The Marvel Knights Group presents: Sleepwalker #3

It’s days like this I’m thankful that I don’t sleep naked anymore. This is going to be one of those days that make me hate my job. Even before I open my eyes, the rough concrete against my back lets me know that I’m going to have a shitty morning. The wind and the gravel were the big clues, and the more I lay here, the less I wanted to open my eyes, but the sun was starting to beat down on me and I’m just going to have to make the most of my misfortune.

Like I said, at least I didn’t go to sleep naked again.

I thought this was cleared up, but then again I can’t really enter a discussion with an extra dimensional being when you can’t be face to face and speak about it. It’s been at least six months since I last woke up where I didn’t fall asleep, and I have to wonder why he has such a roof fetish. Though I have less of a problem waking up on some random rooftop than I do with waking up somewhere in a city I haven’t stepped foot in since I was a teenager.

God, I really hope this is still Philly. Two years ago it wasn’t a nice thing when I woke up in Jersey; talk about the wrong side of the tracks. I don’t know if he can hear me thinking or not, but I swear if I’m in Jersey again I’m going to start taking the heavy pills again. That’ll keep him in check; it’ll also keep him locked away in my subconscious for a while too.

He hates those pills and when I run out of them or actually need him for something he takes it out on me, it was part of the deal I struck with him, that I’d stop taking them if he’d just return me to where I fell asleep. It’s a simple thing to ask, I don’t complain when he hijacks my body and lives in the world, though sometimes I ask him to help me out with taking on some thugs bigger than me, but it’s a decent trade-off I think.

The groaning in the back of my mind disagrees.

It’s funny; I can hear him in the back of my mind now, groaning and making some sort of sounds. Sleepy never actually sleeps, sometimes I can hear him in my daily business and it all equates to being possessed by Helen Keller, as much as he wants to torment me, he just can’t voice anything. We’re stuck with each other, and right now is the worse part of our situation. Stepping to the ledge I look down and get dizzy.

Jesus, I hate heights. You’re such a bastard, Sleepy.

He’s tired of the Helen Keller joke, but he never gets tired of this reaction. He makes a sound like he’s laughing, but it’s just an annoyance. The roof access door is just on the other side of the blacktop and I only hope I don’t have to run into anyone to explain my actions. Nothing like being a stranger, in a strange city, and running into a stranger. I love days like today.

But something catches my eye before I can get to the door and Sleepy stops making any noise. I think my heart stopped when I inched closer to get a look. Just like the decent PI I am, I just crouch down and I don’t touch it. A light breeze cuts into the thin shirt I have on and a chill runs down my back, the blood spatter pattern isn’t a great sign, all climbing up the hilt of a nine-millimeter Glock.

Looking down at my hands, I finally realize why they were sticky. My left hand is covered in it; residue still sticks to my right hand somehow. My knuckles aren’t bruised but I’m not going to try explaining that to cops when you’re out of town.

There are a lot of expectations with this job that I found are either total bullshit or come with the territory. Admittedly, when I started this private detective thing the only thing I was worried about was being called a dick and not knowing if someone was refereeing to me, my job, or calling me out because I was rude. I have a trench coat and fedora locked away in my closet, yeah; I tried to think I was going to be the next Phil Marlowe or Sam Spade. I thought a lot of things, but mainly I was young and I was stupid.

I like to think I’m not so stupid anymore.

When I started this gig, I was full of ideas and hope; I used words like “case the joint” and expected to be taken seriously. My role models were characters of fiction, even though there were times I could’ve rubbed shoulders with people much larger than fiction. It’s funny to imagine, but I had no idea how hard it was to follow a guy that dressed in red leather and beat the ever-living hell out of punks and criminals for a nightlife. It was even more fucked up after I figured out who Daredevil was, and let me tell you, as a young so-called detective, to learn that the man you’d been tailing for months on end was actually a blind lawyer it takes a number out of your self-esteem.

Actually an eviction notice showed up to the address where I locked away my self-esteem a few years ago. Trying to think I had a chance having a few words with Murdock was a dream of a little kid trying to grasp at something that he had no chance of understanding. Though, my biggest problem with this game was always choosing people to mirror myself after. It took a while for a dumb kid to realize there was no point to it. Not everyone looks good in spandex or leather, and I didn’t have the time or willpower to invest in a washboard stomach either. The lesson I took away from that, realizing that I wasn’t a big time player in the super hero game, is that I wasn’t the only one with talents and no place to use them.

The phone rang twice before the voice I wanted to hear came through the receiver, “Hey Phil, its Rick.”

“Yeah man, I have caller ID, what’s up?”

“I need a favor.”

His end of the phone goes silent for a minute or two until I hear a door close in the background, “Am I going to have to put this on your tab again?”

“If I wasn’t out of town I’d have your cash to you tonight.”

“Not an issue man, I know you’re good for it, just making small talk is all.”

“You’re the talkative one all right.” And he really is, Phil’s uncle should’ve thought twice about getting him a job in the archives department at the Bugle, Phil has a pretty big mouth. “I need you to do a registration search and background for a handgun.”

He’s shuffling through papers and clicks a pen; he’s always ready to go, “What’s the number?”

The registration number is hard to read under the blood but after a couple corrections, he assures me he’ll get on the search within the hour and call me when he had something. With no time for small talk, I wrap the gun in some tattered page of whatever newspaper was floating around in the wind and stuff it into my pocket. I decide the stairs are a better idea than the fire escape, being noticed in broad daylight wouldn’t be good for my health and nobody thinks twice about a stranger if he walks out the front door. Straight out the front door, no one thinks to ask me the time.

I hop in a cab and pull out the card that has the name of my hotel and after a thirty-dollar fare I make my way back to my home for the weekend. Three doors and a left turn past the soda machine I find the door to my room unlocked. Jesus, I always lock the door, it keeps out the prying eyes and thieves.

Of course, my taser isn’t in my pocket – I still think it’s lame that cops don’t allow people like me to carry guns anymore – so I take this next step carefully. Slipping past the door without opening it completely; I slip between the door and the frame and quietly step inside the blackened out room and shut the door as silently as I opened it in the first place.

I’ve been at this for a few years and believe me my paranoia is well rooted and developed for my survival.

The blinds are pulled shut, probably nailed to the wall. There is a reason why I choose these no-tell motels to sleep in mind you. It’s another fine mess I’m in the middle of, and the only thing I can hear out of place is a steady pattern of breathing. I stand back a second and just listen. It’s only one set of lungs I hear, the breaths are shallow enough for the woman to be a heavy smoker or a bad enough case of pneumonia that I should keep my distance. Regardless of their health, the breathing is unexcited.

Less danger for me, in that case.

Peering over the corner, just past the wall that separates the filthy bathroom, I see a bulge under the blankets in bed. Breathing steady; at least it is alive. Inching closer to the bed, I carefully pull away the comforter and stare down at a decently attractive blonde woman.

My mouth hangs open, as I couldn’t shut it if I wanted. I stand there like a buffoon for a least a minute, more than likely a lot longer than that, and the flushing toilet damn near makes me jump out of my skin. I drop the blanket and search the room for my overnight bag, the likely location for my taser.

“Oh? You’re back.” A woman appears from the bathroom while I failed to act in favor of internal monologue. My eyes dart back and forth between the two women, the new one – red headed and from what I can see in the dim light provided by the bathroom light, covered in freckles – just stands there smiling. “Did you find him?”

Shaking my head I just start with the truth and hope it’ll give me enough time to think up a good enough story to figure out what the fuck is going on. “No, no luck.”

“That’s okay,” she whispers. “Angie’s still out cold.”

“I see that,” I manage to push out of my lips before she shoves her face into mine.

Fuck, Amy’s going to be pissed.

I lose track of time until the blonde stirs in the bed, Angie I suppose, since it’s all I know about her. The redhead stops shoving her tongue down my throat and I’ll admit I’d rather her keep going. She pushes herself off me and slips back into the bathroom and the shower starts up.

“Rick, is that you?”

Angie’s voice is labored as she is suffering through one hell of a hangover. Her hand fumbles through the tangled mess of sheets until she is able to peer through the fabric that confines her. She smiles and I can barely see her face in the dark room, “Where is Heather?”

It’s a good question and I shrug it off with the only information I have on me, “Shower.”

She accepts the small answer, “How much time do you think we have?”

“Pardon?”

“Yeah you’re right, we should wait for her. Did you find him?”

I shake my head and the gun feels heavier in my pocket. “Nah, I couldn’t make a trail on him.”

“Damn,” Angie mutters under her breath. “Does that mean we’re not safe here?”

I have no other answer, “You’re probably safer here than anywhere else.” It sounds reasonable enough, at least it’s as reasonable as I can imagine right now. I shrug my way through a moment of silence and take a seat next to her, noticing the bruise on her face as a good place to start.

“Why don’t you tell me more about that bruise?”

“This?” She rubs her hand over her cheek, “It’s not a big deal. No blood, no foul, I suppose the phrase is.”

“Yeah, that’s how it goes, but how is that a philosophy to live by?”

She smiles, “I don’t understand your games, mister, and you told me it was for my own good. To calm me down and you said you were sorry. Why does it matter now?”

I’ve never hit a woman in my life. Well scratch that, I’ve never hit a woman that hasn’t shot at me first. Amy calls it chivalry; at times, I call it stupidity. “I feel bad; I should’ve found another way.”

She looks like she is buying my lie and my watch starts to sound its alarm and a sudden rush of relief runs through my entire body. I press down a button to shut the noise down and the shower miraculously shuts off at damn near the same time, Angie sits up in bed, “Are you meeting someone?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some business to take care of; I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She smiles and I run out of excuses to ask questions that I probably should have answers for already. I’m out the door before the other woman can sneak out, keep me occupied, and corner me in questions I won’t be able to weasel my way out of. I shut the door behind me and make sure it’s locked this time and taking a look around the parking lot, “Go figure,” there aren’t any cabs waiting around here. I suppose all the cheating spouses are gone for the afternoon. I take a hike for about three blocks, make it to the bus station, and see two cabs sitting and waiting.

I take a look at the drivers and try to make a decision that’ll leave me sitting in the cab that I hope doesn’t smell too badly. The moment I open the door I realize I’ve already made a bad choice, but my lack of time forces me to stick with the decision. I hand the driver the card to the lawyer’s office and we’re off and running.

I check my watch as soon as I cram myself into an elevator and I’m already ten minutes late. I hate having to be here in the first place. As anyone could imagine, I don’t have the greatest relationship with lawyers though the only time I spend with them is the off chance that I am invited to court. It’s not often, now that I think about it, and it’s funny that I’ve never been to court to defend any of the work I’ve done for the police. Though I get why the cops keep me out of court, they like having me as their ace in the hole, the guy that can get in and get out so they can get their search warrants and their arrest. I get it; I’m the kinda guy that keeps a dirty cop clean.

Either way, it’s a paycheck for me. It’s just that life is funny with things like that.

She’s not happy to see me, but she doesn’t say anything and gets right down to the job at hand. There is a mountain of paperwork to sign and she stands over me as I read through all the legal garbage. She has a look on her face and I can almost read it, as she’s surprised I’m literate in the first place.

“You’d think someone would’ve called, you know?”

“Your phone was disconnected.”

She’s as cold as anyone I’ve ever met. “Yeah but not even the family tried to tell me.”

“His will specified that you were to be the only one told. There was no love shared between your uncle and the majority of your relatives.”

“No love gained it seems, but why me?”

“Go talk to his shrink, kid. I’m just the paper pusher; the sooner I’m rid of the estate the happier I’ll be. Go ask questions to your liking. I don’t give a shit anyway, but that’s what you do; you’re the big city detective.”

“Hardly big time.”

“I said big city, there’s a clear difference.”

We spend the next few minutes in silence and I finally make it through the majority of her paperwork. Stopping only at a heavy packet of documents covered in a thick paper stock binding. It’s blue, almost a book in and of itself. “His will?”

“Yep, that’d be it.”

She picks it up and calls for someone to come inside and witness the reading. It’s a pretty weird sort of thing to do but she’s the lawyer, she would know what her job requirements might be after all. Never misses a beat, not even a single comma and runs through the outline of everything my uncle’s estate has left me, and my heart starts slowing down as I realize it’s every last penny. I haven’t seen the man since I graduated high school, and that was only for the ceremony, and I’m the only one he wanted to know about his death.

There’s a kind of sadness about it, but I know what kind of relationship he and my mother had, and I can see why he stuck so far away all the time. I didn’t know him much when I was growing up, I saw him randomly through my life, a few holidays through the years. But I never had more than ten conversations with the man.

“He knew you were trying hard,” it’s the first ounce of emotion I hear in her voice. “He told me that your mother didn’t give you a good chance at success but you had a good head on your shoulders.”

The hint of something in her voice took me by surprise. “Yeah that’s life, it gives you lemons and then you realize those are rotten so you have to go find new ones.”

“You have an interesting outlook on life.”

“Comes with the territory.” It’s funny just how much of this life of mine just comes with the territory.

“There’s an apartment he left for you. He purchased it in full some years ago, its part of the estate package.”

Nice, my dead uncle’s belongings are just a bunch of junk for her to get rid of, and I can’t help but wonder if there’s a nice little bow attached to the whole thing. “This is way too much.”

“I’ll give you some time alone if you need it.”

“No, it’s just too much stuff.”

I haven’t bothered looking at the financial stuff, but it’s just strange enough to have all this handed to me all at once. “I’ve never had anything handed to me before, well no I take that back, there are some things I was given that I wasn’t sure I wanted. I think this is in that category.”

She wouldn’t understand the sort of nights I’ve had since high school, but she nods like she does. “It’s all overwhelming, I know.”

“Something like that, yeah.” Not to mention I have two women in my hotel room thinking I’m working on something for them and a blood covered gun wrapped in newspaper in my left pocket. Jeeze, talk about walking around like a moron, I should’ve gotten rid of that before I came in here.

“I suppose you’d want to see it?”

I take a deep breath, she says something else but I don’t listen, “Yeah,” I say with my exhale, “Let’s start there.”

She pulls a set of keys out of her pocket and waves at me to grab my coat and come with her. “There is a car waiting to take us there, it’s only a mile or two maybe it’ll put your mind at ease?”

“Let’s find out.”