No Rest for the Wicked - Chapter 8

Max slid into the corner booth at Komol without needing to look at the menu. The laminated pages hadn’t changed in years…just like the faded photos on the walls or the hum of the old ceiling fan that ticked every third rotation. Flip was already there, halfway through a Thai iced tea, tapping his spoon against the glass like a metronome.

This had been one of their favorite meet ups the past two years. Tucked away in the back of the worn-down Commercial Center, the place didn’t draw tourists, which was the point. No one asked questions here. The staff knew them by face, not name, and never hovered. The pad see ew would arrive unprompted, and Flip’s extra egg rolls would follow five minutes later. It wasn’t just dinner…it was a ritual. A quiet pocket of predictability in lives that rarely allowed for it.

Max and Flip met on the job, so to speak. Max was delving into an investigation involving mysterious lights flickering over the vast desert…a peculiar occurrence he encounters in his line of work at least annually. In this case, nefarious characters connected to the more earthly robbery in Max’s investigation kidnapped Flip.

The Nevada desert, with its endless stretches of sand and rock, is notorious for concealing countless secrets, including many bodies…a grim reality that often finds its way into Hollywood scripts. That fateful night, Flip was close to becoming one of those secrets buried beneath the sands until Max intervened and disrupted those plans.

Since that night, Flip and Max have formed an unconventional friendship, one in which they share information while maintaining their footing in their respective worlds. Flip agreed to catch up over an early dinner, which worked for Max. The package, from what he thought was a bogus dead end contact containing cryptic writings from his mother, was both exciting and confusing.

He always knew the accident was bogus, but now he finally had some actionable proof that his parents were alive. What he hadn’t banked on was that they’d be in some sort of danger. Focusing his mind on the case at hand was a welcome reprieve from not just his own thoughts…but fears.

“You think you’re gonna make it through all this food getting nothin’ on that fancy suit of yours?”

Though Max had always wondered, he had resisted the urge to investigate how Flip can afford such nice clothes on a cop’s salary. Flip never talks much about his background. What he knows is that Flip came into some money from an inheritance, but beyond that, it was a mystery. He never mentioned family, never talked about where the money came from, but he wasn’t shy about spending it. For a cop, he lived well…nice car, nice clothes, the lifestyle that made other detectives side-eye him when they thought he wasn’t looking.

“Yes, I do.” Flip reached for his extra egg roll. “I have impeccable eating etiquette. Unlike you, of course.” Flip gave Max a pointed look. “Not that it matters. This is about as dressed up as you ever get.”

He wasn’t wrong. After showering up at the gym, Max decided to sport one of his favorite T-shirts, well-worn but clean jeans, and a pair of throwback Adidas sneakers.

“I’m a man of the people, Flip.” gesturing to his outfit. “Proper attire is necessary; I might need to chase or fight someone.”

Flip smirked. “Yeah, I suppose. That happens to you often enough.”

“Now, your daily attire confounds me,” Max said, waving at his suit. “How do you manage to do police work in such a restrictive outfit? You ever try running in dress shoes?”

“And yet, I manage just fine,” he said, already halfway through his egg roll. “So, what is it you wanted to chat about?”

“Do you know anything about that painter that was murdered a while back, Adrian Devine?”

Flip paused for a moment to think, “Wasn’t that 20 years ago or so?”

“Yeah would’ve been.”

“Hell Max, I wasn’t on the force back then. I would’ve been a kid. Why are you asking?”

“Just curious. A friend asked me to look into it is all. They believe his murder involved more than the reports stated.”

“And what was reported?”

“That it was a product of a robbery gone wrong.”

“Well, I can see what I can find out for you. Can’t promise anything, I got my own job to do you know.”

Max smiled and nodded as he finished the last bite of his noodles. “How is work? Any fresh cases of interest?”

Flip sat back in his booth, sipping the last bit of his iced tea. “You know, not generally of interest because this happens regularly, but since you’re asking about that artist, something comes to mind.”

“Oh,” Max replied with a raised eyebrow, “do tell.”

“If memory serves me well, that artist was close with the Davenports. Just today, Mrs. Davenport reported her granddaughter missing, again.”

“Again?”

“Mia Davenport, the granddaughter, is known to wander off the reservation, so to speak. She’s a regular party girl. Sometimes she parties a bit too hard and ends up roaming from the flock. We find her a few hours or days later in another city blitzed out of her mind.”

“Drugs?”

“Sometimes. Mostly booze. We bring her back and she goes into rehab for a while. Anyway, probably not related at all. Devine was murdered before she was born.”

“I had heard that she might be his daughter.”

Flip chuckled, “Looks like you might know more about the Devine Davenport connection than I do!”

“Just a rumor I came across during my initial investigation into Devine.”

“Why are you looking into an old murder? That doesn’t seem your…style.”

Max gave a shrug. “A friend asked me to look into it.”

“A new client?”

“Sort of. A guy Jerry knows thinks there is more to the murder than what was determined. As a favor to Jerry, I agreed to see what I could find out. Could be nothing, but seeing as how I have no active cases at the moment, it doesn’t hurt to ask around.”

Flip nodded. “Well, I’ll see what I can dig up for you. I gotta head back to the station.”

“You’re working nights now?”

“Sometimes, I got Mia Davenport to find, remember?”

“Ah yes, well always good to catch up. I’ll walk out with you.”

Stepping out into the parking lot, Max caught sight of a woman sitting in a red Mini Cooper across the street. The car was sun-faded and dinged in a few spots…lived-in but not abandoned. A hardcover book rested open in her hands, but she hadn’t turned a page in the last five minutes. She kept her eyes fixed on him.

Not Flip. Him.

She looked to be around his age, maybe a few years younger. Good posture, clear eyes, calm demeanor. Either she used to have money and let things go, or she still had it and just didn’t care how things looked. Both options put her in a category Max paid attention to: unpredictable.

Without breaking stride, he muttered, “You know her? Red Mini. Across the way.”

Flip flicked a glance without slowing. “Nope. Friend of yours?”

“Doubt it.”

“Think she’s following us?”

“Not sure yet. But she’s not here for the pad see ew.”

Flip smirked. “Well, I’ll let you two get better acquainted.”

“I’ll see you around,” Max said.

Flip peeled off in his car, tires crunching on loose gravel. Max took his time walking to his own car. As he opened the door, he heard the Mini’s engine turn over. Max didn’t look directly at her, but he caught the movement reflected off a dusty storefront window…her car pulling out slowly, deliberately.

She wasn’t trying to hide.

She was waiting.