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    Kharma's Gatto: Blunt Force Kharma, #5
    Kharma's Gatto: Blunt Force Kharma, #5
    Kharma's Gatto: Blunt Force Kharma, #5
    Ebook170 pages2 hours

    Kharma's Gatto: Blunt Force Kharma, #5

    By M.E. Purfield

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    About this ebook

    A little girl everyone wants to protect but only one person wants to kill.

     

    In the crumbling Central District, private investigator Kelly Kharma can't afford a cup of coffee. Watching burning buildings out her window highlights her days until Pinback Boiler walks into her office.

     

    Breaking a custody agreement, Boiler's wife kidnapped their daughter Gwendolyn. He needs Kharma to find her and bring her back.

     

    Kharma follows Gwendolyn's trail into the industrial South District where underground abortionists and criminals mix with the alien working class. Where everyone has a secret. Even Boiler and Gwendolyn.

     

    Secrets that can kill.

     

    Buy this tense and fast sci-fi noir now and wade in violence and mystery for the sake of saving an enigmatic little girl.

    LanguageEnglish
    Publishertrash books
    Release dateJul 20, 2017
    ISBN9781386635369
    Kharma's Gatto: Blunt Force Kharma, #5
    Author

    M.E. Purfield

    M.E. Purfield is the autistic author who writes novels and short stories in the genres of crime, sci-fi, dark fantasy, and Young Adult. Sometimes all in the same story. Notably, he works on the Tenebrous Chronicles which encompasses the Miki Radicci Series, The Cities Series, and the Radicci Sisters Series, and also the sci-fi, neuro-diverse Auts series of short stories.

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      Book preview

      Kharma's Gatto - M.E. Purfield

      The card is denied, he said, holding it out to her.

      Thomas the barrister threw Kharma a vile glare instead of the large caffeine with synthetic milk and sugar in her face. She wasn’t at all threatened. The guy was almost half her age and a foot shorter. Most men were shorter than her six-foot height. But since he was behind the counter and always sold her daily morning wake-up drink at the Java Java internet cafe before work maybe he felt he held some kind of authority over her.

      Kharma smiled at him, trying to break his mood. The line behind her was almost out the door and the crew in front of her was manic preparing food and drinks. A fight the first thing in the morning was the last thing she needed. She preferred her violence later in the day.

      Can you try again? she asked.

      I tried twice.

      She checked the time on her phone. It’s way after 8 AM and the money the previous client promised should have been in her account by now. She squeezed the phone, pocketed it, and wished it were long ago when there was other currency to use like cash.

      One more time, Kharma asked in her best, pleading voice. Please.

      Thomas inserted the card into the computer.

      C’mon, lady. Some of us have jobs.

      Kharma closed her eyes to the voice. She remembered who was behind her. Some pale dork in a suit and tie that was probably on his way to an office building to make credits for his boss so in turn, his boss can pay him credits. Nothing for nothing so someone can buy something. When she first entered the Java Java she noticed that all the men and women on line were like that. Working-class people weren’t around anymore. Except for the Thomases and others who worked in the stores around neighborhood, the people to serve the suits making nothing out of nothing for their material needs.

      Still not working.

      Thomas placed her credit card on the counter and took the large caffeine away. Kharma sighed and gathered her card. The suit behind her shoved his way into her space and started his order. Kharma shuffled to the side and regained her balance.

      Hey, she said.

      Shouldn’t you be looking for a job so that you can afford a cup of caffeine? the suit said, then whispered, freak.

      Kharma was surprised it took the jerk this long to bring up her face; her dark skin with missing pigment that created a large pinkish patch on the side of her face that ran down from temple to chin and spots on the other side. She stared him down as if he were one of the criminals she was hired to chase. Maybe one day he would be. Then again with her luck he may be one of her clients. The suit smirked and locked with her eyes. The bastard probably thought he could buy Kharma. Maybe he could.

      Let’s go, a woman down the line called out. I’m going to be late.

      Kharma shook her head, gave the man her sorriest expression, and said:

      Whatever.

      The righteous man forgot about her and focused his attention on Thomas who suddenly became nervous with the new customer. Kharma walked towards the exit, down the line, and wondered if she had any instant caffeine back at her apartment.

      Later that morning she sat at her desk, drank a cup of synthetic tea, and watched the building burn across the street from out her office’s picture window. The building had been empty for more than six months and used to be a distributor warehouse for electronic goods. Kharma wasn’t sure why they closed down. Maybe they found a bigger space but most likely the company went bankrupt like all the others in Central District. Aside from apartment buildings and retail chains the downtown area had been filling up with abandoned structures that used to be factories and warehouses. Which led to no jobs for the workers. Soon, she imagined, it would lead to empty apartment buildings and houses since those workers can’t pay the rent to house their families.

      During the last few months she had seen some homeless kids moving in and out of the warehouse. Maybe the kids started the fire to keep warm, left it going without putting it out.

      The flames consumed the roof now. If someone didn’t put it out soon it would spread to the apartment building next door. Some of the residents stood outside with their phones trying to contact someone who had fire insurance. The fire department worked like law enforcement. It was only available to those who paid their premiums. Since the fire trucks had not immediately come as soon as the flames were spotted or when the alarms were set off inside the building, then either the owner of the building had no fire insurance or they lapsed in their payments. So what do the residents of the neighboring apartment building do? The owner of that building might have a clause in their policy to extinguish the warehouse or the residents can gather together and put it out themselves.

      The office front door opened and a man entered. He closed it behind him, double-glanced at the fire, and shook his head with sadness. He was older, Kharma guessed, in his fifties. His hair gray and cropped tight. Face etched, chiseled, with a hard life. His black coat hung tight and long (to conceal a weapon?) and his dark pants trimmed. He was either FOP or government. Definitely not a lawyer since he wasn’t wearing a tie with his button shirt that peeked out from the top of his coat.

      The man crossed over the open waiting area to the desk and offered his hand.

      Are you Kelly Kharma of the Kharma Investigations and Security? he asked.

      She stood, met him in front of the desk, matched his height, and shook his firm gun grip.

      Yes, sir, she said. How can I help you?

      He turned again to the window.

      Isn’t anyone going to put out that fire?

      If it bothers you I can turn down the blinds.

      He nodded and sighed.

      District is going to hell, he said. People can’t pay their bills but how can you expect them to when they aren’t making any money. No jobs. All the jobs are up in the North District, I hear.

      He glanced at Kharma for her response. She waited for him.

      Anyway. My name is Pinback Boiler and I would like to hire you.

      Nice to meet you, Mr. Boiler. Kharma went back behind the desk and motioned to the chair in front of it. Please have a seat.

      Boiler took off his coat to reveal the rest of his suit and sat with Kharma.

      Can I offer you a drink? she asked. Water?

      I’m fine. Thank you.

      May I ask who referred you to me, Mr. Boiler?

      I’ve heard of you for a while now. I used to be with the FOP, he said. I retired ten years ago. I worked Robbery, did my twenty-five years, and got out alive. Since then I’ve been working for Rivers Investigations and Security.

      Kharma nodded and tried not to show her confusion. Rivers was a major firm in the Central District that handled private investigations and security for the corporations, financial elites, and a few government officials. When Kharma first left the FOP she considered apply to them but knew she would have to start at the bottom for low pay even though she had many years as an investigator in Robbery and Homicide. Plus she didn’t want to have a boss telling her what to do anymore at that time in her life. She still didn’t.  So she decided to go solo and risk the insurance security and steady paycheck. Sometimes, like now, she wished she changed her mind.

      What do you do at Rivers? she asked.

      I supervise a team of investigators, Boiler said. Nothing big. Three to four in rotation. I train them so they can move on to bigger cases in the firm.

      Sounds...nice.

      I can’t complain, he said. So besides hearing about you through the FOP, you’re name also came up through client circles. Your work is very impressive.

      Kharma shrugged.

      Thanks, she said. But if you’re an investigator with a major firm why are you here talking to me?

      Right. He readjusted himself in the chair and crossed his legs. I have a personal matter that has become a conflict of interest with my employment contract.

      Pardon?

      At Rivers we’re not permitted to use or hire its services for personal matters, he said.

      Interesting. Far from the old FOP motto of ‘Taking care of one’s own.’

      Boiler grunted and nodded, eyes on the floor.

      My wife and daughter are missing, he said. She left with my daughter a week ago.

      So they weren’t kidnapped.

      Yes and no. My wife kidnapped my daughter, he said. We’re recently divorced and have shared custody of Gwendolyn. That’s my daughter’s name. The judge granted me primary custody, meaning Gwen can stay with me most of the week and she can see her mother every other weekend. To be generous I had promised Frita, my wife, that she could be with her every weekend and holiday no matter how minor.

      I’ll need to see those court papers, Kharma said.

      Of course, and I’ll send you the papers from the divorce as well. He pulled out his phone and swiped it open. Use the email on your website?

      Within a few minutes Kharma had the documents opened up on her computer in front of her. The divorce was fresh out of the box. Gwendolyn only spent one night with her father after the trial before Frita Boiler took her away.

      Your wife filed for divorce and claimed abuse not towards herself but toward Gwendolyn, Kharma said.

      Correct. It was very ugly and embarrassing. I gave her the divorce. She didn’t have to use such an ugly lie. As you can read she was never able to prove her claims. Gwendolyn never spoke out against me in court or in a deposition.

      Kharma tapped her finger on the desk and asked:

      And no charges were made against you?

      Boiler held her eye and shook his head.

      None. You can access the FOP records and see for yourself. Frita didn’t waste her time. Her attempt to use the lie in court was just a ruse to gain full custody of her daughter. Obviously it didn’t work.

      Kharma nodded and leaned back against the chair.

      And the FOP were unable to find her?

      I hate to talk bad about my former brothers but you know how underpaid and understaffed they are. I’m sure my file is still sitting on a clerk’s desk waiting to be processed and assigned.

      Kharma leaned forward, elbows on her metal desk, and covered her face with her hands. An ache crawled through her empty stomach and not because she only had tea for breakfast.

      Will you help me, Ms. Kharma? Boiler asked.

      She removed her hands and stared past his shoulder out the window. The residents threw buckets of water on the neighboring apartment building so the burning warehouse didn’t catch on fire. Kharma wondered if her fire premiums were due soon.

      I’ll need a week’s advance, she said.

      Frita and Pinback met while they were in the FOP. He was a detective in Robbery and she was a claims clerk. Normally a detective

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