I, The Tribunal
A Poached Parody

By P.C. HATTER
CHAPTER 11


The noise out in the hallway was growing and someone yelled, “Who’s in there?”
I roared back. “Get back to your room you idiot. This is police business.”
The news might not compute with some of these kids, so I had to move fast. I did a quick search of Dabrowski along with the room. The gun was the same as the one I found under his bed back in his apartment. I recognized the mark I etched into the butt. The papers were well and truly burnt, other than a small piece with a number on it. That, I put in an envelope.
Dabrowski used a rug to help shield the flames from any prying eyes, but in doing so, one of the papers stuck to the bottom. If the one piece was anything to go by, Axel Dabrowski would have been spending the rest of his life, including his afterlife in prison. On the paper was a statement that Dabrowski was the killer and that the evidence was in a safe deposit box back in the city with the key in trust with the manager. This I put in another envelope, wrote my address, and stuck a stamp on it.
After shooing the lollygaggers from the hallway back in their rooms, I posted the envelope in the mailbox down the hallway. I’d spotted the thing earlier when I entered the building.
At least I knew now that Damien Styles had been running things. He not only preyed on naïve females but people with shady pasts.
When the local yokels finally showed up, it was with enough pomp and swagger that would make a politician blush. The opossum wanted to arrest me for murder, but I got in his face and convinced him otherwise. After he stopped playing dead, I let him examine my badge and license. Still not totally satisfied as to who I was, we got on the horn to Duke.
After another shouting match, followed by staring at opossums playing dead, I left and headed back to the city.
The sun was rising by then. I didn’t feel like going home, so I stopped at a payphone to call Sylvia. She was already up and dressed for the day.
“Mind if I stop by?” I asked.
“Come right up. I’ve got time before my first appointment of the day.”
When I got there, Chatty took my coat and hat. Once I was snuggled into a comfortable chair, Sylvia sat next to me.
“I got a professional question, Doc.”
“And here I thought you were here for personal reasons.”
“Trust me, I’d rather be doing that.” I followed up my words with a lingering appraisal of her suit dress.
“All right, what’s your question?”
“How does a person become a nymphomaniac? I mean, are they violent?”
“Not usually. While many have emotional issues, they usually channel it into their favorite practice. If their attentions are rebuffed, they normally find someone else who is willing to accept their affection, no matter how brief.”
“So, it’s not likely that either twin is a killer?”
“A little farfetched. Both Annabel and Francine are damaged by circumstance. But while Annabel chooses to embrace physical activity, Francine takes a more sedate view on things.”
“I’ve yet to meet Francine. You going up to their place this weekend? I’m taking Deloris.”
“Yes, after work.”
I made the mistake of resting my head back and closing my eyes. The next thing I knew it was midafternoon.
Chatty checked on me with a smile. “Are you ready for breakfast? The coffee’s ready.”
One plate of sausage and eggs with a side of coffee later, I was perusing Sylvia’s book shelves. Most were text books. One on hypnosis caught my eye. It talked about how to put a person in a hypnotic state in order to suggest treatments so they would in effect, treat themselves.
Another was called the Psychology of Marriage. Both books made for interesting reading, but they were a bit hard for the layman to get through.
Sylvia came in as I was getting ready to leave.
“You’re not going, are you? I just got here.”
“I got a date with my tailor.” I showed her the hole in my coat.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, just a graze. Nothing to worry about other than my tailor’s bill.”
I kissed her on the cheek and make my exit. A couple of blocks down, I decided to step into the groomers for a trim. The place was empty except for a sheep standing at the register getting paid for the mound of wool he left on the floor.
“Must be nice getting paid for a haircut.”
The sheep took his money, gave me a dirty look, and walked out the door grumbling as he counted his money.
The chinchilla at the register motioned me over to a chair and said, “Black wool can’t be dyed like white wool. He don’t get paid as much.”
“Bleach?”
“Damages the wool.”
Nodding, I took a seat, and the chinchilla grabbed the clippers. With quick hands, he had me looking sharp.
When I walked out of the shop, it was to see cop cars, with lights on and sirens blaring, speed past. Duke was hanging out one of the car windows howling.
Instinct had me chasing after them. Outside a pharmacy, the street was strung with police tape, and cops were trying to get pedestrians to take a hike. Duke spotted me in the crowd and waved me over.
Clancy lay on the sidewalk. There were more feathers than flesh. A .45 caliber dumdum doesn’t leave much when it hits a pigeon.
“I take it by the expression on your face, you knew the guy?”
“Yes. His name’s Clancy. What happened?”
“Our shooter strikes again, only this time, drugs are involved.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. When was this guy going to stop? “Clancy wasn’t into drugs.” The crushed box next to the body said otherwise. Dried greens poured out.
“That’s not the real stuff. Apparently, this bird came into the pharmacy and asked the druggist to refill the prescription. Seems he’d dropped the package and was in a panic that he would get fired if he didn’t deliver.”
“And?”
“The package had no markings, and the druggist tested to see what it was. The tests came up catnip. The druggist called the police and filled a box with oregano. Tanner from narcotics is working the case.”
The thought of that honey badger on the case gave me pause. Tanner was a good cop, but you didn’t want to catch him on a bad day. I’d seen him get into a tangle with a Tasmanian devil and two skunks. Tanner might have come out of the fight smelling bad, but the other three went to the hospital.
“I think I’ll steer clear of Tanner. What else do you have for me? Did anyone see anything?”
“Nobody saw or heard anything. The guy selling newspapers said everything was fine and dandy. A dark sedan comes around the corner, and the next thing he sees is feathers everywhere. The sedan speeds up and out of sight.”
“Did anyone get a license plate?”
“Of course not. They were all looking at the exploding pigeon.”
“So, our guy still has his silencer.”
“Yup.”
“First, he shoots and tortures Jeromy, then takes a pot shot at Dabrowski. Styles and Phillis are also killed and now Clancy. The answer has to be with Dabrowski, but he’s now dead.”
“No thanks to you.”
I glared at Duke who returned a baleful stare.
“If we can figure out why Dabrowski was shot at, we should have the answer.”
“Too bad we can’t ask him.”
“Knock it off, Duke.”
“Why? I’m having too much fun.”
“Well, leave this mess with Tanner and come with me.”
That got Duke’s ears pinned forward. Duke followed me back to my place. The postage pigeons were right on time because the letter I’d posted at the college was in my box. I opened the envelope and handed everything over to Duke.
“Thought you might like this.”
“Mind if I use your phone?”
After a few phone calls and a court order, we hightailed it to the bank. The evidence was all there. Too bad Dabrowski was already dead. I would have enjoyed seeing him hanged. Duke stuffed the evidence into a bag.
As we were heading out of the bank, he handed me a slip of paper with a bunch of names. “Do you know any of them?”
“Tatum and Case spent some time behind bars. The Cadency female I think is a society hen. Other than that, I got nothing.”
“Everyone on that list is in an upscale private sanatorium. And everyone of them are dope fiends.”
“How’d you find out?”
“Vice.” Duke grinned and wagged his tail.
“And the source?”
“That’s what Tanner is working on. Unfortunately, most everyone on the list is connected and no one’s talking. What we do know is that each got their drug of choice delivered by a half-wit pigeon.”
“Clancy.”
“Yup.”
“Clancy wasn’t working for Dabrowski anymore. Poor guy thought he had a legit job. I wish I would have asked him more questions.”
“You still racing me to the finish line?”
“You can bet your tail on that.”
“I’d rather bet a steak.”
“Fine, I’m starting to see a bit of light at the end of the tunnel. Not a lot, but a bit.”
“Let’s hope it’s not a train.”
Duke and I split up, and I headed back to my apartment to change. That’s when I noticed my wallet was missing. I went down to my car and searched but found nothing. The groomers, I paid with the change in my pocket, so the likelihood of losing it there was slim. That left Sylvia’s apartment.
Not wanting to lose the two-hundred dollars in the wallet, I headed back over and rang the bell. When no one answered I pounded on the door.
Chatty answered. “Hello.”
I pointed to the bell. “Doesn’t that thing work anymore?”
“It should.”
She ushered me in, as Sylvia rushed out of the back. She wore a smock and gloves. “Oh goodie, you’re back.”
Chatty left us alone and busied herself with the housework.
“I just came back for my wallet.” A quick search of the couch produced my wallet, and I stuck it back in my pocket. “So, what’s with the new getup?”
“Developing pictures requires this to keep my clothes clean.”
“Are you wearing any clothes underneath that thing?”
“You could find out. Want to come back and see my pictures?”
“Maybe later. I might not be safe in a dark room with you.”
She gave me one of her brilliant smiles. “Dinner?”
“Sure.”
“Let me change, and I’ll see you out.”
When she was ready, we headed for the door. It still didn’t ring. “This thing stopped working.”
“Darn.” Sylvia poked the carpet with her toe. “Chatty’s been vacuuming in here again. She must have knocked the plug out.”
I leaned down and plugged it back in. This time when I opened the door it worked.
“Should I pick you up about eight?”
She smiled and gave me a kiss. “Yes.”