Scum is My Bread and Butter

I'd just lost my last client. She paid up and told me she didn't need me anymore, and that was that. Good thing I don't have abandonment issues from my father running out on us when I was three.

I knew it was coming. The client, that is, not my dear ole dad.

Once they get their heart broken with the photos, that's it, usually. I have to hope for another cheating scumbag to get the bills paid. It's no life, this. A fool's errand. Why did I do it? I thought it would be glamorous, or worthwhile, or challenging. Or something. But even when I have days like this, when I feel jaded, when the contents of my desk drawer are singing to me... I can't imagine doing anything else. Anywhere else.

I'm hyper-aware of the phone every second. Now that my client list is empty, I want Gail to call me with some mystery detail that didn't sit right, or a clue, even just a nagging suspicion... I'd take a bog-standard weak-ass hunch at this point. Mickey, the ever-reliable dead man, assured me that she could pay, and that's what I need. Maybe more than that, I need a case I can get my teeth into. Pull me out of this funk.

Was he here? Mickey? I'd asked him to give me a couple of days. He hadn't agreed, exactly, but I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since. That should have been a relief, but it wasn't, because he was dead. He could be doing what he'd been doing before, and hanging around. Like a wasp, if he was going to be here, I would prefer him where I could see him.

Now the client has left, dabbing her eyes, and with my inadequate platitudes ringing in her ears, I'm at a loose end for the day. It would be a perfect time to go and see Gail-the-Widow-

-and just like that, my diary starts filling up. I need to take some clothes down to the laundrette. I should nudge some of my old contacts on the force, see if I can rustle up some work. I need a shower. This place doesn't have one, of course, but there's a guy I'm friendly with at BodyTech two streets over. He'll look the other way if I pop in even though my membership lapsed. While I'm there, I could use a workout. What if there's a rooftop chase after a criminal and I haven't done my cardio? More than a shower, I need a bed. I can't sleep in my office chair again; it's doing my back in. It's been so much better since the surgery, but it won't be for much longer if I keep punishing it like this. Besides, my latest payment is burning a hole in my pocket.

The damn phone seems to pulse, hot and silent and spiteful. This is worse than waiting for a prom date to call. I shove it away from me, but it doesn't help.

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I fill my afternoon with the aforementioned nonsense, and then I hit The Woodpecker and nurse a lone cranberry juice, scowling at it as hard as the barman is scowling at me.

After dark, I splash outside under the yellow streetlamps (it's been raining again) and make a detour to Golden Dragon. The flimsy bag bangs warm against my knee, and my belly growls.

When I get in, the office door banging shut behind me, I waste no time digging in to my noodles. It's graphic. Ugly. There's slurping. Black bean sauce drips down my chin. It's been a couple of days since I've had a hot meal. That cake Gail gave me was the most substantial thing I'd had in a while. Besides, I'm alone, right?

Right?

I push that thought away.

Belly full, and the air bed I'd bought earlier smiling at me under those fresh sheets, I'm about ready to hit the hay, and hit it real hard. I'd barely thought about Mickey, or the widow, all day.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll keep my promise to Mickey. I'll go back and see her, talk to her properly.

If I can just keep the ghosts away for a little longer, I might get a good night's-

The phone rings.

I yelp, and start back from it as if it's scalding hot, or venomous. It takes a few rings for me to pull myself together and answer it like a normal person. When I do, Gail's voice sounds thin and limp, like a wet noodle.

"Can you pop by in the morning?" she says. "I need to talk to you. The case Michael was working on... some of the stuff's gone."

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