Plasma Cat

Ch. 2: Souvenirs

"Sounds like it's a damn good thing that we're still using radios then, right?"

"What makes you say that?"

"We'd be out of a job with a system like that. If they could patrol Wilshire with a tenth as many cops, who do you think they would get rid of?"

Robert thought that over for a moment. "But we're some of the most experienced detectives on the force."

"You mean old."

"Experienced."

"Old. That's why they keep putting us on the nightshift, and I don't blame them. Hell, I don't even understand half of the crimes we're supposed to be investigating anymore. It's all cyberspace this and cyberspace that. What good is our experience if these days most of the information on a suspect can be found by just looking at their emails?"

"No one says cyberspace, Hank. Jesus, you are old."

Hank and Robert pulled up to the address that the dispatcher had sent to them. It was a fairly standard housing block, the kind that had started popping up like mushrooms ever since the climate refugees had started pouring into the city. They were always hard to classify, since everyone from young professionals and tourists to drug addicts and the mentally ill lived in them. You could never tell if it was just another residential building or a den of sin and crime, since they all looked the same.

"Ten bucks says it's an overdose," Robert offered as he pulled into an open parking space.

"No."

"Aw, come on."

"No, that's a stupid bet. I'll bet you ten bucks if you change your bet to it's not an overdose."

"Well, then I'd lose money, and... wait, who the hell is that?"

Hank turned around and quickly saw the man Robert was referring to. Sitting in a car parked a few spaces away was a private police officer who was looking right at them. He quickly got out of his car once it became clear that the two police officers had noticed him.

"Evening, officers," he offered cheerily.

"It's three in the morning," Robert replied dryly.

"Oh, so it is. So what brings you to this part of town?"

Hank pulled his badge out. "We're not rent-a-cops. We're LAPD. We can go to any part of town we like."

The private police officer smiled. "Now, come on, we don't need to trade insults. We're on the same side, aren't we?"

"What are you doing here?" Robert asked pointedly.

"Same thing you are, I suppose. You're here about the suicide, right?"

Hank regarded the man warily. "You know the LAPD handles investigations. No one called you and honestly you don't have any business being here."

"On the contrary, someone did call me. Look, you guys need to relax. Here's my badge, I'm with Watchtower. You know about us, right?"

The man pulled out his Watchtower Private Security badge, but Hank just waved his hand.

"I know about you guys, but this isn't Hollywood. You're outside your jurisdiction, and so as far as I'm concerned you're a civilian. And even if this was Hollywood, like I said before, the LAPD handles investigations. So you need to leave."