw. Margot couldn’t help noting that he was very
handsome.
She felt a little intimidated by
his abiding calmness despite the upheaval that had taken place, and that made
her even angrier. She stood in front of him struggling to say anything.
"You can't just come in here
and rough people up. I don't think the owner would appreciate how you're
treating his customers."
"Ah, you mean Pop. Exactly
the man I'd hoped to discuss. Over a beer, if you please."
Margot stared at him for a moment
deciding what to do. Frustrated, she reached under the bar and grabbed him a
longneck. She popped the top off and set it on the bar in front of him. He
focused his eyes on Margot more intently and leaned in towards her. He lowered
his smoky voice until it was a subtler, glowing ember.
"I know who you are Margot
Kidman. I've read your sheet. You're the only one of Pop's crew that isn't from
Gravity. In fact, you don't seem to be from anywhere in particular. You aren't
even as much as distant relative of anyone here. So the best I can come up with
is that Pop did you a favor, and now you owe him. Am I close?"
Margot narrowed her eyes angrily.
"What are you doing here? What do you want?"
"I want an informant. I want
to trade protection for information. I want Pop."
"Yeah, well I'm not your
girl, Detective."
"Oh, come on Margot. Yours is
the least offensive arrest record in here, the only non-violent one, and I'd
rather offer you some help than any of these buffoons. Anyway, I'd think you
would want to stand up for your gender. You know, sisterly solidarity?"
"What are you talking
about?"
"I'm talking about the women
that Pop has had killed. If you can call them women. They're all just girls
really. He put a hit out on some hookers that his boys have turned out. He's
killed three of them that I know of so far." The detective reached into
his coat pocket and took out three pictures. He put them on the bar in front of
Margot.
"These girls were all under
seventeen years old. Now they're dead, strangled from behind with a wire. On
Pop's orders."
Margot looked down at the
pictures. The tinge of animosity drained from her face and the vacuum it left
was filled with shock. She saw three broken little girls on shiny grey slabs.
They all looked pale and unnaturally quiet, even somewhat peaceful, except for
the angry red lines etched into their necks.