Fic: Skip Muck, PI - Chapter Four
Title: Skip Muck, PI - Chapter Four
Summary: AU. Pittsburgh in the summer of 1988. Skip and Penk visit a hiphop club in the hope of getting leads. Harry is wearing preposterous trousers. That's basically it.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2499
Disclaimer: Not my property, not for profit. All characters based on depictions in the miniseries, and no disrespect intended to anyone real.
Notes: Crossposted to camp_toccoa.
"I think this is it," said Penk. We were in a part of town neither of us had visited before, outside a shabby little club. A poster on the door advertised a breakdancing competition 'to-nite'. That didn't put me at ease. I've always felt that if people skimp on letters, it suggests they'll probably cut corners elsewhere, too.
"Well, what are we hanging around outside for?" I said. "Let's hit it."
We went through the entrance, paid the door fee, the usual. Penk got ID'd by a bouncer. I didn't. Dammit. Okay, sure, he is a little younger than me, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting a little. The guys at the door gave us some rather suspicious looks, and I didn't blame them, since as soon as we got in it was plain to see we were out of place. There was so much damn nylon being worn I could almost hear the crackle of static.
Not being able to see anyone familiar, I suggested we make our way to the bar, when I heard a sharp whistle and caught sight of someone waving in our direction- Harry Welsh, the guy whose fault it was we were here in the first place.
"You came!" he said, as we approached. Penk burst into fits of giggles. I, having better manners, managed to keep a straight face, but I can't deny it was a struggle. Maybe it wouldn't have felt so jarring if we hadn't previously seen the guy in suit and tie, but then again, maybe few people in their right mind wouldn't be at least a little bit amused by seeing a guy wearing parachute pants so baggy he looked in danger of getting lost every time he put them on.
He wasn't alone; standing next to him was a girl of around the same age, standing a couple of inches taller without even having the benefit of heels. Reassuringly, she looked about as out of place as us, her style being less homegirl and more in the way of a tribute to the kids from Fame. She glanced down at Harry.
"Well, are you going to introduce us?" she asked.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Kitty, these are Muck and Penkala, the detectives Nix hired to deal with that whole clock business he's got his panties in a bunch over. Guys, this is Kitty, my girlfriend," said Harry.
"Pleased to meet you," she said, shaking our hands. "Good thing we've got some men of the law around tonight, keep an eye on this one. He's already banned from three bars in the city."
"They were asking for it," Harry muttered darkly, then immediately perked up again. "C'mon, you'd better meet the rest of the crew."
He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled so loud and sharp it set my teeth on edge. Three guys came hustling over from the bar.
"That all of you?" Harry said. "Where's Tab and Shifty?"
"Shifty's seeing his sick grandma, and Tab's lying low for a while. Girl trouble, apparently," said a guy with a plastic clock hung from a chain around his neck. Harry tutted, and got down to introductions, pointing them out one by one.
"Hoobs." A dude with sticky-out ears and a wiseguy grin.
"Perco." The guy with the clock.
"And last but not least, Georgie boy here." This last one was balancing a boombox the size of a toddler on his shoulders, and keeping a cigarette hanging from his lip like it was stuck on with glue.
"Now, we're gonna be needing to warm up pretty soon, so you'd better get your questions in quick," Harry said. "Especially since they've got another interview scheduled for afterwards."
"Yeah, 'cause somebody keeps dropping our names to every damn cop he meets," Hoobs grumbled.
"Just doing my civic duty, boys," Harry said. "Now get on with it."
We left Harry with his girl and slipped out of the fire exit to have a talk someplace where we could actually hear one another properly. I was glad for the fresh air; I'd barely been there ten minutes and was overheating so bad you could have fried an egg on me.
"It ain't the mob, if that's what you're thinking," Perco said, right off the bat. "They'd have done a better job than what happened to Julian."
Penk held up his hand.
"We're not from the police. We're the other case, the missing clock," he said.
"That?" George said. "Perconte's wearing it around his neck."
"Shaddap," Perco said. "Let me think... what's it look like?"
"Silver carriage clock. Old. Heavy. About this big," Penk said, miming with his hands. Hoobs sighed.
"You know, it's fucking stupid, Welshie thinking that just 'cause Perco's cousin was in a gang for like six weeks and I grew up on the bad side of town that we somehow know every hoodlum in the city. And hell, even if I did, I don't think I'd be likely to hear anyone making a big deal about some old clock," he said.
"Yeah, what he said," George agreed. "It doesn't sound like the thing any of the gangs would bother with. Harry just gets overexcited. Don't think we can help you." Perco was scratching his chin, deep in thought.
"Hang on," he said. "It's a long shot, but here's an idea - whoever took that clock probably either sold it or stuck it on a shelf at home, but if they posted it anywhere, it'll have passed through the central post office, and they'll have records. I'm a mailman, I know the guys there, I can hook you up."
Penk and I exchanged glances.
"Sounds kind of unlikely, but it couldn't hurt to check," I said.
"Got a pen and paper?" Perco asked. I pulled out my notepad and ballpoint for him to put down names and addresses, and Penk asked,
"Any other ideas?"
Shrugs all round.
"Sorry, guys," George said. "This ain't the kind of case we're useful for. Now, if you don't mind, we've got some asses to kick."
We let the three of them get back inside.
"So. Reckon that's worth doing anything about?" I asked Penk. He mulled it over.
"Maybe," he said. "How about tomorrow, you go down to the central mailroom, and I'll have another go-round at Nixon Industries. We don't need to stick together all the time, after all."
"Fair dos. Wanna go back in?" I said.
"Well, we've got what we came for," Penk said.
"Hey, I paid to get in here, I'm getting my money's worth," I said, and yanked open the fire door.
Back inside, things were heating up, but nothing had started as yet. Penk and I milled around, kind of at a loose end, until we were rescued by the approach of Kitty.
"There you are. Mind if I join you?" she said, fiddling with her top - one of those asymmetric off-the-shoulder deals.
"Not at all," I said. "Can't say this is really my scene."
Kitty laughed.
"No kidding," she said, looking me up and down.
"Guessing this ain't yours, either," Penk said.
"I wouldn't come to these things if it wasn't for Harry. The things I put up with for that man," she said. "I carried his spare pair of parachute pants in my purse across Europe for him once, when he insisted the crew go 'on tour'. I was almost relieved when he dislocated his hip in Belgium and had to call it quits." She sighed wistfully. "No, I've always been a more Duran Duran and George Michael kinda girl, myself."
"No way!" said Penk. "I love George Michael!"
And that was me out of the conversation for the night. They chattered at one another ten to the dozen, and I stuck my hands in my pockets, rocking back and forth on my heels, looking around. Hadn't Don said he was coming tonight? Not that I minded if he didn't, of course. No sirree. Not a problem.
Still, it did feel like a mercy when I suddenly caught sight of a familiar face at the door, looking completely lost.
"Don!" I called, waving my hands perhaps a bit too frantically than I needed to. "Over here!"
He made a beeline for me, and it was then that things started off. A guy came on stage, the lights dimmed, and I couldn't make myself heard over the sound of the PA. I managed to convey to Don in mime that it'd be easier if we went outside, and so we headed out of the fire door and back into the alley I'd been in only a quarter of an hour ago.
"Hey, how you doing?" I asked, leaning against the wall.
"Not bad," Don said.
"More with you?" I asked.
"This ain't his kind of thing," Don said, reaching into his pocket. "Cigarette?"
I accepted.
"It ain't really mine, either, but I've got somebody to talk to out of it. Feels like that's all I'm doing, just going from person to person asking a ton of questions but not getting any answers."
Don nodded, lips tightly pursed around his cigarette as he flicked at his lighter.
"It's pretty much the same at our end," he said, out of the corner of his mouth. "We don't know the crime scene, we don't have the weapon, we still haven't figured out a motive. Ralph's managed to match some fibres on the victim's clothing to a certain make of carpet, but that's not enough on its own."
"It's a start, though, right?" I said.
"I suppose so," Don said, sighing as he exhaled, smoke tinted orange by the streetlights.
"C'mon. Let's not talk about work. How are you? How long's it been?"
I counted on my fingers. "Four years?" I shook my head. "God, we don't even know each other. I mean, not really. I don't know where you were born, or what your favourite TV show is, or what you wanted to be when you grew up, or nothing like that."
"Astoria, Cheers and Tarzan," Don said. "There you go, easy."
"Tarzan?" I said, raising my eyebrows1.
"Ah, shut up," said Don. "God, this is a hell of a coincidence. Same city, same job... who'd have thought? Suppose it's cool we can get to know each other properly now." He paused, looking thoughtful. "So... that Penk guy. Are you together?"
"What? No!" I said, bursting out laughing. "I mean, I can see why people assume things, what with his awful garish shirts and his thing about George Michael, but Penk's as straight as an arrow. We're just buddies, that's all. We work together. Thinking about him like that feels like incest."
"So are you single right now, if you don't mind me asking?" Don said, grinning. I rubbed at my forehead.
"Yeah, just about," I said.
"Just about? What the hell does that mean?"
"I broke up with my girlfriend of two years a few weeks ago. Still haven't quite got used to it," I said.
"Shit, sorry," Don said. That... well, that sucks."
"It'll be fine," I said, and took a hard drag on my cigarette. "Just takes time, that's all. I still find it weird waking up in bed on my own. And having to launder my own socks."
Don nodded.
"You?" I asked.
"Single. Been that way for a while now," he said. "Even if I weren't, it's not like anyone would want the hassle of coming all the way to Pittsburgh with me. But I gotta say, I ain't been looking much recently. That whole AIDS thing has totally put me off picking up guys in bars."
"Oh god, I don't blame you. That stuff scares the shit out of me," I said. "Though it's been ages since I slept with a dude anyhow."
Don smirked.
"Oh, boy, don't tell me you're one of those guys who 'experimented' in college," he said, doing little air quotes.
"No," I snapped, a little bit too fast. "I know what I like. It's just that, like I said, I'd been with Faye the past two years, and before that I was with Alicia for eighteen months, and I'm only 24, for fuck's sake. Though, yeah, maybe I'm not the kind who'd think about having a proper relationship with a guy. I mean, what would I tell my mom and dad?"
Don shrugged. He didn't seem to have an answer to that one.
The pause in our conversation turned into an awkward silence. I looked at Don. Don looked at me. He dropped the stub of his cigarette and ground it under his shoe. I took a deep breath, moving a little closer, knowing I shouldn't but wanting to anyway. He mirrored my actions, edging in closer. I tilted my head a little, and -
- And Penk came bolting out of the fire exit, grabbing me by the lapels.
"Skip, we've got to get out of here," he said. "It's fucking crazy in there."
Oh, I could have strangled him.
"Penk, what the fuck?" I said. He let go of me and stood back, running a hand through his hair.
"I don't know, some argument broke out over judging, someone said something was a fix-up, and that guy Harry waded in trying to separate them but when one of 'em wouldn't cooperate Harry punched him in the nose and then everything went mad."
I tentatively nudged open the door and took a peek inside. He wasn't lying. The place was chaos. Of the people I could identify, Kitty was restraining a wildly flailing Harry with surprising force, and Perco was beating a man around the head with his clock. There was a bloodcurdling screech and Hoobs launched himself off the bartop into the melee, while George was desperately trying to defend his boombox from potential destruction.
"Let's go," said Penk. "I don't want to hang around any longer than I have to."
Don sighed. "I suppose I've got a responsibility to deal with this," he said. "I'll have to call up the guys, and then there'll be names to take and damage to be assessed and fuck, I'm gonna be here all night at this rate."
"No rest for the wicked," I said, as Penk grabbed my wrist and started trying to drag me away. I eventually complied, and Don called after me,
"See you around some time!"
I had no doubts that I would.
1 There was no need to inform him that when I was a kid I'd wanted to be a police dog.
Are the guys at the post office going to be of any use? Is Skip ever going to meet anyone who can actually help him find the damn clock? Will the unresolved sexual tension get resolved any time soon? To find out, you'll simply have to wait for the next instalment of... Skip Muck, PI!
Summary: AU. Pittsburgh in the summer of 1988. Skip and Penk visit a hiphop club in the hope of getting leads. Harry is wearing preposterous trousers. That's basically it.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2499
Disclaimer: Not my property, not for profit. All characters based on depictions in the miniseries, and no disrespect intended to anyone real.
Notes: Crossposted to camp_toccoa.
"I think this is it," said Penk. We were in a part of town neither of us had visited before, outside a shabby little club. A poster on the door advertised a breakdancing competition 'to-nite'. That didn't put me at ease. I've always felt that if people skimp on letters, it suggests they'll probably cut corners elsewhere, too.
"Well, what are we hanging around outside for?" I said. "Let's hit it."
We went through the entrance, paid the door fee, the usual. Penk got ID'd by a bouncer. I didn't. Dammit. Okay, sure, he is a little younger than me, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting a little. The guys at the door gave us some rather suspicious looks, and I didn't blame them, since as soon as we got in it was plain to see we were out of place. There was so much damn nylon being worn I could almost hear the crackle of static.
Not being able to see anyone familiar, I suggested we make our way to the bar, when I heard a sharp whistle and caught sight of someone waving in our direction- Harry Welsh, the guy whose fault it was we were here in the first place.
"You came!" he said, as we approached. Penk burst into fits of giggles. I, having better manners, managed to keep a straight face, but I can't deny it was a struggle. Maybe it wouldn't have felt so jarring if we hadn't previously seen the guy in suit and tie, but then again, maybe few people in their right mind wouldn't be at least a little bit amused by seeing a guy wearing parachute pants so baggy he looked in danger of getting lost every time he put them on.
He wasn't alone; standing next to him was a girl of around the same age, standing a couple of inches taller without even having the benefit of heels. Reassuringly, she looked about as out of place as us, her style being less homegirl and more in the way of a tribute to the kids from Fame. She glanced down at Harry.
"Well, are you going to introduce us?" she asked.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Kitty, these are Muck and Penkala, the detectives Nix hired to deal with that whole clock business he's got his panties in a bunch over. Guys, this is Kitty, my girlfriend," said Harry.
"Pleased to meet you," she said, shaking our hands. "Good thing we've got some men of the law around tonight, keep an eye on this one. He's already banned from three bars in the city."
"They were asking for it," Harry muttered darkly, then immediately perked up again. "C'mon, you'd better meet the rest of the crew."
He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled so loud and sharp it set my teeth on edge. Three guys came hustling over from the bar.
"That all of you?" Harry said. "Where's Tab and Shifty?"
"Shifty's seeing his sick grandma, and Tab's lying low for a while. Girl trouble, apparently," said a guy with a plastic clock hung from a chain around his neck. Harry tutted, and got down to introductions, pointing them out one by one.
"Hoobs." A dude with sticky-out ears and a wiseguy grin.
"Perco." The guy with the clock.
"And last but not least, Georgie boy here." This last one was balancing a boombox the size of a toddler on his shoulders, and keeping a cigarette hanging from his lip like it was stuck on with glue.
"Now, we're gonna be needing to warm up pretty soon, so you'd better get your questions in quick," Harry said. "Especially since they've got another interview scheduled for afterwards."
"Yeah, 'cause somebody keeps dropping our names to every damn cop he meets," Hoobs grumbled.
"Just doing my civic duty, boys," Harry said. "Now get on with it."
We left Harry with his girl and slipped out of the fire exit to have a talk someplace where we could actually hear one another properly. I was glad for the fresh air; I'd barely been there ten minutes and was overheating so bad you could have fried an egg on me.
"It ain't the mob, if that's what you're thinking," Perco said, right off the bat. "They'd have done a better job than what happened to Julian."
Penk held up his hand.
"We're not from the police. We're the other case, the missing clock," he said.
"That?" George said. "Perconte's wearing it around his neck."
"Shaddap," Perco said. "Let me think... what's it look like?"
"Silver carriage clock. Old. Heavy. About this big," Penk said, miming with his hands. Hoobs sighed.
"You know, it's fucking stupid, Welshie thinking that just 'cause Perco's cousin was in a gang for like six weeks and I grew up on the bad side of town that we somehow know every hoodlum in the city. And hell, even if I did, I don't think I'd be likely to hear anyone making a big deal about some old clock," he said.
"Yeah, what he said," George agreed. "It doesn't sound like the thing any of the gangs would bother with. Harry just gets overexcited. Don't think we can help you." Perco was scratching his chin, deep in thought.
"Hang on," he said. "It's a long shot, but here's an idea - whoever took that clock probably either sold it or stuck it on a shelf at home, but if they posted it anywhere, it'll have passed through the central post office, and they'll have records. I'm a mailman, I know the guys there, I can hook you up."
Penk and I exchanged glances.
"Sounds kind of unlikely, but it couldn't hurt to check," I said.
"Got a pen and paper?" Perco asked. I pulled out my notepad and ballpoint for him to put down names and addresses, and Penk asked,
"Any other ideas?"
Shrugs all round.
"Sorry, guys," George said. "This ain't the kind of case we're useful for. Now, if you don't mind, we've got some asses to kick."
We let the three of them get back inside.
"So. Reckon that's worth doing anything about?" I asked Penk. He mulled it over.
"Maybe," he said. "How about tomorrow, you go down to the central mailroom, and I'll have another go-round at Nixon Industries. We don't need to stick together all the time, after all."
"Fair dos. Wanna go back in?" I said.
"Well, we've got what we came for," Penk said.
"Hey, I paid to get in here, I'm getting my money's worth," I said, and yanked open the fire door.
Back inside, things were heating up, but nothing had started as yet. Penk and I milled around, kind of at a loose end, until we were rescued by the approach of Kitty.
"There you are. Mind if I join you?" she said, fiddling with her top - one of those asymmetric off-the-shoulder deals.
"Not at all," I said. "Can't say this is really my scene."
Kitty laughed.
"No kidding," she said, looking me up and down.
"Guessing this ain't yours, either," Penk said.
"I wouldn't come to these things if it wasn't for Harry. The things I put up with for that man," she said. "I carried his spare pair of parachute pants in my purse across Europe for him once, when he insisted the crew go 'on tour'. I was almost relieved when he dislocated his hip in Belgium and had to call it quits." She sighed wistfully. "No, I've always been a more Duran Duran and George Michael kinda girl, myself."
"No way!" said Penk. "I love George Michael!"
And that was me out of the conversation for the night. They chattered at one another ten to the dozen, and I stuck my hands in my pockets, rocking back and forth on my heels, looking around. Hadn't Don said he was coming tonight? Not that I minded if he didn't, of course. No sirree. Not a problem.
Still, it did feel like a mercy when I suddenly caught sight of a familiar face at the door, looking completely lost.
"Don!" I called, waving my hands perhaps a bit too frantically than I needed to. "Over here!"
He made a beeline for me, and it was then that things started off. A guy came on stage, the lights dimmed, and I couldn't make myself heard over the sound of the PA. I managed to convey to Don in mime that it'd be easier if we went outside, and so we headed out of the fire door and back into the alley I'd been in only a quarter of an hour ago.
"Hey, how you doing?" I asked, leaning against the wall.
"Not bad," Don said.
"More with you?" I asked.
"This ain't his kind of thing," Don said, reaching into his pocket. "Cigarette?"
I accepted.
"It ain't really mine, either, but I've got somebody to talk to out of it. Feels like that's all I'm doing, just going from person to person asking a ton of questions but not getting any answers."
Don nodded, lips tightly pursed around his cigarette as he flicked at his lighter.
"It's pretty much the same at our end," he said, out of the corner of his mouth. "We don't know the crime scene, we don't have the weapon, we still haven't figured out a motive. Ralph's managed to match some fibres on the victim's clothing to a certain make of carpet, but that's not enough on its own."
"It's a start, though, right?" I said.
"I suppose so," Don said, sighing as he exhaled, smoke tinted orange by the streetlights.
"C'mon. Let's not talk about work. How are you? How long's it been?"
I counted on my fingers. "Four years?" I shook my head. "God, we don't even know each other. I mean, not really. I don't know where you were born, or what your favourite TV show is, or what you wanted to be when you grew up, or nothing like that."
"Astoria, Cheers and Tarzan," Don said. "There you go, easy."
"Tarzan?" I said, raising my eyebrows1.
"Ah, shut up," said Don. "God, this is a hell of a coincidence. Same city, same job... who'd have thought? Suppose it's cool we can get to know each other properly now." He paused, looking thoughtful. "So... that Penk guy. Are you together?"
"What? No!" I said, bursting out laughing. "I mean, I can see why people assume things, what with his awful garish shirts and his thing about George Michael, but Penk's as straight as an arrow. We're just buddies, that's all. We work together. Thinking about him like that feels like incest."
"So are you single right now, if you don't mind me asking?" Don said, grinning. I rubbed at my forehead.
"Yeah, just about," I said.
"Just about? What the hell does that mean?"
"I broke up with my girlfriend of two years a few weeks ago. Still haven't quite got used to it," I said.
"Shit, sorry," Don said. That... well, that sucks."
"It'll be fine," I said, and took a hard drag on my cigarette. "Just takes time, that's all. I still find it weird waking up in bed on my own. And having to launder my own socks."
Don nodded.
"You?" I asked.
"Single. Been that way for a while now," he said. "Even if I weren't, it's not like anyone would want the hassle of coming all the way to Pittsburgh with me. But I gotta say, I ain't been looking much recently. That whole AIDS thing has totally put me off picking up guys in bars."
"Oh god, I don't blame you. That stuff scares the shit out of me," I said. "Though it's been ages since I slept with a dude anyhow."
Don smirked.
"Oh, boy, don't tell me you're one of those guys who 'experimented' in college," he said, doing little air quotes.
"No," I snapped, a little bit too fast. "I know what I like. It's just that, like I said, I'd been with Faye the past two years, and before that I was with Alicia for eighteen months, and I'm only 24, for fuck's sake. Though, yeah, maybe I'm not the kind who'd think about having a proper relationship with a guy. I mean, what would I tell my mom and dad?"
Don shrugged. He didn't seem to have an answer to that one.
The pause in our conversation turned into an awkward silence. I looked at Don. Don looked at me. He dropped the stub of his cigarette and ground it under his shoe. I took a deep breath, moving a little closer, knowing I shouldn't but wanting to anyway. He mirrored my actions, edging in closer. I tilted my head a little, and -
- And Penk came bolting out of the fire exit, grabbing me by the lapels.
"Skip, we've got to get out of here," he said. "It's fucking crazy in there."
Oh, I could have strangled him.
"Penk, what the fuck?" I said. He let go of me and stood back, running a hand through his hair.
"I don't know, some argument broke out over judging, someone said something was a fix-up, and that guy Harry waded in trying to separate them but when one of 'em wouldn't cooperate Harry punched him in the nose and then everything went mad."
I tentatively nudged open the door and took a peek inside. He wasn't lying. The place was chaos. Of the people I could identify, Kitty was restraining a wildly flailing Harry with surprising force, and Perco was beating a man around the head with his clock. There was a bloodcurdling screech and Hoobs launched himself off the bartop into the melee, while George was desperately trying to defend his boombox from potential destruction.
"Let's go," said Penk. "I don't want to hang around any longer than I have to."
Don sighed. "I suppose I've got a responsibility to deal with this," he said. "I'll have to call up the guys, and then there'll be names to take and damage to be assessed and fuck, I'm gonna be here all night at this rate."
"No rest for the wicked," I said, as Penk grabbed my wrist and started trying to drag me away. I eventually complied, and Don called after me,
"See you around some time!"
I had no doubts that I would.
1 There was no need to inform him that when I was a kid I'd wanted to be a police dog.
Are the guys at the post office going to be of any use? Is Skip ever going to meet anyone who can actually help him find the damn clock? Will the unresolved sexual tension get resolved any time soon? To find out, you'll simply have to wait for the next instalment of... Skip Muck, PI!