Sara Morningsky Read online

  SARA MORNINGSKY

  by Lee Driver

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

  Copyright ©2001 by Lee Driver

  All rights reserved.

  This short story or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Smashwords Edition

  SARA MORNINGSKY

  It crouched in the dense underbrush and watched the scene unfold behind a boarded-up packing plant. The moon cast silhouettes of two figures as they emerged from a dark-colored vehicle. As the driver opened the trunk, a police car arrived tailed by a black limousine.

  The gray wolf’s keen sense of smell detected fear. It watched with the same intensity as it would a prey, head lowered, ears raised. Instinct told it that danger was near. The wolf took two steps forward, then back, unsure whether to react to the scent of danger. Two muffled pops startled the animal. Quickly it moved from its hiding place toward the body bleeding on the ground, toward the man with the raised gun. The men were too startled to react. With teeth bared, the wolf leaped at the policeman who yelled for his friends to shoot it. The wolf rushed back to the forest with its trophy in its mouth, but it didn’t feel safe. It could hear the men in pursuit, the men with guns.

  Swiftly the wolf leaped twelve feet up to a branch. What had been thick paws changed into sturdy talons, and the one-hundred-pound body of a wolf transformed into a two-pound gray hawk. It watched the men run under the tree branch still in pursuit of the wolf.

  Gripping the trophy with its hooked beak, the hawk took flight, soaring silently, its wings flat and graceful. It made several quick beats of its wings as it followed the limousine, noticing with acute eyesight the license plate number.

  The hawk flew across town, over lit streets that crisscrossed subdivisions, and the narrow creek that ran along the expressway. The hawk saw rabbits and ground squirrels from its high altitude, but had no interest in feeding. With wings level, it glided down over a forest to a remote house in a clearing and then through an opened balcony window. It landed gracefully on two feet, human feet. Dropping the trophy to the floor, the figure climbed into bed weeping. The object the men had chased the wolf for, its trophy, was the policeman’s badge.

  “I don’t understand you, Dagger.” The attractive woman paced the tiled floor on stiletto heels. Flipping back errant strands of platinum hair, she gazed disapprovingly at the cramped office located above a downtown bar. “You can’t attract high-paying customers in a dump like this.”

  Dagger eyed his fiancée from her well-turned heel to her shapely thighs, past the short hemline of her skirt. “I’m just interested in customers, Sheila. I couldn’t care less how rich they are.” He snapped the newspaper open and turned to the second page of the headline story.

  Sheila inhaled deeply, grimaced, and quickly changed her mood. “That’s okay. No problem. Daddy’s going to have a spot for you at his newspaper, maybe as an editor. You won’t need to do anything but proofread.”

  “I like being a private investigator.” He returned to the article. Changing the subject, he asked, “How could your father print this crap about Lieutenant Fazio?”

  Sheila stopped pacing and jammed her fists onto her narrow hips. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.”

  A shrill sound came from inside a cage in the corner of the room. “AWK. WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST. AWK.” A scarlet macaw lifted its colorful wings and fanned out its tail.

  Sheila tossed a disparaging glance over her shoulder at the macaw. “Shut up you poor excuse for an oversized crow.”

  “AWWWKK, STICKS AND STONES.”

  “Leave Einstein alone, Sheila.”

  “He only repeats what you tell him.” She pulled a cigarette from her purse.

  “And don’t smoke around him.” Dagger placed the newspaper down and stood, stretching his tall, muscular body.

  Reluctantly, Sheila returned the cigarette to the pack. “I really think you should find a new home for the feathered rodent. You know I can’t have him around with my allergies.”

  “Allergies?” Dagger laughed. “Since when?” He backed away when she playfully ran a hand through his thick, brown hair.

  Pressing her body against his she said, “There are women who would kill for your cheekbones.” She stroked his chiseled jaw line, admired his rugged good looks enhanced by a five o-clock shadow. With a flirtatious smile she added, “And you’re all mine.”

  “We’ve done this little dance before.” He gently pulled her arms away. “I am not giving Einstein away.”

  As Sheila brought her lips up to Dagger’s, he saw her gaze drift to the doorway. A slight arch of one eyebrow told him Sheila had seen something distasteful, beneath her standards. He had seen that look many times. Her father patented the look of disdain down the tip of his nose, as if everyone in the world were his subordinate. It was one trait Dagger disliked in her; and the list was getting longer as the wedding date grew nearer.

  Dagger turned toward the doorway to see a waif of a girl in a faded but clean flowered dress and sandals. Her eyes were the color of Caribbean waters. Her waist-length hair had so many sun-streaked shades it was difficult to tell its true color. If he had passed her on a street he would have expected her to be begging for a crust of bread, not that she looked emaciated, just fragile and timid.

  “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting,” the girl said. “I’m looking for a Chase Dagger.”

  “That would be me,” Dagger replied.

  Sheila leaned toward him. “Get payment up front.” She bussed Dagger on the cheek before pushing briskly past the intruder.

  “AWK, GOOD RIDDANCE,” Einstein squawked as the door closed.

  Turning to the girl, Dagger clasped her hand as she said, “Sara Morningsky.” He detected a brief tremble in her handshake.

  Sara’s gaze quickly turned to Einstein. “Aren’t you a handsome fella?” She took long, graceful strides toward the cage. “And so smart. No wonder your name is Einstein.” The macaw bobbed his head in agreement.

  Dagger was drawn to the girl’s exotic features, her almond-shaped eyes and olive complexion. She looked like she should be rising out of the waters of some South Pacific island, but the name Morningsky and her features told him she was probably Native American.

  He watched her reach into the cage. “I wouldn’t do that. Einstein nips everyone but…” His voice trailed off as he watched Einstein climb onto Sara’s arm and nuzzle her chin. “Well, I’ll be.” Dagger ran a hand across the back of his neck. “He always had good taste.” Einstein let out a whistle.

  “Some macaws can live to the age of one hundred.” Her eyes were mysterious, distant, like a door that cracks open slightly and then closes shut. She studied Einstein’s cage. “A bird this size should have an aviary or, better yet, a bird room.”

  “He did back at my apartment, but my landlord had too many complaints about the noise so I brought him here. It’s only temporary.”

  “Your girlfriend has no intention of letting you keep Einstein.” She didn’t wait for him to reply. She was inspecting Einstein’s nostrils and listening to his breathing. “He has a respiratory infection.” Dagger looked closely at Einstein’s face as Sara gazed up at the vent above the cage. “He’s getting a draft from the vent. You should bring in a heat lamp and also give him some weak chamomile tea sweetened with glucose. Keep track of how much he eats and drinks.”

  “You know a lot about birds.”

  “A little.”

  Dagger found himself watching he
r mouth as she spoke, the movement of her lips, how her tongue touched her teeth. It was as though he were searching for flaws in a Monet painting but couldn’t find any. She was refreshingly natural, like an unspoiled river or pristine beach. Her face was untouched by the pounds of makeup that masked Sheila’s features.

  “I’ll do that, but I’m sure you didn’t come here to make a house call on Einstein. How can I help you, Miss Morningsky?” He took Einstein from her and placed him back in the cage. Einstein shook his feathers as if irritated at being disturbed. “Please have a seat.”

  Sara glanced at the newspaper article about the detective found in the back of an abandoned building, shot twice in the back of the head. Twenty-five pounds of uncut heroin were found in the trunk of his car.

  “My God,” Sara gasped. “It wasn’t bad enough they killed him. They planted drugs on him, too.”

  “You knew Mick Fazio?”

  “I,” Sara hesitated and then took a seat next to the oak desk cluttered with stacks of file folders and two half-empty coffee cups. Dagger pulled out a notepad and pen. “Mr. Dagger,” she started.

  “Just Dagger will be fine.”

  Sara smiled weakly. “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Wherever you feel comfortable.”

  “I guess I can start with this.” She placed the badge on his desk. “This belongs to the cop who killed Detective Fazio.”

  “Cop?” Slowly Dagger leaned back and studied his mysterious visitor. “Mick Fazio and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but I believe we respected each other. I spoke with him last night. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t elaborate on what he was into other than to say he was close to solving a major crime. Mick would never have anything to do with drugs.”

  Sara continued to describe in detail how the cop had walked up to Fazio and shot him in the back of the head. Dagger made a quick call to a friend at headquarters to verify the badge number.

  Hanging up the phone, Dagger said, “This badge belongs to Sergeant Ed Rollins, the police chief’s son. You’re saying he’s involved in drugs?”

  “AWWKK, ROLLINS. CROWN JEWEL,” Einstein blurted out, but Dagger ignored him.

  “They weren’t drug dealers. Sergeant Rollins was on some Gang Task Force, but he actually had the gangs working for him. I can’t say how I know what I know. In a way, I was Detective Fazio’s informant.” She handed Dagger a piece of paper with the license plate number of the limousine.

  “You could only know all this if you were there. How did you…?”

  “Detective Fazio has mentioned your name several times. That’s how I knew to look you up.”

  “So you have met him.” She shook her head no. “Then, how…?” Dagger’s voice trailed off. “Look, Miss Morningsky…”

  “Sara, please.”

  “Sara, I wish I could help, but unless you are completely honest with me…”

  “He mentioned an S and R Warehouse. Something is being stored there. I saw Detective Fazio make a number of audiotapes documenting his undercover work and conversations he’s had with Sergeant Rollins.”

  Dagger shook his head in total confusion. She was skirting his main question. “Saw? But you said you’ve never met him.”

  “That’s not the issue. What’s important is finding out what Sergeant Rollins is keeping at the S and R Warehouse.” The phone interrupted them.

  “AWK. HELLO, HELLO,” Einstein mimicked from behind the bars. He used his powerful beak to climb to the top of the cage.

  “Yeah,” Dagger barked into the phone. It was Sheila, calling to say she bought him an Armani suit to wear to the rehearsal. “Sheila, I’m fine with blue jeans. You didn’t have to…” He listened to her ramble, and then said, “I’ll call you later.” When he turned back to Sara, she was gone. She had left as silently as she had arrived.

  He opened the door and ran down the rusting white, wrought iron stairs to the street just in time to see the belching fumes from a battered cab. Returning to his office, Dagger yelled out, “Cab company, Einstein.”

  “AWWKK. FIVE-FIVE-FIVE NINE-EIGHT-FIVE-FOUR.”

  Dagger made the call and was told Sara had been picked up at a coffee shop, not her residence, and they were to return her to the coffee shop.

  Einstein bobbed his head several times as he looked around the office.

  “Sorry, Einstein. She’s gone.” Dagger looked up at the ceiling over Einstein’s cage and went to work taping a piece of cardboard around the vent to divert the draft. He then called a friend at the Department of Motor Vehicles to trace the plate number on the limousine only to learn that it belonged to Mayor Benton Sawyer. The waters were getting murkier. Standing at the window, Dagger gazed out at the dismal skies, plump clouds ready to dump their moisture.

  “Hey, Dagger. How’s your bird?” The rhythmic tone and deep laugh belonged to Simon. Hefting his mailbag onto a chair, Simon walked near the birdcage, noticing several feathers lying on the floor. “Looks like he’s giving himself a haircut.”

  “Einstein is in love and upset that his lady left.” Dagger held out a cheese curl, which Einstein ignored. “Cheese curls used to be the only things that made him feel better.” Einstein continued to preen himself, tossing several more feathers. “If you keep that up,” Dagger warned, “you’ll be bald and that young lady won’t ever look at you again.” Einstein fluffed all thirty-six inches of his body and tail, shaking out a couple more brilliant scarlet red, blue, and yellow feathers.

  Dagger took the bundle of mail from Simon and laid it on the desk. “You know just about everyone in town, don’t you, Simon?”

  “Everyone on my run, sure. Who ya’ looking for?”

  “A young woman. Native American, I think. Long brown hair, turquoise eyes.”

  Simon rubbed a beefy hand across his chin. “Gotta name?”

  “Sara Morningsky. She disappeared before I had a chance to get her address.”

  “She’s not on my run, but there is reservation land down near Cedar Junction. About two or three hundred acres.” He gave his bulky shoulder a shrug. “Some large automotive company was building a shmanzy showroom and service facility out there years ago before the county realized the land wasn’t anyone’s to use.”

  Dagger entertained the thought of exploring the reservation land after Simon left, but his computer search through the town assessor’s records completed its report on Mayor Benton Sawyer.

  He leaned back in his chair, plopping his feet on the desk. “Well, Mayor. Exactly how do you fit in with Sergeant Ed Rollins?”

  “AWK, CROWN JEWELS.” Einstein’s vocabulary came mostly from mimicking and word association; and what he said finally struck a familiar chord with Dagger. It had something to do with a conversation he had had with Mick Fazio months ago, but his memory was still hazy. His eyes instead locked on the computer screen where it mentioned S and R Warehouse—Sawyer and Rollins. Mayor Sawyer and Chief Rollins owned S and R Warehouse. Exactly what was stored there Dagger had no idea. But he was going to find out.

  “I tried to explain it to him, Grandmother. But there were so many questions I couldn’t answer.” Sara sat next to a white-haired woman whose face was weathered with lines of age and wisdom. Her veiny hands were clasped around Sara’s.

  “You must listen to your heart, my child. What does your heart tell you to do?” Ada Kills Bull patted her grandchild’s arm. “You want to help him?”

  Sara nodded. “Although maybe I shouldn’t. I tried helping Detective Fazio and look where it got him.”

  “It wasn’t your fault he was killed. But you can help find his killers.”

  Sara thought for a moment. “You are right. I’ll just go to the warehouse myself.”

  Dagger lowered his night vision binoculars. S and R Warehouse had been quiet since he arrived an hour ago. From his post behind a boulder on a cliff near the site, he had a good view of the main entrance. He gathered his black leather coat around him to ward off the damp chill the rains had brought.

  He
adlights appeared down the road. A semi lumbered up to the freight door and a youth with a long ponytail jumped from the truck and unlocked the door. The driver got out and entered the warehouse through the side door. Lights turned on. Another figure stepped out of the rear of the semi. He was thin with ferret features and a receding hairline. It was Ed Rollins. Soon several youths started unloading items, which looked like paintings, sculptures, and velvet bags the size of pouches.

  Dagger saw a movement along the side of the building. He scanned the area with his binoculars and zoomed in on a figure. It looked like a dog. Its coat was multicolored, its eyes and mouth surrounded by white fur; but it wasn’t a dog. It was a wolf. Wolves in Indiana? Dagger thought.

  “Hey!” Rollins yelled. “That’s the same mutt that took my badge.” The wolf growled and took a lunge toward Rollins. When Rollins pulled a gun from his belt, the wolf rushed into the woods.

  Through the binoculars, Dagger watched in horror as Rollins pulled off two quick shots. The wolf howled in pain.

  “Let’s get moving,” another man ordered.

  Crouching down, Dagger moved away from the boulder. When he was a safe distance away from sight of the warehouse, he pulled out a flashlight and searched through the dense forest for the injured wolf. From the amount of blood on the trail, it appeared that Rollins had made a direct hit. The blood trail was easy to follow. Dagger found the wolf whimpering, lying on its side, its front legs trying to drag itself to safety.

  “Good God!” Dagger shined the flashlight on the wolf’s missing right leg, shot clean off. He bent down and examined the wound. The wolf trembled under his touch. Heaving a sigh, Dagger stood up and pointed his gun at the wolf’s head. “Sorry about this, but you’ll be better off, believe me.”

  The wolf looked up at him with the strangest colored eyes. They were blue-green. His hand shook as he started to pull the trigger. Then an unusual thing happened. The wolf changed shape. The multicolored fur coat became hair, the legs long and muscular, the body human. It was Sara. She looked up at him with those dazzling eyes.