The Power of Media by Glen Mehn

Author:Glen Mehn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime
Publisher: Rebellion Publishing Ltd

I WOKE UP to Sherlock’s absence all day on Sunday; he came to find me Monday afternoon. The day’s light was fading and Sherlock brought us outside to stand shivering next to the payphone on the street corner. I was uncommonly tired, and almost ready to sit on the two-foot-high pile of the compacted grey snow that lined the New York streets in the winter. A tall black man walked up, at least six-foot-six, and beautiful. Half black, short hair, black leather jacket, thin and lean. He moved with power, and he was intimidating. I might have been a little in love, and it was confusing to me. Black, in this case, certainly was beautiful.

“Dr. Watson, this is Tyrone. Tyrone has agreed to be our answering service. Tyrone, this is Watson, or you can call him Doc. He’s as good to receive messages as I am.”

“Tuesdays, right? Between seven and seven-thirty?”

“That’s right. Remember an extra five when he calls. Somebody’s got to wait for it, every week. And to watch out if you see any funny characters hanging out, okay?”

“Me and my boys’ll be on it, don’t you worry, Mr. Holmes.” He and Sherlock shook hands, and it was like an earthquake went off in my head, right there in Manhattan. It was the same handshake that I’d seen negroes in Vietnam using when they were handing off heroin. Sherlock wasn’t interested in street drugs, though, and all he had to do was talk to me. I had a clean, guaranteed supply of whatever he wanted.

Tyrone walked away, smiling to himself.

“This is our new answering service, Sherlock?”

“It’s helpful to have someone invisible, John. Tyrone and his ‘boys’ are always out on the street, and they’re just the type to be ignored by... anyone who might be watching for us. It’s good for us to have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“How did you get him to agree?”

“He had a little problem. I helped him out with it. It was interesting, in a way. His mother was getting consistently underpaid for her work at the two hotels she cleans at. It was pretty simple for me to put on a tweed jacket and red bow tie and make up a card identifying myself as a city auditor. I’ve been reading this book, An Actor Prepares, by Konstantin Stanislavsky. It’s important to the Soviets, but it isn’t widely available in translation, and I thought I could try out some of his methods. A quick audit and the discovery that the owner was... well, pocketing the worker’s wages isn’t exactly right. Accidentally underpaid, I think is what he said. He paid the arrears and I’ve promised to re-audit in a few months, and I handed the number around to all the workers to call for a re-audit just in case, and the city—well, I suppose, myself as an undesignated representative of the city—graciously decided not to fine the hotels. Tyrone offered to pay me, but I asked him if he was interested in doing some odd jobs for us from time to time.

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