"Hello, Miss Williams?" I said, trying to be professional. "It's Patrick McCaffery."
"Oh, hello Councilman," Tabby replied. "Please though, just call me Tabby. What can I do for you?"
The potential answers that ran through my mind were staggering, but I kept it professional. "Well, I kind of need your help."
"What with?" she asked. "If you don't mind, I'm going to put you on speaker. I'm heading home early today, taking some work with me. I'm in my car."
"All right, I wouldn't want you in an accident," I replied.
“Okay, so what's up?"
"I'm drowning in e-mails, and I’m in serious need of an assistant," I said, hoping my real life need would lead to a reason to see her again. "Now, you've been on your job just about as long as I have here at City Hall."
"About three weeks longer actually," Tabby replied, "but yes, I'm pretty new at this too. You don't have any staff?"
"None at all," I replied honestly, “but apparently I have the budget for two staffers. I asked one of my new colleagues, one of the ones who will talk to me, and he said that by tradition, the old staff is supposed to help with handover or even fill in until the new staff is hired, but they kind of just quit when Harry Vickers was arrested. A lot of people think they ran out of town before the District Attorney got to them as well. So I've been doing this by the seat of my pants."
"Ouch. Well, I don't know a lot about it, but I'll talk to my assistant. She's a real pro at this sort of thing, and she probably knows someone in the city who you can bring in quickly. Although if I'm not careful, she'd possibly just quit working for me and go over to you. She's into the crusader types."
"Crusader types, huh? Is that what I am?" I asked with a laugh. "Well, I've been called worse. All right. Also, while I have you on the line, would you mind if we got together for a working lunch to discuss this project? I had a visit from a certain union leader, and I think you'd like to be brought in on the loop."
"Of course," Tabby said without missing a beat. "How about my office the day after tomorrow? I know I'm asking you to come to me, but there's a place nearby that does great delivery, and you'd love it. If you do, I promise you my assistant will be able to help you with finding some staff for you too."
"Deal. So, it's a lunch date then. Day after tomorrow. Say, twelve thirty?"
"Date, huh? Why, Councilman, you do move fast," Tabby said with a laugh, and I had to admit I blushed. She had a very sexy laugh. "But yeah, twelve thirty is fine. See you then."
Chapter 5
Patrick
That night, just as the clock of St. Timothy's Church in the distance tolled, I stood up from the roof of the convenience store I was crouched on in the Filmore Heights district. It's confusing to newbies to our city that there are two areas of town called Heights. On one hand there is The Heights, a very rich neighborhood that had been through gentrification about twenty years ago. With lots of big, expensive homes and a few McMansions, The Heights was bordered by Tabby's house, Mount Zion, although some would argue that Zion was actually included.
On the other hand, on the opposite side of town from The Heights both geographically and economically, was Filmore Heights. As dangerous as The Heights was safe, Filmore Heights was the sort of neighborhood you didn't walk after dark unless you were either armed, stupidly brave, or in a group of at least four. Preferably all of the above. The newspapers had more than once reported on poor schmucks who had mixed up a friend telling them The Heights and Filmore Heights, and had died because of it.
Standing on the roof of the low store, I could see a good chunk of Filmore Avenue, which was the namesake of Filmore Heights. The city bus that lumbered down the street was empty, the sides covered in graffiti.
Further down the block, I saw movement, which I expected. My targets for the evening were coming to their meeting spot. I was ready.
One of the things that makes Filmore Heights so dangerous is the gang activity. Filmore Avenue, at least the northeast quarter of it, was controlled by one of the most dangerous, the Eighty-Eights. So-called because of the Neo-Nazi symbolism involving the number, they weren't skinheads. They were however white supremacists, who had formed in the late nineties after a wave of other gangs, spearheaded by the Latin Kings and the Gangster Disciples, tore Filmore Heights apart in violent turf warfare with the already established Familias and Crips. The white kids of Filmore, caught between four ethnic gangs that didn't like them in the least, were slowly pushed until a charismatic leader, Bryan Sweeney, formed a gang of only white kids to fight back. Quickly adopting a white supremacist ideology, they countered the larger numbers of their rivals with a ferocity and bloodthirsty lack of restraint that stunned even the hardcore gangsters in the other sets. Soon, the 88's had not only secured their original neighborhood, but had expanded their territory, taking over most of the northeast side of Filmore Heights.