Prisms of No Color, 1/?
Mar. 24th, 2006 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladybug_archiveI don't really know where to post this on LJ, but I think it might get more attention in my personal LJ than anywhere else, so I'm sticking it here. This is the first chapter of that Tony fic I was talking about.
Prisms of No Color
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: "In Detroit, he committed extortion, illegal entry, and headed up the numbers racket there. Then he quit the police department and joined up with Baby Face." Now, I must ask, why? People don't suddenly turn crooked overnight. Tony, Baby Face, Mugsy, Ruby, and that unnamed guy in their gang are not mine. Neither is Daily Nightly, which works perfectly as a song to be sprinkled throughout the story. The other characters and the story are indeed mine!
**************************************
Chapter One
~Dark and rolling figures move
Through prisms of no color
Hand in hand, they walk the night
But never know each other~
—from Daily Nightly by Michael Nesmith
They had been staking out the house for quite some time.
For the last two weeks, the two police officers had been tracking a man suspected of being a notorious embezzler. So far, they had not discovered anything that connected him to the crimes, and the younger of the two was ready to quit.
"This is stupid!" he growled, slamming his hand down on the door handle. "He's just having an ordinary business dinner in there, with ordinary business people."
The older one grunted. "That's what it looks like," he replied. "That doesn't mean that's what it is. There's several other people in there who're suspected of embezzling." He glanced at his watch. "The dinner should be breaking up any minute now."
"Yeah? And then what?" The raven-haired, rookie policeman glared at his partner.
"We wait and see what happens next," was the calm retort. The truth was, he was quite bored with the stakeout himself, but showing that boredom would not look professional. He had resolved to be completely stoic during these missions, no matter what his personal feelings happened to be. He had not risen to one of the highest positions in the department by showing his emotions.
"Next? Antonio, they'll all come out and go to their cars!"
Perhaps it seemed odd for the rookie to address the other officer so familiarly, but the truth was that they had been friends before either of them had joined the force. The one called Antonio had gone to a noted police academy several years before and had been climbing the ranks ever since he had entered the Detroit Police Department. He had been somewhat surprised to recently find out that his old high school friend was also becoming a cop, and had actually been rather hesitant when the police chief had assigned them to be partners. Marco was extremely impatient and impulsive, and Antonio had the feeling that working with him was going to be a headache. Policemen could not afford to be as impetuous as Marco was.
"This line of work isn't like the glamorous way you see it on the movie screens," Antonio snapped now. "You should know that after all this time."
Marco sighed. "Yeah, I know," he said, slumping back into the seat. "But all the same, I didn't realize it could be so boring!"
Antonio ignored that. He was intent on watching the silhouettes on the curtain of their suspect's office window. It looked to them as though they were heatedly engaged in an argument of some kind. Then, without warning, the shadow on the right drew a pistol, aimed it at the other, and fired. The affected silhouette doubled over in pain, then slumped out of sight.
Marco gasped in disbelief, reaching for his own gun. "We're going to go in there, aren't we?" he exclaimed, but Antonio was already throwing open his door and heading for the door, his gun held high.
"Open up! This is the police!" he yelled upon reach the porch. There was not a reply, and when Marco caught up with him, Antonio motioned silently that they would break the door in. Marco was both taller and more muscular, and he would need to take the brunt of the attack on the door. But just before either of them could do anything, the door was flung open violently and one of the men who had been a guest at the dinner came dashing out, nearly knocking down the officers in the process and then trying to fire his gun at them.
Antonio barely managed to dodge the bullet. "Stop or I'll shoot!" he yelled, pointing his gun at the retreating man's back. The culprit continued to flee, and Antonio and Marco gave chase. Antonio again ordered the man to stop, which he did not, and true to his word, the brown-haired officer quickly fired a round at the shootist's leg. The man stumbled, but the bullet had only grazed him and he dove into the nearest mode of transportation—the unmarked police car.
Antonio stared in disbelief as he heard the engine turn over. "How could he get the car to start?" he demanded. "He didn't have the time to hotwire it!"
Marco swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that he had made a terrible mistake. "I . . . I left the keys in the ignition," he admitted weakly.
Antonio now directed his expression of astonishment at Marco before narrowing his eyes. "Fix it!" he ordered, firing at one of the tires as he spoke.
Marco followed suit, feeling relieved as the shot hit its mark. The car careened out of control before coming to a halt against a telephone pole. Its occupant slumped back, unhurt but shaken. Immediately the two officers hurried over to him.
"You're under arrest," Antonio said coldly, and began reading him his rights.
"Well," Marco muttered, half to himself, "I guess it wasn't so boring after all."
****
It was much later before Antonio managed to get home. All of the other guests at the manor had to be questioned, the crime scene had to be investigated, and the murderer had to be charged and booked. The victim had been the embezzling suspect, the guests claimed to have not heard what the argument was about, and the murderer was not talking. All in all, it was a confused, tangled mess. Antonio had to admit that he was grateful when his shift ended. As it was, he did not arrive back home until it was after three in the morning.
He gazed out at the white, two-story house for a brief moment after he parked the car. All of the lights appeared to be off, except for the one in the living room. Alice had probably tried to wait up for him again and had fallen asleep on the couch by the telephone. She always worried about him when he was gone way into the early morning hours. She was afraid that one day he would get involved with a problem that he would not be able to get out of, and that she would receive the call that no loving wife wants to ever have to get.
With a sigh he got out of the car and went up the walkway to the porch. He had not been home much at all for the past few days. Not only had there been the long and largely fruitless case of the now-dead embezzler, but he had been receiving strange and threatening messages for the past several nights. When leaving the station to return home, he had been finding small, folded pieces of paper on his windshield. They were always written with newspaper letters and had been describing to him in detail all of his actions of the past day. Obviously someone was stalking him, but he did not know who it would be or why. Most likely, he knew, it was either someone whom he had landed in jail in the past or a friend or family member of some such person. He could not think of anyone else who would pick him to stalk, of all people.
He had not told Alice. There was not any point in worrying her more than she already was. Instead he had been working diligently when he could, trying to find out the possible identity of his unwanted shadow. There were several suspects, but he had not been able to locate any of them. As he opened the front door and went inside, all he could think was that it was a good thing he had not gotten another note tonight. He was definitely not in the mood.
"Tony?"
He turned at the soft voice. Alice was not asleep after all, though from her eyes she looked as though she had been. She smiled when she saw him, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back. "It's late," she said as she came over to him.
He pulled her close, looking into the depths of her sapphire blue eyes. "Yeah, I know," he replied. "It's been a long night." He kissed her softly. "Some idiot at a dinner party went and shot that guy we've been tailing, and no one'll talk about what happened."
Alice wrapped her arms around his neck. "Do you think it's a vast conspiracy?" she teased. That was a running joke between them, and it had been ever since a frustrating case from a couple of years past. It had involved another mysterious crime when a crowd of people had been in close proximity but refused to speak. Tony had came home one night complaining about the lack of progress and insisting that all of the witnesses were in on a plot to drive him mad. Of course, he had said it in frustration and did not truly believe that, but the comment had stuck.
"It is," Tony replied, going along with the joke. He actually did believe that there was some form of collusion going on, though he did not actually think it had anything to do with him personally. But it was too absurd to accept that no one at all had seen or heard anything. Perhaps they were too afraid to confess, or perhaps they were all in on the crime.
Alice led him over to the couch. "How was Marco?" she asked.
"He left the keys in the car and the killer nearly got away in it," Tony growled. He did not see how things would actually work out with Marco, nor did he know how long he would be able to have patience with him. That had not been the first outrageous mistake that the impulsive officer had made. It seemed that everytime they were on a case, strange things would happen that should not happen if Marco had been paying attention.
Alice smiled, not hiding that she was rather amused. "Oh well," she said. "At least that didn't happen." She looked at her husband, her eyes twinkling. "And you can cut him some slack, can't you? After all, you've made some mistakes yourself, especially shortly after you joined the force."
Tony grunted. He knew that Alice was right, but he did not care to admit it. He was usually a more level-headed cop, and a level-headed person in general, but even he had made some strange blunders upon first entering the Detroit Police Department. "I'll give him another chance," he said, though he did not say this seriously. Of course he had to keep trying, and hope that Marco would get things right eventually.
"Of course you will," Alice said playfully. "You're really such a kind person, even when you try to act like you're so tough." She kissed him again.
"I am tough," Tony retorted, returning the kiss.
"Not when you're with me," Alice answered.
Tony allowed himself to relax. Alice had a way of making him forget his problems, for at least a little while. That was one of the many things he loved about her.
****
The next week went by in a blur of pointless interviews and dead-end leads. Tony was quickly growing all the more disgusted with the case. If it was not that he knew there had been a murder, he would almost feel like consenting that there was not a case at all. Of course, it seemed that most of the crimes he investigated proceeded in a similar manner. There was rarely an obvious and quick solution, and even when he did figure out who the culprit was, it was not always easy to prove it.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he went over the folder containing the description of the current case, and the summaries of evidence and of suspects—or the lack of them. For him, police work was not glamorous at all. It annoyed him to see it portrayed as such in the movies and on television.
And the stalker was still bothering him as well. He had received another message just that past night, informing him of what had happened at every hour of the day. But this time the note had not talked about what he had doing—it had talked about Alice as well. Either the person had homing devices or tiny cameras planted around, or there was more than one stalker. Either way, Tony was infuriated. This said to him that the pursuer had realized that it would anger Tony much more to think that his wife was being spied on rather than it happening to Tony himself. And he could not take the chance on something happening to Alice. Somehow, he had to find out who could be behind it.
"Ferano?"
He looked up to see the police captain standing in front of his desk. Quickly he tried to sit up straight and to arrange the papers neatly back into the folder. "Yes, sir?"
The captain surveyed Tony and the scattered leafs. "How is the case proceeding, Ferano?"
Tony sighed, leaning back. "To be honest, sir, it isn't," he admitted flatly. "No one is willing to talk about either the murder or the original embezzlement scheme."
The captain nodded thoughtfully. "It's a tough nut to crack," he agreed. "But I think I have something here that will suit you better." With that he dropped another file onto the desk. It landed with a profound thump and Tony looked at it in disbelief, then back up at his boss.
"You're reassigning me?"
"That's right." The captain looked at him seriously. "We were just assigned this case yesterday, and I feel that you would be the best one to handle it." He crossed his arms. "Have you heard of Baby Face Morales?"
It was obvious from Tony's expression that he had not, even before he said anything. "No, sir," he said then. "I've heard of Baby Face Nelson, but not a Morales. . . ."
The captain sighed. "He's been committing robberies in New York City for the past few months. Now, for some reason, he's come to Detroit and so his capture has fallen under our jurisdiction." He watched as Tony opened up the folder. "Unfortunately, no one's ever been able to get a picture of him," he said now.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Then how does anyone know if he's here?" he wanted to know. "It could be a copycat crime."
"It could be," was the reply, "but several people who do know what he looks like have claimed to have seen him. And several people reported as belonging to his gang have been seen as well." Now Tony was looking at a photograph of a devilish but beautiful redhead who was smiling seductively at the camera. The captain shook his head. "That's Vivalene," he reported. "She's notorious for getting into guys' hearts, especially if they have some kinda money or other wealth that she wants. Then, when she succeeds—or if things aren't working and she's getting bored—she kills the victim."
Tony frowned at the picture and set it down. "I've heard of her sometimes. So, what is she—Baby Face's girlfriend?"
"That's the general assumption," the captain agreed. "No one's quite sure. She might be milking him for all he's got. If she'd just kill him, that would solve one problem. But somehow, I don't think he's stupid enough to fall for her tricks."
Tony shuffled through the other contents of the folder. Among them he found a photo of a heavyset man carrying a machine gun and glaring threateningly at someone not in the picture. Underneath was the caption "Sherry Fingerhead." Tony blinked. "Is this a joke?" he muttered.
The police chief shook his head in all seriousness. "That's the name he's been using," he said, "but it's most likely an alias."
"We can hope," Tony said sarcastically.
The captain turned to go. "All the information we have about Morales' crimes are in there," he directed. "Good luck, Ferano." He was relieved to give the case to Tony, who was one of his best detectives. He still wanted to find out the truth behind the embezzlement mystery, but he planned to assign it to someone else. The most important thing right now was to capture Baby Face Morales. He had come to this conclusion after reading about the heists the mobster had pulled off in New York City. It seemed that Morales never left the scene of a crime without a few people being dead. Many times innocent bystanders had been unwitting victims. He did not want to see Detroit turned upsidedown by such a vicious mind.
****
Tony spent the next hours poring over the contents of the file and piecing together the scraps of information he had found. Most of what was known involved the crimes, with a bit of information here and there on Baby Face's gang. Baby Face himself was almost entirely a mystery.
Not only was there not a photograph of Baby Face in possession of the police, but no one was quite certain of his age. Anyone who had seen him, however, was sure that he was very young. Tony wondered if the mobster's family was also involved in criminal activities and if Baby Face could have gotten into things because of a family member. If he truly was quite young, that the explanation would make sense as to how he could already be so notorious. He could have learned the ropes of the profession from his father, or even a brother or uncle.
It seemed to Tony, from what he had read, that Baby Face must have a psychotic streak. After all, normal people did not go about gunning down anyone who remotely got in their way. Baby Face also had a disturbing tendency to try to choke people to death when they angered him. He could be perfectly calm, and then abruptly snap and attack someone, hence one of the reasons why there was always someone ending up dead during capers.
Baby Face's favorite thing to steal was generally expensive jewelry, especially diamonds. He also tended to take small and valuable electronics when he could. Rarely did he take anything that would require extra effort to remove. Tony assumed that this was because he wanted to keep things as light as possible in case he was being chased by the police.
Next in the folder were newspaper clippings of two recent robberies in Detroit. They did fit Baby Face's modus operandi, including the list of what was taken and people ending up dead during the escape. The first was a collection of priceless gems stolen from one of the local wealthy families. The second was something similar. In both cases, the victims had been right in their houses at the time and had not realized that they were being robbed until the gang was fleeing across the lawn and to the getaway car.
Tony leaned back with a sigh. There was one other article in the folder, concerning a new diamond exhibit at the museum. He supposed that the captain had included it because of a suspicion that Baby Face might try to break in and steal it. And he then knew what he would be doing that night.
****
The museum seemed relatively quiet and empty right before it closed. Tony and Marco were wandering through the halls inconspicuously, pretending to be guards, and while Tony was his usual calm self, Marco was completely psyched.
"Imagine us being assigned to catch someone like Baby Face Morales!" the young officer exclaimed. "You know, he's probably the most crafty mobster to show up since Al Capone!" It was his hope that this case would be much more interesting than the previous one they had been on. He lived for excitement and danger, and indeed, that was the main reason why he had joined the police force in the first place.
Tony gave him a sideways look. "Well, don't announce it all over the museum," he grunted. "We're supposed to be undercover." He walked around a corner, knowing it would also look strange for two guards to be conversing for very long.
Without warning the alarm went off, echoing loudly up and down the corridors. Pandemonium ensued, with everyone rushing to get back to where the diamond exhibit was located. Tony growled in annoyance as he was shoved to the side by a burly security officer.
"Hey!" Marco yelled as he ran past. "It looks like Baby Face is striking after all!"
Tony quickly followed him, thinking that things seemed to be moving much too fast. He would like to believe that things would be easy, but he was certain from what he had read that Baby Face would not make some sort of stupid mistake shortly after moving to a new location. If he was going to get cocky, it seemed likely that he would wait a while first. But then again, one could never know what was going on in the mind of such a criminal.
As he ran around another corner, he nearly crashed into a trenchcoat-clad woman coming from the opposite direction. Abruptly he stopped, managing just in time, and he looked up at her as she smirked at him from the shadows of the wide-brimmed hat she was wearing.
"Why, hello, Darling," she purred, making it a point to show off the small case she was holding. "Aren't you a handsome one."
Tony narrowed his eyes, recognizing a flash of red hair and a devious, green eye from under the hat. This was the woman Vivalene, the one suspected of being Baby Face's significant other—and the golddigger who most likely wanted to kill him for his ill-gotten goods. "Drop the box," he ordered, drawing his gun and pointing it at her.
"Of course," Vivalene smiled, and promptly threw it at him. During the split-second it took him to dodge and catch it, she was fleeing down the hall. "Have fun!" she called back. "Naturally that isn't the diamonds from the exhibit."
Tony, who had seen a glimpse of small rocks as the box's lid had partially popped open, threw the container to the floor and gave chase. Vivalene laughed, knowing that he was running after her and not minding one bit. She would see to it that he could not catch her. Or rather, she and Baby Face would see to it.
Without warning the entire museum was plunged into darkness. Vivalene smirked, hearing the screaming and cursing as the guards and the policemen stumbled and tripped and crashed into each other. She found committing crimes to be very fun and rewarding, and working with someone such as Baby Face was what she considered an honor. In spite of the fact that she almost always played with men's hearts and did not truly care about them at all, she felt a certain affection for Baby Face. The fact that he did not fall prey to her charms made him all the more intriguing. Vivalene was very vain, and believed that any man could be won over by her eventually. In fact, she was already deciding that if she again met the police officer who had chased her tonight, she would try to make him her next victim.
"What are you doing? Let's go."
Vivalene recognized Baby Face's angry voice from the nearest exit, and she turned to where he was holding the door open. "I was just toying with the police officer who was chasing me," she smiled. "You know me, Darling."
"Yeah, I know you." Baby Face was not impressed. "Did you get the loot?" He actually did not like Vivalene at all, and he would have gotten rid of her long ago if it was not that she was smart and expert at what she did. She was useful to have along on capers, and sometimes even her feminine charms came in handy, and so in spite of his personal feelings, Baby Face felt that the wisest thing to do was to keep her around.
"Of course." Vivalene hurried out the door and Baby Face shut it before anyone could realize what exit they were taking. "You did a wonderful job of distracting them by turning out the lights, and I imagine you also found time to get to that other exhibit you were interested in."
"Yeah, yeah." Baby Face narrowed his eyes, searching for the getaway car. He hoped that Mugsy was not having any trouble bringing it around. He wanted to leave immediately, especially since he could hear the people inside getting closer to finding the door they had just came from. Vivalene was already fleeing across the lawn. After drawing his gun, Baby Face followed.
Tony managed to find the door first, and he thrust it open in time to see the burglars escaping. Immediately he ran after them, irritated over the woman Vivalene's behavior and the way she had tried to trick him with the decoy box. Having never seen Baby Face before, he could only assume that he was the one with her, and from the current distance between them he could not see any of the gangster's features.
As he tried to shorten the gap, he suddenly saw one of the guards come from another direction and try to apprehend the two criminals. The man's response was to shoot him point-blank as they ran past him and into a tan-colored car that was just turning the corner. Tony growled in indignation at the sight, but tried one final time to stop them by shooting out the tires of the car. He failed, however, and the vehicle sped away. He cursed quietly as he watched it go, and then went to see if the fallen guard was still alive. As it turned out, he was, and Tony reached in his pocket to find his cell phone and call for an ambulance.
When he did, he blinked as he brought out a perfumed piece of paper folded into thirds that had been placed directly in front of his phone. He frowned darkly as he opened it and read the following message:
"Many police officers have tried to catch us and failed. You certainly are welcome to try, Darling, but don't think you'll succeed! In any case, you are most definitely clever—determining where we would strike tonight. With any luck, I'll have you falling for me after a couple more encounters."
It was unsigned, but he did not need it to be in order to know who had given it to him. Angrily he crumpled it in his hand and pulled out his phone.
Prisms of No Color
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: "In Detroit, he committed extortion, illegal entry, and headed up the numbers racket there. Then he quit the police department and joined up with Baby Face." Now, I must ask, why? People don't suddenly turn crooked overnight. Tony, Baby Face, Mugsy, Ruby, and that unnamed guy in their gang are not mine. Neither is Daily Nightly, which works perfectly as a song to be sprinkled throughout the story. The other characters and the story are indeed mine!
**************************************
~Dark and rolling figures move
Through prisms of no color
Hand in hand, they walk the night
But never know each other~
—from Daily Nightly by Michael Nesmith
They had been staking out the house for quite some time.
For the last two weeks, the two police officers had been tracking a man suspected of being a notorious embezzler. So far, they had not discovered anything that connected him to the crimes, and the younger of the two was ready to quit.
"This is stupid!" he growled, slamming his hand down on the door handle. "He's just having an ordinary business dinner in there, with ordinary business people."
The older one grunted. "That's what it looks like," he replied. "That doesn't mean that's what it is. There's several other people in there who're suspected of embezzling." He glanced at his watch. "The dinner should be breaking up any minute now."
"Yeah? And then what?" The raven-haired, rookie policeman glared at his partner.
"We wait and see what happens next," was the calm retort. The truth was, he was quite bored with the stakeout himself, but showing that boredom would not look professional. He had resolved to be completely stoic during these missions, no matter what his personal feelings happened to be. He had not risen to one of the highest positions in the department by showing his emotions.
"Next? Antonio, they'll all come out and go to their cars!"
Perhaps it seemed odd for the rookie to address the other officer so familiarly, but the truth was that they had been friends before either of them had joined the force. The one called Antonio had gone to a noted police academy several years before and had been climbing the ranks ever since he had entered the Detroit Police Department. He had been somewhat surprised to recently find out that his old high school friend was also becoming a cop, and had actually been rather hesitant when the police chief had assigned them to be partners. Marco was extremely impatient and impulsive, and Antonio had the feeling that working with him was going to be a headache. Policemen could not afford to be as impetuous as Marco was.
"This line of work isn't like the glamorous way you see it on the movie screens," Antonio snapped now. "You should know that after all this time."
Marco sighed. "Yeah, I know," he said, slumping back into the seat. "But all the same, I didn't realize it could be so boring!"
Antonio ignored that. He was intent on watching the silhouettes on the curtain of their suspect's office window. It looked to them as though they were heatedly engaged in an argument of some kind. Then, without warning, the shadow on the right drew a pistol, aimed it at the other, and fired. The affected silhouette doubled over in pain, then slumped out of sight.
Marco gasped in disbelief, reaching for his own gun. "We're going to go in there, aren't we?" he exclaimed, but Antonio was already throwing open his door and heading for the door, his gun held high.
"Open up! This is the police!" he yelled upon reach the porch. There was not a reply, and when Marco caught up with him, Antonio motioned silently that they would break the door in. Marco was both taller and more muscular, and he would need to take the brunt of the attack on the door. But just before either of them could do anything, the door was flung open violently and one of the men who had been a guest at the dinner came dashing out, nearly knocking down the officers in the process and then trying to fire his gun at them.
Antonio barely managed to dodge the bullet. "Stop or I'll shoot!" he yelled, pointing his gun at the retreating man's back. The culprit continued to flee, and Antonio and Marco gave chase. Antonio again ordered the man to stop, which he did not, and true to his word, the brown-haired officer quickly fired a round at the shootist's leg. The man stumbled, but the bullet had only grazed him and he dove into the nearest mode of transportation—the unmarked police car.
Antonio stared in disbelief as he heard the engine turn over. "How could he get the car to start?" he demanded. "He didn't have the time to hotwire it!"
Marco swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that he had made a terrible mistake. "I . . . I left the keys in the ignition," he admitted weakly.
Antonio now directed his expression of astonishment at Marco before narrowing his eyes. "Fix it!" he ordered, firing at one of the tires as he spoke.
Marco followed suit, feeling relieved as the shot hit its mark. The car careened out of control before coming to a halt against a telephone pole. Its occupant slumped back, unhurt but shaken. Immediately the two officers hurried over to him.
"You're under arrest," Antonio said coldly, and began reading him his rights.
"Well," Marco muttered, half to himself, "I guess it wasn't so boring after all."
****
It was much later before Antonio managed to get home. All of the other guests at the manor had to be questioned, the crime scene had to be investigated, and the murderer had to be charged and booked. The victim had been the embezzling suspect, the guests claimed to have not heard what the argument was about, and the murderer was not talking. All in all, it was a confused, tangled mess. Antonio had to admit that he was grateful when his shift ended. As it was, he did not arrive back home until it was after three in the morning.
He gazed out at the white, two-story house for a brief moment after he parked the car. All of the lights appeared to be off, except for the one in the living room. Alice had probably tried to wait up for him again and had fallen asleep on the couch by the telephone. She always worried about him when he was gone way into the early morning hours. She was afraid that one day he would get involved with a problem that he would not be able to get out of, and that she would receive the call that no loving wife wants to ever have to get.
With a sigh he got out of the car and went up the walkway to the porch. He had not been home much at all for the past few days. Not only had there been the long and largely fruitless case of the now-dead embezzler, but he had been receiving strange and threatening messages for the past several nights. When leaving the station to return home, he had been finding small, folded pieces of paper on his windshield. They were always written with newspaper letters and had been describing to him in detail all of his actions of the past day. Obviously someone was stalking him, but he did not know who it would be or why. Most likely, he knew, it was either someone whom he had landed in jail in the past or a friend or family member of some such person. He could not think of anyone else who would pick him to stalk, of all people.
He had not told Alice. There was not any point in worrying her more than she already was. Instead he had been working diligently when he could, trying to find out the possible identity of his unwanted shadow. There were several suspects, but he had not been able to locate any of them. As he opened the front door and went inside, all he could think was that it was a good thing he had not gotten another note tonight. He was definitely not in the mood.
"Tony?"
He turned at the soft voice. Alice was not asleep after all, though from her eyes she looked as though she had been. She smiled when she saw him, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back. "It's late," she said as she came over to him.
He pulled her close, looking into the depths of her sapphire blue eyes. "Yeah, I know," he replied. "It's been a long night." He kissed her softly. "Some idiot at a dinner party went and shot that guy we've been tailing, and no one'll talk about what happened."
Alice wrapped her arms around his neck. "Do you think it's a vast conspiracy?" she teased. That was a running joke between them, and it had been ever since a frustrating case from a couple of years past. It had involved another mysterious crime when a crowd of people had been in close proximity but refused to speak. Tony had came home one night complaining about the lack of progress and insisting that all of the witnesses were in on a plot to drive him mad. Of course, he had said it in frustration and did not truly believe that, but the comment had stuck.
"It is," Tony replied, going along with the joke. He actually did believe that there was some form of collusion going on, though he did not actually think it had anything to do with him personally. But it was too absurd to accept that no one at all had seen or heard anything. Perhaps they were too afraid to confess, or perhaps they were all in on the crime.
Alice led him over to the couch. "How was Marco?" she asked.
"He left the keys in the car and the killer nearly got away in it," Tony growled. He did not see how things would actually work out with Marco, nor did he know how long he would be able to have patience with him. That had not been the first outrageous mistake that the impulsive officer had made. It seemed that everytime they were on a case, strange things would happen that should not happen if Marco had been paying attention.
Alice smiled, not hiding that she was rather amused. "Oh well," she said. "At least that didn't happen." She looked at her husband, her eyes twinkling. "And you can cut him some slack, can't you? After all, you've made some mistakes yourself, especially shortly after you joined the force."
Tony grunted. He knew that Alice was right, but he did not care to admit it. He was usually a more level-headed cop, and a level-headed person in general, but even he had made some strange blunders upon first entering the Detroit Police Department. "I'll give him another chance," he said, though he did not say this seriously. Of course he had to keep trying, and hope that Marco would get things right eventually.
"Of course you will," Alice said playfully. "You're really such a kind person, even when you try to act like you're so tough." She kissed him again.
"I am tough," Tony retorted, returning the kiss.
"Not when you're with me," Alice answered.
Tony allowed himself to relax. Alice had a way of making him forget his problems, for at least a little while. That was one of the many things he loved about her.
****
The next week went by in a blur of pointless interviews and dead-end leads. Tony was quickly growing all the more disgusted with the case. If it was not that he knew there had been a murder, he would almost feel like consenting that there was not a case at all. Of course, it seemed that most of the crimes he investigated proceeded in a similar manner. There was rarely an obvious and quick solution, and even when he did figure out who the culprit was, it was not always easy to prove it.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he went over the folder containing the description of the current case, and the summaries of evidence and of suspects—or the lack of them. For him, police work was not glamorous at all. It annoyed him to see it portrayed as such in the movies and on television.
And the stalker was still bothering him as well. He had received another message just that past night, informing him of what had happened at every hour of the day. But this time the note had not talked about what he had doing—it had talked about Alice as well. Either the person had homing devices or tiny cameras planted around, or there was more than one stalker. Either way, Tony was infuriated. This said to him that the pursuer had realized that it would anger Tony much more to think that his wife was being spied on rather than it happening to Tony himself. And he could not take the chance on something happening to Alice. Somehow, he had to find out who could be behind it.
"Ferano?"
He looked up to see the police captain standing in front of his desk. Quickly he tried to sit up straight and to arrange the papers neatly back into the folder. "Yes, sir?"
The captain surveyed Tony and the scattered leafs. "How is the case proceeding, Ferano?"
Tony sighed, leaning back. "To be honest, sir, it isn't," he admitted flatly. "No one is willing to talk about either the murder or the original embezzlement scheme."
The captain nodded thoughtfully. "It's a tough nut to crack," he agreed. "But I think I have something here that will suit you better." With that he dropped another file onto the desk. It landed with a profound thump and Tony looked at it in disbelief, then back up at his boss.
"You're reassigning me?"
"That's right." The captain looked at him seriously. "We were just assigned this case yesterday, and I feel that you would be the best one to handle it." He crossed his arms. "Have you heard of Baby Face Morales?"
It was obvious from Tony's expression that he had not, even before he said anything. "No, sir," he said then. "I've heard of Baby Face Nelson, but not a Morales. . . ."
The captain sighed. "He's been committing robberies in New York City for the past few months. Now, for some reason, he's come to Detroit and so his capture has fallen under our jurisdiction." He watched as Tony opened up the folder. "Unfortunately, no one's ever been able to get a picture of him," he said now.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Then how does anyone know if he's here?" he wanted to know. "It could be a copycat crime."
"It could be," was the reply, "but several people who do know what he looks like have claimed to have seen him. And several people reported as belonging to his gang have been seen as well." Now Tony was looking at a photograph of a devilish but beautiful redhead who was smiling seductively at the camera. The captain shook his head. "That's Vivalene," he reported. "She's notorious for getting into guys' hearts, especially if they have some kinda money or other wealth that she wants. Then, when she succeeds—or if things aren't working and she's getting bored—she kills the victim."
Tony frowned at the picture and set it down. "I've heard of her sometimes. So, what is she—Baby Face's girlfriend?"
"That's the general assumption," the captain agreed. "No one's quite sure. She might be milking him for all he's got. If she'd just kill him, that would solve one problem. But somehow, I don't think he's stupid enough to fall for her tricks."
Tony shuffled through the other contents of the folder. Among them he found a photo of a heavyset man carrying a machine gun and glaring threateningly at someone not in the picture. Underneath was the caption "Sherry Fingerhead." Tony blinked. "Is this a joke?" he muttered.
The police chief shook his head in all seriousness. "That's the name he's been using," he said, "but it's most likely an alias."
"We can hope," Tony said sarcastically.
The captain turned to go. "All the information we have about Morales' crimes are in there," he directed. "Good luck, Ferano." He was relieved to give the case to Tony, who was one of his best detectives. He still wanted to find out the truth behind the embezzlement mystery, but he planned to assign it to someone else. The most important thing right now was to capture Baby Face Morales. He had come to this conclusion after reading about the heists the mobster had pulled off in New York City. It seemed that Morales never left the scene of a crime without a few people being dead. Many times innocent bystanders had been unwitting victims. He did not want to see Detroit turned upsidedown by such a vicious mind.
****
Tony spent the next hours poring over the contents of the file and piecing together the scraps of information he had found. Most of what was known involved the crimes, with a bit of information here and there on Baby Face's gang. Baby Face himself was almost entirely a mystery.
Not only was there not a photograph of Baby Face in possession of the police, but no one was quite certain of his age. Anyone who had seen him, however, was sure that he was very young. Tony wondered if the mobster's family was also involved in criminal activities and if Baby Face could have gotten into things because of a family member. If he truly was quite young, that the explanation would make sense as to how he could already be so notorious. He could have learned the ropes of the profession from his father, or even a brother or uncle.
It seemed to Tony, from what he had read, that Baby Face must have a psychotic streak. After all, normal people did not go about gunning down anyone who remotely got in their way. Baby Face also had a disturbing tendency to try to choke people to death when they angered him. He could be perfectly calm, and then abruptly snap and attack someone, hence one of the reasons why there was always someone ending up dead during capers.
Baby Face's favorite thing to steal was generally expensive jewelry, especially diamonds. He also tended to take small and valuable electronics when he could. Rarely did he take anything that would require extra effort to remove. Tony assumed that this was because he wanted to keep things as light as possible in case he was being chased by the police.
Next in the folder were newspaper clippings of two recent robberies in Detroit. They did fit Baby Face's modus operandi, including the list of what was taken and people ending up dead during the escape. The first was a collection of priceless gems stolen from one of the local wealthy families. The second was something similar. In both cases, the victims had been right in their houses at the time and had not realized that they were being robbed until the gang was fleeing across the lawn and to the getaway car.
Tony leaned back with a sigh. There was one other article in the folder, concerning a new diamond exhibit at the museum. He supposed that the captain had included it because of a suspicion that Baby Face might try to break in and steal it. And he then knew what he would be doing that night.
****
The museum seemed relatively quiet and empty right before it closed. Tony and Marco were wandering through the halls inconspicuously, pretending to be guards, and while Tony was his usual calm self, Marco was completely psyched.
"Imagine us being assigned to catch someone like Baby Face Morales!" the young officer exclaimed. "You know, he's probably the most crafty mobster to show up since Al Capone!" It was his hope that this case would be much more interesting than the previous one they had been on. He lived for excitement and danger, and indeed, that was the main reason why he had joined the police force in the first place.
Tony gave him a sideways look. "Well, don't announce it all over the museum," he grunted. "We're supposed to be undercover." He walked around a corner, knowing it would also look strange for two guards to be conversing for very long.
Without warning the alarm went off, echoing loudly up and down the corridors. Pandemonium ensued, with everyone rushing to get back to where the diamond exhibit was located. Tony growled in annoyance as he was shoved to the side by a burly security officer.
"Hey!" Marco yelled as he ran past. "It looks like Baby Face is striking after all!"
Tony quickly followed him, thinking that things seemed to be moving much too fast. He would like to believe that things would be easy, but he was certain from what he had read that Baby Face would not make some sort of stupid mistake shortly after moving to a new location. If he was going to get cocky, it seemed likely that he would wait a while first. But then again, one could never know what was going on in the mind of such a criminal.
As he ran around another corner, he nearly crashed into a trenchcoat-clad woman coming from the opposite direction. Abruptly he stopped, managing just in time, and he looked up at her as she smirked at him from the shadows of the wide-brimmed hat she was wearing.
"Why, hello, Darling," she purred, making it a point to show off the small case she was holding. "Aren't you a handsome one."
Tony narrowed his eyes, recognizing a flash of red hair and a devious, green eye from under the hat. This was the woman Vivalene, the one suspected of being Baby Face's significant other—and the golddigger who most likely wanted to kill him for his ill-gotten goods. "Drop the box," he ordered, drawing his gun and pointing it at her.
"Of course," Vivalene smiled, and promptly threw it at him. During the split-second it took him to dodge and catch it, she was fleeing down the hall. "Have fun!" she called back. "Naturally that isn't the diamonds from the exhibit."
Tony, who had seen a glimpse of small rocks as the box's lid had partially popped open, threw the container to the floor and gave chase. Vivalene laughed, knowing that he was running after her and not minding one bit. She would see to it that he could not catch her. Or rather, she and Baby Face would see to it.
Without warning the entire museum was plunged into darkness. Vivalene smirked, hearing the screaming and cursing as the guards and the policemen stumbled and tripped and crashed into each other. She found committing crimes to be very fun and rewarding, and working with someone such as Baby Face was what she considered an honor. In spite of the fact that she almost always played with men's hearts and did not truly care about them at all, she felt a certain affection for Baby Face. The fact that he did not fall prey to her charms made him all the more intriguing. Vivalene was very vain, and believed that any man could be won over by her eventually. In fact, she was already deciding that if she again met the police officer who had chased her tonight, she would try to make him her next victim.
"What are you doing? Let's go."
Vivalene recognized Baby Face's angry voice from the nearest exit, and she turned to where he was holding the door open. "I was just toying with the police officer who was chasing me," she smiled. "You know me, Darling."
"Yeah, I know you." Baby Face was not impressed. "Did you get the loot?" He actually did not like Vivalene at all, and he would have gotten rid of her long ago if it was not that she was smart and expert at what she did. She was useful to have along on capers, and sometimes even her feminine charms came in handy, and so in spite of his personal feelings, Baby Face felt that the wisest thing to do was to keep her around.
"Of course." Vivalene hurried out the door and Baby Face shut it before anyone could realize what exit they were taking. "You did a wonderful job of distracting them by turning out the lights, and I imagine you also found time to get to that other exhibit you were interested in."
"Yeah, yeah." Baby Face narrowed his eyes, searching for the getaway car. He hoped that Mugsy was not having any trouble bringing it around. He wanted to leave immediately, especially since he could hear the people inside getting closer to finding the door they had just came from. Vivalene was already fleeing across the lawn. After drawing his gun, Baby Face followed.
Tony managed to find the door first, and he thrust it open in time to see the burglars escaping. Immediately he ran after them, irritated over the woman Vivalene's behavior and the way she had tried to trick him with the decoy box. Having never seen Baby Face before, he could only assume that he was the one with her, and from the current distance between them he could not see any of the gangster's features.
As he tried to shorten the gap, he suddenly saw one of the guards come from another direction and try to apprehend the two criminals. The man's response was to shoot him point-blank as they ran past him and into a tan-colored car that was just turning the corner. Tony growled in indignation at the sight, but tried one final time to stop them by shooting out the tires of the car. He failed, however, and the vehicle sped away. He cursed quietly as he watched it go, and then went to see if the fallen guard was still alive. As it turned out, he was, and Tony reached in his pocket to find his cell phone and call for an ambulance.
When he did, he blinked as he brought out a perfumed piece of paper folded into thirds that had been placed directly in front of his phone. He frowned darkly as he opened it and read the following message:
"Many police officers have tried to catch us and failed. You certainly are welcome to try, Darling, but don't think you'll succeed! In any case, you are most definitely clever—determining where we would strike tonight. With any luck, I'll have you falling for me after a couple more encounters."
It was unsigned, but he did not need it to be in order to know who had given it to him. Angrily he crumpled it in his hand and pulled out his phone.
