Typo Squad, page 9
part #1 of Typo Squad Series
The elevator arrived and they stepped on. Dick took the opportunity to dip into his pocket and pull out his index cards. He glanced at them quickly, and then tucked them back where they’d come from. Thea eyed him beadily but said nothing.
It was a quick, smooth ride to 21, and the door to Penny’s place was directly in front of them when the door opened.
Dick stepped forward and knocked.
The door swung open and a glamourous woman with coppery red hair stood in the entryway. She wore a long green silk dress and matching heels, which accentuated her hair and the spray of freckles across her nose perfectly. In her left hand she held a martini glass. The easy, drunken smile on her face faded when she saw who was in the hallway.
“Oh,” she said, deflated. “It’s you. Hello, Richard.”
“I prefer Dick.”
“Live and let live, I say,” Penny said with a shrug. She eyed Thea. “New partner?”
“Yeah. This is Thea Saurus.”
“Of course it is,” Penny said, swaying slightly on her heels. “What do you want?”
“We want to ask you what you know about Anton Nym,” Thea said baldly.
Penny’s face betrayed nothing, but she didn’t ask who Anton Nym was or immediately deny that she knew anything. She seemed to be debating what to do, and at last she stepped away from the door and muttered, “Fine. Come in.”
The apartment was sumptuous: deep pile carpeting, an oak mantel over the fireplace, granite countertops, and a magnificent view of the twinkling lights of Las Palabras.
“Nice place, Penny,” Dick said.
“You noticed.” Penny toasted him with her glass.
“You, uh, win the lottery or something?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Penny answered vaguely.
“You know, this Anton Nym character that we’re looking for,” Dick said, “he’s partial to some pretty expensive suits. Seems like he’s got money.”
“Good for Anton Nym,” Penny said. She drained her martini in one swallow and crossed the living room to the bar to begin fixing another.
“Last time I saw you,” Dick pressed, “you were squatting under a bridge and didn’t have two nickels to rub together. Now you’re living large. How does that work?”
Penny turned, looking at him blearily. “Oh, so now you care where I’m living?”
Dick immediately tensed up. Penny seemed to notice, and judging by her expression, it pleased her.
“Funny how you never worried about my financial situation when I was out there living like an animal.”
“I tried to help you,” Dick said. “You know I did. You just never let me.”
“Tried to help me,” Penny muttered. “Like you tried to help me when they drummed me out of Typo Squad?”
Thea’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Oh, your new boyfriend didn’t bother telling you that?” Penny said, smiling drunkenly.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Thea said.
“I don’t care if he’s your tax accountant,” Penny growled. “Did he tell you about he and I?”
“I know that you were once partners,” Thea said uncomfortably. “In more ways than one.”
“In more ways than one,” Penny echoed, with a spiteful grin on her face. “Oh, I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“Penny,” Dick said.
“No,” Penny continued, “by all means, let’s fill in the details for your new partner. Maybe it will keep her from making the same mistakes I did.”
A sudden silence filled the room, checked off by the faint ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner. Easy, drunken tears welling up in Penny’s eyes. “Dick and I were really quite the team in those days,” Penny said, and the tears began to flow, tracking mascara down her cheeks. “Weren’t we, Dick? We were both young and fresh out of the academy. They normally team up the kids with more experienced Typo Squad agents, but somehow we ended up together.”
Penny took a swig of her drink, stood up unsteadily, and weaved her way over to the couch where Dick sat. “We shared an office and a bed for years,” she continued. “And then one day . . .”
It appeared as though Penny either couldn’t or wouldn’t continue.
“And then one day what?” Thea prodded.
“Dick and I and the rest of the team had just taken down an errorist cell,” Penny said, not taking her eyes off Dick’s face. “We were all out celebrating. I was watching Dick in his glory, drinking and laughing with the others. That was the moment I realized that I wasn’t just attracted to him. That I wasn’t just sleeping with him. That’s when I knew I loved him.”
“Penny, stop,” Dick said.
“I told him that very night,” Penny said, continuing on as though Dick hadn’t spoken. “I waited for the perfect moment. We were walking home from the bar down a cobblestone street. It was late, there wasn’t a soul to be seen anywhere. It was snowing. Softly. I slowed down under an old-fashioned streetlamp and pulled him close to me. And told him that I loved him.”
In that moment, Penny seemed to be back on that very cobblestone street, and a wistful smile spread across her face.
“And what happened?” Thea asked quietly.
“He said . . . he told me he didn’t feel the same way,” Penny said. “It sh-shattered me.”
Dick looked at the floor. Penny wouldn’t break her gaze away from his face. Thea watched them both, transfixed.
“I tried to make it work,” Penny continued, sniffling. “I said that we could just go back to being partners. And we did. But it was making me crazy. I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t do my job. I was biting people’s heads off. Finally they gave me my walking papers. I was forced out of Typo Squad. And that was that.”
“But then how did you end up homeless?” Thea asked.
Penny finally looked up at Thea, as if coming out of a trance. “Dick and Typo Squad were all I ever had. I didn’t have anything left or anything to look forward to, so I became fast friends with the bottle. Everything spun out of control from that point. I wound up living on the street. And that’s where I’ve been ever since.”
“Until now,” Dick said finally.
“Until now,” Penny echoed. She toasted him and threw back the rest of her drink.
“Where did the money come from, Penny?” Dick said.
“Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a one-track mind?” Penny was beginning to slur now, and her eyes were unfocused. “Of course, when you and I shared a bed, that was a good thing.” She cackled laughter and looked to Thea. “Am I right, sister?”
“The money,” Dick persisted.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Penny grumbled. “Fine! Nym gave me the money!”
Dick grabbed her suddenly by the shoulders. “Penny! Nym is a mass murderer!”
“That’s where we are, Dick,” Penny said, her voice dripping with disdain. “A mass murderer is more concerned about me than you are.”
Dick pushed her back roughly on the couch, shaking his head. “Are you working for him?”
“No,” Penny said patiently. “He pays for me to live here and gives me a nice life. I was a street person, Dick. Someone wants to pull me out of the gutter? Fine. I don’t ask questions.”
“Where can we find him?”
“That,” Penny said flatly, “I couldn’t tell you.”
“Because you don’t want to or because you don’t know?”
“Yes and yes,” Penny said, and promptly passed out. The martini glass hit the carpet with a dull thud and rolled under the sofa.
Thea turned to Dick. “Thoughts on how we should proceed?”
Dick looked at the snoozing Penny with a mixture of pity and distaste. “Well, she’s of no use to us now.”
“Should we come back when she’s sober?”
“You saw how cooperative she was tonight when she was sober . . . well, more sober,” Dick said.
“We could take her in, see if she’ll be more cooperative in the holding tank,” said Thea.
“Hold her for what?” Dick said. “Letting Nym buy her things?”
“Associating with a known felon should be enough,” Thea said.
Dick thought it over, but shook his head. “We don’t know she’s associated with him since he became a felon,” he said. “And it’s nothing but a drunken confession. It’s just too thin.”
“Okay then,” Thea said. “What do you suggest?”
“I suppose since we’re here, and she’s in no fit state to protest, it wouldn’t hurt to have a look around,” Dick said with a smile.
Thea smiled back. “And we really should keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit.”
“Too true. You can easily die that way.”
“Okay, well,” Thea said, moving toward the kitchen, “why don’t I look around for a bucket in case she’s sick, and why don’t you check the bedroom to see if there’s any aspirin. She may need it.”
Dick nodded. Thea went to the kitchen while Dick moved into the master bedroom. It was as nicely appointed as the rest of the apartment. Every surface gleamed and not a thing was out of place, almost like a museum.
Dick rummaged through the bedside tables, but there was nothing of interest. When he opened the door to the walk-in closet, he spotted a large cardboard box tucked away behind a jumbled pile of shoes. The label on the side indicated it had arrived recently from a publishing company.
Dick dragged the box out to the middle of the bedroom floor and flipped the top open. Sitting in a pile of packing peanuts was a book. Dick pulled it out and brushed it off.
“The hell?” Dick said aloud. The title read THOUGHTFUL MEDITATIONS FOR A HECTIC LIFE and the author was listed as Su Do Nym.
“Thea!” Dick called. “Have a look at this.”
Thea joined him and he handed her the book. “Su Do Nym,” she read, chuckling. “Subtle.”
She flipped to a random page and read, and almost immediately clenched her legs together and fell to her knees, gasping and moaning.
Dick snatched the book out of her hands and tossed it away, as though it were a poisonous snake come to life. He watched Thea writhing in pleasure on the floor, pulling herself into the fetal position, her breath coming fast and heavy as intense ecstasy seemed to course through her body. It became more and more uncomfortable, so he stepped out into the living room where Red Penny still sat, snoring softly with her head on her shoulder.
After about ten minutes of slowly decreasing paroxysms of joy, Thea emerged from the bedroom and joined him. Her face was flush and she pulled her ponytail back into place.
“Whew!” she said. “Those were some good typos.”
“So,” Dick said, awkwardly, “your tic . . .”
“. . . is intense orgasms, yes,” she finished brightly.
Dick nodded. “People have told me for decades how jealous they are of my tic,” Dick told her. “I think those same people would say that same thing about yours.”
Thea shrugged. “Good genes, I guess.”
“So can I assume that Thoughtful Meditations for a Hectic Life hasn’t been properly copyedited?”
“Oh no,” Thea said. “That thing’s a mess.”
“Well then,” Dick said, sitting down in a comfortable armchair and putting his feet up on the coffee table, “we’ll have a lot to talk about when this one wakes up, won’t we?”
Penny’s deep, drunken slumber became a light and fitful doze. When she woke, she was surrounded by Lieutenant Tanka and the rest of Typo Squad.
“Oh God.” She looked around at Tanka, Big, Ewan, and Anna. “It’s like the worst high school reunion imaginable.”
“It’s nice to see you again too, Penny,” Tanka said. “We have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”
“I want a lawyer,” Penny said, blinking heavily and folding her arms.
“You’re gonna need one,” Anna said.
“Oh, hey, Anna,” Penny said with mock sincerity. “Still hanging around with the cool kids, I see.”
Big turned to Ewan. “She called us the cool kids. She really must have tied one on.”
“Indeed.” Ewan nodded.
“So,” Tanka said. “Read any good books lately?”
Dick handed him the copy of Thoughtful Meditations for a Hectic Life, and he held it up for Penny’s examination.
“Where did you get that?” she barked.
“It was just laying around,” Dick said. “In a box. In your bedroom closet. Under some shoes. You really ought to be more careful about where you leave things.”
“So this is Nym’s next play,” Tanka said, examining the book. “Publishing a book riddled with typos. If it hits the best-seller list, he could kill off half the country.”
Penny stared at him, tight-lipped and defiant.
“What I don’t understand,” Dick jumped in, “is how he thought he was going to get away with this. Every book goes through the Grammatica. Surely he must’ve known it would never reach the public.”
Penny snorted and shook her head.
“Yes?” Dick asked.
“You guys are so stupid.”
“Hey!” Big said. “Easy now. I’m definitely stupid, but these guys aren’t. Well, okay, he is,” he finished, pointing to Ewan.
“Please, tell us why we’re so stupid, Penny,” Tanka said. “I’m anxious to hear this.”
Penny sighed deeply, and then, with the patient cadence of a first grade teacher, said, “How many guns did Nym have on him when he killed all those CLITs at the Grammatica the other night?”
“One,” Dick said. “So what?”
“And how many CLITs did he kill with it?”
“Six,” Dick answered.
“He had plenty more bullets in the clip,” Penny said. “Why stop with six? He could’ve killed a lot more, and a hell of a lot more if he’d brought a second gun, right? So why only six?”
Dick looked blankly at Tanka, who shrugged. He looked at the rest of the team, but no one seemed to have an answer.
“See?” Penny grinned. “Stupid.”
Thea stood up, looking suddenly terrified. “Because the rest work for him,” she said breathlessly.
Penny clapped her hands and laughed. “Ah, you hired a kid with a brain! Good for you!”
“He only killed the ones that he couldn’t coerce,” Thea gibbered, “but the rest will let any typos through that he wants them to.”
“Oh my God,” Dick said.
Tanka was on his phone in a flash. “Autumn, get a hold of the LPPD—have them send every available officer to the Grammatica. Tell them to put the place on lockdown until I get there, understood?”
“You can keep sticking your fingers in the dam,” Penny said sagely, “but that bitch is still gonna burst.”
“We’ll see about that,” Dick said. “Anything else you’d care to tell us? We’re so stupid, after all.”
“Nope,” Penny said. “I’m done talking. Now be a good boy and fetch me another martini, would you? Stirred, please.”
CHAPTER TEN
When Dick and Thea arrived back at Typo Squad headquarters later that night, Las Palabras cops were everywhere, booking and taking confessions from CLITs who looked hopelessly out of place in their fluffy white robes with their hands cuffed behind them. Dick sought out Tanka, who was being pulled in a dozen different directions.
“Penny was right,” he blurted out as he ran past Dick and Thea, who fell into step with him to hear what he had to say. “They were all on Nym’s bankroll. Now I’ve got half the cops in the city here to help because every Typo Squad agent is down at the Grammatica, doing as much as they can. Including those three recruits we met the other day on the range. Between you, me, and the lamppost, I wouldn’t be surprised if we never see any of them again once they get a taste of CLIT life.”
“You’ll certainly never see Big again,” Dick said.
Tanka stopped and gave them both a serious look. “We’ve got to catch this guy, Dick. And I mean now. Do you have any ideas?”
“Well,” Dick said, but he looked hesitant. “There is one more person I could talk to.”
“Who?” asked Tanka.
“Miss Information,” Dick replied.
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Who’s Miss Information?” Thea asked.
“She’s an old friend,” Dick answered.
“Ah,” Thea said, nodding sagely. “At this point, I know what that means.”
“She’s in charge of Mot Grange,” Tanka said.
“What’s Mot Grange?” asked Thea.
“The local gentlemen’s establishment,” Dick said.
Thea thought for a moment, and then a look of understanding crossed her face. “She’s a madam at a whorehouse?” she said incredulously.
“Well,” Dick said. “Yeah.”
“If you leave now, you should get there just when things are most lively,” Tanka said.
Dick nodded, turning to Thea. “You want to stay here?”
“Are you kidding me?” Thea asked. “There is no way I’m missing this.”
They drove on long, darkened back roads for nearly an hour before Thea finally spoke. “This looks like a good area to bring somebody if you’re planning on killing them.”
“Miss Information does value her privacy,” Dick said. “And so do her clients. Rumor has it that His Honor the mayor himself is quite adept at navigating these very roads.”
“Really?” Thea said. “The mayor?”
“That’s what I hear.”
“Isn’t he married?”
“Yep. With five kids.”
“Well, he’s a healthy boy, I’ll give him that.”
The road banked into a steep climb and they passed under an archway of ancient, gnarled trees. “How much longer until we get there?” Thea asked.
The words had just come out of her mouth when they reached a clearing and saw an ornate fountain bubbling in front of an ancient, proud mansion. Warm light spilled onto the porch from the frosted glass of the front doors, and shiny black shutters hid whatever was happening in the upstairs rooms. Even from a distance, they could hear festive music, shouts, and laughter coming from within.
Dick parked in the turnout, and he and Thea approached the front door. He rang the doorbell, and a curvaceous silhouette approached from the other side. The door opened and a stunning brunette in black-and-red lingerie stood in the doorway.
