Organo-Topia by Scott Michael Decker Read Free Book Online Page A

needed. “I hope you don't mind.”
    “Mind? Some stranger breaks into my apartment, and I shouldn't mind? I ought to call the police.”
    “Except you are the police.”
    “Technically, I am. Why are you here?”
    “I have no place to go. I've been fired.” A place as remote as Plavinas Incubation had company housing, charging their indentures double market for half the space.
    “How'd you find out where I live?” It was not public information.
    “Leave a girl a few secrets, eh?”
    “Why shouldn't I leave you on the curb, handcuffed to a streetlamp?”
    The two stared at each other, Imale resident and Ofem interloper.
    Her head fell forward, and she began to weep.
    What a jerking nightmare! he thought, feels like a part in a noir dick flick. If he offered her his couch, she'd end up in his bed. If he offered her his bed, he'd end up on the couch. Either she'd jerk him silly, or he'd have to himself.
    His thoughts a litany of obscenity, he pulled her to his shoulder and kicked the door closed.

Chapter 6
    Professor Bernhard Vitol ripped open the door. “It's you again. What'd I do this time?”
    “Need more info, Prof,” Maris said. The smell of stale sweat cascaded off the Professor, the tsunami of sour air olfactible to the naked nose. “Get a patty with me? Do you good.”
    The eyes shifted left, then right.
    Peterson held up his hand. “Don't slam it on me. Three hots and a cot or a hot one with me on a bench. Which is it?”
    The eyes dropped to the rumpled trousers, the ringed armpits. “Five minutes?”
    “Three, and I'll be comin' in with a warrant at four.”
    A deep sigh and the shoulders slumped. “All right, Detective,” the Professor said, and the door closed.
    At two minutes, Maris scratched his head. He wouldn't…?
    The Detective sprinted around to the back of the modest house, the outside as prim as the inside was cluttered. No fences in this neighborhood, and behind the house was the neighbor's, twenty feet away, Vitol just slipping in the door.
    Maris was on him, grabbed the shirt shoulders from behind, and hurled the Professor back onto the lawn.
    He went fetal as he fell. “Don'thurtmeDon'thurtmeDon'thurtme…”
    “What the jerk you doin', Vitol?!” Peterson whipped out a pair of cuffs, got one on him. “I just want info, for whinin' out loud. Don't make me arrest you for that!”
    “OkayOkayOkay…”
    “Hell, I'll even throw in some fries. Won't get those at the county jail.”
    “Fries? Real ones?”
    Maris considered, decided he could expense it out. Lieutenant Balodis wouldn't be happy, but she could go jerk herself. “Real ones.”
    “Deal.”
    All that for some real jerking fries. Probably planned it. “That's what I like about you, Professor. You suck the advantage out of every opportunity.”
    The cuffs back on his belt, the two of them shambled down the street, the burger place on the corner. The Professor's bulk took up most of the sidewalk, Peterson walking half in the gutter, the elephant and the flea.
    “Come with me, lover boys,” the waitress said, glancing between them, clearly deciding they were spouses.
    The bench complained it'd have to file for a work injury. Peterson decided he might too, the Professor painful to look at, Vitol somewhat shy of Mister Galaxy.
    Maris traked for Professor Vitol's file. “Bernhard, why didn't you tell me you refused to donate yesterday? Now there
is
a warrant.”
    “Draconian, the way they suck up sperm!” he complained.
    “Worse now that the stock at Plavinas Incubation got wiped out.” He looked at the approaching waitress. “Two burgers and two sides of real fries.”
    “One side per table,” the waitress said, throwing a glance toward the door. “Don't you read?”
    A sign just inside the door made it plain.
    “One real, one fake, we'll split.”
    “Hey, you're that Detective I saw on the holo, aren't you?” The waitress grinned at him, raking her eyes across him like hot coals. “Honey, you can get your