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Description
COLD TOWN:
DEAD MEN CAN TELL TALES

MOORE AND GOLDEN…
It was dangerous enough being called a “crime boss” in Ambrose City.  It was even more dangerous to be called a hero.  Detective Joe Moore and Amelia Golden knew it too.  Their honest, valiant, “never say screw it” attitudes made them an army of enemies from Ambrose City’s criminal underworld.  More often than not they found themselves the recipients of blaster fire… all because unlike other so-called “law enforcers”, they took risks instead of bribes.
Another disadvantage to being heroes was the fact that a lot of people knew what you looked like. The more small time operations Moore and Golden took down, the more the big-timers began to take notice of them, thus canceling out any major future undercover work.
But smart detectives had away around that, like sending up-and-coming agents to do the job.  And fortunately, these two smart detectives had hired one that was said to be the best.  For months now, Mr. Joseph Powell, a family man and officer that had graduated at the top of his class, had been rubbing shoulders with Ambrose City’s vilest as Joseph Bowden Baggs, raging pervert and moronic small-time goon.  Joseph had succeeded in uncovering Lenny Java’s illegal Cold deliveries, and Moore and Golden could bust in on the Devil’s Seven anytime they wanted to.  But these two champions of justice wanted to fry two big fish, not just one.  On a stormy evening just two weeks before all Hell broke loose with the Great Mob War of 2055, Moore called in Joseph to discuss part two of his plan.
“Evenin’…Jo-Bo,” smiled Moore from the desk of his small, highly-heated, dim-lit office.
“Oh shit, Moore,” said Powell as he took off his rain-soaked jacket and hung it on the nearby rack.  “I don’t need you calling me that too.  Playing a drooling idiot isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be, you know?”
“But you’re pulling it off pretty damn well… well enough to fool the Devil’s Seven anyway.”
“Now that part is easy.”  Powell sat down and lit a cigarette.  “The Seven’s driven by their egos.  When they see somebody they can abuse and demean, their eyes light up like a kid’s at the mall during Christmas.”
“Well then,” laughed Moore.  “Perhaps you would like to mix it up with someone a little more challenging… Cherry Bella.”
“The Broken Hearts?”  Powell coughed out a cloud of smoke in surprise.  “Screw that!  Bella’s gang is female-exclusive.  Even if I really was a criminal, there’s no way I’d get in good with her.”
“There might be,” said Amelia Golden as she walked into the room and in on the conversation.
“Whatcha got for us, sweetie?” asked Moore, who kind of saw himself as a father figure to the younger Golden.
“Just got back from the diner,” she said.
“You pick me up something?” asked Moore.
“You said you didn’t want anything.”
“Oh… that’s right.  Wasn’t hungry at the time.”
“Anyway,” smirked Golden as she looked back at Joseph.  “Jason and Ginger said that Cherry Bella is planning a big opening night for her Cruel Kitty Night Club, and she’s trying to find a way to stock up on free Cold.”
“That’s gonna be tough,” said Powell.  “Java’s cornered the market on that stuff in Ambrose.”
“Exactly, and that’s why Bella would be more than happy if a certain someone agreed to hook her up with Java’s stock.”
“Yeah, but I can’t just walk into her place uninvited.  I’d be killed on the spot.”
“So get an invitation.”
“How?”
Golden then removed a mug shot of a beautiful, fiery-haired woman from her coat pocket.
“Recognize her?” asked the detective.
“Yeah,” nodded Powell.  “She’s a stripper at the Java House.  Name’s Inferna.”
“Oooh,” chuckled Moore.  “Been paying attention to a few other goings-on over there, haven’t we?”
“Don’t even imply that,” blushed Powell.  “My wife would kill me.”  He then turned back to Golden.  “What about her?”
“Well, aside from being an ex-prostitute I busted back when I was on the vice squad, she’s also Cherry Bella’s personal arsonist,” revealed Amelia.
“Wow.  She better hope Lenny Java’s own fire hazard, Ashe, doesn’t find out.”
“I get it,” said Moore.  “Joseph gets into Inferna’s ear, she relays the news to Bella, and bada-bing bada-boom…”
“I guess I’m in,” said Powell.
“So get to it,” said Golden.  “Meanwhile, Moore and I are going to visit J and G’s Diner to see if we can pick up another ‘special’ or two.”  She then looked out the window and sighed.  “Maybe we should wait for the rain to calm down a bit.”

The girl in black didn’t so much as glance at Moore and Golden as she exited the diner shortly after they had entered.  Still, both detectives could sense her apprehension regarding their presence.  Golden also though she looked strangely familiar, and this meant something considering the flood of criminals and victims she had come across in her relatively short career.  But before she even opened her mouth, Moore was already asking Jason Antonio questions about her.
“I dunno much about her,” shrugged Jason.  “Her name’s B.B. and she likes the coffee here.”  He then drew closer to Moore and Golden.  “But I do have some info about the Kitty.”
“Really?” whispered Moore.  “What’s up?”
“What are you ordering?” smirked Jason.
“The usual,” said Moore.
“With a big, fat tip,” said Golden with a smirk of her own.
“Ginger, two grilled chicken salads!” said Jason.  Ginger popped in and waved.
“Sure thing,” she said to them with a wink.  She then poked Jason’s ribs with her elbow.  “Tell’em about the Kitty.”
“I know,” sighed Jason, who then turned back to the detectives.  “Before the opening of the Cruel Kitty, there’s gonna be a big pre-opening party.  Bella’s got a pretty elite guest list too.”
“If all goes well tonight, we need to make sure our man gets an invite to that too,” said Golden.  “Maybe we can flush out some other characters in this little ‘Cold War’.”  Moore grabbed the salads, paid Jason a good bit more than what they cost, and motioned for Golden that they were done there.
“Thank you, Jason, Ginger,” smiled Golden.
“Anytime, sweetie,” said Ginger.
Outside, Golden could see the look of irritation on Moore’s face as he sneaked a swig of rum from a small, silver flask.
“So, what’s up?” she asked.
“Good news is Joseph’s now in with Bella,” said Moore.  “Bad news is that he’s plannin’ to make a bold move at the Java House tonight, one that could seriously damage this little operation if it goes wrong.”
“We’ve been taking risks all throughout our careers,” said Golden.  “That’s why some of Ambrose’s worst criminals are behind bars.”
“Yeah, but we’ve always been careful about who we include in our little cat-and-mouse games.  Powell’s bringing in Java’s own delivery man, some guy named Burns.  Powell says he can be trusted, but I think he’s putting his hand too close to the fire.”
Golden then lifted her eyebrow.
“Jason’s mentioned him before.  Apparently he’s not a big fan of Lenny Java either.  Maybe we can trust him.”
“I don’t know.  I’ve had some ill wills against a few hands that have fed me.  Doesn’t mean I betrayed them.”
“Yeah, but those were store managers and factory supervisors.  You know the old saying about honor among thieves?”
“Hence my distrust.”  Golden gave this a slight laugh as they continued back to the office.

While Joseph hadn’t told Moore and Golden that he had helped Cherry Bella set small-time crime boss Pozkowski up as a fall guy for the seemingly unsuccessful Cold delivery to the Java House, he did suggest the detectives keep an eye on the man.  But it was too little too late.  Powell’s sudden under-handed strategy caused Pozkowski’s entire gang to be gunned down in their hideout in Ambrose City’s Little Moscow District.  Pozkowski himself had vanished, though Moore and Golden had a pretty good idea where he was now.
“After all these years, I still gotta hold my gut when I see a room full of dead bodies,” groaned Moore.
“Something’s not right,” said Golden, a bit squeamish herself.  “Powell’s never been this sloppy.  I hope Bella’s checkbook hasn’t messed with his head.”
“I agree,” said Moore.  “It’s time we started relying on some other sources… like the girl in black from the diner.”
“Are you sure she’s the one Powell spotted in Bella’s suite?”  Moore and Golden stepped outside and allowed the coroners to finish their job.
“Not completely,” shrugged Moore.  “But after this little massacre, I’m not turning down a possible lead.”
“Think she’ll be at J and G’s?”
“She’s been there almost everyday since we started paying our visits.”  Golden smirked and nudged his arm with her fist.
“You been checking her out or something, you dirty old fool?”
“Yeah,” chuckled Moore.  “I got a real eye for the gloomy and reserved.”  Amelia laughed too, but when they turned to walk away, the thoughts of this “B.B.” looking all too familiar began to trouble her again.

The encounter with B.B. didn’t prove too fruitful, as the young woman seemed hell-bent on not getting involved.  Moore didn’t seem too irritated about that.  He was still more concerned with just how honest his prized undercover man was.  He regretted hooking Powell up with Cherry Bella more by the minute.  Lenny Java was no problem.  Joseph hated the guy like most others that worked for him.  But from what he had learned over the years, Bella was easy to like; a drop-dead gorgeous lady with lots of class and a solid silver tongue.  Moore was certain of one thing though.  If Powell blew this thing, he was going to pay.
Golden, on the other hand, could only think about B.B.  She still wasn’t sure where she had seen her before, but her memory kept pointing to some tragic event.  Because of that, she felt sympathy for this ‘familiar stranger’.
Moore and Golden had a few other confrontations that night.  As they waited for Joseph outside the Cruel Kitty, they ran into the delivery man that Powell had described.  Despite the fact that he was holding hands and chatting with a lovely lady friend, they didn’t hesitate to approach him.
“Enjoy the party?” asked Moore.
“Yes sir, officer,” said the delivery man the detectives now knew as Burns.  “Something wrong?”
“Heard you made ‘special deliveries’ for Lenny Java,” said Golden.  Before Burns could react, Golden lifted her hand.  “Don’t worry, this isn’t an arrest.”
“But you could help us at the moment by answering a few…” began Moore.
“I don’t work for that scum anymore,” interrupted Burns.  “As far as I’m concerned, you two can have him hung by his fat neck, but I want nothing more to do with him.”
“What about Cherry Bella then?” asked Golden.  “Seems like you’re switching sides.”
“Bella just wanted to talk to my girl about a bartending job.  Nothing illegal in that.”
“No, but…”
Burns cut Moore off again.  “Look, I’m a worm in this underworld food chain.  You’re gonna have to catch the big fish for some real info.  Good night.”
As Burns drove away with his sweetheart, Moore noticed a flash of light in the distance.  He glanced over to his left and immediately made a running stance.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelled before he began pursuit.
“What?” asked Golden as she followed behind.
“The Gnome!”
The Gnome was fast for a short, fat man hauling a huge camera.  However, once the detectives chased him into a parking garage, they found the odd fellow to be the least of their problems.  The Gnome hopped into the back of a limo, and the vehicle began to speed away.  Then, the front passenger window rolled down and the Devil’s Seven’s Bobby T popped out with his Tommy .27.
“Stay out of this, pigs!” he yelled as he fired.  Moore took a shot in the arm before he and Golden hid behind another vehicle and drew their blaster pistols.  They fired back, but it was futile as the limo was soon out of sight.
“Dammit!” growled Moore as Golden placed a handkerchief on his wound.
“You gonna be okay?” asked his partner.
“I’ve gotten worse.”
“Yeah, and so has this operation… gotten worse.  Now the Devil’s Seven knows about us… and maybe the Broken Hearts as well.”
“First thing’s first.”  Moore gasped a second.  “We pull Powell out of this before he makes things worse too.”

Powell checked in one last time, making a brief call to Moore, alerting him that the final Cold shipment to Bella’s was being made that night… and then everything would be okay.
“Yeah, sure,” said Moore.  “You just make sure you check in again when it’s all over.  It’s time we move in on both gangs before they make these streets Hell on Earth.”
“Yeah… I’ll be at my apartment,” said Powell.  “I’ll let you know when to come by.”
Without a good-bye, Moore hung up.  He rubbed his bandaged arm a bit before walking over to his office window.
“Sorry…Jo-Bo,” he whispered.  “I’m not waiting on your cue.”

Moore and Golden rarely ever used the “company car”, but they thought on this occasion that it might be necessary.  When they pulled up close enough to get a good view of Joseph’s apartment building, they quickly spotted Burns’ delivery truck, which ironically also seemed to be keeping a low profile.
“I knew it,” sighed Moore.
“Powell’s taking the payoff and making a run for it,” said Golden, shaking her head.  “Early retirement.”
“He’s not left yet.”  Moore then started up the car when they saw two men dragging Joseph out to their own vehicle.
“That’s Hoax and Leach!” shouted Golden.  “Java’s two whack jobs!”  As Burns sped off in an opposite direction, they attempted to follow the two cracked cronies.  However, their pursuit came to a halt once again, this time by a large van driven by Java’s muscleman Aries.  He ran straight into the driver’s side, causing the detectives’ car to flip over.  And by the time Golden had regained composure, Aries was long gone and Moore was a bloody mess.
“Moore?” she said in a panic.
“I radioed for back-up and an ambulance,” he said.  “Can you move?”
“Yeah, just a bit shook up.”
“Better try to catch up then.”
“Yeah.”  Amelia crawled out of her car and made her way to the docks as fast as her now aching body could manage.  If Joseph was still alive, that’s where he and the Devil’s Seven were.

“Damn it,” said Golden as the other officers joined her.  The Seven had fled the docks and all that was left was Powell’s still smoking remains.  “You screwed it up big time, my friend.”
“No sign of Java or his gang,” said one of the officers.  “They must have made tracks pretty quickly after they wasted him.”
“They didn’t kill him,” corrected Golden.  “Otherwise, he’d be submerged in that muck we call the Northeast River.  Someone else did this, and it probably scared them o…”  She was then interrupted by a distant scream… and she knew just who produced it.  “Stay with the body,” she ordered the officers.  “I’ll handle this.”
It all came back to her as she saw B.B. stomping and screaming at the madman on the ground, ignoring the blood that poured from her cheek and arms.  Years ago, when Golden worked as a rookie in Carmenville, a woman named Brandi Bernard came in worried sick about her missing son.  The detective had come across a lot of those cases, but she now remembered the mother’s reaction when she had to deliver the bad news to her that her son was found butchered in the local park.  While most would cry and scream or completely break out into hysteria, Brandi simply sat in the waiting room chair; saying nothing, doing nothing… like she had become a living, breathing corpse.
Golden came by her house a week later to check on her, but the place had been abandoned.  This was the first time she had seen Brandi since that horrific day.  As the enraged mother began to calm down and stumble in a state of dizziness, Golden looked at the man she attacked… and who was now laughing at her.  She almost screamed herself.
“The Carmenville Child-killer,” she whispered.
The psychopath heard the detective and grinned as he approached her.  Without hesitation, she removed her blaster pistol and shot him three times in the chest before he went down.  She then ran over to check on Brandi.
“I am sorry you were driven to this,” she said with tears streaming down her face.  However, Brandi could only mumble in reply as Golden wiped her wounds.  “I need a first aid kit at the loading area behind Sailor Sally’s,” she ordered on her wrist-com.  “Immediately!”
Then, the prone devil behind her rose and grabbed her, placing a knife to her throat.  He hissed out another laugh as he began to prick her neck.  But just as sudden as his attack, B.B. grabbed Golden’s fallen gun and shot him in the head.  The sweating detective carefully removed his arms from around her and then shoved him to the ground.  In an unexpected turn of events, she had witnessed one of the legendary Devil’s Seven finally meet his end.
Once B.B. was patched up, Golden had her driven to the Aphrodite Arms.  The detective was no fan of Cherry Bella, but she knew that Bella was a friend of Brandi’s, someone who would care for her.  Mob takedowns would have to wait.  Tonight, Golden was only concerned about a woman who had been through Hell.  B.B. was delirious, but gently pushed Golden aside once they reached the Arms’ entrance, still aware of the danger a pillar of the law would be in if she entered the place.  Before she walked inside, she turned to Golden.  With a slight, hazy nod, she showed her gratitude.
“Detective Joe Moore.”  Moore looked like a poorly wrapped mummy as he forced himself to hold up the phone.
“There’s a war coming, Detective.  Time to be a hero again.”  Then, the caller hung up.
“A war,” sighed Moore as he put his own phone back on the receiver.  “And dammit, we helped start it.”

Description
COLD TOWN:
DEAD MEN CAN TELL TALES

MOORE AND GOLDEN…
It was dangerous enough being called a “crime boss” in Ambrose City.  It was even more dangerous to be called a hero.  Detective Joe Moore and Amelia Golden knew it too.  Their honest, valiant, “never say screw it” attitudes made them an army of enemies from Ambrose City’s criminal underworld.  More often than not they found themselves the recipients of blaster fire… all because unlike other so-called “law enforcers”, they took risks instead of bribes.
Another disadvantage to being heroes was the fact that a lot of people knew what you looked like. The more small time operations Moore and Golden took down, the more the big-timers began to take notice of them, thus canceling out any major future undercover work.
But smart detectives had away around that, like sending up-and-coming agents to do the job.  And fortunately, these two smart detectives had hired one that was said to be the best.  For months now, Mr. Joseph Powell, a family man and officer that had graduated at the top of his class, had been rubbing shoulders with Ambrose City’s vilest as Joseph Bowden Baggs, raging pervert and moronic small-time goon.  Joseph had succeeded in uncovering Lenny Java’s illegal Cold deliveries, and Moore and Golden could bust in on the Devil’s Seven anytime they wanted to.  But these two champions of justice wanted to fry two big fish, not just one.  On a stormy evening just two weeks before all Hell broke loose with the Great Mob War of 2055, Moore called in Joseph to discuss part two of his plan.
“Evenin’…Jo-Bo,” smiled Moore from the desk of his small, highly-heated, dim-lit office.
“Oh shit, Moore,” said Powell as he took off his rain-soaked jacket and hung it on the nearby rack.  “I don’t need you calling me that too.  Playing a drooling idiot isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be, you know?”
“But you’re pulling it off pretty damn well… well enough to fool the Devil’s Seven anyway.”
“Now that part is easy.”  Powell sat down and lit a cigarette.  “The Seven’s driven by their egos.  When they see somebody they can abuse and demean, their eyes light up like a kid’s at the mall during Christmas.”
“Well then,” laughed Moore.  “Perhaps you would like to mix it up with someone a little more challenging… Cherry Bella.”
“The Broken Hearts?”  Powell coughed out a cloud of smoke in surprise.  “Screw that!  Bella’s gang is female-exclusive.  Even if I really was a criminal, there’s no way I’d get in good with her.”
“There might be,” said Amelia Golden as she walked into the room and in on the conversation.
“Whatcha got for us, sweetie?” asked Moore, who kind of saw himself as a father figure to the younger Golden.
“Just got back from the diner,” she said.
“You pick me up something?” asked Moore.
“You said you didn’t want anything.”
“Oh… that’s right.  Wasn’t hungry at the time.”
“Anyway,” smirked Golden as she looked back at Joseph.  “Jason and Ginger said that Cherry Bella is planning a big opening night for her Cruel Kitty Night Club, and she’s trying to find a way to stock up on free Cold.”
“That’s gonna be tough,” said Powell.  “Java’s cornered the market on that stuff in Ambrose.”
“Exactly, and that’s why Bella would be more than happy if a certain someone agreed to hook her up with Java’s stock.”
“Yeah, but I can’t just walk into her place uninvited.  I’d be killed on the spot.”
“So get an invitation.”
“How?”
Golden then removed a mug shot of a beautiful, fiery-haired woman from her coat pocket.
“Recognize her?” asked the detective.
“Yeah,” nodded Powell.  “She’s a stripper at the Java House.  Name’s Inferna.”
“Oooh,” chuckled Moore.  “Been paying attention to a few other goings-on over there, haven’t we?”
“Don’t even imply that,” blushed Powell.  “My wife would kill me.”  He then turned back to Golden.  “What about her?”
“Well, aside from being an ex-prostitute I busted back when I was on the vice squad, she’s also Cherry Bella’s personal arsonist,” revealed Amelia.
“Wow.  She better hope Lenny Java’s own fire hazard, Ashe, doesn’t find out.”
“I get it,” said Moore.  “Joseph gets into Inferna’s ear, she relays the news to Bella, and bada-bing bada-boom…”
“I guess I’m in,” said Powell.
“So get to it,” said Golden.  “Meanwhile, Moore and I are going to visit J and G’s Diner to see if we can pick up another ‘special’ or two.”  She then looked out the window and sighed.  “Maybe we should wait for the rain to calm down a bit.”

The girl in black didn’t so much as glance at Moore and Golden as she exited the diner shortly after they had entered.  Still, both detectives could sense her apprehension regarding their presence.  Golden also though she looked strangely familiar, and this meant something considering the flood of criminals and victims she had come across in her relatively short career.  But before she even opened her mouth, Moore was already asking Jason Antonio questions about her.
“I dunno much about her,” shrugged Jason.  “Her name’s B.B. and she likes the coffee here.”  He then drew closer to Moore and Golden.  “But I do have some info about the Kitty.”
“Really?” whispered Moore.  “What’s up?”
“What are you ordering?” smirked Jason.
“The usual,” said Moore.
“With a big, fat tip,” said Golden with a smirk of her own.
“Ginger, two grilled chicken salads!” said Jason.  Ginger popped in and waved.
“Sure thing,” she said to them with a wink.  She then poked Jason’s ribs with her elbow.  “Tell’em about the Kitty.”
“I know,” sighed Jason, who then turned back to the detectives.  “Before the opening of the Cruel Kitty, there’s gonna be a big pre-opening party.  Bella’s got a pretty elite guest list too.”
“If all goes well tonight, we need to make sure our man gets an invite to that too,” said Golden.  “Maybe we can flush out some other characters in this little ‘Cold War’.”  Moore grabbed the salads, paid Jason a good bit more than what they cost, and motioned for Golden that they were done there.
“Thank you, Jason, Ginger,” smiled Golden.
“Anytime, sweetie,” said Ginger.
Outside, Golden could see the look of irritation on Moore’s face as he sneaked a swig of rum from a small, silver flask.
“So, what’s up?” she asked.
“Good news is Joseph’s now in with Bella,” said Moore.  “Bad news is that he’s plannin’ to make a bold move at the Java House tonight, one that could seriously damage this little operation if it goes wrong.”
“We’ve been taking risks all throughout our careers,” said Golden.  “That’s why some of Ambrose’s worst criminals are behind bars.”
“Yeah, but we’ve always been careful about who we include in our little cat-and-mouse games.  Powell’s bringing in Java’s own delivery man, some guy named Burns.  Powell says he can be trusted, but I think he’s putting his hand too close to the fire.”
Golden then lifted her eyebrow.
“Jason’s mentioned him before.  Apparently he’s not a big fan of Lenny Java either.  Maybe we can trust him.”
“I don’t know.  I’ve had some ill wills against a few hands that have fed me.  Doesn’t mean I betrayed them.”
“Yeah, but those were store managers and factory supervisors.  You know the old saying about honor among thieves?”
“Hence my distrust.”  Golden gave this a slight laugh as they continued back to the office.

While Joseph hadn’t told Moore and Golden that he had helped Cherry Bella set small-time crime boss Pozkowski up as a fall guy for the seemingly unsuccessful Cold delivery to the Java House, he did suggest the detectives keep an eye on the man.  But it was too little too late.  Powell’s sudden under-handed strategy caused Pozkowski’s entire gang to be gunned down in their hideout in Ambrose City’s Little Moscow District.  Pozkowski himself had vanished, though Moore and Golden had a pretty good idea where he was now.
“After all these years, I still gotta hold my gut when I see a room full of dead bodies,” groaned Moore.
“Something’s not right,” said Golden, a bit squeamish herself.  “Powell’s never been this sloppy.  I hope Bella’s checkbook hasn’t messed with his head.”
“I agree,” said Moore.  “It’s time we started relying on some other sources… like the girl in black from the diner.”
“Are you sure she’s the one Powell spotted in Bella’s suite?”  Moore and Golden stepped outside and allowed the coroners to finish their job.
“Not completely,” shrugged Moore.  “But after this little massacre, I’m not turning down a possible lead.”
“Think she’ll be at J and G’s?”
“She’s been there almost everyday since we started paying our visits.”  Golden smirked and nudged his arm with her fist.
“You been checking her out or something, you dirty old fool?”
“Yeah,” chuckled Moore.  “I got a real eye for the gloomy and reserved.”  Amelia laughed too, but when they turned to walk away, the thoughts of this “B.B.” looking all too familiar began to trouble her again.

The encounter with B.B. didn’t prove too fruitful, as the young woman seemed hell-bent on not getting involved.  Moore didn’t seem too irritated about that.  He was still more concerned with just how honest his prized undercover man was.  He regretted hooking Powell up with Cherry Bella more by the minute.  Lenny Java was no problem.  Joseph hated the guy like most others that worked for him.  But from what he had learned over the years, Bella was easy to like; a drop-dead gorgeous lady with lots of class and a solid silver tongue.  Moore was certain of one thing though.  If Powell blew this thing, he was going to pay.
Golden, on the other hand, could only think about B.B.  She still wasn’t sure where she had seen her before, but her memory kept pointing to some tragic event.  Because of that, she felt sympathy for this ‘familiar stranger’.
Moore and Golden had a few other confrontations that night.  As they waited for Joseph outside the Cruel Kitty, they ran into the delivery man that Powell had described.  Despite the fact that he was holding hands and chatting with a lovely lady friend, they didn’t hesitate to approach him.
“Enjoy the party?” asked Moore.
“Yes sir, officer,” said the delivery man the detectives now knew as Burns.  “Something wrong?”
“Heard you made ‘special deliveries’ for Lenny Java,” said Golden.  Before Burns could react, Golden lifted her hand.  “Don’t worry, this isn’t an arrest.”
“But you could help us at the moment by answering a few…” began Moore.
“I don’t work for that scum anymore,” interrupted Burns.  “As far as I’m concerned, you two can have him hung by his fat neck, but I want nothing more to do with him.”
“What about Cherry Bella then?” asked Golden.  “Seems like you’re switching sides.”
“Bella just wanted to talk to my girl about a bartending job.  Nothing illegal in that.”
“No, but…”
Burns cut Moore off again.  “Look, I’m a worm in this underworld food chain.  You’re gonna have to catch the big fish for some real info.  Good night.”
As Burns drove away with his sweetheart, Moore noticed a flash of light in the distance.  He glanced over to his left and immediately made a running stance.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelled before he began pursuit.
“What?” asked Golden as she followed behind.
“The Gnome!”
The Gnome was fast for a short, fat man hauling a huge camera.  However, once the detectives chased him into a parking garage, they found the odd fellow to be the least of their problems.  The Gnome hopped into the back of a limo, and the vehicle began to speed away.  Then, the front passenger window rolled down and the Devil’s Seven’s Bobby T popped out with his Tommy .27.
“Stay out of this, pigs!” he yelled as he fired.  Moore took a shot in the arm before he and Golden hid behind another vehicle and drew their blaster pistols.  They fired back, but it was futile as the limo was soon out of sight.
“Dammit!” growled Moore as Golden placed a handkerchief on his wound.
“You gonna be okay?” asked his partner.
“I’ve gotten worse.”
“Yeah, and so has this operation… gotten worse.  Now the Devil’s Seven knows about us… and maybe the Broken Hearts as well.”
“First thing’s first.”  Moore gasped a second.  “We pull Powell out of this before he makes things worse too.”

Powell checked in one last time, making a brief call to Moore, alerting him that the final Cold shipment to Bella’s was being made that night… and then everything would be okay.
“Yeah, sure,” said Moore.  “You just make sure you check in again when it’s all over.  It’s time we move in on both gangs before they make these streets Hell on Earth.”
“Yeah… I’ll be at my apartment,” said Powell.  “I’ll let you know when to come by.”
Without a good-bye, Moore hung up.  He rubbed his bandaged arm a bit before walking over to his office window.
“Sorry…Jo-Bo,” he whispered.  “I’m not waiting on your cue.”

Moore and Golden rarely ever used the “company car”, but they thought on this occasion that it might be necessary.  When they pulled up close enough to get a good view of Joseph’s apartment building, they quickly spotted Burns’ delivery truck, which ironically also seemed to be keeping a low profile.
“I knew it,” sighed Moore.
“Powell’s taking the payoff and making a run for it,” said Golden, shaking her head.  “Early retirement.”
“He’s not left yet.”  Moore then started up the car when they saw two men dragging Joseph out to their own vehicle.
“That’s Hoax and Leach!” shouted Golden.  “Java’s two whack jobs!”  As Burns sped off in an opposite direction, they attempted to follow the two cracked cronies.  However, their pursuit came to a halt once again, this time by a large van driven by Java’s muscleman Aries.  He ran straight into the driver’s side, causing the detectives’ car to flip over.  And by the time Golden had regained composure, Aries was long gone and Moore was a bloody mess.
“Moore?” she said in a panic.
“I radioed for back-up and an ambulance,” he said.  “Can you move?”
“Yeah, just a bit shook up.”
“Better try to catch up then.”
“Yeah.”  Amelia crawled out of her car and made her way to the docks as fast as her now aching body could manage.  If Joseph was still alive, that’s where he and the Devil’s Seven were.

“Damn it,” said Golden as the other officers joined her.  The Seven had fled the docks and all that was left was Powell’s still smoking remains.  “You screwed it up big time, my friend.”
“No sign of Java or his gang,” said one of the officers.  “They must have made tracks pretty quickly after they wasted him.”
“They didn’t kill him,” corrected Golden.  “Otherwise, he’d be submerged in that muck we call the Northeast River.  Someone else did this, and it probably scared them o…”  She was then interrupted by a distant scream… and she knew just who produced it.  “Stay with the body,” she ordered the officers.  “I’ll handle this.”
It all came back to her as she saw B.B. stomping and screaming at the madman on the ground, ignoring the blood that poured from her cheek and arms.  Years ago, when Golden worked as a rookie in Carmenville, a woman named Brandi Bernard came in worried sick about her missing son.  The detective had come across a lot of those cases, but she now remembered the mother’s reaction when she had to deliver the bad news to her that her son was found butchered in the local park.  While most would cry and scream or completely break out into hysteria, Brandi simply sat in the waiting room chair; saying nothing, doing nothing… like she had become a living, breathing corpse.
Golden came by her house a week later to check on her, but the place had been abandoned.  This was the first time she had seen Brandi since that horrific day.  As the enraged mother began to calm down and stumble in a state of dizziness, Golden looked at the man she attacked… and who was now laughing at her.  She almost screamed herself.
“The Carmenville Child-killer,” she whispered.
The psychopath heard the detective and grinned as he approached her.  Without hesitation, she removed her blaster pistol and shot him three times in the chest before he went down.  She then ran over to check on Brandi.
“I am sorry you were driven to this,” she said with tears streaming down her face.  However, Brandi could only mumble in reply as Golden wiped her wounds.  “I need a first aid kit at the loading area behind Sailor Sally’s,” she ordered on her wrist-com.  “Immediately!”
Then, the prone devil behind her rose and grabbed her, placing a knife to her throat.  He hissed out another laugh as he began to prick her neck.  But just as sudden as his attack, B.B. grabbed Golden’s fallen gun and shot him in the head.  The sweating detective carefully removed his arms from around her and then shoved him to the ground.  In an unexpected turn of events, she had witnessed one of the legendary Devil’s Seven finally meet his end.
Once B.B. was patched up, Golden had her driven to the Aphrodite Arms.  The detective was no fan of Cherry Bella, but she knew that Bella was a friend of Brandi’s, someone who would care for her.  Mob takedowns would have to wait.  Tonight, Golden was only concerned about a woman who had been through Hell.  B.B. was delirious, but gently pushed Golden aside once they reached the Arms’ entrance, still aware of the danger a pillar of the law would be in if she entered the place.  Before she walked inside, she turned to Golden.  With a slight, hazy nod, she showed her gratitude.
“Detective Joe Moore.”  Moore looked like a poorly wrapped mummy as he forced himself to hold up the phone.
“There’s a war coming, Detective.  Time to be a hero again.”  Then, the caller hung up.
“A war,” sighed Moore as he put his own phone back on the receiver.  “And dammit, we helped start it.”