Anonymous Tip
I don't know what to classify this as. Would it equate to a doodle? I didn't test this very extensively so pardon the poor writing mechanics; just trying to evict some stories so I don't have to see the same ones over and over, especially if they were supposed to be quickies.
We turned onto a cramped street named Crestley Lane. "Thirty-five seventy-eight is down at the end, Lars," I said. His phone's GPS had been droning directions the whole goddamned trip.
"How long you gonna be in there? I'm hungry."
"Don't know; they said this woman can get info in a hot minute, 'conditions permittin''. Sounds like it'll be quick."
The bear rolled up to the curb outside a festering gray house. "Gonna go around the corner anyway and get a bite; need to fill the tank too. You see if she knows where that little bitch ran off to."
"It's a matter of time, man," I said on my way out. "Be out here when I finish. It's cold as fuck and I don't wanna be waitin'."
"Yeah. Go." He pulled off while I came up to knock on the screen door. Hoped she was home - didn't think to grab my jacket after we left the docks. No time to: if this tip was genuine, then we weren't gonna waste any time catching up with our little bastard.
The inner door's latches clacked before it swung open. A collie behind the screen mesh scowled when she saw me. "Yes?" she asked. Even in the darkness I could see her bloodshot eyes.
"Got a call about somethin'," I said solemnly, "and this was the address given."
"Who are you?"
"Sergo."
"Who?"
I glanced over my shoulder then muttered, "Look, I shouldn't talk about this on the street. I got a tip that said you might know what's up around here."
She looked past me with her reddened eyes and surveyed the area, then unlocked the screen. "Hurry up. Lock them behind you."
I followed her through her house; no lights on, just the bit that came through the blinds in the next room we entered. Only things I heard were her low growls when she stumbled over some heaped clothes and a washing machine somewhere in the house that rattled from a loose screw. The woman stopped and looked back to me, her nose scrunching and twitching, then sat on one of the couches. I gestured to the other one to request a place to sit; all but one of its cushions were dusty.
She waved me off. "I'm obviously not in the mood to entertain company," she murmured. "Why are you here?"
"Lookin' for a kid named Baldwin Gray. We were hopin' you knew where we could find him."
"What does he look like?"
"Five-foot-four chimp. Beige."
"Never seen him," she replied while kneading her eyes.
I doubted that she even tried to remember. After a pause, "You sure?"
"I didn't say that I couldn't find out. You're so sore for this information, right?"
"Yes..."
She gestured for me to follow as she moved through more cramped halls. At one of them she unlocked the door and threw it against the wall to enter her garage. "Come in here," she commanded.
The area was yellow under the old light bulb. "What can I call you?" I asked.
The woman shook her head as she dug through a cabinet across the garage. "Don't worry about who I am." She kicked a few boxes aside as she brought a small takeout box to a table. "Come here. Watch this."
"What?"
She opened the flaps of the box, and I caught the name Farren written in marker on one of them. She turned it over and a small parakeet tumbled out. He worked himself slowly to his knees and looked at us.
"Ugnh..." he groaned and shielded against the dim light with his arm.
"This is Farren. We'll see if he knows about who you're looking for. This..?"
"Baldwin Gray," I finished. "Uh, you keepin' hostages in here or somethin'..?"
She snapped to me. "You're here because you want to know where your friend is, I understand?"
"Yeah..."
"Then don't worry about anything else." She pressed the bird with the tip of her finger. He had a sluggish expression on his face, but it was thawing and his breathing picked up. "Where's Baldwin Gray, Farren?"
The bird's face scrunched up. The woman sat hunched over him from her chair, and it was silent until her growl got to boiling and Farren's beak sprang open: "Baldwin Gray...I've never heard that name..." The collie's muzzle gritted, and the parakeet's throat dropped a small lump.
"I'll ask you again, then we'll have to jog that memory of yours."
Farren looked around for some explanation, his beak opening to speak then clicking shut. Maybe I was a fool, but I'd believed what the shrunken bird had said; couldn't imagine anyone being dumb enough not to talk.
"Mmh. So you don't know, right?"
"You don't believe me..? How can I know about some random name?"
The woman stood up to stretch. "Well, you knew where all your buddies relocated to when they went into hiding, so I know you know things," she explained through a deep yawn.
The man's face changed as if he'd just been shot. "You...you said I'd go free if I told you where they were, what happened to that?!"
"Yeah," the woman replied, "but then you knew more than I'd thought, and you've been helpful. It's why I haven't stopped that little heart of yours yet."
"You're going back on your end," he pleaded. "I gave you what you wanted a long time ago..."
"You ratted out your friends so you could live," she chided as she plucked him from the table. "That's what happened." She gestured for me to follow her into the kitchen where she dumped Farren on the counter. "The difference between you and your friends is that I had a reason not to kill you, and you're letting that slip from your grasp, Farren. Last chance: where's Baldwin Gray?" She activated the stovetop to light herself a cigarette.
Farren had gone silent; looked sick like he could hardly keep his balance. "You know, if he doesn't know, then it's alright, I guess," I offered. "Gray always was a subtle little fuck, it's not likely that many people know of him, unfortunately."
The woman threw her spent cigarette to the tiles and smothered it under a paw. "Alright." She went through her cabinets and filled a shot glass with bleach. Staggering stress had already claimed the better part of the parakeet; his panic, though renewed, was weak-hearted as he was lowered into the glass of the chemical. It came up to his neck as he stood in it, rising higher only when he nearly fell to his knees.
"You're not coming out," the woman said. "Be grateful that you didn't get the microwave or the freezer like your 'friends'. If that's what they were to you." Her deadened eyes turned to me. "You never came to this house. Don't let me find out otherwise."
"I understand. Take care," I said on my way out. I hoped she didn't see my hand shaking as I straightened my hat.
* * *
Lars crumpled a receipt and threw it from his window then took another bite from his hot dog. He checked his watch as Sergo stepped from the house.
The bear rolled down the passenger window. "Come on, man. Been out here ten minutes."
The meerkat got in. "Nothin'."
"Took you all that time to get 'nothing'?" He pulled into the street and accelerated past the limit. "Who the hell lives there?"
"A woman. Wouldn't give me her name."
"So the tip was a waste of gas- you can follow the next one on your own."
"Sorry, man. Bad tips happen."
They turned the corner and headed for the industrial side of town to get some rest. Lars finished his food and after he cast the wrapper from the car, he spoke again. "You know, funny thing about that place. The house you were at."
Sergo's ears perked. "Yeah? What's that?"
"While you were in there, I got a couple more tips suggesting that same place. Popular, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess. Do me a favor, though: next time, I'll go fill up the tank."