Elliot sighted carefully, took aim, and flicked the peanut shell across the bar into a glass of stale beer. It landed with a satisfying plop. He smirked to himself, shrugged his shoulders and straightened on his stool, before bringing his own glass to his lips.
He closed his eyes as the door opened behind him. A rattle of bells and a blast of January chill made the hair on the back of his neck perk up. Or maybe it was her. He smelled her perfume. Vanilla musk. She never changes. Eternal.
“Good morning, Marla,” he said without turning around.
“It’s a little early to channel your inner barfly, Elliot, isn’t it?” she said as she tossed her red peacoat and way-too-fluffy scarf on a stool between her and Elliot as she sat down.
“You’re here too,” he said, catching her smile from the corner of his eye. He finally sipped from the glass he was holding, winced and put it down.
Barney the barkeep quietly put a square napkin down in front of her, then a glass. No sound, just professional quiet. He held up a dark bottle for her to see.
“Three fingers, neat,” she said. She nodded as she watched him pour.
Barney retreated to the back bar at the deep end of the room. The lighting was yellow and he disappeared into the dim, leaving Elliot to consider Marla’s unexpected intrusion. He was surprised he wasn’t more annoyed.
“I had some free time. I still can’t find him.”
“Oh? Tough break.”
Marla took a sip. She didn’t wince. “It’s been months since anyone has caught a sighting. Things are getting worse out there.”
She reached across Elliot for the peanut bowl and plucked three. She fidgeted with them to steady herself.
“And now the evidence locker has been seized by the suits up on Fourth Street. You don’t know anything about that, do you? That rag you’re working for…” She let that last hang.
She turned to face him, picked up her glass and took another measured sip, measuring his next response.
“I’m too busy with my own flavour of hell to be spiking your leads,” said Elliot. He grabbed a peanut shell from his debris field and lined it up for another shot. “Who the fuck burns down orphanages? Not one, not two, but three? Christ.”
Elliot flicked and launched his shell. It missed. By a mile. She threw him off his game and he hated himself for it. He stood up, grabbed his drink and it sloshed wildly, but didn’t spill. “And the paperwork keeps vanishing.”
He emptied the glass and plunked it down. Elliot put up his hand to let Barney know he was good. He took a tired achy stretch before he sat down again. He turned to Marla, his voice low. “I interviewed this kid, arm all burned up. He was scared to death. Said he saw someone from your press pool. You know anything about that?”
“Your back still bothering you?” Marla asked. “That was quite a tumble you took a few months ago before things went to hell in a handcart.”
“I’ll quit when I’m dead,” he replied.
“Me too.” She smiled. “Seriously though. You got to stop chasing ghost stories.”
“I will when you do,” he snapped. “At least no one gets hurt when I’m on the case.”
Marla’s voice dropped to a low whisper, almost a growl. “That’s not fair and you know it.” She raised her head to meet Elliot in the eye, ready to eviscerate him for being so callous and mean. She caught the TV flickering over his shoulder. “Barney, turn that up.”
Breaking news from downtown this morning. Vigilante copycat torches the 6th Street Precinct. The helicopter feed caught some too-fast blurred figure frenetically embattled with a swarm of drones around the blaze.
Rain began to splatter against the windows as if adding insult to injury against the wintery breeze.
Elliot and Marla exchanged looks. The beat’s siren call was at hand. No words were needed.
They both reached for their coats at the same time. Marla’s hand brushed his—a dry spark of static. She recoiled, hesitated and snatched her scarf instead.
“See you out there,” she said as she left. The door’s chimes rattled twice, and she was gone like the wet breeze that carried her.
Elliot counted to thirty, coat half-on. He smirked at her empty stool, then shoved into the downpour.
