Wrong Side of the Law

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

While he waited for Mr. Powell to get back to him, Dirk became better acquainted with the city. He started in the downtown area and discovered there was one building where the bottom three floors were devoted to jewelry stores. He wasn’t certain how he could use that information so filed it away for future consideration. Then he crossed over to the Highlands area—the other section of the city that the bartender had mentioned during Dirk’s first evening in Denver. It was much as he’d expected, an area devoted to both locals and tourists who had the sense to explore beyond the central business district. One thing he did make note of. There seemed to be a strong Italian element there. He knew he was probably stereotyping at the moment, but with reason. While he had lived in New Orleans, he’d heard through a reliable source that there were people in Denver with strong ties to the mob. If that was the truth, he might make it his business to see if he could get in contact with some of the lower echelon individuals involved with it.

Next, he decided to explore East Colfax. It didn’t take him long to figure out from the large police presence that it was a high crime area. From what he could tell much of it involved around drugs. That was something he’d had a fair amount of experience with, from the enforcement side. He’d done several undercover jobs in New Orleans involving drug dealing, including the one that had ended his career as a police officer.

It would be the height of irony if I used my skills to get in with the people who run the drug scene here, and work for, not against them. No, more like it would be turnabout is fair play.

Still, when it came down to it, he wasn’t certain he had it in him to do that. The reason he’d been good at what he’d done was his hatred of the dealers who preyed on the weak and needy. No matter how angry he was at what had happened to him, he knew in the long run he couldn’t override his basic abhorrence of drugs, dealers, and everything involved in that scene.

He ended his tour, for the time being, in Cherry Creek.

Money, honey. Lots of disposable income spent here. Lots of places ripe for the picking with the right crew. Of course it depends on whether Mr. Powell is anything more than a very minor fence making a few dollars on the side. If he’s into it at all, and I think he is, can I convince him to expand his horizons? A good question. And I won’t have a chance to find out the answer until he calls to tell me he’s willing to let me upgrade his security.

That thought reminded him he’d better find a couple of places in the city that sold the sort of items he’d need to actually improve the pawnshop’s protection. Using his new throwaway phone, he did a quick search and discovered a store not too far from where he was living that had what he wanted. So he paid it a visit.

By the time evening rolled around, Dirk was ready to relax over a decent meal and a couple of beers. He’d spotted a place during his walk the night before and decided to give it a shot. As he pushed open the door he was bombarded by a cacophony of music, voices and the sound of a ballgame on the TVs behind the long bar. When a hostess greeted him, he told her he was alone and asked, “Is there anywhere in here even vaguely quiet?”

Laughing, she led him to a booth in a smaller area off the main room, and well away from the pool tables at the far end of the place. It was quieter, but only marginally so. After perusing the menu, he settled on a Rodeo burger, ordering that and a beer when his waitress appeared. Then he settled back to watch the hordes of young people intermingled with a few older couples. It soon became apparent most of the customers were locals and regulars. And the majority of the younger ones were trying to hook up with each other, if he didn’t miss his guess.

“Makes me feel my age,” he murmured just as the waitress set his beer down.

“Twenty…five?” she asked, obviously overhearing him.

“Once. Seven years ago,” Dirk replied with a bit of a smile. “But thanks for the compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant to be one. Well, sort of was. But honest, you really do look in your mid-twenties.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

“I am, but I could have been someone who’s lived in the neighborhood for years and just never come in here.”

“Naw.” She grinned. “Anyone who moves into the area checks the place out in the first few days and then becomes a regular.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Better, because I’m the resident know-it-all.” She winked at him and left to take care of the people at another table.

If you were trying to flirt with me, you’re SOL. He chuckled, taking a pull on his beer. Still, he was flattered on some level. He knew he wasn’t bad looking but he was no match for some of the young men he saw down by the bar. His black hair was cut military short, his nose had a bend in it from being broken by a punk who didn’t like the idea that Dirk planned on dragging him off to jail. He also had a pair of knife scars running up one side and across his back, the result of an attack by a drug dealer while he was undercover. To top it all off, he had the reminder on his bicep of a shootout with a gun-runner trying to escape into the bayou. The joys of the life I led.

For a brief moment he felt real regret that he was no longer a cop. Then he thought about his last day as one and knew he wouldn’t go back into law enforcement come hell or high water. Yeah, I did some things that weren’t quite legal to stop the bastards, but getting those sons-of-bitches off the streets was worth it. And then I get accused of something I didn’t do and…He glared at his clenched hands.

“Sir?”

Dirk looked up to find his waitress standing there, waiting for him to move his arms so she could set down his plate. He did, then thanked her.

“You were off in some bad spot, weren’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess. But I’m back now.”

“Good, because your smile is much nicer than your scowl.”

He chuckled. “That holds true for most people.”

She nodded and left.