“Hey Fletch, it’s Effie. I need you to come down to the bar,” I said when he answered, tossing another pretzel into my mouth.
Alex took in a sharp breath as he walked into the bar before coming over to me. “Why? What happened?” Adam asked tentatively.
“Eh. I got into it with the President of the Devil’s Gate MC. He shot me several times, so I killed him.” I tossed in a few more pretzels. Alex facepalmed and rubbed his hand down his face.
The string of curses that came through the phone was equal parts colorful and loud. “Why are you calling me? You should be calling the locals,” he asked once he stopped cursing me.
Jack greeted Alex with his usual. I gestured to her for a whiskey. I sighed when she gave me a look that told me I would be getting it later for killing someone in our bar. I popped a few more pretzels into my mouth, “Because I work with you and the FBI and locals might not believe that if you aren’t here, so I need you to confirm.”
“Are you eating?” He asked loudly.
I threw my arms wide despite him not being able to see me, “What? Killing presidents makes me hungry.”
“Presidents? Plural? How many have you killed?” I started to answer, but he cut me off, “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“Right, so you coming down or?”
“Yeah. I’ll be down in ten.”
“Thanks Fletch.” He just grumbled in response before disconnecting.
“Fletcher coming?” Alex asked.
“Yeah. Now to call the locals, or maybe just call Coop direct,” I said, crunching on another pretzel.
“It’s a little disturbing that you’re just munching on pretzels while the guy you killed lays five feet away from you. You know that right?” Jack stated.
I shrugged, “He’s not the first, and he’s not innocent. He’s done some heinous things in his life, so you know I really don’t feel bad. Plus he shot me, a lot, let’s not forget that.”
“It’s still disturbing,” she replied, setting a whiskey in front of me.
“Yeah, probably, but what are you going to do? Go hungry because you killed a horrible person? Nah you gotta eat the pretzels and deal with the fall out later,” I said, scrolling through my phone looking for Coop’s number.
“Yeah,” Coop answered.
“Coop, I need you to come to the bar. You’re on shift tonight right?” I took a drink of my whiskey as I waited.
He sighed, “No. My schedule got moved around. Why? What’s up Ef?”
I cursed under my breath, “I kind of killed Slade, you know President of the Devil’s Gate MC, in self defense.”
“Motherfucker Effie! What the fuck?! Listen, my partner is on shift tonight. I’ll call him. Jesus Christ. I can’t believe you did this.”
I pulled the phone back to make sure I was on the phone with Coop before putting it back to my ear, “Since when do you have a partner? And shouldn’t you guys be on the same shift?”
He cursed me out some more, so I patiently waited for him to finish, popping in some pretzels. When I munched a little too loudly, he started yelling again, “Are you eating?”
“What? I’m hungry!” I responded.
He sighed loudly and gave me a few more choice words before hanging up on me. I chuckled, “Is Coop coming?” Alex asked with a smirk on his face.
“No. He’s off tonight, so he’s sending his partner.”
“Since when does he have a partner?”
“He didn’t say,” I answered with a shrug. Looking over at the door as Cara walked into the bar. Her eyes landed on the dead body first, then me, and finally one of her loves, Alex.
“Why’d you kill him?” She asked as she put her arms around Alex’s midsection.
“Felt like the thing to do,” I said, leaning across the bar and grabbing a cup of water which earned me a glare from Jack. “What? I feel weird asking you to do things for me when I can get them myself.”
“I’m behind the bar, I’ll get it. Ask for it,” she said before being hailed by a customer.
I had started on my water by the time Fletcher walked in, “Put the fucking pretzels away would you? Did you call the locals?”
“I called Coop, but he’s not on shift tonight so he’s sending his partner over.”
“Partner? Since when does he have a partner?” Fletcher asked
“I guess we’ll find out. I bet this is him now. He looks like a cop.”
“You can’t look at a person and know they’re a cop.”
“If it walks like a cop and quacks like a cop. It’s a cop,” I said just as Coop’s partner walked up to us.
“Are you Effie?” He asked.
“Yep. And you are?”
“Detective Sutherland. Detective Cooper’s partner.”
“About that, since when does Coop have a partner?” I asked.
He sighed, “Since the captain thought he needed one. Can we move onto the dead body on the floor please?”
“Oh right,” I went to the backroom where I had files on all of the MC members. “Slade, aka Timothy Milligan, came in around eight. Pulled his gun on me around 9:37. I quickly disarmed him and knocked him out. He got up, came out here, pulled his gun on me again, and shot me four times in the chest. I got up, disarmed him, before snapping his neck as he came at me again.”
“Wait. He shot you in the chest? How are you alive?” Sutherland asked with a furrowed brow.
I looked at Alex, but before I could respond, Fletcher spoke for me, “FBI Special Agent Adam Fletcher. She and I work together. She has a lot of secrets in her past and that’s one that has to stay a secret.”
He gave me a skeptical look, “So how am I supposed to believe you were actually shot?”
“The holes in my shirt?” I asked sarcastically. “I can flash you if you like and you can see my bruises. You could ask a witness or two? Are you sure you’re a cop?”
Sutherland rolled his eyes, “Do you have cameras?”
“Yeah. They’re in the back,” I said before leading them to the back office.
I played the recording for Fletcher and Sutherland, without sound, “Wait, you didn’t mention you had Havoc Reapers in here too. Why were both clubs here?”
I sighed, knowing based on what little interaction I had had so far with him that my explanation would not be well received, “When I moved here there was a lot of crime in this area. I took it over, sent the loan sharks packing, drug lords to prison, and pushed the gangs out. The only two left are these two. I allowed them to use the bar as neutral ground to conduct business, but also so I would know what was going on around me. I occasionally would make a neutral ruling. Slade found me not so neutral.”
“You do realize they will come after you right?”
I looked at Fletcher, who shrugged and inclined his head, “Okay look I’m going to tell you something only Coop and the chief know on your force. If it gets out I’ll know it was you and there will be consequences.”
“You’re threatening a cop.”
I rolled my eyes, “Have you heard of the Raven?” He nodded after a pause, “I’m the Raven. Trust me when I tell you, I can handle a motorcycle club.”
“Holy fuck. You’re a suspect in over a dozen murders.” I rolled my eyes again, and played the video with sound, “So what? You were going to withhold evidence?”
“No. If you didn’t notice I mentioned in the video that I was the Raven and I would rather that fact not get out.”
“Because you’re a murderer.”
“No. Coop wouldn’t work with me if I were, nor would the FBI. You can ask Coop about the murders, most of them I wasn’t even in the country for, the others I was killing someone else.” He started to interrupt me again, “On contract with several government agencies. Now if you’re done accusing me of murder, do you think we could get back to the matter at hand?”
“So you’re claiming self defense. You know even with this footage, I have to talk to the guys that were also there right?”
“Of course,” I turned around, gesturing for them to move, and dug through my filing cabinet. “Here we go. Vice President, Bone, aka Darren Lewis. Sergeant at Arms, Snake, aka Paul Baker. Last but not least, Head Enforcer, Joker, aka James Reynolds.”
“Why do you have files on them and how did you get this information?” Sutherland asked.
“I’ve learned to stop asking those questions,” Fletcher said. I threw him a glare, “What? I have. Plausible deniability. I would rather play dumb to how my consultant gets her information.”
“Yeah. You’re not playing,” I said, handing the files to Sutherland.
“Do you have proof of the crimes here?” He asked after flipping through for a minute.
“Not your kind of proof,” I said, walking out of the office.
“Not my kind of proof?”
Author: Kailan Counahan 