Dane Curse by Matt Abraham

stopped dead. The feel of his flesh told me he was a little invulnerable, nothing special mind you, but it took me back. I’d never met a doorman with powers before.
    “Get your hand off me.” He dropped his weight and twisted away. It was a nice move, but he wasn’t heavy or strong enough to pull it off, so all it did was leave him half hanging there like a trout.
    “Not going to happen,” I said.
    He struggled, then straightened up without a bit of fear in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but I stopped him and said, “Ok pal, before we have to do this the hard way let me ask, how do you like your steak?” I squeezed tight.
    He grimaced, and grabbed my arm. Sweat formed on his brow.
    “Come on, answer the question. How do you like your steak?”
    He said through his teeth, “Medium well, I guess.”
    “Well I hope you enjoyed your last one like that, because if you don’t help me, when I’m through with your jaw you’ll need them frappéd. You see, this way.” I pointed to the hand that had him, and tightened my grip. “This way is the easy way.”
    He screamed, “No, enough, I give, I’ll take you up.”
    I let him go and he cradled his arm before leading me to the elevator. When we got there he used his keycard to bring us to my floor.
    “Thanks,” I said, and stepped into the hall. “Don’t bother calling the cops. I’ll ghost long before they get here. But if you do, know that I won’t just break your jaw, I’ll pluck it off and take the whole thing with me. Now scuttle on.”
    He didn’t say anything as the elevator closed.
    I walked towards Reynolds’ door with my heart beating double time. I had been all over the city looking at the only places Pinnacle could live, and the smart money said I had finally done just that. Its owner was missing, it sat on a high floor of a secure building, and there was even a powered-up gatekeeper. It all fit.
    I rang his bell. No one answered.
    I rang again, and added a knock.
    Still no answer.
    So I stooped down, and looked at the lock. It was standard, and shouldn’t be too hard to pick. I reached into my pocket. And the door swung open.
    Standing in front of me was a fit, thirty-something guy in a robe. He said, “Yeah?”
    I straightened up. “Uh, are you Hank Reynolds?”
    “I am. What do you want?”
    I stood looking at him for a second, scrambling for something to say.
    “What do you want? I’m very busy.”
    “Nothing,” I said, “you’re not my guy.”
    “Whatever.” And with that he closed the final door that was open to me.
    I took the elevator back down, and left the condo in a haze that didn’t fully clear until I was back at my office.

 
     
     
    Chapter 11
    Widow was sitting at her desk typing away. “You look like you dropped your ice cream in the dirt.”
    “Yeah.” I closed the door behind me and hung up my hat and coat.
    “Want to talk about it?”
    “Don’t you have work?”
    She shrugged. “Right now? About as much as you.”
    I walked over to the waiting room couch and plopped down on it. “Then that would be a lot.”
    “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Doesn’t look it. But maybe I can cheer you up.”
    “How?”
    “You have another case.”
    “I don’t got time for it.”
    “I think you might make the time.”
    “Really? Why’s that?”
    “A lady called, she said that she got our number from a mutual friend, Eeka Mouse.”
    “Eeka? Wow. How old did she sound?”
    “Very. She claims someone stole a keepsake that belonged to her dead husband.” Widow cocked an eyebrow. “A Kapowitzer.”
    “What?” I shot up. “A Kapowitzer, seriously?”
    “Thought that might get your attention.” She laughed. “It doesn’t work obviously. It was destroyed.”
    “Yeah, Gun Control, I know.”
    “I guess you would.”
    “What was her husband’s name?”
    “Earl Freeman.”
    “Ha, Agent Dreadful. Funny guy.” I remembered Earl. He was a pretty successful thief. At least he was