Escalation

I tossed the box down on the desk, sat down in my chair, and leaned back. Not as comfortable as before, and I had a feeling that nap was going to be all the shut-eye for me. I rubbed my face and wrapped my hands around my head, hoping I'd be spared this ongoing nuissance by some greater intervention. Unfortunately, there'd been no indication of any higher order to this point; why now should there suddenly appear some divine source. Shit. Let's move fate forward on our own then.

The box wasn't that heavy but most of the important things in the world were written on pieces of paper, so that didn't mean anything. I unwrapped the bow and lifted off the lid. Pink tissue paper. Nice. Must be my birthday. Underneath all the fluff and ceremony was something cold, impersonal, and sensitive. A file folder, no official markings and unhelpfully titled "Rothschild, Donald," was filled with the kinds of things that get prying eyes in trouble: financial statements, printed emails, phone records, banking transactions. I closed it quickly and tossed it back in the box. I didn't want to see anything I couldn't unsee. Besides, I was hungry. I grabbed the phone number, slid it inside the folder, put the lid back on, and retied the bow. I didn't have a great hiding place so the lock drawer would have to do, but I wasn't going far. Eggs were just across the street.

* * * *

Mikey's was a dump, but always busy for early risers looking for a hard start to a long day. I grabbed a booth in the corner, away from the bustle of either businessmen starting their day before the world can spin too far ahead, or shift workers on either side of a twelve.

"What'll it be, hon."

These broads all look the same. Big hair, shrill voice, last thing you want to see or hear at this time of day.

"Hash and scrambled, side sausage, black coffee. And today's newsrag if you have one yet."

"Sure, hon."

"And tell Mikey I want to see him."

"He's cookin', won't be seein' nobody fo a while."

"Fine."

Wear some more makeup. I looked out the window, realizing again how little the rest of the city's done since last night, how little change their lives had been put through. Now I had even more valuable information I didn't want, a file full of background information tracking a dirty CEO's shopping habits. That number too, maybe I'd call it later and see what happens. From a payphone, I had to remind myself. Damn. Head was hurting again. What was that other thing Skinny was talking about? Some car company?

"Coffee and paper, hon. Mikey'll be out in a minute."

"Good."

Ah, that was better. Shot of black adrenaline, a little harsh but always welcome this early. I unfolded the front page and stared at the world, all laid out in black and white for me. The Legacy Foundation, that was it. Skinny proved to be at least that useful, but with all the clutter in my mind it was like handing me a flashlight with no batteries in a pitch black room; might do some good later, but for now it was just one more thing to carry around.

"Don't waste my papers, you never read them anyways."

"Mornin' Mikey."

Mikey never looked happy to see me, but he really looked uncomfortable today. He was a guy better suited to hiding in the kitchen, both in looks and termperment. They say never trust a skinny chef but when you're faced with the alternative, in this case, all three hundred pounds of alternative, it'll make you think twice. But I come to this dive for two things, the eggs and the information, and both went through the sour-face covered in breakfast grease that was already impatient.

"So, what, missing dog? Wife wants to know which one of her friends he's doin'? Case of the haunted house?"

Not all shirt and tie jobs get respect.

"Heard anything about a missing girl, since yesterday evening, might be someone important?"

"No. Who is it?"

"No name. Came to see me yesterday and it was communicated to me in a way that I believed that she's since gone missing. Know anything?"

"Just because you can't find her doesn't mean she's missing."

He was going on the offensive a little early. A good sign.

"Two guys came to see me last night. A big one and a skinny one. They seemed sure that this girl wasn't going to be around anymore."

"Sounds like solid sources. Case closed."

Mikey got up to leave. That wouldn't do. I liked visiting him during rushes, no matter what information had drifted his way, what sensitive names he had come across, his top priority was always his diner. His first attempts to leave always signalled that some rushed info would come out of his mouth pretty soon. Interesting, though. He tried to leave pretty early this time.

"Sit down. I just want to know what you know because, well, if you know anything it can't be that important."

"They'll stop eating here if they feel threatened."

"Nah, this place is perfect for upscale clients like them. They can't afford anywhere else. Talk."

Mikey looked around and saw the lineup at the door. He started whispering quickly.

"Look, some of 'em were in last night, coming and going. Lots of drinking, got all rowdy but more than usual. Yelling, at each other, something about a job and who'd have to do what. I couldn't really tell because my Spanish is shit, but it sounded like a couple of them drew the short end of the straw."

"Which ones."

"Couldn't tell, like I said, they were all drinking and yelling so you couldn't tell who was mad at who. It wasn't much different from other nights, except for one thing. One of 'em left something on their seat, a picture, some broad who looked familiar. I made the girl throw it out but I pulled it from the garbage later on, you know, just in case."

"Let's have a look."

"I don't think so. If you get it and start picking away it'll get traced back here. If I keep it, things stay quiet and this place doesn't attract any more information than it already does."

"It won't come back to you. Hand it over, I'm not working any case. Just tying up a loose end."

"You've got loose ends all over town. I don't want this one tying off one of the bigger ones."

Mikey was trying my patience, he was eager enough to spill but when it came to giving me anything useful he was stonewalling.

"Listen, it might be nothing. One could have nothing to do with the other, I just want to know for sure."

"Forget it, it's better if I keep it, I don't want anymore shit coming around here."

Asshole. I leaned towards him.

"Give me the picture right now, you fat piece of shit. If those assholes that were here last night had some girl's picture then that girl probably didn't have a good night, and whether it's the one I'm looking for or not shouldn't matter. You're a spineless fuck for not going to the police with this, but keeping it from me means that this girl, whoever she is, has no chance at all."

"Sanctimonious prick, you should measure the lives you saved against the ones you've wrecked before you walk the high ground with me."

"Um, hash and eggs, side sausage?"

She looked uncomfortable, which was strange since I assumed every day went by with at least one person threatening her boss. Mikey got up, this time for good.

"Forget it," he said. "I'm not getting involved and I don't want to know."

The waitress looked alarmed. She glanced at me then at Mikey's departing back. She set the plate down and left quickly.

"Yeah," I said to myself, "Nobody does."