Crime Scene 20.1 Don't Hang Out at Work on an Off Day
Tuesday. 4:30pm. Sirens’ Dream. Beamer’s Taco Truck.

It was against Ellie’s better judgment to meet at the Sirens' Dream for their next group study event. She had a bad feeling that Angie and Sia would see or notice something that would clue them in on the Sinclair’s illegal operations. There was a good chance that they might just let it pass in exchange for inside information, but there was also Cliff to worry about. He had no interest in crime, so he might not notice some of the undercurrents, but if he did, she wasn’t sure how he would react. With his family connections, he had the ability to become a problem if he saw something he didn’t agree with.

Unfortunately, Geoff insisted on tacos that evening because it was Tuesday and Bo’s truck was scheduled to be at the Sirens’ Dream that day. And nothing would do except the best tacos in the county. And who could argue with that? In the end, Ellie concerns were admittedly minor and the chance of their friends uncovering a criminal conspiracy were thin.

Despite it being mid-November in the late afternoon, the weather was mild enough to sit outside comfortably. Ellie noticed that they had added more outdoor seating. They were artistically rustic and artificially aged just enough to give them the “well-loved” look despite not being there a week ago. Despite their appearance, the seats were gently heated.

The study session started off as Ellie feared: with distraction and keen interest in the Sirens’ Dream and the shimmering oasis that was the night club.

“Think we can go in after we’re done studying?” Angie asked as they settled down at the tables. “When does it open?”

“Tuesday is a theme night, so we open a bit earlier at 7:30pm,” Ellie said automatically in her customer service voice.

Angie and Sia stared. “Do you…work here?”

Right, Ellie had neglected to mention that. “Yes. Did I forget to say that? Anyway, let’s study.”

“What’s it like working there? This place looks expensive,” Sia asked curiously. “What are the guests like? Have you seen anyone famous there?”

“I’ve even heard about it in blogs. Can we see inside the lobby?” Angie looked at the lit entrance wistfully.

Ellie sighed. “Yes, I think I met Mayor Greene once or twice and a few minor celebrities. There are nice guests and not so nice guests, like anywhere else. Yes, we can go to the lobby and I can ask about passes to the club.”

“Yes!” Only once their curiosity was sated did they settle down to study. It could have been worse. They had turned away just in time to miss Tinny and Tedros escort a known crime lord and his retinue through the garden gate. Must have had a meeting. She hoped Sia and Angie would be just as distracted when the meeting ended.

The club was already turning on the hanging lights outside for the night and it added to the pretty backdrop. But Bo’s food won their attention and after a few bites and more comments about the nice view they were quickly engrossed in their studies.

They sat around a large round table made of treated wood. The electric heater underneath kept them warm as temperatures dropped. Angie and Sia shared one cushioned two-seater while Cliff and his ever-present overstuffed backpack took up another. Ellie and Geoff took the two remaining seats. Their food and drinks were in the middle, crowded in by six laptops (Cliff somehow used two laptops at the same time), three tablets, and more than enough textbooks to equal the cost of the electronics. Geoff even brought out his vintage boombox that he had salvaged from the landfill. It took a while for them to settle on music they could all agree on but eventually unobtrusive lo-fi study music won out. It was better than the other options of Halloween cacophony or slow jazz.

Foot traffic increased as the night wore on. While some guests would come out to try Bo’s tacos for the “local experience,” most of the customers came from the club. Either people waiting to get in and needing something to do or people who had spent too much time inside and needed to quickly refuel and find something to absorb the alcohol.

They didn’t notice anything amiss until one group made a fuss at Bo’s window.

“What do you mean, this isn’t free? Aren’t you a part of the establishment? This place charges up the ass already, and they can’t just give us free tacos?”

Ellie and Geoff turned to see four people, three men and a woman, dressed all in black, at Bo’s truck, arms raised aggressively. The speaker was a man with a padded motorcycle jacket and a very large, spiked eyebrow piercing. The others also had similar eyebrow piercings along with constellations of more piercings across their faces.

“No, this is a separate business,” Bo said firmly back at the four glinting faces. “You’ll have to pay if you want food here. If you want food from the hotel or club, you’ll have to go inside.”

“Do you know who we are? Who our boss is? We don’t pay here.”

And Ellie did in fact recall who they were with. As part of her training, she learned about the local affiliated organizations that frequented the Sirens’ Dream. They usually used it as a meeting place, social club, even a safehouse for their members who were injured or needed to lay low. These were the Ironface gang, led by “Ironhead” Cho. Word had it he had a back-alley surgery to install a thick steel plate over his skull. While most members didn’t go that far, they showed their allegiances with a plethora of facial piercings. One had to wonder how they got through airport security. For the most part, they weren’t trouble, coming and going without a fuss. Unless they drank too much. Commonly hired for their violence and intimidation tactics, the Ironfaces were used to getting their way.

Sia recognized the instigator. “Isn’t that Sam La? Second in command of some local gang? They’ve been trying to put him away for years, but nothing stuck. Not even the last time with the ten-car pile-up after a police chase.”

Geoff muttered. “He has great taste in modded cars though.”

Ellie got to her feet out of sheer outrage at the insult this guy was showing to Bo, though she didn’t quite have a plan yet.

“Um…” Angie looked between them all, unsure who to address.

Sia had already taken out her phone and was surreptitiously recording under her arm.

Before anyone could do anything, Ironface Sam La, reached up and yanked on Bo’s shirt, trying to intimidate them. Instead, Bo shrugged, twisted their shoulder to the side, and somehow slipped out of the Ironface’s grip on them. Their firm but polite expression didn’t change. The Ironface stared at his empty hand for a moment before going in again, this time with both hands. Bo leaned back and shut the sliding window closed, crushing the man’s wrists.

The Ironface yelped in pain, retreating after a few desperate yanks to free his hands. The gangsters shared shocked looks for a moment. But then the shock changed to anger.

“Oh, no,” Ellie muttered. They wouldn’t let an insult like this slide. She wasn’t sure if she could deescalate. “Sia, can you take Angie and Cliff inside? Tell whoever is at the front desk something’s happening out here.” If she was going to insult regular guests, she might as well warn the Sinclairs about it.

Their friends retreated without protest. Cliff gathered both his laptops, lagging behind enough that Sia had to pull him along by the loop of his backpack.

Meanwhile, Ellie and Geoff got behind the Ironfaces. They were too busy putting up an intimidating front against an unimpressed Bo. After all, they were inside a fairly sturdy metal truck and the Ironfaces had nothing in their hands. Ellie aimed to keep it that way.

“Do you know who you’re messing with?” said Ironface number two as the first one nursed his wrists and glared.

Bo’s hand slowly moved to the intercom button. “Um, no?” Their genuine expression of confusion was even more of an insult than knowing who they were and being rude.

Number two slapped the order window. “Get us the food, dammnit!”

“No. Not even if you pay me. I’m refusing service.” Bo leaned back, arms crossed. Their eyes flicked to something on the opposite wall inside their truck. From her previous experience, Ellie remembered that was where their knives were hanging. Bo might put up a calm front, but they were starting to feel threatened. And they were ready.

“We’re not kidding here!” Number two’s hand went behind his back.

“Come here, we’re gonna teach you a-wha!” Number three took half a step toward the back of the truck, and fell. Number four, the woman, had to scramble to halt their fall. Only to find that her feet were also tied together. They teetered before both hitting the ground.

“What the hell?” The first Ironface and Number Two had just discovered that their weapons—a gun, a knife, and a motorcycle chain—were not where they were supposed to be.