Enter Damien Shaw, the private investigator

the second and third chapter in the Black Widow by Yaseen J Malik

2

When Shaw came-to he was in familiar surroundings; a holding cell in police headquarters. He sat up suddenly, recalling his last memory. Flashes of Margarita, dead, mutilated in a public place made him sick. He punched the wall in anguish, ‘How could I have been so stupid!? How could I have possibly thought that SAN PD could actually keep someone alive for three hours? ‘He punished himself as he rolled himself out of the cot and looked in the mirror.

            He had always been told that he’s face didn’t match his demeanor. Light brown eyes, strong jawline, flawless skin, and messy jet black hair is what greeted him in the fogged up metal plate above the sink-toilet. He had gotten into more fights then anyone in his neighborhood and he still could shake the pretty boy nick names, but as he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw something else, something that gave him the uncontrollable urge to punch his face in until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp on flesh. ‘You got an innocent girl killed.’ He pounded into his brain over and over, gripping the sides of the toilet sink until his hands began to slip.

            It was supposed to be a simple assignment; protect the girl till the day of the trial. Fifty grand up front, fifty after the trial, It was only out of the goodness of Shaw’s heart that he decided to go the extra mile and disband the biker gang that Margarita was testifying against.

            “You can’t be sure that there not expecting that.” Olivia pleaded after hearing his plan twenty four hours earlier.

            “It’ll be easy, I’ve already taken out the vice president and ruined their relationship with their drug supplier, and all I need now is to send them a message.” Shaw cleverly responds as he finishes poking around in his cup of noodles.

            “What message is burning down there biker shop going to do?” she asked as sat on the side of his desk, tucking a long strand of red hair behind her ear and focusing on Shaw.

            “When the ATF searched the biker shop they came up empty. I figured out why; the drugs were kept on the old storage units by the dock, but the guns were never moved. In the showroom under the Harley figure head, the concrete is slightly lighter than the rest of the floor, under the square tile is the storage unit they use to hold the guns.”

            “Then after closing they take the guns and hide them in the biker part cases.” Olivia finished. “If Magritte testifies there’s no way all of them walk.” She reassured looking over her shoulder, out of Shaw’s office and onto the small waiting room where Margareta contently sat and watched television. Shaw tossed the cup of noodles into the trash and sat up in his chair.

            “Look Olivia, these a*s holes killed her grandma, locking a few bikers won’t give her piece.

            “That’s not up for us to decide.”

            “That’s not for you to decide, I’m not a cop anymore remember.” Shaw remembered vividly. “Tomorrow ill sneak back into the biker shop and torch the place, there’s enough accelerant in there to incriminate any and everything but that strong box. That little gift will be left for the ATF agent that follows up on the fire.”

            “They’ll be looking for you; they won’t just let you walk in there, especially if you have the kid with you,” She retorted.

            “That’s why I’m going during the trial; all eyes will be on the Marguerite, including the bikers.” Shaw concluded confidently.

            “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out Damien.” Olivia smiled disapprovingly. Shaw looked out his office at the eleven year old girl and closed the door slightly.

            “I don’t trust the security in the court house, I want you there, I need you there.” Shaw asked her seriously which caught Olivia off guard.

            “I’m not going to assist you in committing arson Shaw,” She answered flatly.

            “Don’t do it for me, do it for Marguerite.” He said, his eyes focused on hers.

            “Ok, but for Marguerite, not you.” She answered.

            Shaw smashed his fist in to the mirror as he cursed himself once more. ‘I bet you think your so f****n clever don’t you Shaw, maybe if you hadn’t been so full of yourself she still be alive.’ He drilled over and over, disgusted at himself, Finally looking away from the bent in metal mirror and towards the person standing on the other side of the holding cell bars.

            She wore a dark blue suite, the cut showing off her well-formed body, the buttoned up blazer adding shape to her filled out abdomen. Her long scarlet hair was pulled into a low pony tail and hung loosely behind her. Her face was shockingly beautiful, too beautiful to be a taken seriously, but her demeanor commanded it instantly. She stood erect, composed, and cold.

            What the f**k do you want?!” Shaw snapped flopping back down on the cot, his eyes fixed on the detective.

            “The harbor biker boys were convicted; the president will be doing a life stretch without parole in state.

            “whoopty f****n do.” Shaw scoffed.

            “The rest of them have been picked up on gun running charges, or the murder of Marguerite.” Olivia continued her voice slightly giving way to the sorrow she felt. “This is a win Shaw; the Bikers are never going to hurt anyone again.” She reassured herself first before him as she watched Shaw fold back over on the cot.

            “Either charge me or let me lose Olivia.” He exhaled his back to the cot, his focus on the ceiling.

            “The Chief wants you to stay overnight for observation.”

            “The old Basterd afraid I’ll stir something up?”

            “He doesn’t want you doing anything stupid!” she persisted letting loose for a moment so Shaw could see the guilt in her eyes. Shaw smiled softly.

            “Don’t you know me by now; stupid stuff is what I do best.” The words toxic like venom made Olivia turn and walk away, Shaw didn’t blame her, for the girl or for being mad at him, the fault was on him, it was always on him.

3

            The Cascade detective agency waited for Shaw as he exited the taxi with the same grace he had entered it; sluggish and unbalanced. Even in the mid-day sun the small apartment studio that made up his base of operations seemed to match his mood. The light red neon lights slightly faded, the old brick building’s color had not aged gracefully, and the fact that his office was above a Chinese conveyance store did not help matters.

 A small group of children scurry out of the golden dragon conveyance store as Shaw shuffled his way inside. The warped smell of eastern spices and dried vegetables proved too much, too early for him, wrinkling his noise as he adjusted his collar and his ruffled dress shirt.

“You didn’t come back last night, you were supposed to help me close up.” A small Chinese woman’s voice greeted him from behind the counter. Shaw shuffled in; his back tight, his arms and fist throbbing, as he lowered himself onto one of the stools that aligned the front counter.

“Sorry Rose, court ran a little later than usual,” He groaned, slowly lowering his head on the red wooden counter. Rose placed a cup of hot green tea on the counter next to him.

“Yeah, I saw in the paper.” Judgment layering her voice as she continued to wipe the rest of the counter. “If you get put in jail your still gonna have to pay rent here, I don’t run charities.” She continued. Shaw lifted his head and began to gently sip the tea, jerking backward at the bitter taste attacked his tong, never really getting use to the taste, but eventually forcing it down knowing that three hours after drinking rose’s tea, he wouldn’t feel a hint of the pain he felt now.

“You know one of these days you’re gonna have to decide whether you’re gonna be my mother or my land lord.” Shaw quivered as he downed the rest of the green tea before pulling himself to his feet.

“I do that and you’ll be dead In a week.” She chuckled waving her rag good bye as Shaw exited trough the storage room.

            Shaw made his way through the three room office, discarding his shirt and gun on the couch, his shoes and socks on his way through his office and finally collapsing on his cot in the back room. He looked up at the spinning fan and listened to the strange creek that broke the silence every twelfth seconds exactly. He wondered why he acted the way he did, why he constantly looked for opportunities that would end badly, constantly searching for failure at every turn.

“This was a win Shaw.” Olivia’s words echoed in the dim light of his messy room. Shaw snorted. It was those kinds of wins that made him leave the force in the first place. Shaw turned to his side, recognizing the room was right where he had left it. Trash and cups of noodles scattered all around on the floor and mounted atop piles and piles of lose papers. His closet open, shoes and cloths propping it in place.

Shaw wanted to stay in this room forever. He wanted to disappear form the disappointment and pain of failure forever, but he knew he wouldn’t. He knew that after an hour he would have rolled himself out of his bed, bury it with the rest of his guilt and check his work phone for messages.

Reviews

[Mockingbird]

here's where it all comes together for me. it shows me shaw's motivations, his personality, and a little more information about his character...the scene where he goes back to his place seems very noirish...the fan, for some reason, the sound of it, reminded me of a film noir movie. in the end i can see it was a pyrrhic victory, and wasn't enough for the cost of Magritte's life. excellent story.

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

Damien seems to be a very interesting character. Oddly enough he reminds me of a friend of mine with the same name.

The exchange between him and his mother gave me a few chuckles