Harvey Havoc: Blue Orchid

By Avery A Bell and Clare Bohning

Detectives Harvey Havoc and Shay Smith have teamed up with Sergeant Anteka Sokola on a case that's gotten personal, and the chaotic trio's actions have landed them on the wrong side of the interrogation table. Chief of Police Riley Mitchell must navigate their conflicting stories to find out what really happened. Meanwhi

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laughing Skull Media
• Release date: Dec 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798218122959

Book preview

Harvey Havoc

Blue Orchid

By

Avery A. Bell

2022

Laughing Skull Media

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Text by Avery A. Bell

Graphics by Clare Bohning

2022

ISBN: 979-8-218-12295-9

Edited by Lara Milton of Spectrum Editing

Consultant, Kirsten Anthony: Legend of all trailer parks

All rights reserved.

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Averybellsgarage.com

Dedication

For all those we have lost. May they be remembered with revelry.

Chapter 1

Three Suspects

It’s a long drop from the roof of the Motor City Police Department. More than I like to count of the overworked and underpaid officers from the sprawling building below my feet have met their end just one step forward from this exact spot. Some nights, I wonder what they were thinking before the end. Other nights, I know. But the view of the city from here is worth the risk. Her rooftops are bathed in the summer moonlight. The neon glow of every street sign reaches far into the distance, causing her to radiate as if she’s alive. The sound of the cars racing around on her streets below acts as her heartbeat.

I’ve always hated heights, but oddly, up here, they don’t seem to bother me. For many who stood here before me, this place marked the end; for me, it will serve as the site of a dubious beginning to another long night. The city is soothing my frustration rather than bringing about my despairing end. Soon, I must make my move. But for the moment, at least, I have time to think.

Chief, I’ve got them separated into three different interrogation rooms like you asked.

Walt’s calm voice distracts me from the view. I turn to face him. What about the drug dealer?

Doctor says he’s critical. Might make it through the night, might not.

Thank you, Walter. I’ll be down in a minute.

Walt heads back to the stairwell, leaving me in peace. There are a dozen ways this situation could go wrong from here. I haven’t even made it a whole year as the chief of police yet, and now this. Whatever way I look at it, the outcome seems grim. Perhaps I’ll get lucky. Perhaps the drug dealer will pull through. Not that I care what happens to some midlevel scumbag, but his survival could decide the outcome of this whole sordid affair. I take a few more deep breaths, letting the cool night air fill my lungs. This isn’t going to get any easier. I might as well get it over with.

I tear myself away from the rooftop. In the elevator, I find my mind drifting back to the view I just left behind. I’m about to trade relative peace and serenity for chaos and confusion. As the elevator doors open onto the ground floor, I see Walt waiting down the hall to my right. I join him, and he walks alongside me toward the interrogation rooms.

I decide to get the preliminaries out of the way while we’re on the move. Tell me what you know.

We got a call from the trailer park just past the Blue Orchid District about two hours ago, Walt says. One of the residents reported a fight breaking out. Detective Havoc was reported as being on the scene right after the call came in. According to eyewitness accounts, he was the one who broke up the fight.

Interesting. Did Havoc report the incident?

Yes, ma’am. His call came in after the initial report from the civilian.

What about Sokola and Smith? Did they sustain any injuries?

Yes, chief. Sokola was treated for a broken ankle, and Smith has a few stitches in her cheek. Other than that, just scrapes and bruises. He gives a slight shrug.

And what about the drug dealer? What injuries did he sustain?

I’d say a better question would be, what part of him wasn’t injured? Walt’s face is stoic now. They beat him almost to death.

Perfect. I’m trying to maintain my composure, but there’s an edge to my voice when I ask, Has any of them said anything yet?

What do you think? Walt asks, deadpan.

I’m serious, Walter. Did any of them say anything?

Havoc keeps asking if Smith’s OK. Smith won’t say shit. Sokola keeps asking for coffee and painkillers.

I bite the edge of my lower lip as I take it all in. Has anything leaked to the news yet?

Hard to say. Walt shrugs again. I’m sure we’ll know more in the next few hours.

We come to a stop outside the interrogation rooms. I try to compose my thoughts and find a clear path forward. None of them are going to give me straight answers, though Havoc might come close. I see curiosity brewing in Walt’s eyes as I try to determine a plan.

Which one are you going to talk to first? he asks.

I take a deep breath and straighten my back. I’ll start with the least likely to tell the truth and work backward from there.

Walt lets out a soft chuckle. Sokola’s in room two.

Thanks. Have a few more officers come down to watch the hall. We need to keep everyone out of here until I get some real answers.

Yes, ma’am.

Walt starts off to find more help, but I stop him. Walter.

He pauses and turns back. Yes, chief?

Bring back a coffee for Sokola, would you?

Walt nods. Can do.

He disappears down the long hall, and I stand in front of the door to Sokola’s room while the ID scanner clears me to enter. At first glance, it’s difficult to tell that the individual before me is Anteka Sokola. Nothing on her person is even close to department issue. Only her matted red and black hair and childlike stature remind me of her typical self. For the most part, her attire consists of a unicorn onesie. Its white fake fur is soiled by dirt and what appears to be partially dried blood spatter. The first thought in my mind is Not this shit again.

When Walt comes back, I’ll have to make sure he sends down a CSI crew to collect her clothes as well as Smith and Havoc’s. One leg of the fictional-animal outfit has been partially cut away, presumably by the paramedics when they put a splint on her ankle. There are so many things wrong with this picture, I hardly know where to start. I might as well try a simple question. Simple questions stand a better chance of getting honest answers anyway.

Sergeant Sokola, I say, acknowledging her with a brusque nod. Is there a reason you’re wearing a unicorn onesie?

She smiles widely. I was undercover.

As a unicorn? I shake my head. Sergeant, have you taken any drugs this evening?

Yes, but I’d like some more. I’m in a fair amount of pain.

I try to ignore what I’ve just heard. Sergeant Evans is getting you a coffee. When he comes back, I’ll have him check with the doctor and see if there’s something you can take for your ankle. Until then, I need answers.

Snitches get stitches, Sokola proclaims indignantly.

I’m annoyed, even though this is what I was expecting. There’s an almost-dead drug dealer across the street in the department hospital. Cut the crap, sergeant.

So? She snorts with derision. That guy’s a complete shit stain. If he croaks, it’ll be a favor to half the city.

If that ‘shit stain’ croaks, you and Detective Smith are looking at manslaughter, I remind her. I have more than one eyewitness who stated that you and Smith almost killed an unarmed man. It doesn’t matter that he also happens to be a drug dealer. Officers in this department have been charged and erased for less than this.

Don’t bother with threats, chief. That little fucker’s going to pull through, Sokola says brightly. We beat him, sure, but we didn’t kill him.

The door behind us opens. Walt comes in and places a large coffee in front of Sokola. She smiles eagerly and grasps it with both hands. Thanks, Walt.

See if there’s something we can get her for the pain, Walter, I instruct him. And get some CSIs over here to take their clothes into evidence. I turn back to Sokola. Do you have spare clothes in your office?

Yep, bottom right drawer of my smart desk. Could you make sure Delilah has food too, Walt? she says, batting her eyelashes and pouting dramatically.

Walt shakes his head and leaves us to our no doubt dead-end conversation.

I suppress a sigh. You clearly have no intention of telling me what happened tonight. I think I’ll start with Havoc instead. I get up and make for the door, then pause for effect when my hand rests on the handle.

Wait! Sokola says in an almost frantic tone. I’ll tell you what happened.

Oh, really? I quip with mock bemusement. What’s the catch?

She crosses her arms. If I tell you the whole fuck-ugly truth, then you have to promise me something.

I can’t promise you anything, sergeant. You broke every damn rule in the book tonight. And likely a host of rules they haven’t even thought up yet.

Either you promise me, or this unicorn’s lips are sealed, she says stubbornly.

I shouldn’t indulge her. As excellent as Sokola is at anything having to do with drug knowledge and street smarts, her lying is by far her finest skill. A promise to her has, at best, a dubious variety of possible outcomes. Still, I need answers. And even lies often have some truth to them. I might as well give her a shot.

Fine. What do you want from me?

However this night turns out, I take the blame for it.

Of all the things I was expecting her to ask for, this is not one of them, but the earnest expression on her face does seem to be suspiciously genuine. "That’s the promise you want me to give you?"

Yep.

OK, I agree. Tell me what you know, and I’ll see what I can do.

I know what you can do. I want a promise. Sokola says, holding out her hand.

I hesitate before shaking it. Only a few minutes into our conversation, I already feel like she’s taken charge. That’s all right, though. I’d rather she feels as if she’s in control. It might make her a bit more honest.

Whatever happens, you’ll take the brunt of the consequences, I affirm.

OK, that’ll do. Can I ask a little favor before we get started?

I sigh. That depends on the favor.

Well, it’s just that I left Jimmy in the Gremlin with a bottle of vodka all night. He’s kind of a drunk.

Is Jimmy a real person, or are you pulling my leg?

How dare you! she gasps. Jimmy’s just as real as you and I are! Can you please check on him? Please?

I repress the urge to scoff. Fine. Where’s your car?

It’s in the motor pool. The guys down there are trying to fix it.

She throws me a set of keys fished from the depths of her bra. I reluctantly catch them. Dear god, why are they sticky? Never mind, I don’t want to know.

Right. I shake my head ruefully. I’ll be back in a minute.

I leave the interrogation room, knowing full well this is some sort of stupid prank. It might give her some sort of twisted satisfaction, however, and if she’s satisfied, she might be more likely to tell the truth. Halfway through the elevator ride, I have an alarming thought. What if there actually is some poor fellow named Jimmy stuck in her car? She is wearing a fucking unicorn onesie again, after all. She’s clearly capable of anything.

When the elevator doors open onto the garage, I scan the dimly lit concrete structure for Sokola’s purple Gremlin. When I locate it, I see a figure sunk low in the passenger seat. My heart skips a beat. I sprint across the mostly vacant garage to rescue the poor bastard, so flustered that I fumble the keys halfway there.

Shit! SHIT!

I snatch them back up off the asphalt and dart the remaining distance. I’m about to insert the key into the lock when I realize the futility of my haste. The thing called Jimmy is real, all right. It’s just that he happens to be an upper-chest-to-head mannequin, probably from an old department store—or maybe a sex shop, judging from the black leather mask on his face. I should’ve known. I did know. I’m sure it will give Sokola something to laugh about. If the motor pool officers watch this part of the security footage, I’ll wager they’ll be entertained as well. Hell, she might’ve even brought them in on this little caper. I’ll have to remember to look for the footage later and delete it.

Sokola’s crazy stunts have been getting out of hand lately. I had expected it would be a difficult transition for her from lab tech to sergeant in charge of an entire department. We’re well past tough transition time, however. It’s almost as if she wants to get herself fired.

She might get her wish tonight, I mutter.

Only the rusty hulks of a few broken-down squad cars and the derelict purple Gremlin hear my quiet statement. I wouldn’t find it so unsettling if the words weren’t so close to the truth.

Chapter 2

Enter the Unicorn

The chief’s putting on a convincing show. She’s sticking to the rules but also agreeing to my terms. She even fell for the old Jimmy’s stuck in the car bit. I doubt she has any idea what really happened tonight. After she’s done speaking with the three of us, she might know enough to cause trouble. If I keep this shit simple and sweet, maybe I can get home for a few shots of vodka and an hour or two of rest before dawn. I’ll even make a few bucks off that prick Rick down in the motor pool. He didn’t believe the chief would fall for the Jimmy prank. But she did!

If all goes well, I imagine I’ll be on suspension for at least a few weeks. With a little luck, she’ll demote me back to the lab. I fucking hate overseeing Narcotics. Too boring, too time consuming. I have more important things to do with my life. Like playing more Jimmy-based pranks, for instance. Those are the most fun.

Well, you have coffee and painkillers. Time for answers, Mitchell commands.

I pop the pills and chug down some coffee to mask the taste. I don’t really need them for my ankle. I already took something more useful from my purse before they confiscated it. Besides, that pain is dull compared to my throbbing headache. I always get them when I haven’t slept in a few days. If I had had a chance to sleep this week, I might not have lost my temper with Rodrigo. Wait, who am I kidding? Beating down his dumb ass was the most fun I’ve had in months.

Answers, sergeant. Now! Mitchell’s voice booms.

Don’t get your panties all in a bunch. I’m letting the drugs do their job.

Her eyes narrow. Start showing some damn respect, Sokola, or I’ll put you in a cell to stew overnight.

I’m almost tempted to take her up on the offer. There’s hardly ever anyone in the cells since the Serenity Division started putting most of the criminals straight in the dirt. Those iron bars protect the quietest places in the whole city. Perfect for a nap. But cells don’t come with vodka. And I really need vodka.

I sigh. Fiiiiine. What do you want to know?

Let’s start from the beginning, says the chief, taking a seat across from me. How did you get involved with this mess? Who asked for information on Rodrigo?

Smith came to me this morning. She said she was looking for a dealer. I’ve heard of Rodrigo before. That little shit has slipped through the fingers of half of the entire Narcotics department. Mostly because he cleans up after himself.

Why did Smith want to find Rodrigo?

You got me. Smith and I go way back. When an old friend asks for help, I don’t question their motives.

Mitchell looks skeptical. Do you expect me to believe that you found and then almost beat the life out of this dealer simply because Smith asked you to? If you’re going to lie to me, Sokola, you must do better than that.

Come on, chief. I’m not lying about why she came to me. She wanted to find him, so I helped her track him down. We only beat the crap out of him because he deserved it. Well, he did.

Mitchell looks as if she might feel a headache coming on herself. Sokola. Cut the ignorant act and tell me, blow by blow, what happened.

You recording this? I ask suspiciously. If I were her, I’d be recording this.

No. I can’t afford to have this shit on record yet. Not until I know the whole story. Start from the beginning. Just between the two of us.

Fine. I close my eyes, letting the smell of the coffee in front of me take me back. "I was taking the first sip of my second cup of coffee when Smith burst through my office door. She looked like shit. Like, no sleep for days kinda shit. And she was swearing a lot. I mean, she always does that. But she was really emphasizing the swears, you know?

Get to the point Sokola, Mitchell snaps.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyways, she started right off with swearing, like I said. She practically spit out, ‘I need you to help me find this fucker.’ Then