“Holy fuckin’ shit, was that gunshots?!” I whip around, peering cautiously in the direction of the sequence of loud pops that just rung out. The primal part of my brain causes me to hunch over slightly, ready to tear off in the opposite direction the moment I see a gun come into view. I ain’t about to fuck around with-

A clatter startles me a second time and I spin to face the sudden racket. The velociraptor lady’s grocery bag is strewn on the ground, a package of hamburger buns bouncing a few inches away. I think her tail swept em’ off the bench, and now she’s on her feet and darting… towards the gunshots?!

Every rational part of me tells me to let this broad charge headfirst to her suicide all by herself. Every iota of my survival instinct screams at me to put as much distance between myself and the nearby danger that’s made itself known as humanly possible. But… for some reason, I don’t. Instead, my legs carry me in the same direction as this blue-tinted dinosaur woman.

Despite my body refusing to obey my primal drive to protect my own life, my throat manages to vocalize my disagreement towards the raptor. “Are you fuckin’ crazy, lady?! Usually you go in the opposite direction of gunshots!”

She continues charging forward. “I’m a cop!”

“... Holy shit, really?! Well, then, go get the bastard!” I, uh… well, I didn’t realize this lady was a cop. She’s in pretty normal work attire, but… maybe that’s her “after shift” change of clothes? Or before shift, even? I don’t know a thing about this woman but… hell, hopefully she’ll know how to defuse this situation.

She turns her head towards me as I run after her. “This is dangerous, you shouldn’t be-”

My sudden stop causes her to pause and face forward again. We’ve arrived at the scene of the shooting, and… it’s a human. A human fella got shot. He sits propped against the brick wall of the alleyway across from us, clutching his chest and trying to prevent as much blood from leaking out of his torso as he can. He’s already as white as a ghost, and tries gurgling something at us but can’t form the words past the fluid clogging his throat.

The raptor next to me immediately darts further down the turn in the alley, shouting at me as she goes. “Get him help! I’m going after the suspect!”

I try to acknowledge her orders, but nothing comes out. Much like this poor guy, I find myself unable to form a sentence. Instead I slowly step towards him, frantically scanning my brain for any sort of help I can offer. Do I apply pressure? Do I make a tourniquet? Do I get this guy a hot dog and a beer so he can enjoy something before he fuckin’ dies? I don’t know what to do. I glance around, but nobody else is here. Nobody else investigated the gunshots. Nobody is calling for help.

It’s just me… and this dying stranger. I can only stare down at him in disbelief and shock. I feel awful for being unable to help him in some way, but… I’m just an average guy. I’m not a doctor, a combat medic or a priest. I don’t have any morphine to give him or absolution to offer him. All I can do is watch him struggle to cling to the last few moments of life he’s got left.

With what I’m sure is immeasurable difficulty, the man limply waves me closer. I oblige his request, stepping towards him and kneeling down next to his resting place, my leg coming dangerously close to the pool of blood collecting underneath his legs. He doesn’t try speaking, already realizing the futility of his attempts. Instead, he raises his hand and points a single finger towards a small crevice in the alleyway. It’s an odd junction between two buildings, not quite an alley of its own due to abruptly ending in the supporting wall of one of the adjacent structures, and only receding into the edge of the alley by about six feet. Partially split open garbage bags are packed into the strange divet, their contents strewn and obliterated by weather and wildlife.

I look back to him, perplexed by his gesture, but he adamantly points towards the space, his quaking finger calling out… not the trash in the alcove, but… something else.

An odd slurry of both shock and curiosity causes my legs to carry me towards the grotto. I know I should be running for help, or cradling this man while he certainly breathes his last, but the look of hopeless sincerity in his eyes forces me to follow his guidance. Traveling about thirty feet down the alley to the crevice, I peer deeper into it. If it’s something buried in this trash heap, I’ll be here for a while trying to find whatever it is, but…

I cautiously climb over the garbage, my legs sinking into God knows what beneath me, wrapped within decayed plastic bags. The smell is musty and ancient, but thankfully nothing explodes and coats my clothes with rotten filth. I have to turn sideways to squeeze into the opening; a larger form would have zero chance of fitting into this claustrophobia made manifest. I turn once more to look towards my guide; he still clings to life, continuing to point, nodding encouragement in my direction.

Turning back, I shuffle another few feet into the passage. I feel movement by my work boots, almost certainly rats making a break for it. Thank God I ain’t squeamish about the little pests. I do my best to scan the area for anything that would be so important to this guy that he’d ask me to retrieve it for him, or maybe he’s-

A particular brick set into the wall catches my attention. From a distance, nothing about it seemed peculiar, but now that I’m only a few inches away from it…

I reach out and poke at it. It doesn’t budge. I slide my fingers into the tiny spaces on either side of the stone and try pulling it…

Ah. That did it. The brick slides loose, revealing a small opening. Inside is a pile of envelopes, some white and some brown, hastily jammed into the hiding spot. Many are bent and some have started coming open. I reach into the hole in the wall, drawing out one in particular near the front of the pile that caught my attention.

On the face of the envelope rests a single word, scrawled in thick, black lines. The handwriting is unmistakably that of my boss, Sal Fontana.

“Dues”.

It takes a moment for me to register that my mouth hangs slack open as I stare at the word. I slowly lift my eyes to look at the roughly two dozen other envelopes, all similarly stuffed with assorted bills. My hand quakes as I pull open the paper flap and peer inside. Twenties and fifties. Probably close to a hundred bills. My brow furrows as I do some quick math… this has gotta be… close to two thousand bucks, if not more. And there’s so many more envelopes, equally stuffed with-

The sound of an approaching siren snaps me out of the moment. My head whips towards the alley, then back at the stash. In a panic, I cram the envelope back into the hole and replace the brick, careful to set it as neatly flush against the wall as it was before. I scramble out of the trash pile, stumbling a bit as a bag catches around my ankle. I kick some of the strewn garbage back into the alcove after I exit, trying to make it look less apparent that someone was rooting around in there. Stepping back and staring at the literal trove I was just shown, I can’t help but whistle.

“Holy shit, man. I don’t know if you put that there or if you found a fuckin’ treasure map, but that is some serious…”

I turn back to the man as I speak. He no longer holds his finger pointing towards a stockpile of more money than I’ve ever seen before in my life. Instead, his arm rests on the ground, partially helping to prop his lifeless torso in its seated final pose. The eyes that only moments ago desperately clung to the spark of his soul now stare purposelessly at the concrete below him.

I find myself unable to move. All I can do is stand and stare. As the reality of what I’m looking at sets in, a place deep in my stomach tries to churn, insisting that I vomit. The fact that I skipped lunch turns the reaction into nothing more than a dry heave, but I feel the color drain from my skin all the same.

As I straighten up from my doubled over position and wipe nothing but a little drool from my chin, I force myself to look at the dead man again. Who was this guy? What was his name? What did he do to deserve getting shot in the middle of the day?

… Did it have something to do with that money? It… had to have, right?

I absent-mindedly stare at the hiding spot as I feel a hand come to rest on my shoulder. I feel like I should be on high fuckin’ alert right now, but I barely even flinch. I turn to acknowledge who it is… the raptor lady again. She seems to be favoring one leg, and her pretty dress is all sorts of fucked up now. Whether she took a nasty tumble or got in a fist fight with a golem, she looks worse for wear. She stares down at the body, a sort of sad look in her eyes. She did say she’s a cop, so she’s probably seen a body before. In this city, unless she just started yesterday, there’s no way she hasn’t.

The sirens have arrived, joined by the sounds of car doors being thrown open and orders being barked. The woman squeezes my shoulder lightly before speaking. “The cops are here. They’re gonna ask you a bunch of questions, but don’t panic, alright?” Christ. I’m standing over a dead body with a cop next to me. I hope that’s enough of an alibi for them to not shoot me to death right here and now.

Her eyes meet mine, their yellow hue glistening in the traces of light that make their way past the buildings surrounding us. For some reason… in those eyes, I’m able to find a little bit of calmness. She gives me a gentle smile. “I’m Aubrey Carter. I never got your name, fellow jazz enthusiast.”

I do my best to return her gesture. “... Samuel. Samuel Lawson.”

Before she can say another word, the wind is knocked out of me as a fuckin’ freight train slams into me and crushes me into the concrete below. A chorus of shouts for me to “get on the ground” and “stop resisting” join the angels that sing sweetly within my thoroughly rung bell. Somewhere through the thick of it all, I hear the protestations of…

Aubrey. She said her name was Aubrey.

… That’s a really pretty name. I like it.

A pair of greenish hands roughly pulls me up to my feet, only partially helping to stabilize the spinning world around me. The speed lever on the phonograph in my head slowly ratchets up, the noise around me becoming clearer and more understandable as my brain stops sliding around in my skull.

“- just said, you fuckin’ knuckleheads! He was with me! He ain’t a suspect!” Aubrey seems pissed. That’s nice of her. I attempt to focus on her but there’s about three or four half-transparent Aubreys sorta rotating around one another. I think I need to sit down.

I try to bring my hands up to wipe some of the stars away from my eyes, but they don’t budge from behind my back. It takes a moment to process the metal restraints fastening my wrists together and the absolute vice grip of fingers and claws that hold my arm in place.

The voice attached to the claws speaks gruffly towards Aubrey. “You’re tellin’ me this skinnie was just standin’ around and didn’t have nothin’ to do with another skinnie gettin’ shot in an alleyway?”

Aubrey sounds completely incensed now. “First off, can the shit with callin’ him that word. He’s an innocent bystander that just saw another human die. Second, yes, I am sayin’ that. He was talkin’ to me at the bus stop and we both heard the gunshots. I almost caught up to the shoo-” She cuts herself off, hesitating before finishing her sentence more quietly than she began it. “... the suspect.”

A moment of silence, then… laughter. Uproarious laughter from the cop holding my arm as well as the other two who are standing nearby. “You… hahaha! You actually chased someone? No wonder your clothes are completely fucked! Miss Carter, desk jockey tryin’ to play cops and robbers! Hey, how’s that bum knee of yours workin’ out for ya?”

Aubrey looks down at the ground, her cheeks brightening in embarrassment. Her tail wraps around her stomach and her hands unconsciously move to cradle its feathered tip. So she’s… not a cop.

Suddenly, her eyes widen. She lets her tail fall back to its resting position before looking up at the guy holding my arm in defiance. “I didn’t get a good look at the suspect, but I saw a tail. The suspect was a dinosaur, not a human.”

Though his laughter has stopped, the cop still speaks in an overly condescending tone. “Well, that helps us narrow it down, don’t it? Why don’t you leave the police work to actual cops, you daffy broad? Speaking of…” He roughly spins me around to face him, staring menacingly into my eyes. The green ridges on the dilophosaurus’s head push aside the neatly trimmed black hair that makes itself visible under the sides of his uniquely shaped police cap. “We got some questions for you. You’re comin’ back to the station.”

All I can do is nod in acknowledgement. As he shoves me in the direction of the squad cars, three more pull up to join the two that had already parked. Officers begin piling out of them, immediately shooing away rubber-necking pedestrians who are suddenly interested in the scene now that there’s a police presence. One cop pulls a strand of yellow tape across the entrance of the alley that reads “Crime Scene - Do Not Cross”.

Another dinosaur, a spinosaurus fella, throws open the back door of the police car and shoots me a wicked-looking grin. The few times I’ve seen a guy get arrested, they at least help him into the backseat, being careful that the fella doesn’t hit his head on the way in. I guess I didn’t warrant such care; the big dilophosaurus bastard hucks me into the car like a bag of golf clubs. A few moments later, all three of us are on our way to the station.

I’ve never been arrested before. Sure, I’ve had cops shoot me dirty looks now and then, and the neighbors called ‘em on us a few times on nights when the fight between me and my ex turned into a competition of “who can scream louder” and “who can huck more of the other person’s shit out of the bedroom window”, but… this is my first time being in irons and getting hauled in. I’ve got no clue what’s gonna happen. For all I know, they could toss me in a cell and let me rot. If I don’t get out before my shift tomorrow, I’m losing my job for sure. Christ, what do I do? What am I…

I try to shake off the paranoia. I didn’t do anything wrong. I think back to Aubrey’s words. Don’t panic. Just answer their questions honestly. I’ll be okay.

The chair nearly comes out from underneath me as I’m forcefully tossed onto it by the surly dilophosaurus. My hands are still bound behind my back as I glance around the room, a single table and a few chairs being the only furnishings in this desolate concrete space. The light of a solitary bulb above us illuminates the hopelessness of this space… it’s an interrogation room. I remember seeing ‘em on that TV show, TrawlNet. When a suspect is brought in here… they usually don’t make it out without having confessed to their crimes.

As my eyes come to focus on the dinosaur that’s been man-handling me so far, I catch the name on his badge: “Duffy”. The other guy with him, the spinosaurus, wears the name “Preston” on his chest. Unlike Duffy, Preston’s badge practically sparkles, as if the thing was just minted yesterday.

Preston’s eyes flash at me menacingly before he turns to Duffy. “So, what do we get to do now? Rough him up a bit? We need to get him to talk, right?” His hand slides across the nightstick that hangs at his hip in a grotesquely sensual manner. If this guy has his way, I’m fuckin’ dead.

Duffy narrows his eyes at the spinosaurus. “Don’t be an idiot, Preston. We only do that if he doesn’t cooperate with us.” He turns my way, a sly grin tugging at the sides of his mouth. “... You are gonna cooperate with us, ain’t ya?”

In the back of my mind, I want to make a snarky remark about how it seems to be in my best interest, considering my hands are still shackled behind my back and I’m in a room with two stacks of muscles who could pretty easily kick the shit out of me… but I opt for a simple stuttered reply instead. “Y-yeah… of course…”

Preston leans against the wall next to the door and crosses his arms, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in clear disapproval of my willingness to cooperate. Duffy grabs one of the other chairs and takes a seat across from me. He scans me up and down before he begins his interrogation. “So… what exactly was a skinnie like you doin’ standing over a dead body?”

I do my best to steel my resolve against his penetrating gaze. I’m innocent, I just have to convince these guys of it. “I was on my way home from work. I heard the gunshots while I was near the alley where it connects to 46th Street.”

“So you just happened to be walkin’ by when a man got shot dead, is that right?”

“... Yeah, that’s right.”

Preston snorts. Duffy merely rolls his eyes. “Well, forgive me for finding that a little hard to believe. Because, you see… most people go in the opposite direction of gunshots. That is, unless they’re soldiers.” He crosses his arms. “You a soldier, skinnie?”

I avert my look to focus on the floor in front of me. “No, sir.”

“Then let me repeat my question. Why were you standin’ over that dead body?”

These guys are just tryin’ to get into my head. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just need to be honest. “I… had stopped to talk to that velociraptor woman. Aubrey, she said her name was. At the bus stop. Few seconds later, the gunshots were goin’ off.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

At this, Preston leans closer, a wicked sneer revealing his lethal-looking teeth. “And what, exactly, would compel a skinnie like you to talk to a bull dyke like her?”

Bull d- … a lesbian? I… didn’t get that impression from her… A pit forms in my stomach upon hearing the words, but I do my best to shake off the feeling. “She was hummin’ a jazz tune that I know. I recognized it, and stopped to mention it.”

At this, Duffy lets out a long breath through pursed lips and crosses his arms. He turns to Preston. “Well… that much checks out. That loopy dame never has her station set to anything but that fuckin’ mess of noise.”

Without thinking, I blurt out the words. “It’s not fuckin’ noise, it’s music.”

Both of the other sets of eyes in the room lock back onto me. I sincerely wish they had cuffed my ankles together, too, because it would have prevented me from so thoroughly inserting my boot into my own mouth. I feel my cheeks flush red as Duffy stands. “Then again, I don’t know that I’m buyin’ the story. You skinnies are always shootin’ each other without reason. Dunno why you’d just stand there instead of runnin’ away, but hey. Made our jobs easier, didn’t it?” He turns to Preston who chuckles at Duffy’s words.

I balk. “I-I don’t have a gun!”

Duffy shrugs at this. “Awful lot of garbage in that alleyway, lots of places you coulda dumped a piece. We’ll have to dig around for a while, but when it turns up, your goose will be well and truly fucked.”

His words make me freeze in place. The alley. The money. If they go searching top to bottom, they could easily find it. And if they do-

The wicked grin reappears on Preston’s face. “If you just confess to doin’ it, this would all go a lot easier for ya.”

I try to bring a hand up to wipe the moisture that’s accumulating on my brow, but the handcuffs make this a difficult prospect. Raptor Christ, between the heat and the pressure, I’m sweating like a whore in church. What the hell do I have to say to prove to these guys I’m innocent?! “Y-you guys heard Aubrey! She’s a… she works for the police, doesn’t she? You said yourself that she’s a desk jockey.”

Duffy frowns at this. “... Yeah, she is. She ain’t a fuckin’ cop though.”

“But she still works for you. Why would she lie about me to you?”

This causes him to pause. He glances down, running his thumb and forefinger across the bottom of his snout in contemplation. Before he can come up with an answer, however, Preston provides one. “It wouldn’t surprise me if a bitch that likes horrible skinnie music would try to protect a skinnie. Allegiance is a funny thing, ain’t it?”

Duffy glances over at Preston, taking his words into consideration. Though he doesn’t seem fully convinced, he shrugs. “Well, I don’t think we’re gonna get any further today. I say we let you stew in a cell for a few days. See if it jogs your memory at all.”

No. I can’t- I’ll fuckin’ get fired! I can’t lose my job! I try to open my mouth to vocalize these points in protest, but no words come out. As Duffy stands and hoists me from my chair, the door of the room suddenly swings open violently. On the other side of the portal, a pterodactyl man with brown, leathery wings, an orange crest and a hell of a scowl flashes his teeth at the two officers. His voice is booming and authoritative. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Duffy’s grip on me immediately releases as he faces the pterodactyl. “Commissioner?! We were just-”

He is unable to finish the sentence. “Uncuff him this instant.”

Begrudgingly, Duffy turns towards me. The look in his eyes is one of pure hatred. He forcefully rotates me away from him, grabbing the iron links around my wrists and sliding a small key into each, unlocking and removing the restraints in the process. My hands now unbound, I bring them in front of my body, gently rubbing the sore skin where the metal had been cutting off my circulation.

The pterodactyl steps aside and points down the hall, still focusing on the two officers in the room. “Out.”

They both oblige his request, Preston shooting me one last cruel, toothy smile before disappearing from eyesight. After watching them travel down the hallway for a moment, the pterodactyl man who I know from Duffy’s identification to be the commissioner steps into the room, letting out a heavy sigh as he meets my eyes. “... Carter filled me in. You’re not being charged with anything.”

I’m caught off guard by all of this, merely staring blankly towards the pterosaur for a moment before shaking the surprise away. “Y-you mean… I’m-”

“You’re free to go.” He purses his lips. It seems like he wants to say something else, but stops himself. Instead, he simply steps aside and points down the hall in the opposite direction of where Duffy and Preston traveled. “Staircase on your right will take you to the ground floor.”

I’m not staying here a second longer than I need to. “Th-thank you, sir!” With a quick nod, I hustle past the commissioner and up the stairs he directed me towards. Thank God. I thought I was gonna be spending the next few days in a cell for some shit I didn’t even do. But… why did the commissioner suddenly come in and rescue my ass? He said it was… Carter?

Just as my mind puts two and two together, I arrive at the top of the stairs. In the lobby of the police station, seated on one of the benches near the entrance, is the same blue velociraptor woman I met earlier. The grocery bag that had been perched next to her at the bus stop once again rests by her side, though the bag has a noticeable rip in it that allows some of the groceries within to peek out of their small brown prison.

Aubrey…

Aubrey Carter. That’s right, Carter was her last name. She… she stuck up for me to the commissioner and got my ass bailed out. Her head turns my direction just as I come into view; she springs to her feet, still seeming to favor her left leg as she offers me an apologetic smile. “Samuel! Raptor Jesus, you’re alright! I’m sorry they did this to you!”

I shrug and smirk as I approach, afforded an air of unearned confidence now that I’m not sweating my balls off and shackled in the dark dungeon. “Hey, it’s no problem. They just questioned me was all. Besides… I had some good advice going into it. Thank you for that.”

She blinks, confused for a moment as to what I meant before smiling again. She has a really nice smile. “Oh, that. I’m… glad you were able to keep your cool.”

“Dunno about all that. Honestly, I got you to thank for putting in a good word for me with that pissed off pterodactyl fella.”

“That pterodactyl fella is Commissioner Aaron. He’s a good man. Wouldn’t have let that happen to you if he knew what was going on right away. It’s…” She trails off for a moment, glancing around to see if anyone is nearby and listening. Noting that the coast is clear, she leans a little closer and speaks quietly. “It can be rough around here. Some of the officers can be… assholes.”

I chuckle, quickly cutting myself off when I notice the look she shoots me. “Tryin’ to keep the sentiment on the down-low, sure, sure. I just… well, I got first hand experience with that now is all. Present company excluded, o’course.”

At this, Aubrey turns her eyes downwards and lets out a sigh. Her tail twitches, bringing its tip up towards her front, seeming to beg to be held by her. She doesn’t accept its request, instead fastening her gaze to mine again. “I’m sorry about lying to you about being a cop… I… shouldn’t have done that.”

My hand moves to the back of my neck. “Well… you weren’t being entirely dishonest with it. You do work for the police, right?”

She nods. “Yeah, but I do clerical work. I’m… trying to become a police officer.”

“Ahh, I heard about that. They’re letting women into those police programs now, aren’t they? Think I read about it in the paper, some precincts here in Old York are already getting lady officers.” I scrunch my nose. “What are they gonna be called? Policewomen?”

She gives a small smile. “I suppose so. But, still. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I might have put you in danger. That’s… not what a cop is supposed to do.” Her tail beckons her to cradle it again, and this time she obliges, putting her hands around its feathered end and holding it in embarrassment.

I do my best to shrug it off. “Hey, don’t sweat it, Aubrey. You were trying to do the right thing. Cop or not, that’s admirable. Besides, you had me there with you!” I pause. “... Erm… not that I woulda been any good, mind you. But, hey. I’m great at providing moral support.”

This finally gets her to laugh, causing her posture to relax and her tail to return to its place behind her. Her smile is bright and her laugh is enchanting. “You are an odd one, Samuel Lawson! But thank you for the moral support!”

I can’t help but chuckle along. “Happy to be of service!” I glance down at her dirtied dress and bloodied knees. “Though… I wish I coulda been of more help, by the looks of it. You alright?”

She brushes some of the hair from her face. “Mmhmm, no big deal. It’s just a dress. I took a bad fall while pursuing the suspect.” I glance down at her shoes, noticing she’s not wearing heels so I’m unsure what might have caused her to take a dive. The cops at the scene of the crime said something about… her leg? Her knee? I can barely remember, hoping to God I didn’t get a concussion from that tackle I took. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but stops herself, shaking her head slightly. “... I’m fine. But thank you for asking.”

The air hangs awkward between us for a moment. Aubrey holds fast to my eyes with her own, their yellow orbs swirling with consideration. I’ve got no clue what she’s thinking right now, but I silently curse myself for not being more charming than I am. Instead, I awkwardly stuff my hands into my pockets and glance past her towards the exit. “Well… I guess since I’m not behind bars, I can head ho-”

“Samuel.” She cuts me off, but doesn’t provide a reason why. Instead, she seems to wrestle with her own mind for a moment, her eyes darting left and right as she witnesses some sort of internal melee occurring. All I can do is cock my head, unsure as to what else she needs.

After a moment, she takes a deep, resolute breath, nods to herself, and pulls the small purse she has tucked under her arm around to her frontside.It’s not one of those purses that’s packed with everything and the kitchen sink like you see some women walkin’ around with. Instead, it looks to only have her bare essentials, though I can’t see inside of it from where I’m at. Her hand comes to rest inside the purse, and after one more moment of what looks to be decisive encouragement, she withdraws what she was searching for.

Thus far, she’s come across as a pretty clear-spoken woman, but for the first time I hear her stumble over her words. “You… I mean, I… got these tickets… I got two of ‘em… and… I was just- mind you, it’s not a date or nothin’, but… I… here.” She jams one of the two tickets into my hands with a huff, clearly not satisfied with her delivery. Her cheeks glow red. What on earth…

My mind trails off as I read the ticket I hold in my hand. Birdland Nightclub presents…

“HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT!” I exclaim much louder than I intended to, immediately receiving a scornful look and a sharp shushing from Aubrey. I recoil at my foolish outburst as I glance around, realizing that… oh, there’s almost nobody else here in the lobby. Only a single, tired-looking receptionist who glances my way with annoyance before returning to her crossword puzzle. All the same, I turn back to Aubrey in embarrassment. “S-sorry… I just… holy shit. Miles Cratis? Live?!”

She nods, giving me a small glimpse of her sharp but nicely kept teeth by way of a beaming smile. “Uh huh! I just about had the same reaction when the commissioner gave these to me! Someone from the nightclub dumped ‘em off here at the station, and nobody else wanted ‘em!”

I glance down at the ticket again, then back up to the woman who just… wait…

My expression causes her to clue into my train of thought. She repeats her sentiment from before. “N-not like a date or nothin’! I just… had an extra, is all. And you’re a jazz enthusiast, too, so I thought… as a ‘thank you’ for helpin’ me earlier…” She averts her eyes as her cheeks redden.

I offer her an awkward, slightly sad smile. “Yeah. I didn’t think it’d be a date. Makes sense.”

This causes her to bring her eyes back up to me as her brow furrows. “What do you mean by that?”

“Uhh… the officers who were interrogating me… they told me that you…” I desperately hope for her to cut me off, realizing what I’m trying to say without actually saying it out loud, but she doesn’t. Instead, her eyes widen slightly as she awaits my words. I nervously scratch the back of my neck as I glance around before speaking in a whisper. “... Y’know… prefer the company of ladies or wh-”

“SON OF A BITCH!” This time it’s Aubrey’s turn to provide a poorly-volumed outburst, once again earning the two of us an annoyed look from the otherwise disinterested receptionist. Aubrey puts her hands to her hips in a show of equal parts defiance and irritation. “I’m not a goddamn lesbian!”

I stumble over my words, the boot I’ve once again inserted into my mouth making it difficult to speak. “Oh… OH! Oh, geez. I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

She rolls her eyes and lets out another irritated huff before glancing at me apologetically. “... N-no, that… wasn’t directed at you. It’s those stupid fuckin’ knuckleheads. I mean, Duffy knows I wa-” She quickly cuts herself off, her eyes widening before she glances down again. I notice her fingers clench into fists as she seems to wage another internal conflict with herself.

I don’t know what that was about, but I know I gotta cut the tension somehow. I glance at the ticket again. “Are… are you sure you’re okay with me taggin’ along? You could probably get a fair chunk of change if you scalped this to some sucker standing around outside the venue tomorrow night.”

She shakes off the temporary turmoil that overtook her and looks back up at me. “Like I said. It’s my way of saying ‘thanks’, and… also an apology for how you were treated by those idiots.”

I can’t help but smile. “In that case… yeah! I’d be honored! Thank you!”

She returns the smile. “See you tomorrow night at 8 o’clock then.”

I interject as she turns to leave. “Um! Should… should we exchange phone numbers? Ya know… just in case somethin’ comes up?”

She raises an eyebrow at me. Real smooth, dumbass. She just got done sayin’ it ain’t a date and here I go, tryin’ to get her number. As I open my mouth to apologize and take back my stupid request, she steps across the lobby towards the receptionist’s desk. A moment later, she returns with a pen and a sheet of paper that she tears in half before scribbling several digits upon one of the two halves. She hands it to me, along with the pen and the other unmarked half of the paper. With an embarrassed grin, I do the same.

I’m sure I’m blushing like a goddamn idiot right now, but I just got her number. I got Aubrey’s number. Hot damn.

After she returns the pen to the eternally grumpy receptionist, she bids me adieu once more. “Until tomorrow night. I’m looking forward to the show.”

“M-me too! See you then! Have a good night, Aubrey!”

“You too, Samuel.”

In a repeat of my previous interruption of her departure, I get one last word in. “... My friends call me ‘Sammy’.”

She pauses, turns my way once more with arched eyebrows and a playful grin on her lips. “... ‘Sammy’ it is, then.” I don’t interrupt a third time, allowing her to gather her half-torn grocery bag and make her way out of the police station lobby. I can only stand in place and watch as she goes, mesmerized by the gentle sway of the blue feathered tail attached to her… attached to her really nice…

…

I’m staring like a fuckin’ creep. But I’ll be damned if that ain’t a great sight to take in.

… Okay, cool down, Sammy. She said it ain’t a date. It’s just… friends. She’s just going out with me to a jazz club to see one of the greatest living jazz musicians in the world.

No big deal. You got this.

Shaking off my daze, I finally make my way out of the lobby, the lowered early evening sun still heating the street with its oppressive ultraviolet rays. I barely notice. Though the police station is about three quarters of a mile out of the way from where I need to go to get home, I stroll down the street as though I don’t have a single care in the world. In one hand, I hold a ticket to see Miles Cratis in person in one of the hottest nightclubs in the entire city. In the other… the phone number of a beautiful velociraptor woman.

Aubrey. Her subtle curves find their way into my imagination again, causing a stupid grin to spread across my face and other parts of me located a little farther south to tingle a little bit. I can’t say I’ve ever looked at a dinosaur woman and thought to myself, ‘Wow I’d like to bring her back home’, but… I suppose there’s a first time for everything, right?

O’course… I got no clue how she feels about me. She did emphasize several times that this isn’t a date. And, I mean… she’s a dinosaur and I’m a human. You just don’t see that sort of thing happening almost ever. I think I remember a story about a dinosaur and a human getting married years ago here in Old York, but in a lot of other places in the country it’s completely illegal for the species to even be together with one another, let alone get married.

It’s a big part of the Civil Rights movement. Not just letting people be with who they want to be with, but humans being treated equally in courts, in other legal matters and… well, everywhere, really. An end to segregation and discrimination. Even though Old York is pretty progressive, there’s loads of places where humans are still second-class citizens. Hell, I still feel that way here most days and we’re supposedly ahead of the curve.

With that all in mind… I just don’t know if Aubrey would see me in that way. Yeah, she smiled at me and was nice enough to invite me to this show with her, but… that don’t mean she likes me. She’s probably just being polite. I try to shake away the thought of her smile, but it keeps finding its way back into my mind. The image of her gently brushing the hair away from her eyes makes my heart flutter.

Geez. I think I might have really fallen fo-

I come to an abrupt stop, having finally registered the space around me enough to tell how far my trip home has brought me. About eighty feet ahead of me, a police car remains parked next to the alley from which I was so violently plucked, along with an ambulance that wasn’t there when I left. Two paramedics move an elongated metal stretcher with wheels towards the back of the vehicle, lifting the yellow tape as they pass underneath it. Their cargo rests inside of a sealed black bag upon the stretcher, as still and lifeless as he was when I last saw him.

Poor bastard. I was the last person he saw in this world, and I didn’t know his name. Hell, he didn’t even know my name. He just-

My eyes widen. The money. That stash he pointed out to me. I… I got so swept up with getting hauled into the station and then talking to Aubrey that it completely slipped my mind. Did the cops find it? They must have if they were investigating the crime scene, right? They… they wouldn’t know that I knew about it… would they?

I stand around with the gaggle of other people who observe the body being loaded into the back of the ambulance, a combination of gasps and tsks escaping some of the onlookers. Neither the paramedics nor the police pay us any mind as they climb into their vehicles and depart; I purposefully keep my cap pulled a bit lower to prevent one of the officers from recognizing me from earlier. Neither Duffy nor Preston are here, but I’m sure those cops were around when I got tossed into the back of the squad car.

The excitement having concluded, the rest of the pedestrians all shuffle away, exchanging a few speculative words as they depart. I, on the other hand, cautiously move up to the edge of the alley. I dare not move past the tape, despite the police presence being currently absent. Instead, I squint my eyes towards the crevice containing the treasure this man most likely died over.

It appears undisturbed. The trash is just as piled into the alcove as I had left it. It doesn’t even look like anyone tried to root around in the garbage. Of course, if the cops were unaware of any sort of hidden stash, why would they? They’d just do their investigation, clean up the scene and collect the body.

A chill fires through my spine. I… might legitimately be the only person who knows where this money is hidden. Considering the perforations that adorned the man who pointed it out to me, I’m probably not the only person who knows the money exists, but… why would whoever killed him have killed him if they had that money in hand? That is to say, this guy might not have avoided his fate, but that pile of cash definitely wouldn’t still be there.

Raptor Christ… what do I do? Do I go to the cops? After how they just treated me, how would they react if I waltzed back in there and said, “Hey, you know that dead guy you just picked up and accused me of killin’? Yeah, I know where there’s a mountain of money right next to where he died!” Probably not a smart move.

Do I… do I tell Aubrey? She ain’t a cop, but she seems trustworthy. I mean… so far, at least. I barely know her. How would she react if I told her about this buried treasure at the crime scene?

… No. I… I shouldn’t do anything right now. I know where it is. If I come back here in a couple days after the crime scene tape’s been removed and there’s no more eyes on this place… I can check it out then. If the money’s gone by then, so be it. I don’t even know what the hell I’d do with that kind of cash.

… I could start my record collection again, that’s for damn sure.

Either way, there’s nothing to be done about it now. I’ll just forget about it and focus on tomorrow night.

Tomorrow night… with Aubrey… watching Miles Cratis play his greatest songs for us.

But that’s tomorrow. Tonight… I got a dog back home that probably has to take a wicked shit.