The Devil's Copper by Jamie Crothall (ebook audio reader .TXT) 📗

“I’m fine,” I said.  “What about you?  You just saw me get shot.”

“No, I saw you die.  It was very disturbing.”

“Well, I’m alive.  And…I mean…thanks to you?  I guess?”

Was I really buying into this?  Did I have a choice at this point?

“So now what do we do?” he asked.

“We stick to the plan,” I said.  “We need to talk to Mike and find out why he sold out Jack.”

“That’s probably not the safest thing right now.”

“What else can we do?”

“What are we going to say when we find him?”

“Not ‘we,’ ” I insisted.  “I’ll talk to him.  I’ll try to reason with him.”

Walter shook his head.  “That won’t work.  I’ve met him a few times.  He’s an arrogant little shit.  Good actor, but not much good for anything else.  Have you ever met him?”

“Only once, when he pretended to be a fan of my future self.  Jack spoke about him a lot.  But I suppose I’ve never actually met him.”

“I have a plan then. Some of my ex’s clothes are still in my closet.  You were about the same size.  Why don’t you see if her dress fits you?  Maybe you can try charming some information out of him.”

“You want me to what?”

“You don’t think you can pull it off?”

I hesitated.  Could I?  “I mean…I probably…”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Goes against the principle of feminism. Using your looks instead of your brain.  But if you charm him a bit, he might be willing to give a few details.  Just tart yourself up a bit.”

I didn’t like the idea.  I had plenty of good reasons, not all of which I wanted to get into.  “Can we call that Plan B?”

Walter threw himself onto the couch without even removing his coat or shoes.  “Suit yourself.  We’ll talk in the morning.  Her stuff’s in my closet. You can sleep on the bed.”

“Can I get a shower?”

“Mi casa es su casa.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Oh and Billie?”

“Yeah?” I asked, pausing to look at the back of the couch.

His hand raised over the back to point at me.  “Don’t call that cop.”

I didn’t reply, but he didn’t follow up.

***

His bathroom was as clean and unencumbered as the rest of his apartment.  I didn’t snoop through his medicine cabinet or anything, but there was little to be found except for a cleanly rolled up tube of toothpaste, one bottle of all-in-one shampoo, and another bottle of liquid soap.  And just enough folded towels to fit the basic needs.  I had a quick, hot shower, and wrapped a towel around me to head into the bedroom.  When I made the quick transition into the hall, I could already hear him snoring.  I sealed myself in his room and took it in.  A neatly made bed, one plain dresser, and a bedside table with an alarm that was blinking 12:00.  The only bit of flourish was a dog collar and leash on top of his dresser.  I assume that once belonged to ‘Shep.’

I opened his closet and looked inside.  It felt invasive, but it was by his own invitation.  I pushed aside a number of clean plaid shirts, and found a few feminine items pushed to the far right.  There were two dresses, one of which I would not even justify with consideration.  There was also a denim jacket, though it was cut shorter, like a bolero jacket.  I figured I’d claim that in exchange for the one now lying in my apartment parking lot with a bullet hole through it.

Reluctantly, I pulled out the grey mini dress and held it against my body before trying it on.  It was meant to be form-fitting, and only went down to mid-thigh level.  Trying it on felt weird.  I told myself there was no reason I shouldn’t, but it felt unnatural.  I wasn’t sure about the overall image reflected in the mirror on the back of his door.  But when I put the denim jacket over it, and topped it off with an old Sudbury Wolves baseball cap, it wasn’t so bad.  It was enough of a compromise to make me feel a little bit more comfortable.  Actually, when I looked at the overall image in the mirror, I started to feel someone ‘okay’ with what I saw.  I ran my hands over my stomach and sides as though to smooth out the rough spots.  But ultimately, I had to come to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to pull it off.  The dress, that is.  The whole task of charming a recently released criminal was a whole other ordeal to wrestle with.

Ready for the next day’s task, I laid down on Walter’s perfectly made bed and stared at the ceiling until I fell asleep.

SEVEN

It was a dream.  Let me state that outright, so you don’t get even a fraction of the hope I did.  I hate my brain; it knows just how to torture me sometimes, and that night it chose the worst way possible.  I dreamt I was woken up by Jack.  I was in my own bed – our bed – and he gently nudged my shoulder to wake me up without startling me.

“Billie,” he whispered in my ear.  It was the most soothing sound I had ever heard.

Even in my dream, I felt like I was waking from a nightmare.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” I scolded as he lay down beside me.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  His words echoed in my head as I woke.  “I won’t do it again.”

The gentle nudge of his hand on my shoulder carried through into wakefulness. Only it was translated by a cold prodding by something small in my arm.  I didn’t want to open my eyes, but as