GOTHAM SQUARE HERO
by Jim Winter

“Tell me again why you beat that man to death.”

“He wasn't a man.”

“He was...?”

“A demon.”

“A demon?”

“Oh, he looked like a man, but he wasn't.”

“He was a demon.”

“He once was a man.”

“Well, the ME agrees with you on that point.  He's not a man anymore.”

“Not since the demon ate him.”

“Ate him?”

“Scooped out his insides, ate them, and wore what was left like a suit.”

“And you know this because...”

“Because he went hunting for souls.”

“So let me get this straight.  You beat a man to death because he wasn't a man.  He was a demon who ate the real man and wore his skin for a suit.”

“Exactly.”

“And he went hunting for souls on Gotham Square.”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand why I'm having trouble with your story?”

“I do.  The truth is hard for the mundane to hear.”

“The mundane?”

“Those who don't see the world for what it really is.”

“Some would say the White House is pretty mundane.”

“Oh, temporal power like that is really irrelevant.”

“I have a nephew in Afghanistan who might disagree with you.”

“Tell him to watch out for demons in man suits.”

“I'll pass that along.  So what was this demon doing that prompted you to kill him?”

“Eating souls.”

“You mentioned that.  What specifically set you off?”

“I told you.  He was eating souls.”

*****

“What's the coroner's ruling?”

“Is that a joke?  What do you think?”

“Well, I assume it involves blunt trauma.”

“Understatement of the year.”

“Any word on who our vic is?

“Got me.  I'm just a humble city cop trying not to get sent to walk a beat on Holland Island.  What's our boy's name?  He looks familiar.”

“His name is Derek.”

“Derek?”

“That's his name.”

“Derek what?”

“So far, we don't know.  The prints haven't come back yet.”

“If it's the Derek I'm thinking of, the prints should have come back by now.”

“Go see what the holdup is.  It shouldn't take three hours to eliminate the cops and ex-military.”

“You mean the vic or Derek?”

“Both.”

*****

“Tell me more about this demon.”

“He was eating souls.”

“How does he eat souls?”

“He attacks people, beats them into submission.  When they're paralyzed by fear, he sucks out their life force.”

“Derek...  Can I call you Derek?”

“If I can call you Jeff.”

“I prefer Detective Keegan.”

“Might make this go smoother.”

“Okay, Derek.  Call me Jeff.  More importantly, call a lawyer.  You do realize that this conversation is being recorded and can be used as evidence against you in a court of law.  Right?”

“Temporal courts do not concern me.”

“Of course not.  They're...  What was that word you used?”

“Mundane.”

“Right.  Mundane.  Well, you have the right to a mundane attorney.”

“Noted.  But I have a higher power protecting me.”

“Is that why you beg for change from the office workers on Gotham Square...?”

“I merely accept tribute from my subjects.”

“Your subjects?”

“Do you not recognize me, Jeff?”

“You look like the lead singer for that British prog band.”

“Radiohead?”

“The other one.  The one with the kid in the band uniform.”

“Pink Floyd?”

“Whatever.  So who are you?”

“I am the Duke of Monticello.”

“I think the mayor might be surprised to learn that.”

“Oh, the mayor consults me all the time.”

“Oh, really.  Can you get me a raise, Your Highness?”

“I really can't, Jeff.  I come to her in her dreams.  In my discorporeal form, I cannot discuss such mundane subjects.  I am beyond the flesh then.”

“I need a cigarette.”

*****

“Keegan, what's taking so long with that suspect?”

“Our boy is a little unhinged, Sarge.  Told me he was the Duke of the city.”

“Of course, he's unhinged.  He beat a man to death in broad daylight on Gotham Square.”

“He says he slew a demon.”

“Uh-huh.  Already starting on the insanity plea?”

“I advised him of his rights.”

“And?”

“He says the courts are 'mundane' and 'temporal.'”

“Give me his sheet.”

“We don't have it yet.”

“Didn't you print him?”

“Haven't come back yet.”

“Jesus, it's a wonder the city hasn't ground to a halt.  Let me call down there.  Where's that woman who witnessed the murder?”

“Room four with Gordo.”

“You're leaving Pearson alone with a frightened woman?”

“I'm letting my partner interview a witness while I talk to the suspect.  You don't think he can handle it?”

“I think he's going to try and get in her pants.”

*****

“Can I get you anything else, Ms. Newcombe?”

“Please, call me Julie.  And I'm fine.”

“OK, Julie, let's go through this one more time.  Make sure we have all the details.”

“How many more times do we have to go through this again, Detective?”

“Gordo.”

“How many, Detective?”

“Last time.  I promise.  Just tell me once more what happened.”

“I was walking across the square to work.”

“In the Ebersole Tower?”

“That's right.”

“And you came from...?”

“The Starbucks in the Bixby Building.”

“The one facing Musgrave Avenue or the one down in the subway terminal?”

“What difference does that make?  I came out of the Bixby Building.”

“I'm trying to retrace your path.”

“The one at street level.  Musgrave, I guess.  Anyway, I get halfway across the square, and this guy tackles me.”

“Would that be the one we arrested?”

“No, the one he killed.”

“So the victim tackled you.”

“Victim?  Detective, I was the one attacked.”

“Right, but he's the one who died.”

“Whatever.  He tackled me, put a knife to my throat, and told me to give up my purse.”

*****

“He was attacking the queen.”

“The queen?”

“Do you not pay attention to these things, Jeff.  She is the queen.”

“Of Monticello?”

“Of Earth.”

“Okay, that's it.  Who is she?  Really?”

“She's the queen of Earth.  She merely poses as one of my subjects to make sure I'm not oppressing them.”

“So the name Julie Newcombe is...?”

“Is an identity she assumes to move freely among us.”

“What's her real name, then?”

“It's ineffable.”

“Effie for short.”

“You will not blaspheme the queen's name!”

“Everything all right in there, Detective Keegan?”

“Keep an eye on this nutjob.  I gotta go talk to the sergeant.”

*****

“Well, your boy's right.  The deceased was a demon.  Sort of.”

“How?”

“Read this.”

“Armed robbery, aggravated assault, attempted rape, aggravated menacing...  Why was he free again?”

“Good behavior.”

“What about our suspect?”

“They're working on it.  Some jackass decided to call a staff meeting without leaving anyone down in the lab to work the hot cases.”

“Tell them to match prints with the Duke of Monticello.”

“Open mike is tonight at The Laugh Machine.  Save it for them.”

*****

“The suspect calls you 'The Queen.'  Did you know that?”

“He's always called me 'm'lady,' but I've never heard him call me a queen.”

“Do you know him?”

“No.”

“Not even in passing.”

“Oh.  Well, yeah.  If you work on Gotham Square, you know Derek.”

“Hit you up for change.”

“Well, no.  At least not since last winter.”

“What happened last winter?”

“I was in Starbucks and I saw him out there on the square at the foot of the statue.  He was shivering, was wearing an old Cleveland Browns jacket that was too light for the weather.  It broke my heart.”

“Ma'am, the homeless practically live on Gotham Square.  Or they 'work' there, anyway.  Why this guy?”

“I don't know.  He seemed so sad. Like he was running away from someone.  He'd never get near any of the mounted cops.  In fact, they sort of left him alone after he'd been showing up for awhile.”

“So what did you do that earned you a free pass from the morning's panhandling quota?”

“I brought him out a hot chocolate.”

“And he stopped begging for change.”

“He stopped taking it.  He'd walk me across the square every morning after that.  And if I tried to give him change or a dollar or two, he'd push my hand back and say, 'Oh, no, m'lady.  I'm not worthy.'”

“Be nice if more of them would take that attitude.”

“Well, you have to know Derek.”

*****

“Does the name Richard Loring mean anything to you, Derek?”

“No.  Is that who the demon ate?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Then I mourn for Mr. Loring.”

“But not for the man you killed this morning.”

“That was not a man.  That was not Richard Loring.  That was only a shell.”

“And that makes it all okay.”

“It makes all the difference in the world.”

“The prosecutor won't see it that way.”

“The prosecutor does not concern me.”

*****

“So what happened next, Julie?”

“After that man attacked me?”

“Yes.”

“It was hard to say.  He pushed me behind one of those shrubs along the edge of the green and piled on top of me.  God, his breath smelled.  Smelled like garlic and eggs.”

“And then?”

“He told me to give up my money.  I said he could have it.  He started to say he was going to 'do' me, and I felt him push my skirt up.”

“Take your time.  We won't go through this again today.”

“I tried to scream, but he put his hand across my mouth.  I tried to bite him, and then...  And then...”

“Is this when he stopped?...  Ms. Newcombe?...  Julie?”

“I felt something lift him off of me.  When I rolled over to see, Derek was hitting the man with a baseball bat.”

“Did the man try to fight back?”

“He tried to knife Derek.”

“And?”

“He said something about slaying a demon.  And he swung the bat at the man's skull as hard as he could.”

“You're sure about the knife?”

“Detective Pearson, the damn thing was at my throat.  What do you think?”

*****

“He refuses to budge, Gordo.  No matter what I ask him, he says he's the Duke of the city come to slay demons.”

“Newcombe says she saw Loring try to knife the guy after he pulled her off of her.”

“It's an easy clearance.”

“No, it's a guaranteed clearance, not an easy one.  We have to have a reason to change Loring's name from red to black on the board.”

“Derek is bat shit insane?”

“Try selling the insanity plea to Lieutenant Carter.  He'll go ape shit.”

“Don't repeat this to anyone.”

“I'm listening.”

“Fuck the loot.  That guy in Room 3 is certifiable.”

*****

“Hello, Derek, I'm Detective Pearson.”

“Just 'detective?'”

“Derek, we've just met.  I don't give out my first name until the third date.”

“I mean you're still only a detective?”

“Only?”

“After the Joey Tran case, you should be running your own narcotics unit.”

“Well, Derek, since you seem to know all about me, why don't you tell me your name?”

“Derek.”

“Your full name.”

“Oh.  I am Duke Derek I, Lord Protector of Monticello, Grand Prince of Shawnee County, and Non-temporal Governor of Ohio.”

“What about America?”

“Who?  Barack Obama?  He's an gas bag.”

“I hear that a lot from the Tea Baggers.  So, Your Highness...”

“Call me Derek.  Titles are so intimidating.”

“Okay, Derek, how do you know who I am, but not Detective Keegan.”

“I know of Detective Keegan.  I merely chose not to reveal that to him.”

“And you know us how...?”

“Caanan is a tight little neighborhood, isn't it?  People fear the cops almost as much as they fear the gangs among them.”

“And you know this because...”

“Because Caanan was my trial by fire, Gordo.  The test I had to pass.”

“What test?”

“To become Duke.”

*****

“Are you Detective Keegan?”

“Yes.”

“These are from the crime lab.  And Dr. Latrobe apologizes for the delay.”

“Tell Latrine I said thanks.”

“Latrobe.”

“Not when he dicks us on a murder...  Oh, my God.  Sarge!”

*****

“Insanity defense?  Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“No.  Here.  Read that.”

“Derek Richards, last known address Wyandot Mental Health Facility...  Okay, so he's a nutjob.”

“An escaped nutjob.  Apparently, he wandered away from the Wyandot grounds last summer.”

“So why didn't they pick him up?”

“Same reason the retards in city hall are trying to lay off two hundred cops.  Budget cuts.”

“Wait a minute.  They couldn't afford to get a dangerous man off the streets?”

“Hey, we've been Manhattanizing Monticello for the last five years.  Why not adopt New York's homeless program.”

“Er...  Keegan, they round up the homeless in New York, not dump them in Central Park to wander the city unchecked.”

“My bad.  I hate New York anyway.  Read on.”

“Mostly harmless.  Except when he beats a man to death.”

“Sarge, I'd love to get a conviction on this as much as you.  More so, just so I can flip the loot off he retires.”

“Don't say that too loud.”

“Sorry.”

“And flip him one for me, too.”

“Skip to the end of the report.”

“And I'm looking for...  That was him?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he's been wandering around homeless since last summer?”

“Yeah.  With the thanks of an ungrateful city.”

“That was about the time Pearson took a bullet.”

“Same operation, I think.  Different teams.”

“Gimme your badge.”

“What'd I do?”

“You'll get it back, or I'll replace it.  Gimme your badge.”

“Here.  Might as well rehearse for when they lay me off.”

*****

“Pearson, go get us some coffees.  Double cream, no sugar for are man here.”

“Sarge?”

“You having hearing problems, Detective?  Coffee.  And make mine black.”

“Like my women?”

“Remind me to tell your wife about that.”

“You want fries with that, Sarge?”

“Go.  Hello, Derek.  My name is Sergeant Landsman.”

“I know that name.”

“Really?  I use to walk a beat in Oldetown.  I understand you started out there, too.”

“Long ago.  In another life.”

“Seems like another life for me, too.  Nothing but fudgepackers and yuppies to mind.  Almost as dull as Holland Island.”

“Why is Holland Island considered exile?  It's a lovely place.”

“Yeah, as long as the stink from the Eastern Shore Fill doesn't drift inland.  Anyway, it's hard to make a big case in a borough where racial tension means the whites want to put a Wal-Mart up too close to Freedomville to drive down the blacks' property values.”

“It is an idyllic place.  I must go there more.”

“Derek, I hope they never send you there unless it's to retire.  Here.”

“What's this?”

“Your badge.”

“My badge?”

“Derek...  Detective Richards, we know what happened to you.  And it was wrong.”

“Nothing happened to me.  That battle in Caanan was my test of fire, my trial.”

“It was a clusterfuck of epic proportions, and whether you can remember this or not, it was never your fault that family got shot up during the raid.”

“We captured them.  Captured all the barbarians.”

“Yes.  Yes, you did.  After they opened fire on that passing minivan.  Do you remember?”

“I remember their leader was a demon.”

“You called him a demon.  I talked to your old sergeant.  He said Olan Rucker got a '666' tattoo just to taunt you, and you started calling him a demon.”

“He was a demon.”

“We know, Derek, we know.”

“I killed him.  And now I am Duke.”

“We know.  But, Your Majesty, it's not safe for you out here anymore.”

“I fear no mortal...”

“Nevertheless, Monticello needs its Duke.  And that Duke must be protected.  Just as you protected the queen.”

“The queen?”

“Take the badge.”

“Why?”

“Yeah.  We want to hide you by disguising you as a...  a...”

“A knight?”

“Yes.  Exactly.  A knight.”

“Yet I am still the Duke.”

“Of course.”

“But if I take the badge...”

“You'll fool the demons.  Go on.  Take it.  We've arranged transport for you to a safe secure location.”

“My...  badge...”

“Welcome home, Officer Richards.  Nice to have our hero back.”

The Duke started to cry.  He hadn't stopped by the time he reached Wyandot.

THE END

BIO: JIM WINTER is, by day, a mild-mannered IT drone for an insurance company.  By night, he is an overburdened middle-aged college sophomore and writer of thrilling tales whose work has appeared in Plots With Guns, Spinetingler, and Thug Lit.  He also reviews for Mystery Scene and January Magazine.  Jim lives in Cincinnati with his wife, Juanita, and stepson.  Check out his blog Edged in Blue.