the steps to the second floor of the rundown rowhouse. Just like his observations of the architecture of the old townhouses, this one was no different. Room in the front from the street, leading to the kitchen. Stairs in the middle, a couple of bedrooms on the second floor. Only this one hadn’t been flipped. No renovations. No updates. In fact, he wasn’t sure it had been cleaned this century.
Alex had his back, keeping an eye on the people on the first floor. Walking into the bedroom toward the back alley, he found the man he was looking for. A card table sat in the center, an old towel thrown on top.
Lifting an eyebrow, he grinned. “You gettin’ ready for a card game, Marquee?”
“Yeah, Detective McBride. Just gonna be me and a few of my friends having a little game of poker.”
“Poker, huh? And why the hell did your mama give you a name like Marquee?”
“Said she knew my name was gonna be all lit up one of these days.” He laughed loudly, his open mouth exposing rotted teeth from years of using meth.
Kyle shook his head. “Jesus, man.” Inclining his head toward the table, he said, “I take it you don’t want me to lift that towel up to see your… poker chips.”
Marquee’s face fell, giving him a hound-dog appearance. “Aw, man. You got better stuff to do today than bust me. I got a few dime bags, that’s all. That’s not even enough to waste your time doing paperwork to haul me in.”
“Word on the street is that you might know about some additives to put into your bags.”
Shaking his head emphatically, Marquee replied, “I don’t add nothin’ to my shit.”
“But you hear who does?”
Marquee scrunched his nose as though smelling something unpleasant, which Kyle found odd considering the entire house reeked of rotten garbage.
“I don’t want no trouble.”
Kyle said nothing, letting his silence speak for him.
“Shee-it,” Marquee finally said on an exhale. “There’s a place up on Baxter. From talk, there’s someone there who gets the good stuff. Name is Raffie or somethin’ like that. Sells huge to some major dealers. Hear he rakes in the money without getting his hands dirty.”
“You ought to know, Marquee. Everyone in this business gets their hands dirty.” Turning, he walked back down the stairs, the sound of Marquee’s cackle turning into a cough ringing in his ears. Collecting Alex as they walked back outside, he sucked in a deep breath, needing to clear his lungs and nostrils of the stench.
“Get anything?” Alex asked.
“Yeah,” he replied as he climbed into his truck. “We’re heading to Baxter. Seems like Raphael might be who we’re looking for.” He called in for a pickup of Marquee, knowing the officers would get the bags Marquee was working on. Waiting until they showed, he gave them directions. A few minutes later, they walked out with Marquee in handcuffs and evidence bags filled with what Kyle was sure would be heroin, either pure or laced with something. Knowing Marquee, they’d be laced with something cheap just to make his heroin go a little further.
Pulling away from the curb, he and Alex traded one run-down area of town for another. Parking a block away from his destination, he glanced around, knowing Alex was doing the same. It didn’t matter that they were both in jeans that had seen better days, faded T-shirts, jackets, and boots, or that their hair was long and their tats were showing. To many, they would fade into the background, but to the people that hustled this part of town, they’d still stand out as police.
As though the fates were smiling down on them today, it didn’t take long to spy Raphael walking down the street.
“Looks like he doesn’t have a fuckin’ care in the world,” Alex said.
Grinning, Kyle opened his door. “Let’s give him something to fuckin’ care about.”
Raphael twisted around and saw them coming up behind him, then took off running down the block, darting into an alley. With no words needed between them, Kyle and Alex separated while still in pursuit. Kyle took the more direct route, following Raphael into the alley.
Their prey was just turning the corner at the end of the alley when Kyle observed him tossing a bag to the side. Knowing Alex had everything under control, he jerked a glove out of his pocket and stopped long enough to snatch up the bag of pills. Racing around the corner, he heard a loud crash and ‘umph’. Raphael