Love and Gravity Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Prologue -

  Detective Jack Malone looked down at the crumpled, lifeless body that lay at his feet. It was a sixteen year old girl he’d seen around at the station. The angry red welt around her throat said she’d been strangled. It was the third time this week he’d stood over the empty husk of a working girl with this same cause of death.

  Malone was sure these had to be professional hits. These girls weren’t robbed, and they weren’t raped, and there were no witnesses to any of the three attacks. In Gravity City, professional hit meant Nikky Poplovick, known as Pop to his crew. Pop was the first name in organized crime in Gravity.

  “Left on the street like trash. This is no way for someone to go.” Malone couldn’t believe how small and young she looked, how young they had all looked.

  Malone’s partner, Detective Sam Mueller stood beside him, seeming unaffected by the sight before him.

  “She stopped being ‘someone’ when she started spreading her legs for every guy with five bucks and some blow.” Mueller held a cigarette between his lips, lighting it with the brilliant flash of a match.

  “Mueller, you can be such a prick.”

  Malone didn’t try to hide his contempt. Their partnership was a part of the job neither of them enjoyed. “You could at least show some appreciation. I bet you employ girls just like her every night.”

  “Well with what I see on this job I’ve got every right to drown my sorrows in whatever, or whoever, I want. Keep your goddamned nose out of it,” Mueller growled angrily.

  He was tired of Malone and his sanctimony. Malone thought he was better than everyone on the force. Sure there were a lot of dirty cops in Gravity. And yeah, Mueller was one of them. But you did what you needed to survive here. Morality was an investment with poor returns in this city.

  Mueller was tired of looking at Malone, tired of being out in the hot summer night, wasting his time.

  “Let’s just mark this down as suicide and close the books on it, huh? I got a tall shot of whiskey waiting for me at home.”

  “Jesus Christ. Take a look around this goddamn crime scene! We have a serial murderer on our hands, and as far as I’m concerned none of the working girls in this city are going to be safe until we clean house. Your whiskey can wait. Anyway, don’t you usually have to pay girls like this to spend time with you? What’s your hurry now that it’s free,” Malone asked?

  “Yeah, yeah, wise guy. I’ll take a look around but I can tell you now, whatever junkie pimp killed her is probably already dead in the gutter himself.” Mueller knew this wasn’t true, but he was sure Malone didn’t know it. He wanted Malone to feel disheartened enough to quit.

  “This’ll never make it to any trial,” Mueller continued. “Who would want to waste another taxpayer cent on this dirty bitch? She already used enough of our money getting free food and board in the clink all those times we picked her up for being a pro.”

  Malone rolled his eyes in exasperation.

  “The only wasted taxpayer money is your salary, Mueller. Why don’t you just go home? You’re useless to me here.”

  Malone was tired of trying to wrangle his partner into action. He knew Mueller was trying to discourage him but he didn’t care. He ignored everything Mueller had to say, thoroughly suspecting him of being a dirty cop. If there was any evidence to be found on this girl it was probably better for Malone to find it alone anyway.

  “Yeah alright super-cop, you take care of it,” Mueller said, looking Malone in the eye angrily. He flicked the ashes of his cigarette over the body and some of them snowed down onto the dead girl. Malone’s eyes flashed with hatred but he said nothing. He knew Mueller was trying to challenge him and Malone just wanted him to get the hell out of there.

  As he watched Mueller head towards his car he thought about his next move. Malone was sure Pop had to be behind these killings, and he knew he needed to find someone willing to talk. He wanted to take Pop down. This was going be the case that finally broke for him; he was going to make sure of it. He needed some strong evidence and he was getting tired of hoping it would fall into his lap while girls kept dying.

  Malone looked down at the body at his feet. He knew there was only one thing left that he hadn’t tried yet. He decided to go to Altitude later that night. Altitude was the bar Pop owned and used a legitimate front for his business. All his boys drank there, and much of his illegal business went on in back. It was time for Malone to get closer.

  Chapter 1 -

  It was a night like every other in Gravity City. Margot Kidman was tending bar at Altitude. The clutter of glasses, the haze of cigar smoke, and the quivering waves of laughter and backslapping made the air feel as thick as cotton in the small front room.

  Behind the bar, Margot was in a different world. She was thinking about her father, remembering how he smiled. She was remembering the first time that she'd determined to surprise him with breakfast.

  She could only have been five or so at the time and she had never made breakfast before. She'd watched her father make it so many times she was sure she could do it alone. She tried to cut a grapefruit in half and cut deeply into her left palm. She woke her father up with her bloody hand wrapped in a dish towel.

  Her father's eyebrows had furrowed with concern above his warm grey eyes. He got dressed hastily and took her to the emergency room. Margot got five stitches. When they got home her father put her back in bed to sleep.

  "Are you going to get some rest for me, my little bird?"

  She could still hear his voice; still feel his breath on her cheek. She told him that she didn't want to be alone while she slept. He said he had just the thing. He left her room and came back with an armful of her stuffed animals from the living room.

  "You're a very beloved girl Margot! All of your friends want to come and stay with you!" He threw the stuffed animals up in the air above Margot's head, and when they landed Margot's whole entire body was covered by them.

  Margot had taken a big stuffed horse off her face and smiled at her father. She was sleepy from the medication the doctor had given her.

  "Sleep little bird" her father had said. He brushed her short blonde hair back with his palm and kissed her forehead.

  Now Margot looked down at the old scar on her palm, touching it with her fingers as she always did when she was anxious. She felt so tired.

  "Hey Margey, I said come give me another round," Puddy shouted to her from the back end of the bar.

  "Right, coming," said Margot. She turned to grab the whiskey bottle behind her and noticed someone new sitting at the bar by the door, surveying the place. She hadn't noticed him enter, and hadn't seen him there before. Fresh faces in Altitude were rare. She looked closely for a moment, observing his posture, his suit, his hands on the bar. She immediately made him for a detective. She felt a surge of contempt come into her chest from some wellspring deep inside her.

  "Margey, for Christ's sake, what's the hold up," Puddy asked?

  "Alright, I'm coming. Here I am." Margot turned her back on the detective and felt his eyes drilling holes in the back of her skull. She could practically feel her brain vibrating. She walked over to Puddy and started pouring him a shot.

  "Hey Puddy, don't make a big deal about looking or anything, but did you see the cop at the end of the bar?"

  "Yeah we all saw him. Came in about five minutes ago. Don't worry love, I've got my eye on him. Nothing to worry about."

  Puddy squeezed her hand as he re
assured her. He was the only one of Pop's boys that Margot liked, really a good guy in a lot of ways. His only failing was that he was loyal to Pop for some reasons he never really talked about. But then she was a lot like Puddy that way.

  "Hey are you deaf? I said you're not welcome here. Now you need to leave!"

  Shouting came from the bar by the door. Margot turned back around to see a guy named Eddie pressing his finger into the detective's chest.

  "You want to rethink touching me friend."

  The detective spoke with a strange calm in his voice. It reminded Margot of smoke from an old pipe, warm and languid.

  "You don't tell me what to think," Eddie shouted, pressing his finger deeper into the detective's chest. Almost before he'd finished his sentence though, the detective had stood up and grabbed Eddie's wrist, spun him around and slammed his face into the worn mahogany wood of the bar. He grabbed Eddie's greasy black hair and pulled his head back up, twisting his wrist harder. He spoke into Eddie's ear.

  "Now I expect you to let me go about my business. Are we clear?" He banged Eddie's head back down onto the bar.

  "Yeah, yeah, okay! Just let me go."

  The detective let Eddie go. All the other boys in the bar had gathered around in a tight semi-circle and Eddie backed up into it, pressing his hand to his injured face.

  "Whady'a say fellas? Am I welcome here, or do I need to invite some friends?"

  The detective looked coolly into the eyes of the men surrounding him and sat back down at the bar. The boys each backed off, slowly and reluctantly, keeping a wary watch on their visitor. A couple of guys ushered Eddie off to the other corner of the bar and gave him some ice from an empty cocktail for his eye.

  Margot watched all of this with interest. She hated Eddie, and found the skill and force the detective used against him somewhat exhilarating. But she hated cops, too, and along with feeling exhilarated, she felt a sense of outrage that this one would come into her bar and act like he owned the place. Fueled more by simmering anger from her past than anything, she found herself walking over to this new face, unsure of what she had to say to it but still feeling compelled to speak.

  As she came closer to him he turned to face her. His eyes held a quiet determination, eyes that upon closer inspection were a startling glacier blue. He seemed a little older than her, maybe thirty-one or thirty-two, with dark black hair. His face was thin and firm, ending in a squared jaw. Margot couldn’t help noting that he was very handsome.

  She felt a little intimidated by his abiding calmness despite the upheaval that had taken place, and that made her even angrier. She stood in front of him struggling to say anything.

  "You can't just come in here and rough people up. I don't think the owner would appreciate how you're treating his customers."

  "Ah, you mean Pop. Exactly the man I'd hoped to discuss. Over a beer, if you please."

  Margot stared at him for a moment deciding what to do. Frustrated, she reached under the bar and grabbed him a longneck. She popped the top off and set it on the bar in front of him. He focused his eyes on Margot more intently and leaned in towards her. He lowered his smoky voice until it was a subtler, glowing ember.

  "I know who you are Margot Kidman. I've read your sheet. You're the only one of Pop's crew that isn't from Gravity. In fact, you don't seem to be from anywhere in particular. You aren't even as much as distant relative of anyone here. So the best I can come up with is that Pop did you a favor, and now you owe him. Am I close?"

  Margot narrowed her eyes angrily. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"

  "I want an informant. I want to trade protection for information. I want Pop."

  "Yeah, well I'm not your girl, Detective."

  "Oh, come on Margot. Yours is the least offensive arrest record in here, the only non-violent one, and I'd rather offer you some help than any of these buffoons. Anyway, I'd think you would want to stand up for your gender. You know, sisterly solidarity?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about the women that Pop has had killed. If you can call them women. They're all just girls really. He put a hit out on some hookers that his boys have turned out. He's killed three of them that I know of so far." The detective reached into his coat pocket and took out three pictures. He put them on the bar in front of Margot.

  "These girls were all under seventeen years old. Now they're dead, strangled from behind with a wire. On Pop's orders."

  Margot looked down at the pictures. The tinge of animosity drained from her face and the vacuum it left was filled with shock. She saw three broken little girls on shiny grey slabs. They all looked pale and unnaturally quiet, even somewhat peaceful, except for the angry red lines etched into their necks.

  She looked back up at him.

  "What's your name Detective?"

  "My name's Jack. Jack Malone."

  "Alright Detective Jack Malone,” she said, trying to sound stronger than she felt, “let me be clear. I don't know anything about anything with these girls. I'm just the bartender here. I know how you cops work, trying to squeeze information out of innocent people because you want them to do your job for you. Well don't waste your time here, because I've got nothing to squeeze."

  Jack took all of Margot in with his eyes. "I seriously doubt that."

  Margot exhaled sharply. Who did this man think he was talking to her like that? She turned to walk away, but felt him grab her wrist. She noticed that his hand was surprisingly soft, even as he grabbed her firmly.

  "Hey, okay I'm sorry. Look, if you change your mind I want you to call me. I'm putting my card on the bar, and my personal cell number is on the back."

  He let go of her wrist, reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card hidden under a twenty dollar bill. He put it on the bar.

  "Don't call the cops, call me. I'm working this alone. Pop owns half the city, so don't trust anyone. If you know anything, you'd be doing a real good thing telling me. Pop’s a bad guy, Margot. You should be careful."

  She looked back at Malone, reassessing him. He seemed earnest in his interest in her safety. She felt her eyes soften a little, and her heart beat a little faster. She couldn’t help feeling flattered that he had taken a genuine interest in her well-being.

  She noticed herself softening and quickly steeled herself against any further evaluation of him. She couldn't let herself get involved in anything more with the cops. She'd learned her lesson the first time, more than enough of one to last her whole lifetime. She just wanted him to leave.

  "If I take your card will you leave now?"

  Jack looked at her in the eyes. "Yeah, I will."

  "Alright, then. Have a good night Detective." She looked at him, picking up the twenty and the card.

  Jack stood up from his seat, seeming a bit reluctant.

  "You too, Margot. Goodnight."

  He turned towards the door, and looked back at her, pausing and putting on his hat before he walked out of the bar. Margot stared after him for a moment, then looked around her and saw more than a few pairs of eyes peering at her distrustfully. What was she doing talking to a detective in front of all these goons?

  "Good riddance," she said loudly. "Eddie, let me buy you a drink for pissing on that guy."

  She couldn't have anyone thinking she'd ever turn on Pops. She quickly lifted her short black cocktail dress on one side and put the business card underneath her sheer black stocking.

  Chapter 2 -

  Margot really didn't know anything about those girls Detective Malone had shown her. She really didn't know much about Pop's operation at all, though it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he was a powerful man in Gravity. But like Malone had said, she wasn't from Gravity, wasn't part of the family. Pop liked her to tend bar because her comparative innocence made the front end of the bar seem legit, and because he and the boys enjoyed her physical presence.

  She was, after all, an extremely beautiful young woman. She was twenty-three, with naturally st
raight blonde hair down to her shoulders. She had radiant green eyes and always seemed to glow subtly with her youth. She was a fit yet curvy woman, having some Columbian heritage in her bloodline on her mother's side that left her with full hips and strong legs. She had high cheekbones that she had gotten from her father. On him they had seemed authoritative, but on her they seemed more elegant.

  Margot wasn't very interested in her own beauty, though. When she wasn't at work, she was alone in her small apartment above the bar. She always dressed very simply when she wasn’t working, usually cut-off jean shorts and a tee-shirt. She liked to keep her hair back from her face with an old blue bandana tied over her head. All of her clothes were splotched with paint because whenever she was home she was painting.

  She was obsessed with painting and doodled on the coasters at work constantly. She tried not to let anyone at the bar see her drawings. She felt that her art was the purest, most untouched part of her. She lived inside of her creations. They were the only constant she had ever known.

  At work Margot had to dress differently, behave differently. She had to use her looks for tips. Heels and dresses only, on Pop’s say so. He said she looked best in black because it made her pale skin seem like porcelain. He said heels made her more formidable. He said with immense pleasure that she was like a broken down Mercedes - classy, but in too much need to refuse help from anyone, even from an old dog like him. He said men liked that in a woman. He had spanked her after saying that, utterly confident and utterly right about her need. But despite her dependence and implied allegiance to Pop, both he and Margot preferred Margot to know as little about what went on at Altitude, beyond the drinking, as possible.

  Margot kept serving drinks to the end of her shift. She kept thinking about the way the girls looked in the pictures Malone had shown her. The quiet look on their faces made her feel lonely. She couldn't stop thinking about it. It plagued her the whole night. She was immensely relieved when it was finally time to close shop, go upstairs and crawl into bed. She began ushering the few remaining stragglers from the bar promptly at four a.m., hurriedly but absentmindedly, still thinking about everything else that happened that night.