CHAPTER 3 - PROSPERITY AND ABUNDANCE

"Central from Six-three David, we're out on Central and Bridge moving vagrant."

"Central copy, Six-three David... 16:40 hours, Twenty - November."

Maxine and I got out of the RMP and walked towards the homeless guy, lying against the welcome sign. That sign had been there for as long as I could remember. It was ancient, worn, and weathered. It's once vibrant green had oxidized to a lifeless pale blue. It's once bronze letters were chipped, cracked, and rusted. Its post was tall, thick, and very plain capped with the cross of Saint James. It simply read:

PROSPERITY AND ABUNDANCE

WELCOME TO THE HEIGHTS

ORIGINALLY

"HEIGHTS"

FOUNDED 1650

Maxine tapped the vagrant on the leg with her gloved hand and motioned for him to move on. He stood, his whiskey bottles spilling from his brown paper bag and old army coat.

"Let's get a move on, Skippy," I said as Maxine glared at me for taking a harsher approach. He staggered away in compliance, but not without the expected mutterings. This time it was the classic, F you pig, as he made his way off the bridge across the town line into the five-five district. However, it was his parting words that bewildered us both. In a moment of complete sobriety, he looked me dead in the eye. He was calm, steady, and in complete control of his faculties.

"Take your Wive's Urine, and Cork it in a Bottle with Nails, Pins, and Needles, and bury it in the Earth; and that will do the feat."

"Wait-What?" I asked. "Piss, cork, and a bottle?" An eerie look fell over his lips as his eyes glazed over.

"Yes, a witches bottle," he said.

I laughed, disregarding him as nothing more than a skell. Maxine, however, trembled as if a chill had run down her spine. She hurried to the car and immediately called us back-in-service.

The tension in the car was heavy and I had no idea why she had become so rattled from what he said. I changed the subject in hopes that she would get back to her normal self. "So, Max," I began. "Who exactly wants to kill Johnny Keegan?"

"Everyone, Kelly," she said, pausing out of frustration to catch her breath. "He screwed up the smack bust the other night at Potter's Cemetery."

"They got Gremlin with like, forty Oxy, and enough H on him to kill an elephant, for Christ's sake."

"Yeah, but he also dislocated Gremlin's shoulder by tackling him into a tombstone. Then he punched him after he was handcuffed." She sipped from her cup look into out the window. I noticed her knee bouncing as her anxiety grew.

"Oh for Christ sakes... Really?" I said. "And did you forget that Gremlin and 4-Stroke put Sergeant Tee in the hospital?"

"No, I didn't forget but it was just really weird the way he reacted. I mean, at first, Keegan was calm. The narcs lured Gremlin in, and we were waiting in the chase car. When they moved on him, all of a sudden it just got strange."

"What the hell are you talking about?" She was definitely hiding something. Almost as if she were afraid. She still wouldn't look at me.

We pulled up to the light at the Boulevard and Third. Maxine just stared out the window and rubbed her arms like she was cold. It was overcast; just a slight breeze but unseasonably warm. She wore her long sleeves with the turtle neck underneath. She always complained about how she was hot so this was a bit odd behavior for her. It was time to pry.

The light turned green, I turned the corner and pulled into a stall, putting the car in park.

"So what was so strange?" I asked quietly, trying not to sound like I was prying. There was an uneasy pause, only momentarily, but enough for me to start to worry. I felt that bit of anxiety beginning to build into a slow creeping fear.

"Keegan's never afraid. He's always cocky and ready for anything. He was fine. Then... They said Gremlin was running through Potters Field, and he got... nervous. He jumped from the RMP and sprinted into the cemetery... No warning, no radio call, no nothing. He completely jumped the gun. When I got to him he was pummeling Gremlin, and I mean he was completely out of control... But it wasn't anger, Kelly... it was fear."

"That doesn't make any sense at all," I said. "Was he saying anything?"

"Yes. This is what you get, over and over again. Then he said that no black mass is going to get him."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't know. All I can tell you is when they got him inside, the freaking narcos lost it. They put Keegs in an interrogation room away from everyone. At first, you could hear them screaming at him and then suddenly it got really quiet. They were in there with him for at least forty minutes while Gremlin was being processed. Not one person from Narcotics even went over to log in the drugs. All three of them were in there with Keegan the entire time."

I picked up my cell and called Keegan. I was hoping that he was finished with Internal Affairs. It went to voicemail, and I let out a sigh of frustration. Then, just as I pulled out of the stall, I got a text to meet him at Cohan's.

"I really hate him, Kelly," she said. "I hope you know that, and I hope you know what you're doing."

"Of course," I answered without hesitation. I smiled. "I always know what I'm doing."

I lied. I had the feeling that something drastic was about to happen, something that was going to change our lives for good. This wasn't just some silly superstitious hocus pocus nonsense that he was spouting. For him to act like he did and say what he said, I knew something bad was going to happen, but I was too arrogant to turn away.

Keegs was waiting for us inside Cohan's and was way ahead when it came to the booze. He was sitting on the first barstool near the window. I could see him from the street. He left no pretense or speculation about his intention.

"A Country Boy Can Survive" looped on the ancient wood and metal jukebox.

Keegs was literally singing into his pint, staring at the wall, oblivious to everything. I couldn't get his attention.

Dollar bills and loose quarters were sitting on the bar, crumpled, and in disarray. A pint of black beer sat in front of Keegan with three shot glasses of Tennessee whiskey. Jack Cohan, the owner of the joint, was slowly wiping the bar. He threw an angry glare my way. It wasn't meant for me and I knew it. I shook my head in agreement.

Jack was an old timer, a cop's cop whom Police Reform was meant to cure. He was an old salt, Vietnam vet, and still tough as nails.

Catching the rag Jack threw at me, I wiped the beer that spilled from Keegs' mouth as he continually sang and sipped at the same time, drooling all over himself.

Keegs looked up at me, singing.

On the bar was his badge wallet and off duty 380.

"Hank Junior... Yeah, he's squashmolished." Maxine rolled her eyes and slapped me on the arm.

"So what's the skinny, my brother?" I asked as he sipped on his beer. Cohan's was a cop bar. It wasn't a good idea for us to be here, but this was the safest place for him right now. It was rat free and only certain cops were respected enough to be allowed inside before business hours. Johnny Keegan and I were two of that elite lot of cop's cops.

He finished the song in a loud and appropriate manner as Cohan cleaned glasses and shook his head. He walked by and pushed the pint back into Keegs' reach and he chugged it without spilling a drop.

"You 'member my buddy Tommy Parker? Used to deal hash down on the Boulevard, 'bout.... eight years ago?" He paused as he took another big gulp and bit on his lip. "In fact, Lady Blue here locked him up for 450 (drunk driving) bout three years ago."

"Screw you, Keegan! I'm not going to listen to this," she said and moved to leave.

Keegan smiled as I took her by the arm and asked her to stay. "You two have to cease fire. You're my best man and you're going to be my wife. You've got to get along."

Maxine angrily pulled away from me and said she'd wait in the car. "Run your mouth, Keegan. Go ahead. You'll see," she said. I dropped my head to the bar frustrated as Keegs put his hand on my shoulder. He apologized and called for a refill. His apology meant nothing from his tone and apparent drunken stupor.

"So Tommy Parker?" I asked.

He told me that Tommy had been clean for almost two years before falling back into addiction on salts.

"You know that new peace-love-doper place on 105th?" asked Keegs. "Apparently, they're selling more out of that place than just granola and Jesus sandals. They got some kind of coven worship going on in the basement." He drank half of the pint and wiped his mouth with agitation.

"We were there two weeks ago, 'member? The gang shooting?" He paused again, squinting his eyes. "Tommy was running mescaline for them, for their super-secret midnight rituals... Has to be pure, nothing synthetic... Gives them the high they need to contact the demon world... That's what he told me, at least."

Jesus... And L.R.E.C. (La Reza Nation East Coast) found out." He took a swig from his pint. Then nodded and forced down a shot of Jack. Cohan was lining them up for him now, making the decision on Keegan's behalf; he needn't flirt with sobriety any longer.

"These coven people lured him in with free lovin' and all the mesc and salts he could want. There was a girl too. A red head with a purple streak. He said she was like a goddess or something. She was his main tail and allowed: him, multiple partners. Plus he had an endless flow of high, and all he had to do was run the mesc from the southwest every few freaking weeks."

He told me that L.R.E.C. found out and threatened Tommy's life if he didn't give up the run. Always territorial, the L.R.E.C. wanted the action for themselves. Out of fear and to get them off his back, he told them when he was making the next delivery and they set up the hit.

"Let me guess... Gremlin," I said.

"Gremlin, 4-stroke, Little Loco, and T-bone. Little Jefe gave the order. They made the hit."

I sat there, silently not knowing what to say. Keegs was one of the best street cops I knew. He knew everything and everyone and had better street informants than most narc and gang division detectives.

"Did you tell IAB?" I finally asked quietly and I moved closer to conceal his answer.

He looked straight ahead, drank from his pint; he barely even moved. "Nope... and I'm not going to. Can't. Promised... This crap is real, brother; something bad is coming. It's really going down... There's a disturbance in the force, young padawan. You wait and see."

"Where's Tommy now?" I asked. Keegan momentarily looked at me out of the corner of his eye as he held the pint to his mouth. He finished it with a huge gulp and then nodded for another.

"You're the prophet, aren't ya?" He swallowed. "They found out that he was the one who sold out Casper, or whatever the frig that jag-off's name is. They said they put a curse on his first born son, and that he was being stricken from their presence. He was happy to be done with it until his six-year-old son came down with a sudden fever and convulsions. Doctors had no freaking idea what was wrong with him. They took him to Sinai Children's Hospital and they said it was some kind of virus you contract in Africa or some crap....Uganda... called River Blindness. Some fly injects a worm into a child and it makes them violent, they go freaking crazy... like they're possessed... vampires almost. Of course, this kid has never been out of Nebraska much less the country."

He told me that the C.D.C. was brought in and the anti-epileptic meds slowed it somewhat but couldn't stop it. They were ready to transfer him to a specialist hospital when Tommy finally broke down and told his ex-wife what had happened. She was a member of a non-denominational church and asked for their warfare group to get involved. The group came in, led by a visiting evangelist. Together, the group prayed for his son. Tommy told me it took six hours. The next day his son was fine.

"Tommy remembers one night during a break, you know... from all of the loving he was getting. This redhead put blood on his chest and then went at it with him." Keegs took another shot of whiskey. His eyes could no longer contain the tears. "She told him that if he had ever betrayed them, he would die." He pushed the shot glass towards Cohan and drank from the pint.

"Okay, tell Tommy we'll take care of it. I ain't afraid of the Boogey Man, and I sure as hell ain't afraid of California tree huggers that eat granola and only come out at night. I fought the Taliban, Fedayeen, and freaking Al-Qaeda remember? These assholes sound like a bunch of Twilight freaks that need their asses kicked."

Keegan laughed, shook his head and dropped a shot into his pint. Putting his hand on my shoulder he shook his head grinning humourlessly.

"Tommy hung himself two days ago. His wife told him that she didn't want him to see his kid anymore... he was a screw-up, always had been, since high school. Now he's dead... Ain't afraid of the Boogey Man... California tree huggers." He laughed out loud. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and hung his head. "I went over there the day of the bust. I left Marcello in the R.M.P. and I went in myself."

"What did you do?"

"What the hell do you think I did?" he shouted, slamming his fist on the bar. The tears began to fill his eyes as he grabbed me by the shirt collar, activating my collar mic. Cohan came over and grabbed him calmly from behind. I stood and grabbed his hand but I was gentle, trying to calm him down.

"Central, Six-three David what's your status?" I ignored the radio. "It's okay Keegs, it's okay," I repeated multiple times hushed him to calm down. Cohan gave him another shot as Keegs sat back down and began to cry.

"Central to Six-three David, status please?" Maxine rushed back into Cohan's after I ignored the radio call a second time. "Central from Six-three David, " she said. "We're 10-4 here."

After settling Central she screamed at me for my stupidity. I didn't want her to hear what Keegs was saying. She'd be liable if anything happened and I didn't want her involved. It didn't matter what I wanted, she was involved and she didn't care.

I tried to stop Keegan from saying anything else but it was too late.

"I went in... I put my forty right under Casper's chin... and I told him that I was going to kill him and burn his whole freaking clan to the ground."

"You were the one that pistol whipped him?" said Maxine in contempt.

"You really want to know Stripes... well do ya?" he said to her with a mocking tone. "I whipped his ass alright. I drove my sight right down his cheekbone. Knocked his scrawny little jag-off ass to the ground. And that bitch, his old lady or whatever the hell you call her, I butted her across the nose. Kicked them both in the teeth for good measure."

"Jesus Christ Keegs... That's what IAB wanted. Casper and his old lady gave up the buy in the cemetery, didn't they?"

He nodded. "They made a formal complaint to internal affairs... About what I had done." Keegs straightened up to stretch his back as he sobbed. He tried to hide it but was too drunk. My heart broke for him. "They had no intention of carrying it through, though. It was intimidation... To keep my mouth shut."

Johnny Keegan never scared easily. He was fearless. So to see him like this, drunk, crying, afraid, maybe he wasn't indestructible after all.

"There's something else," he said, fear overcoming over his face. "Crowningshield gave me the intel on the buy that night." His voice quivered as he sucked back the tears. "He told me that blasphemers must pay and that she would not allow me to live." Keegs looked gravely at Maxine. "They said you wouldn't be able to control me, Max... And I wouldn't be able to control myself."

Keegan was becoming more difficult to understand as the Jack took hold. I had never seen him so unraveled in all the time that I had known him. We had been through everything you could possibly imagine. Shootings, riots, stabbings, gang wars, you name it, and I had never seen nor heard him like this ever before. I knew exactly why Maxine was worried. "Kelly," he said as he pushed the glass away. "I'm next... They said I was next. I knew too much, Tommy, his kid...the hit. I was going to pay and she was coming after me."

"Dude, listen: you've had a lot to drink, you just lost your friend and now you're talking crazy... We're taking you home, oscar mike, let's go. These freaking people are bats. Alright? This crap about summoning demons and curses, and freaking suicides are freaking Scooby Doo crap, and I ain't buying it... You buying it, Cohan? You're an old timer, seen and been in the crap more than we have."

"Take him home, lad," said Cohan. "Let him sleep it off. He'll be alright... It's just the same ole Halloween shite that has plagued this town forever. Some things just never change, Kelly."