The Last Laugh Read online

that the real one?”

  “Works both ways.”

  That it did. I told Ms Parrish about the photograph in the trash. For added security I also mentioned that her secret relied on me getting out of the building unaccompanied. It wouldn’t do for her to imagine her time might be better spent on sending some guards down to my floor.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Meet me in the ladies can on third in five minutes,” she offered.

  I wasn’t too happy with that idea. “The ladies? Isn’t the men’s closer to the street?”

  “You’re not so smart for a detective are you?” she came back at me. “They won’t look for you in the ladies.”

  She had a point.

  Ms Parrish was a man of her word: she handed me the photograph along with a back door out of the DA's building. I even agreed to buy her a drink the next night, provided I could stay out of jail long enough. That was a long shot - by the time I made it back out onto the street every cop in town was already gunning for me. There was only one thing I could do: head to the only place where they wouldn’t be looking for me.

  My luck was in: police headquarters was almost deserted. MacLane had every uniform out on the hunt, hoping to have something to hand the DA by sunrise. As I expected MacLane himself wasn’t out with them. He was as surprised as I was when I pulled the gun on him.

  “Nickel,” he spluttered. “You can’t get away with this. This is going too far, even for you.”

  “Looks like I don’t got much choice. You could always call the dogs off,” I suggested helpfully.

  “You could always turn yourself in.”

  It looked liked we weren’t quite seeing eye to eye yet. Maybe there was something I could do about that.

  “I’ve got something to show you, MacLane.”

  I took the photo from my pocket and tossed it over to him.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “It’s a photo of some clowns.”

  “I can see that.”

  “You asked. Look at the back.”

  MacLane flipped the snapshot over. “Mellinsky?” he questioned.

  “I don’t know what it means, but Melly fixed me up as soon as I showed it to him.”

  MacLane laughed. “You showed this to Mellinksy?! Jesus, Nickel, you are one dumb cop.”

  I took my chance. “So you going to buy a dumb cop some time or what?”

  MacLane couldn’t say it, but I knew he wanted the DA out of his picture as much as the rest of us. If he thought I could make that happen he might just cut me loose.

  He gave me a hard look. “What are you going to do if I don’t?”

  “I might shoot you,” I offered. “If I’m going to jail I may as well do something to earn it.”

  MacLane nodded. “Then get out of here – but stay out of the 39th, that’s where they’ll be after you.”

  I put the gun away. “Thanks Chief.”

  “But you’d better have something by tomorrow night, or I’ll have them hunting you across the whole state.”

  I walked out of the station wondering what I was going to pull for my next trick, seeing as I'd already used up more lives than a stray cat. MacLane had handed me another lifeline, but he would just as quickly hang me out to dry if I didn’t deliver. All I had going for me was that I’d somehow pissed off the DA. I just needed to figure out why.

  I also needed to figure out how to slip by the pair of uniforms that were now heading over to me.

  "Detective Nickel?" one of them asked.

  It wasn't a chance I was about to pass up. "No, that's the other guy."

  The second cop frowned at me. "Which other guy?"

  Suddenly I wasn't so sure if they weren't the ones taking me for a ride. "Uh, Detective Nickel... the other guy," I explained, deciding there was a pretty good chance they really were both as dumb as they looked.

  The first cop was quickly getting out of his depth. "But I thought you were Detective Nickel?"

  I shook my head, pulling a smoke out of my jacket. "No, no - that's the other guy."

  The two cops looked at each other. They were both looking as confused as a preachers in a stripshow. I could tell the first one didn't enjoy feeling stupid - I figured he'd have gotten used it by now. He sized me up again: "Okay, if you're not Nickel who are you?"

  I didn't have time to think about it too hard. The best I could come up with was: "Griffiths, Detective Griffiths."

  The second cop gave his partner a look that would have soured a pint of honey. "You said it was Nickel - you dumbass!"

  The guy shrugged. "I thought it was!" He looked at me contritely, "I guess you must get that a lot, huh?"

  These monkeys were giving me time to enjoy my smoke, so I didn't want to come down too hard on them. "All the damn time, why do you think I work nights?"

  "Figures," the second cop agreed, nodding as if I'd just told him the meaning of life. "Hey, sorry about this - simple mistake, right?"

  "I guess it was," I agreed.

  "So you're not going to report us are you?"

  I took a long, slow drag, just to keep them hanging a bit. "I'll let it go - you're doing a good job, boys, no harm done."

  It was Christmas already for these two, they couldn't stop grinning at me. "Thanks, Detective Griffiths, we owe you, sir. But, listen, if you see that Nickel guy tell him he's under arrest."

  "I'll put out a bulletin."

  That got the first cop all excited. "You can do that?"

  The second cop cuffed him one. "Cut it out," he hushed angrily. "You're gonna make us look stupid in front of Detective Griffiths."

  I put my smoke out and stepped over to the pair of them. "Listen, shouldn't really tell you this, but last I heard on the wire was Nickel was down in the 39th. You two get down there quick you might just get that extra star."

  For a second I thought their legs had frozen to the sidewalk, then they couldn't get out of there fast enough.

  Getting Abbott and Costello out of the picture was a good move, but it still left me facing a dead end. I had the picture, but no names. Sure, I had a name on the back but I wasn't about to start roughing up the DA on the chance of shaking out a lead. That left me with four faces, but all of them were clowned up - the goons may as well have been wearing bags over their heads. I was starting to wish I'd never found the damn thing. I had no leads and most of the precinct was busy hunting me down.

  Then again, I'd had worse nights.

  There was nothing else for it. The photograph was the only clue I had, if it wasn't going to take me anywhere helpful I may as well just call it quits and lock the damn cell door behind me.

  I took look hard look at it. There were four clowns. That part I'd figured out already. They could have been teenagers or wheelchair racers for all I could tell. Other than that I could see a bunch of trees. I suppose if I was a real detective I could have worked out where the photograph was taken by checking the colour of the leaves, but I wasn't that kind of detective. Also the photograph was in black and white.

  I flipped it over. Still had 'Mellinsky' written on the back in black ink, looked like it was done with some sort of felt tip - a black one I was guessing. Then I spotted what I needed. There was something else, something I'd missed before: some handwriting. I huddled under a streetlight trying to make it out. Something had been written in pencil on the back, right up against one corner. It was badly faded, but whoever had written it down had pressed hard enough to leave a mark that was there to stay.

  I ran my finger down the side of the streetlight. Sure enough it came away with a new coating of dirt and grime. I rubbed it over the faded writing and, with a few smart wipes of my cuff, the writing came up clear as day: 'The Street 13/11/34'. It wasn't the smoking gun I was hoping for, but I had a pretty good idea it meant the photo had been printed in an issue of The Daily Street that hit the stands more than 13 years ago.

  I'd left my time machine at home that day so I needed to figure
out another way to check out that old newspaper. It came to me quickly, but I didn't like it: the library kept an archive of old papers dating back to the dinosaurs, or close enough. There were three problems with this. First was the library was closed. Second was the library was in the 39th, which is where every damn cop in the city was looking for me. The third problem, and the real clincher, was that I hated the library.

  I was going to need help, and I knew exactly where to get it.

  Two hours later I found myself looking down at a dead guy. His face was buried in his own dinner. At first I thought he'd been shot, then I realised the red stuff messing up the place was just bolognese sauce. That just left me with one mystery to solve: how had this guy been taken out?

  Thanks to Ms Parrish I already knew why, and I even knew his name.

  I'd cornered her on her way out of the DA's building, and by cornered I meant I hustled her away from the door with a hand over her mouth and dragged her into the nearest alley. It probably hadn't been the best way to guarantee her help, but I'd never been much good at diplomacy. I figured she'd give me a hard time anyway.

  "Detective Nickel, I thought our date was tomorrow?" she'd said. "Or couldn't you wait?"

  I was right - she was going to give me a hard time. "It's already tomorrow, sweets," I said, reminding her that we were in the small hours. "And it's not a date - it's a drink, and don't worry: it'll be on me when the time comes."

  "You're a generous man," she told me.

  "I always bring out the charm when I need help - and right now I need your help."

  "I was under the impression I'd already helped you out of one tight spot. But