Typo Squad, page 5
part #1 of Typo Squad Series
Dick’s expression darkened. “Chicago’s dad, my stepfather, didn’t want Chicago to go to the academy. He didn’t care what I did, since he and I never really got along, so I jumped at the chance. Chicago didn’t know what to do. He was scared. He wanted to know what I thought he should do. I was selfish. I convinced him to join me at the academy. We both graduated with top honors.”
Dick paused to stare at his index cards for a moment. No one at the table said a word.
“He was my first partner. I loved working with him. He used to make fun of me because of my tic. Chicago was one of those one-in-a-million agents who didn’t have a tic. Typos didn’t affect him in any way. At least, that’s what we all thought.”
“Dick,” Anna said gently, reaching across the table and taking his hand. “Don’t.”
“It’s okay,” Dick said. “It’s all right. You know, it’s actually nice to be talking about Chicago. I get a lot of the credit for busting up the errorist cells, but he was right there with me. He deserves the recognition.”
Thea swallowed hard. “So what happened to Chicago?”
“Like I said, he was that rare bird with no visible tic, but it turns out the typos were affecting him after all. It’s just that none of us knew it. The typos were slowly driving him insane.”
No one said a word. No one even breathed. The silence was palpable.
“By the time we figured it out, it was too late,” Dick said thoughtfully. “He was lost. There was no getting him back. I had no choice but to commit him to Fula Ord. He’s been there for the past five years.”
“Is that . . . is that why you left?” Thea asked.
“Yeah,” Dick said. “I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t face him. It was my fault. He never wanted this life. I talked him into it.”
“Dear boy, there’s no way you could’ve known,” Ewan said gently. “And I remember so clearly how much it meant to him, being your partner. He may have gotten the short end of the proverbial stick, but he was doing what he loved with the brother he loved. Surely that counts for something.”
Dick nodded. “It does. Thanks, Ewan.”
“I’ve known heartache of my own,” Ewan said. “Have I ever told the story of my time in Buckingham Palace?”
“Yes,” everyone said together. Ewan looked from one face to another, and suddenly the table was filled with laughter.
The festivities carried on until after midnight, when only the waitress, the bartender, and Typo Squad remained.
“Whelp,” Dick said at last, stepping out of the booth and steadying himself on the table. He gathered up his index cards and tucked them into his breast pocket. “This was fun.”
“Hear hear!” Big roared, finishing off the last of the bourbon. He closed one eye and used the other to look into the empty bottle. “Anyshing leff?”
“Well’s dry, buddy,” Dick said. “Time to go.”
Tanka raised his head off the table and looked around. Ewan had dozed off and was snoring softly, his head pitched to the side and resting on his shoulder. His silver hair gleamed in the overhead light.
Thea’s eyes were half-lidded and a little smile held to her lips as she propped her head up with her hand. Anna’s eyes were closed and she sang softly and out of tune along with the song playing on the jukebox.
“Yeah, it’s probably time to . . . we were . . . to be getting. Home,” Big said, moving sideways out of the booth. He slid right off the end and into a heap on the floor.
“Mmm?” said Ewan, stirring at the sound of the crash. He looked blearily at Big’s prone body and nodded. “Mmm.”
Tanka and Dick, both still unsteady themselves, got themselves under each of Big’s arms and hoisted him up. The others stood and joined them.
“I think you should cab me a call,” Big said with a wide, lopsided grin.
“Yeah, I’ll cab a call for all of us,” Dick said, helping Tanka guide Big toward the door as if they were in a three-legged race. Joe the bartender raised a hand in a cheery wave. They passed the waitress at the end of the bar on their way out.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to those!” Big bellowed, and the waitress smiled broadly.
“Thanks for the hospitality,” Dick said.
“Anytime,” she replied.
The unwieldy trio led the others out the bar’s front door. Their shadows crossed the Merriam’s sign on the window and disappeared.
CHAPTER FIVE
After three days in the city, Dick still couldn’t sleep.
The department’s condo was clean, spacious, and comfortable. But it also bordered downtown, where the ambient noise of the city and the glow of the streetlights on the edges of the bedroom curtains kept sleep entirely at bay.
He checked the bedside table clock. It was just past one in the morning. He was so tired he felt it deep in his bones, but he swung his legs out of bed and passed a hand through his hair. Maybe a little exercise would help.
So he found himself dressed and wandering the deserted streets of Las Palabras in the still of the very early morning. He wandered through the downtown area, a part of town that used to be lined with factories that belched their filth into the air, but had been converted to trendy spots that fed and watered the disposable income crowd.
He passed a faded stop sign. He was about to turn the corner when something caught his eye: the darkness of a storefront was broken by a flashlight beam dancing around the inside walls and windows.
He sighed, legitimately torn. He could just call it in and let the regular cops handle it. The odds that whatever was happening required a Typo Squad agent were practically nil. Still . . .
Dick turned back and trotted over to the outside wall, away from the orange circle of light from a nearby street lamp and out of sight of whoever was inside.
He took a few steps forward, hugging the smooth brick wall, then stopped and considered for a moment. He took a step back, dug into his pocket, and pulled out his phone. His thumb scrolled past a litany of names until he fell upon TANKA. He pressed the call button and waited.
“What? What? What is it? What do you want?” an angry, groggy voice said after multiple rings.
“Oh, nothing,” Dick whispered, keeping an eye on the storefront. “Just wondered what you were dreaming about. Why do you think I’m calling?”
“Oh, Jesus. Please don’t tell me you’re handling something that LPPD could handle. Please don’t tell me that.”
“Well, I won’t know until I’ve started handling it, will I?” Dick said. “The place on the corner of Fifth and Briggs. Do you know it?”
“Fifth and Briggs,” Tanka repeated. “Yeah. Yeah, I know the place. It’s an organic café. It’s called, uh . . . Whey Cool, I think.”
Dick pulled up short. “You know an organic café?”
“I know a lot of things, smartass,” Tanka snarled.
“Do you know why someone would be fumbling around in Whey Cool with only a flashlight?”
“No, and I don’t care,” Tanka said. “You know why I don’t care? Because that’s a B&E, Dick. And we don’t handle B&Es. The regular police do. So call the regular police and let me go back to bed, willya?”
“I can’t be sure it’s a B&E until I go in and have a look.”
“Oh my God,” Tanka said. “You’re gonna make me have to come down there. Aren’t you?”
“Only if you want to.”
“If I get out of this bed,” Tanka said menacingly, “and I get dressed, and call the rest of the Squad, and drive all the way down there, and it turns out to be some kid rifling through the cash register for pot money—”
“Okay, great, see you soon,” Dick interrupted, and hung up quickly. He stuffed the phone back in his pocket, unholstered his sidearm, and crouched his way under the front window of Whey Cool and around to the front door.
Keeping as low to the ground as his aging knees allowed, he crept silently in and hid behind a booth. The shadows cast the café in crisscrossing shades of gray. He peered around the edge of the seat and assessed the situation.
It was a heavyset girl, her brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail under a Whey Cool visor. The strings holding her apron around the back strained to stay tied. In her left hand she held a flashlight, and in her right was a dry erase marker, busily updating the specials board for the next day.
Dick cursed himself. There was nothing illegal going on; it was just some teenage kid trying to get a jump on her work. As he contemplated a variety of scenarios to make a discreet exit and not scare the shit out of the poor girl, he watched her finish up by writing the day of the week at the top of the board.
But instead of writing THURSDAY, she wrote THRUSDAY.
Dick felt it immediately. The cafe suddenly pitched sideways and blurred. The familiar warm euphoria spread throughout his body. He began to giggle, suppressing it on the back of his hand.
With a drunken half-grin on his face, he stood suddenly and swayed. He raised the gun and pointed it straight at the girl.
“Freeze!” he shouted in the silence, and his voice rang off the walls. The girl screamed at the top of her lungs, threw the marker and flashlight away, and put her hands in the air as high as they could go.
“Don’t kill me!” she howled and immediately began to cry. Dick did his best to focus on what was happening, but the room wouldn’t stay level and the girl kept doubling and blurring.
“It wasn’t my idea!” she babbled. “He said I could make some extra money! He said it was just a joke and no big deal!”
Dick could hear sirens off in the distance. He only needed to hold on for a little while longer and then someone else could take his place so he could pass out properly.
“Who’s he?” Dick asked.
“The man in the mask!” the girl cried. “The man in the mask!”
Dick heard tires screeching to a halt outside, and the café was suddenly flooded with alternating blue and red lights.
“Siddown,” Dick slurred, and gestured with his gun to the booth nearest the girl. She continued to weep hysterically, keeping her hands high in the air. Dick took a few unsteady steps toward her, and then something important occurred to him. He dug out his cell phone and once again called Lieutenant Tanka.
“Dick?” the voice said through the speaker.
“Tanka,” Dick said, and then chuckled to himself. “You out there, you beautiful pile of crab rangoon?”
“What’s the situation?” Tanka asked.
“Damn kid put up a damn typo,” Dick slurred. “Gimme a second to lock it down.”
“We’re standing by,” Tanka replied.
Dick staggered over to the dry erase board and, keeping his eyes downcast, grabbed a nearby rag and erased the whole thing.
“All clear,” Dick said, and heard the rush of footsteps and shouting as he calmly passed out.
Dick felt a cold, hard bench under his back, and heard himself groan softly as he came around. He opened his eyes tentatively, and saw a giant ass hovering just inches away from his nose.
“Goddammit, Big,” he growled, and punched the right cheek as hard as he was able.
“Ow!” Big cried. He moved away, rubbing his wounded backside. “Just for that, next time I’ll fart.”
“And here I thought that farting was your primary form of communication,” Dick heard Ewan say.
“Hey, that reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Big said. “Weren’t you one of the waiters at the Last Supper?”
“Shut up, the both of you.” Dick grunted, slowly moving to a sitting position. He let out a low groan and put his hands on the sides of his throbbing head.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, will you?” he heard Tanka say. “You’d think that typo nearly killed you.”
“I wish it’d killed you,” Dick said. He looked around. The café lights were on. Surrounding Dick was the rest of Typo Squad. The teenage girl was seated nearby, handcuffed and looking sullen and defiant.
“So?” Tanka prompted. “Are you gonna fill us in on what happened here?”
Dick pointed toward the girl. “That sweet young thing over there was writing up the specials menu,” he said. “She intentionally misspelled Thursday.”
“Jesus Christ.” Anna hooked her thumbs into her uniform belt. “Do you know how many people might’ve died if you hadn’t caught her?”
“Yep, I’m a hero, all right,” Dick said, rubbing his forehead. He turned to Tanka. “Do heroes make more money?”
“You’ll get a raise when I’m long dead and complaining to the devil that hell’s not hot enough,” Tanka replied.
“Sweet,” Dick said. “Two things to look forward to.”
“Are you gonna talk to her?” Tanka said.
Dick nodded, stood slowly, and then paused. “Hold on a second.” He gestured that Tanka, Ewan, Big, Thea, and Anna should move in closer. Dick lowered his voice.
“She said that someone told her the typo was a joke, a way for her to make some extra money,” Dick said. “And that it was a man in a mask.”
They all exchanged glances. Tanka rolled his eyes. “Oh, just what we need,” he sighed. “A masked lunatic running around, bribing young girls to make typos.”
“Hey,” Big said suddenly. “How come she’s not dead?”
Everyone turned to look at him.
“What?” he said defensively. “You said she misspelled Thursday. How come she’s not dead then?”
“He’s got a point, boss,” Anna said. “She might be one of us and not even know it.”
“We’ll sort that out later,” Tanka said. “Dick, see what she knows.”
Dick looked at Tanka. “You wanna play good Typo Squad agent, bad Typo Squad agent?”
Tanka grabbed him by his vest and steered him toward the girl. “Just get talking, will you? I was having a beautiful dream when you rang, and I’d like to get back to it.”
Dick approached the girl’s table and sat across from her. “Hi there,” he said, extending his hand. He leaned to the side and looked at her handcuffs. “Oh, right. Sorry.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” the girl spat.
“What’s your name?”
“Bite me,” the girl said with a snarl.
“Huh,” Dick said. “Is that German?”
The girl looked away. “Elizabeth,” she said sullenly.
Dick leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles and putting his hands behind his head. “You know, you’re in a shit-ton of trouble, Elizabeth.” The girl turned back to him. “Oh yeah. We can book you on attempted murder. Suspicion of errorism. Animal cruelty.”
The girl looked up. “Animal cruelty?”
Dick pointed at Ewan. “You see that silver fox over there? Because of you, he had to get out of bed and come all the way down here. I’d call that cruel.”
“Though, to be fair,” Ewan piped up, raising a finger, “I was already awake for my late-night ablutions.”
“Ew,” Big said. “I really hope I die before I get old.”
“Yes,” Ewan said. “I hope that as well.”
“So,” Dick continued. “Should we head down to the station? We might be able to find you a cell with smallish rats. Big cockroaches, though.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” the girl whined, and her cocksure attitude vanished. She was just a scared girl again.
“You answer some questions for me and maybe we can work something out, ” Dick said.
“Questions about what?”
“The man in the mask.” Dick leaned forward.
“What about him?”
“How did you two cross paths?”
“I don’t know,” the girl said. “He just showed up after we closed tonight. He tapped on the window, wanted to come in.”
“And you let him? A guy wearing a mask?” Dick asked.
“Hey, have you seen some of the people in this town?”
“Fair enough,” Dick said. “Describe him.”
“He was tall. Kinda thin. He had on a black suit, black shirt, black tie. And the mask.”
“What did the mask look like?”
“I think it was leather,” the girl said. “There were holes for his eyes and mouth, but that’s it. Oh, and the asterisk.”
“Asterisk?” Dick said.
“Yeah. It was silver, right in the middle of his forehead. Like a badge, almost.”
“A silver asterisk badge in the middle of his forehead.” Dick looked over his shoulder at Tanka, who shook his head.
“Hey, you asked,” the girl said. “Okay, I described the guy. Can you let me go now?”
“Not so fast,” Dick said. “Tell me about your conversation with him.”
The girl’s expression suddenly softened. “He was really nice. Really charming. Told me he thought I was pretty.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Tanka muttered in the background.
“He asked me if I’d be in on a joke that he wanted to set up,” she continued. “He gave me a hundred dollar bill and just told me to misspell ‘Thursday’ on the specials board. He said there was plenty more where that hundred came from, and if all went well, I could come work for him.”
“Work for him where?” asked Dick.
“I don’t know,” she said. “We never got that far. And since things didn’t exactly go well, I guess I’ll never know now.”
Dick mulled over what she’d said, then rose from his seat. “Sit tight.” He crossed the room to where the rest of his team stood.
“Well?” he said.
“I think she and the masked man will make an adorable couple,” Big said, making a heart shape in the air with his fingers.
“Big, you’re aware how many people could have been killed by that typo, right?” Thea said.
“Yeah,” Big replied. “Zero. Because big Dick was on the scene.”
“I could actually live with being called big Dick,” said Dick.
“Lieutenant?” Ewan said, cutting across the conversation. “Thoughts?”
“If everything she said is true,” Tanka said, “then we’ve got a guy who could potentially be bribing impressionable young kids all over the city to put typos up.”
