Friday 10:42 a.m.
Mal had gone to work, and Knight was debating on calling out, when the doorbell rang. Dressed in shorts, he went to answer the door.
Two men in suits greeted him. Knight’s heart raced. “Good morning, you’re Knight? You work for O’Keefe’s?”
“Yeah,” Knight said, and the two men showed their badges.
“Can we come in?”
Knight stood in the doorway, “No.”
The two men glanced at each other surreptitiously. “We can talk here, or downtown,” said one, an older one.
“Here’s good,” Knight said, and shut the door behind him, standing against it. “Bu’ I think I should contact my lawyer.” Blake had not called him yet, and he kept the phone beside him the entire time.
“You’re not under arrest,” said the younger man, smiling gently. “We just want to ask you a few questions.”
“I understan’, bu’ I’d rather wait.” Knight, inside, wanted to break down and tell them everything. But he had his orders, from Mal, from Tracey; orders he could follow. Orders he understood.
“You don’t need a lawyer if we’re going to ask a few questions.”
“Still,” Knight said. “I’d rather not say anythin’ more than I already have.” He turned around and put a hand on his doorknob.
“Mr. Knight – if that’s your real name – you would make it easier on yourself if we just talked.”
Knight said nothing, opening the door, and stepping inside. “I’ve said all I need t’,” he replied, and closed the door in their faces.
Knight texted Mal, telling him the cops came by, he was still home, but he was going to work. Mal suggested he call out sick, but to Knight, that would be the same thing as admitting guilt. He started to walk to O’Keefe’s, about ten blocks past where he lived.
He could tell a blue Ford Taurus was following him, but he didn’t turn around to watch. He made it to O’Keefe’s, right now empty, an hour before the lunch rush. Paulie was not at his usual place at the bar. “Paulie?” Knight called, shaking the door and ringing the bell.
Paulie came out of his office. “Lock th’ door, laddie, we need to talk.”
Knight did as he was told as Paulie started walking across the hard wood floor of the bar, his sneakers making no noise, though Knight could hear him easily. Paulie stopped at the edge of the bar.
“What happened yesterday?”
Knight said, “Mickey attacked me.”
“And what the hell did you do?”
Knight shook his head.
Paulie’s attitude went from accusatory to sympathetic in one fell swoop. “Look. I know Tyler an’ Mickey were worth shit. They’re both addicts and I know that all they do with the money I gave them is blow it on meth or some other kind of crap like that. But that’s my sister’s son you hurt, and his friend you killed.”
Knight shook his head, not saying anything.
“Are you saying you didn’t?”
Don’t let them know you can shift. “No, I didn’t.” Technically, he didn’t. His Beast did. If he went with that story.
Paulie sighed, leaning against the bar. “Dammit, laddie, I knew he was imagining that. But something ripped Micky’s throat out.”
“I don’t know. I was knocked on the ground.”
“But I didn’t see you when I came out there.”
“Got away. Didn’ want to go back to the hospital again.” He raised his head and looked at Paulie, “My king, he heals me.” Easier and easier, the lies came. Keep it simple, keep it easy to remember.
“Your king.” Paulie walked over to Knight and put a hand on his shoulder. “All right, laddie, it’s all right. Dammit, I wish this wasn’t happening.”
“Me too,” he said, and they heard a knock on the door. The two men in suits were out there. “Cops,” said Knight.
“I’ll get rid of ’em. You go in th’ back.”
As Knight started walking there, he saw a third man join them, a big, broad man also in a suit. Knight stopped to listen when Paulie opened the door:
“…has nothing to say at this time.”
“We’re going to ask him a few questions–”
“I said,” said the big man in a deep baritone voice, “my client has nothing to say at this time. Now if you will please stop harrassing him, we’ll get on with things.”
“Nobody’s harrassin’ anyone in my bar,” came Paulie’s voice. “If you boyos don’t mind, you can just move along.”
“Mr. O’Keefe, it would probably be in your best interests to allow us to – ”
“It’s in my best interests to keep my employee working here, so if you want to talk to him, he’s going to have to do it on his own time.” He paused, “Unless you want to buy a drink.”
“I’ll buy one,” said the baritone, and Knight scooted into the back room and put on his apron.
A few minutes later, the kitchen opened. “Mr. Carlin, I’m Blake Townsend,” said the big man, and Knight’s nostrils flared. He smelled like…no, it couldn’t be.
The big man leaned against the doorway, looking as comfortable in a suit as he probably would in casual clothes. He looked around the kitchen. “Nice. Got any roast beef?”
“Yeah,” Knight said, and took some cold roast beef out of the fridge. “Want a sandwich?”
“Sure. With mayo. On a roll.”
“You got it.”
Knight started making the sandwich while the man tucked his hand inside his jacket, then, with a grimace pulled it out. “Can’t smoke in here,” he said with a snarl. “Now, I heard what happened from Tracey. This is what we’re going to do.”
“Wait,” said Knight. “I told Paulie that I didn’t do it.”
“Good start.”
“And I told him I was knocked out for it.”
“Better. And?”
“I got away cuz I don’ like hospitals.”
“More like you don’t -need- a hospital,” he said. “It’s been documented that you’re a fast healer. That’s why I’m in the picture.” He took the sandwich offered. “I represent heroes gone bad.”
“But I didn’t go bad.”
“Yes, you did, just for a minute, and that’s all it takes for a cape.” He chomped into the sandwich. “Mmm…anyway, keep to that story you told Paulie. I suggest, as your attorney, that you go to the police. But make sure I’m with you.” He took out his phone and looked at it, scrolling through things. “It’s probably best if we do it sooner rather than later. You’ll be locked up for the weekend if they decide that you warrant it, but we’re going to do everything to avoid that.”
“C’n I do it tomorrow? I got…I wanna stay home one more time.”
“You’re not going to prison,” he said. “But you’re going to have those guys after you until you go down to the station.” He frowned at something on his phone. “I’m in court in an hour, probably until the end of the day.” He shut off the phone, looked up at Knight. “Tomorrow, first thing in the morning. Are you an early riser?”
“I c’n be,” he said. “An’ my mate, he’ll wanna come wi’ me.”
Blake exhaled. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why?”
“You’re going to be in a room with me. I can’t keep an eye on you both.”
“He’s alot more savvy th’n me.”
“As long as he keeps his mouth shut.” He ate more of the sandwich. “Or I’ll have to charge double.”
“He knows his shit.”
He finished the sandwich. Knight sliced more roast beef, but Blake shook his head.
“Oh, by th’ way…”
“Hmmm?”
“Tyler an’ Micky were addicts.”
His eyes brightened. “Oh, -really-.” He grinned, “Good to know.” He brushed crumbs off his suit. “Meanwhile, keep your nose clean, don’t go shifting around in public. Good sandwich. I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”
“Okay, thanks.”
He nodded, and went out. Knight watched as he was talking to Paulie for a minute, and then clapped the man on the shoulder and also left. Knight turned to his kitchen and started working.
As he did, he wondered…under the smell of cigarettes on Blake, Knight thought he could smell wolf.