Bob Moore: No Hero

Chapter 4

I rarely get called by the police, so when that cop first called a few weeks back I blew him off. I wasn't alone in this; the police rarely call anyone unless they are asking for money for their latest community improvement project. The police don't really do much policing any more, just reporting. There was a time, when I was a kid, when the police actually investigated crimes and such. Since supers started showing up on the scene, the police have shifted into more of a community building/support role. They are still important in that they are given direct access to the SB - Super Band - radio. With it, they can report crimes directly to their local supers and generally they send someone out. You can always tell police officers by not only their uniforms, but their watches. The Bulwark have created the watch/communicators for specific police use. Each device is tied directly with the user and can't be used by anyone else. Even if they could take them off without help, they probably wouldn't. They consider them more of a badge than their police ID. It gets them into clubs, bumped to the front of waiting lists, and discounts.

"Bob," Khan's voice rang out over the intercom, "the police officer is on the phone for you, again."

I sighed, "Tell him we already gave this month."

"It's not about that. He's says he really needs your help."

My brow furrowed. Help? With what, fundraising? The last time he had caught me on the phone, before Flamer showed up, I hadn't let him get two words out before blowing him off. "Fine, put it through." A moment later and the phone rang, "Bob Moore here."

"Mr. Moore?" the man on the other end sounded official and smooth, as if he spent most of his time schmoozing people with his voice. He had that forced informality that people adopt when they don't want to sound too smart. "Mr. Bob Moore? PI?"

"That's me," I replied.

"I'm glad I finally caught you. This is Officer Kent of the Hillside Branch?" he said it like a question.

Hillside is out in the suburbs, nowhere near me geographically or economically. People that live in Hillside spend more money on their cars than I did on my apartment.

"Sorry to disturb you, but I have a request."

"What's this about?" If I sounded put out and cautious, it was because that's how I felt. No good ever came out of jobs from cops.

"Ya see, we've got a problem," the officer began. "We've got a report of a crime but no evidence."

"Yeah, that's a problem," I replied.

"The thing is, even our partners say they see no evidence."

Partner was code for super. The police liked to make it sound like they were working with the supers instead of for them. I'm sure some people out there believed them. I wasn't one of them.

"Still not seeing what this has to do with me."

"Well, the bloke who reported the crime," I could almost hear the cop pull at his collar as he came up with the right words, "was insistent. When he wouldn't take no for an answer, I suggested he contact someone else. Someone private. Your name came up."

"Great, thanks for the recommendation. If you're looking for a commission, I don't generally work that way."

"Oh, I didn't make the suggestion, I never heard of ya before."

"Huh? So, if he knows me, what's the problem?"

"Ya see, he's afraid you won't take the case."

"What?" Now I was really confused. "Why?"

"Got me," the cop replied. "Said you two had a history. Said you didn't like him much."

I started to get a sinking feeling in my stomach. Hillside. History. Crap. "He's not a doctor, is he?"