What do you see, Karen?
I stand in the center of the room, resting my hands on the top of my cane, scanning the room with my ears and nose, cataloguing the smells and sounds to paint a clearer image of the crime scene while Karen acts as my eyes.
Peters hearing went well. We managed to get him released into our custody, which was wonderful. When all the evidence points to an innocent man, theres only one reason for that: Hes being framed. With Luke babysitting him, at least Peter is safe from anyone who might view this afternoons court proceedings as a thorn in their side.
After making sure Peter was comfortable over at Cages pimp palace Karen and I came down to ESU to check out Connors lab for ourselves. Since the officer on duty outside lifted the police tape for us to duck under, Karen and I have been alone for the first time since this morning. She smells wonderful, radiant, not the over abundance of perfume women typically use to mask their natural scent, but, simply and purely, clean, with just a hint of citrus body wash.
Foggy, meanwhile, is having a late meeting with Assistant DA Bukowski, working out a plea deal in case this whole thing goes south.
I dont know, Karen says. Typical lab stufftest tubes, beakers I guess theyre called, a chalkboard with something written on it.
I smirk.
Can you define something for me?
Her voice comes back steady, but unsure, as if I put her on the spot. Equations, some kind of formula. Theres a desk in the corner.
Take me to it, please.
Sure.
Karen hooks her arm around mine, and I hear something I havent heard in quite some time. Years ago, I learned how to tune out my own heartbeat. Stick helped me to train my senses, to ignore what wasnt important, a kind of built in filter to help discriminate and prevent sensory overload. But with Karen touching me, my heart erupts like thunder from my chest. But, then again, so does hers.
She escorts me to the desk and I drag my fingertips over it.
Something was written down here, I announce.
What do you mean?
This pad of paper, I say, tapping a note pad.
Something was written on it on a top piece of paper. Then that piece of paper was removed. But, I can still feel the indentions of what was written. Here. I take Karens hand in mine and extend her index finger. I use it to trace what was on the pad.
Feel that?
Yeah! she says, slightly amazed. Its incredible how you can make up for the loss of your
I mean
Its okay. I laugh.
You dont have to sugar-coat it. Im blind. I know it. I can feel her breath on my lips. Her mouth must be right up against mine. I can feel warmth flooding into my groin and I force myself to think about somethinganythingand settle on imagining how ludicrous I would look to her, standing here in the middle of a crime scene, hot and bothered, face flushed red, turning erect. Its an urge and I must fight it. But I dont want to fight it.
Ahem. A male voice, to my rear, exaggeratedly clearing his throat. Karen and I separate and turn in the direction of the intruder, who, judging by the odor of stale coffee, shirt starch andis that a donut?must be the police officer from outside.
I said you could look around for a minute, says the officer. Its been a minute.
Do you have to be so literal? I ask. Now that there is something to distract me from Karen my senses become alive to everything in the room. But everything is dulled, sterilized even, as ifsniff, sniffthe room were cleaned very recently. I smell bleach, possibly ammonia too. Who the hell cleans a crime scene when its still being investigated?
Oh, Matt, Karen starts. She suddenly stops talking, as if she doesnt want the officer to hear her. Her heart rate intensifies. Is she scared?
Come on, you two, the officer says. I risked my neck enough letting you take a peek
as it were.
As it were, I repeat to myself. He used the word peek, a word that relates to sight, and suddenly backtracked, embarrassed, certain he committed a faux pas.
Its okay, Karen says. He knows hes blind.
Were done here anyway.
The officer escorts us back outside to the main quad in the heart of the ESU campus. As we walk away Karen leans in and speaks in a low voice. It was so strange, Matt. The window was broken.
The police report noted that, I say.
Yeah, but why break a window when you have a key card? And, where was the broken glass?
It was cleaned up.
How do you know?
The whole office was cleaned top to bottom.
Theyre really trying to frame this kid, arent they?
Sure seems that way. We walk a few more steps and then I blurt out,
1636 Lexington.
1636 Lexington? Whats that mean.
It doesnt mean anything. It is something. An address. Look it up on your phone.
Was that what was written on that notepad?
Yeah.
I can literally hear the swipes and taps Karens fingers are making on the phone. Its a night club, she says a few moments later. Club Black Cat.
Hmmm
Its probably nothing, right? College kids looking for a place to cut loose on the weekends.
Probably. Probably, but not certainly. Right now, its the only clue weve got. While I dont relish the idea of straying so far from the Kitchenespecially with ninjas back in townsomeones framing my client and I need to know why. And who. And this looks like a good a place as any to start.
Im not much of a nightclub girl, Karen says.
No? I say, distracted but trying desperately to hide it.
What kind of girl are you?
Karen laughs. A walk-down-by-the-waterfront kind of girl. With an ice cream cone. And a gentleman companion to engage me in stimulating conversation.
That sounds nice. But why frame Parker of all people? Whats so special about him? Or, was he just a patsy chosen at random, a kid caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone got his key card, but how? The skateboarder!
In fact, why dont we
I cant, Karen, something just came up. Parker said a kid on a skateboard ran into him. Master pickpocket could absolutely lift the key in the commotion. Lets just see if Club Black Cat is the kind of place where skateboarders hang out.
I dont under
Why dont you get a cab home? Ive got something to take care of in this neighborhood.
Karens mortified, poor girl. But what can I say? Id love to go on a date with you, but you see, Im really a vigilante who dresses up as a devil?
Matt? Did I say something wrong?
No. Of course not. I take her hand in mine.
Tomorrow night: You, me, ice cream. But not tonight.
Why not?
Why not? I think to myself. Because tonight, the devils going clubbing.
******************
Later that night, Im perched on the rooftop of a building adjacent to the club. Theres a deep, rhythmic pulsing of techno music coming from the club. That thumping noise gives me a sonar reading, and as the sound waves bounce of objects and people, I can see everything.
I can see the building itself. I can see a crowd of people standing in a line behind what I assume is a velvet rope as a bouncerbig enough to intimidate Luke Cage or even Superman for that matterlets kids in in small groups. I look up and see something else. Far away between two buildings, a figure swings in my direction, reminding me of Tarzan going from vine to vine. Spider-Man. Gotta be. Great. Hes going to warn me to stay off his turf or something. Better not let him see me.
The thumping pulse paints the picture of a fire escape landing a few floors down. Below that, a dumpster. Since I can't look before I leap, I just leap. I cant fear what I cant see, and thus, Im the man without fear. I land on the fire escape and bounce down to the dumpster.
I hop off the dumpster and find myself in the back alley behind the club.
A door opens somewhere and I flatten myself against the wall, using the dumpster as concealment. The pulsing is quieter here and this dims my abilities, but the sounds of glass bottles hitting glass bottles tells me what I need to know: The bartender came out to toss his trash in the dumpster. The sound of glass on glass briefly gives me an image of a door to the mans rear. He goes back through it, the door closing behind him. I dont detect a doorknob or handle. Its not meant to be opened from the outside. So, Ive only got one shot at this.
I unholster my billy club and toss it in the direction of the door, satisfied with myself as it wedges its way between the frame and the door itself, preventing the door from closing fully.
And with that, I have my way inside.
I ninja my way in, by going from hiding place to hiding place, dodging the people who work at the club. I find myself in a narrow hallway, which is just what I need. I leap straight up, as high as I can, and place my left foot against the wall to my left. Then, in that fraction of a second where I have footingjust before gravity would toss me back down to the floorI push off the wall and place my right foot on the right wall. Leapfrogging between the two walls, Im able to climb, silently, to the catwalks above.
I flip up onto the catwalks, where strobe lights, fog machines and other theatrics dangle some 30 feet above the floor of the club. But the lights mean nothing to me. The place could be in total darkness and I wouldnt know any different. Now, Im in my element. The pulsing of the music has my sonar and radar firing on all cylinders. Blind or not, I can see better than anyone in here. Now, lets take a minute to drink it all in and see what I see
