“We both know Ribera ain’t on the take,” King Henry played with his food. “What you gonna do, send Sharp over to rattle her? He ain’t that scary, man.”

  “You have obviously never seen him work. He’s quite effective. Would you like a demonstration?”

  Oh my! Bit of a threat in that offer, wasn’t there?

  King Henry would have been properly scared, but he was too busy straightening out his jeans. Still feel like I’m six down there, and I ain’t talking inches . . .

  Vega pretended not to notice. “While the detective is not amenable to my friendship, her superior is. As well as his superior. A simple phone call and—”

  “Got it.”

  “Really—”

  “Why don’t you go bug your wife? I mean . . . you haven’t seen Nick in a whole twenty minutes now. He could’ve disappeared. Or he’s just been farting in a corner somewhere . . . kind of his thing. See, here’s the truth: you, you were the annoying ass hard part of the evening, Vega. This? This is the fun part of the evening and fuck you, I ain’t letting you take it away from me.”

  With that, King Henry walked away from the fount of free advice, aimed across the yard and down the street.

  “I take back all my praise,” Vega called after him. “You have learned less than nothing!”

  King Henry didn’t even bother replying. Far too much of Vega for the night. For the month, maybe even the year. One plus for the Asylum, don’t got no Vega. Did have a Miranda Daniels, which . . . well . . . at least she wasn’t as bad as their school days. And no matter how much we argue, at least she ain’t trying to fuck me!

  King Henry Price, Witness for the Prosecution

  Walking the ol’ neighborhood.

  Like he needed more nostalgia, right?

  Next I’ll be digging out my old bike.

  Was even the same path King Henry used to take to school, looking for a fight the whole damned way. Now, he was just taking the much shorter trip to Ribera’s not-so-secret stakeout car. Wasn’t looking for a fight this go around either. Just finished a fight of sorts with Vega and had another ahead in Moore, seemed like going for Number Three was pushing his luck. Nah, he just needed to distract her. Somehow . . .

  Was slow and obvious about his destination, as he didn’t want to spook her. King Henry Price moseying along, nothing to worry about. Please, don’t shoot him. That would . . . be bad. King Henry had avoided getting properly shot so far in his life and wasn’t really looking to start now. Given the way T-Bone’s always complaining about his second asshole these days, don’t sound like I’d much fancy it.

  Slow and obvious, that much he could do. Non-threatening . . . that was tougher. Wasn’t like with Val where you had to see them Fireballs of Doom. With King Henry people just fucking assumed. Of course he’s up to no good, look at the delinquent!

  I’m a good boy, oh yes I am!

  Down the street he went. Ignored the thugs. Ignored Sharp, even if King Henry really wanted to tell the Eternal Order fucktard off. Ignored the puke puddle in the gutter and the graffiti someone had tagged the sidewalk with. No you will not stick your fist up my greasy asshole, kind sir! Focused only on Ribera’s car, all nice like. Hands to the side. Not grimacing. Just a gentle soul out for a chat with his favorite police officer . . .

  He even stopped a few feet up on the sidewalk, giving plenty of space for Ribera to exit without feeling pressured. Also waited a moment in silence, all polite like. Him. King Henry Price. Waiting in silence.

  Only . . . she didn’t come out of the car.

  Started to feel awkward. Like you walked in some unisex bathroom, went to take an already stressful public shit, and just as you’re down on the toilet and getting ready to push, you notice them ankles in the next stall over sure do look like your ex-girlfriend’s and hey, didn’t I fucking buy them heels as a birthday gift? Well . . . this is wrong. You gonna shit? Do I shit? Can we both shit? Fuck knows we never had a single orgasm together, so why should we shit together? Then your best friend opens up the stall and slips inside with your ex and—

  You know . . . as an example.

  Eventually, King Henry got tired of sitting on that toilet and just had to start pushing. “You gonna sulk in the car all night or you gonna come out and get some parleying done?”

  Ribera finally popped out the backseat of her car, all leery like. Seemed just as determined as King Henry to not scare off her potential suspect. Slow, steady, hands just as visible. No hand on her gun, for sure, which unlike Sharp wasn’t up her coat, but openly carried on her right hip. Modern handgun that could spit plenty of lead by the looks. Not that the gun was Ribera’s biggest weapon. That was on her other hip: her Fresno PD badge. Sure, a gun will kill you, but authority? Authority will keep you breathing and then ruin every fucking second of your life, all the way until you’re begging for the bullet.

  Not a good looking woman; had on jeans, a blouse, and some kind of coat thing. Pure bulldog of a face and fuck you if you don’t like it. Probably didn’t help that King Henry had never seen Ribera look pleased with just about anything, especially around him.

  She had a wife and an adopted kid from what T-Bone had dug up, so maybe she kept her smiles for home. At work she was known as a straight arrow, with a no-nonsense attitude, a nose for troublemakers, and a clearance rate made her bosses love having her in their department.

  I’d probably like her if she stopped trying to get me arrested.

  “Been awhile, Detective. Still at the bone, huh?”

  Nope, still no smile. If anything, Ribera looked like she might spit on him. “Interesting change of strategy, Price. Haven’t actually spoken with you since your shop was fire-bombed. What’s it been? Couple years?”

  “That long?”

  “When you sold tee-shirts. But after the antiques.”

  “Nerd Nirvana is definitely an upgrade over either, ain’t it?”

  Not a superhero fan apparently. “Somehow it’s still standing.”

  “Suppose I should blame T-Bone’s good influence. Or his paranoia . . .”

  “Did get broken into a few weeks back, but no one could find you.” Them dark, beady eyes were more suspicious than even King Henry at his worst.

  “Kids and their pranks, right?”

  “Don’t suppose you’d go on the record to tell me where you were?”

  Oh, they got pictures of Estefan and Miles alright. “I respect you too much to tell ya, Detective. Cop like you already knows the answer to every question you ask, right?”

  “Usually,” she grunted in annoyance, “only about half the time when it concerns you, though.”

  “Aww, making me feel all special!” he teased.

  “Do know what it looked like. Looked like you were arrested by those weird federal friends of yours. The ones that pretend like they’re FBI, but aren’t FBI? Ring a bell?”

  “Maybe not a bell . . .”

  “The ones who can tell just about anyone to back off and shut up and wonder of wonders, people actually listen? Pretty Mexican kid should be in college? I recognized him from the first time we crossed paths.”

  “Oh, those guys. Yeah. Friends. They, uh . . .”

  King Henry suddenly had a very naughty idea about how to distract Ribera. If he opened up just enough about what had happened, if he gave her enough crumbs to sniff after . . . that might just work. All he needed was like ten minutes. Maybe less. She’d want to record everything he said, right? Maybe even type some stuff into her cop computer-system-network-thingy. Do they have those in real life or that just some Hollywood bullshit?

  What the fuck, right? I’m leaving Fresno, so why not give her some truth nuggets? If she finally got a taste then maybe she’d start sleeping at night. Stop asking all them questions driving her insane. Ribera might even start being pleasant to be around! That’s me: King Henry Price, Peace Giver and Therapist Extraordinaire!

  “Truth is, Detective: they took me to London. For a trial.”

  Ribera perked up like she’d taken a syringe of adrenaline. “If you’re bullshitting me, Price, then—”

  “Straight as I ever been with you, I promise.”

  She somehow didn’t snarl. “Promise? Are you five years old?”

  King Henry pointed over his shoulder with a thumb, so very offended. “I can go back inside if you’d like?”

  Looking like she hated herself more than she might even hate him, Ribera asked, “This trial. Were you a witness or a suspect?”

  He pretended to think about it. “All of the above? Was more corporate than criminal and it’s all nice and decided now.”

  Ribera licked her lips. “Which corporation?”

  “Something Artificer something Guild? Don’t know the legal name. Has to do with patents and inventions. Very boring shit. They got these uniforms with these skullcaps. If you told me they were a cult, I’d believe you. Guy named Alexander Massey was the owner . . . so suppose you could track him down. Think he got fired after the trial though.”

  Her hand twitched like she wanted a pen and a notepad. “All the way to London? You returned a few days later and seemed very agitated. There was also lots of company at your shop, with some new faces even.”

  “Just planning sessions. Invited a couple of old investors, ya know? No biggie.”

  Not so into that explanation. “Bit weird that they all stayed the night, isn’t it?”

  “Was it?”

  “Sleeping in the store? Not in a hotel room?”

  He shrugged. “Slumber parties are fun.”

  Ate that so she could keep him talking, managed to not roll her eyes either. “Care to give me their names as well? So I can cross check all this and put my mind at ease?”

  “Why don’t you let me ask them if I can and I’ll get back to you? Some people are very funny about having their privacy invaded.”

  “I have been completely legal and above board in my investigation of you, Price,” Ribera didn’t take kindly to the insinuation.

  “Okay, okay. Well . . . I suppose, what’s the harm, right? Not like we were doing anything illegal, is it?”

  “Of course not,” went the sarcasm.

  “Moira von Welf and her son, Heinrich von Welf, those were the new faces you’re interested in, Detective,” King Henry told her. “I’m sure you’ve got some snaps of Vicky over the last few months, she’s Moira’s daughter.”

  “The perky blond girl Bonnie’s dating?” Ribera made a big hips gesture that very much described Victoria von Welf. “We never got her name . . .”

  “I imagine getting a search warrant on someone three persons removed from me would be a bit hard. But . . . now you know: Welf. W-e-l-f. Make sure you use the ‘von’ or they’ll get really pissy with you.”

  Ribera questioning Mama Welf . . . oh I hope someone makes a video tape if it ever does happen!

  The detective already looked like she might combust from the overflow, but she kept going to keep his suddenly spewing mouth active, “The entire group left town together the next morning from what we can tell. What was that about?”

  “Just had another meeting we couldn’t miss.”

  “Where?”

  His eyebrows went up. “Don’t you know? You follow me enough, one would think you’d be good at it by now.”

  “A sudden fog came up and you somehow slipped the tail,” Ribera hissed.

  “Fresno is known for its fog.”

  “In August?”

  “I can’t control the weather, Detective,” King Henry played extra stupid even beyond his usual. My Auntie Badass on the other hand . . .

  Ribera let that go too. One: only an insane person would get that deep into conspiracy land. Two: Ribera was more concerned about bigger game. The biggest game as it were. “That same day also saw the largest gathering and movement of the Vega Organization we’ve ever witnessed. No clue to tip it off, just massive activity out of nowhere. We had sheriff deputies and cops screaming all up and down California about it . . . some even said it was like they were driving to war.”

  “You’ll have to ask Horatio about that one.”

  Ribera glanced at Shithole Price, but there was no sign of the man in question, who had probably taken King Henry’s suggestion and disappeared inside to bug JoJo or make baby noises with the Grand Nipple Molester. “Is he the one who sent you over to scare me away?”

  That sentiment surely put a predator’s grin on his face. “Think I’m scary, huh?”

  She didn’t look scared in the least. “Most days I think you’re an idiot. Occasionally . . . I wonder if you’re a genius savant. Then my good sense returns and I’m sure you’re an idiot.”

  “You ever figure it out, let me know,” he said seriously. “Also . . . again: I don’t work for Vega. Never have, never will.”

  “Just family, from what I hear,” Ribera went slightly sarcastic again. “Family with the criminal overlord. Just normal as can be, it could happen to anyone; that how it is, Price?”

  King Henry ignored all that, like he tried to most days didn’t involve meeting his nephew. “And I’m not out here to fucking scare you. Or to drive you off. Would’ve done it earlier if that’s what I wanted. As I’ve told you plenty, I ain’t doing anything illegal. So . . . I wouldn’t mind you being around if it wasn’t so bad for your health obsessing like you do.”

  “Oh, you care about my health now?”

  “Of course I care about you, Detective. You’re like . . . a weed, I guess. Know that don’t sound kind, but you ain’t exactly a daisy, are you? Still . . . you’re always around, in that crack as I walk into my shop every afternoon. You or whatever poor cop you’ve put up watching me. Made yourself an interesting part of my life here in Fresno these last few years, haven’t you? That’s mostly why I came over; I just wanted to wish you farewell is all.”

  “I’m not inclined to leave here until your boss does, Price.”

  “Oh, you misunderstand again, Detective. I ain’t saying tonight. Saying for a long while. I’m leaving the Valley for . . . months.” Until they build the research center and then I don’t care if the Vamps attack every night, I ain’t staying stuck in the Asylum while I got Anima Madness to fucking cure, am I?

  Took Ribera a second to come to terms with what he’d just told her. Then she immediately attacked, “Prison sentence?”

  Made him chuckle. What everyone assumed, wasn’t it? “Just a new job is all, came out of that meeting I mentioned.” Which was also true from another point of view. If being on the Learning Council could count as a job and not . . . cruel and unusual punishment.

  “Of which you still haven’t told me its location, for all your newfound generosity with information.”

  “You know where it was,” he bluffed, making her think he meant the Asylum.

  Ribera crossed her arms like she meant to get serious. “And your comic business?”

  “It is a loss, it being such an up-and-coming field, but suppose I’ll let Prunella run it. She’s the little geeky terror runs the front register. Don’t know if you’ve ever talked to her, but . . . well, you’d probably know everything there was to know about Voltron or He-Man if you had.”

  “I did talk to her.”

  “Oh? Was it about Voltron or He-Man? Maybe Transformers?”

  Ribera only glared, shifting to more important suspects than the innocent clerk who knew way too much about cartoons and comics for her own good and was currently addicted to something called Fortnite. “Why not have Bonnie take over? Is he moving with you?”

  “Nah, he’ll be around. But he does have his own businesses not attached to the shop.”

  “We never did quite figure out how he fit into your scheme,” Ribera actually admitted, even if it was a very leading statement.

  “I got a scheme now, do I?”

  Ribera kept glaring him down, still trying to crack the code that was King Henry Price and his Nerd Nirvana crew. “Not enough money to be the money. Connections of a sort, but nothing that stood out as beneficial . . . especially after we shut down his consulting work with the department. He’s the one who rigged your shop with security hardware, we know that, and he did visit the Vega ranch once, but—for all we’ve checked him—he seems clean. Whole lot cleaner than you do, Price. Unless . . . I don’t suppose he’s a shockingly unexpected kind of muscle?”

  There’s some choice words. “Shockingly unexpected, that’s T-Bone,” King Henry chuckled. “Muscle? Don’t know if he’s ever had a single one. Huge cock though, so . . . you win some, you lose some.”

  Not a fan of cocks, Detective Ribera. “Why’d he move his business into your backroom then?”

  “Oh, he’s just a friend of mine. One of the few. I trust him. Went fifty-fifty on the comics and had the space, so it seemed like it made sense. No other great secret and no need to make it any more complicated than the conspiracy theories you’ve dreamed up over the last few years. The fog’s gonna get you, Detective!”

  Bit her lip to keep from cussing him out, he was pretty sure. “Bonnie graduated from the same school as you did.”

  “He did. Class of 2004? 2003? Something like that.”

  “I tried to arrange a visit. Never seen that kind of pushback before. Not even from your brother-in-law.”

  “Very protective of their students, the Institution.”

  Ribera nodded, but her expression still wasn’t buying a bit of it. “Did I see a baby earlier?”

  Backtracking to small talk and just when things were getting good! “My sister’s baby. Week old. I think . . .”

  “Your sister’s and Horatio Vega’s.”

  He gave his own nod. “They named him Nicholas. Which . . . I mean, I don’t know, ain’t so bad I guess. Could’ve been worse being he’s half Price. Also, his papa is named after Horatio Nelson way I heard the story, so we’re probably lucky it didn’t get called Beef Wellington.”

  “Well . . . congratulations.”

  “Didn’t play any part in it myself. Pretty sure sister fucking is illegal in California.”

  Neither the profane nor the taboo fazed Ribera in the least. “And who’s the other woman in attendance? The pretty brunette?”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18