The Path of Progress (#13)

Chapter 1

“They entered through a rear window?” Spokane Police Detective Leya Navarro asked.

Evan Barkuloo nodded. “That’s right.” He angrily slapped his filthy hands together, then pointed at the case file she held. “Them animals ripped off the sheet metal that covered it and everything.”

A couple of teeth were missing from the front left side of Barkuloo’s mouth. Leya tried not to stare at the gaping hole while the man spoke, but Barkuloo pulled his lips back and he furiously clicked his front teeth together before speaking. He resembled an excited gopher in a Pixar movie. “They made a real mess of it,” he said. “Here. Lemme show you.”

The owner of East Sprague Small Engine Repair limped off and waved for her to follow. His arms swung wide with each step. Leya had additional questions, but they could wait. Even though the case file she carried already contained photos of the burglars’ entry point, she wanted to see the physical damage for herself.

Barkuloo led her around the sales counter and into a dingy shop that smelled of old oil and unwashed men. Various grungy lawn mowers and snowblowers sat clustered together. Two halogen lights bent at severe angles to illuminate a disassembled engine that lay upon a soiled workbench. A box of gleaming wrenches lay open next to several shiny screwdrivers.

Leya carefully avoided the dirty surfaces. It had been six months since she left patrol. Back then, she rarely worried about what happened to her dark blue uniform. Stains and smudges were barely noticeable on it. That didn’t hold true with the slacks and sports coats she now wore. She never dressed as nicely as Major Crimes detectives but walking around with a blot of oil on her shirt all day would still look unprofessional.

“It’s not like I’m a bank or nothing,” Barkuloo said. “They might’ve gotten eighty bucks out of the till if they were lucky. Everybody and their credit cards, you know?”

He was a balding white man in his mid-seventies who stood about Leya’s height. Barkuloo was likely taller in his youth, but a severe stoop brought him down several inches. Grease and other filth covered the apron he wore over his plaid shirt and brown slacks.

At the rear of the building, Barkuloo yanked a bolt to the side, twisted a knob, and shoved a door open. Sunlight flooded the shop. He patted a piece of plywood that measured roughly two feet by four feet on the nearby wall.

“This is it,” he said.

“The window is behind that?”

“It ain’t a window no more.” He stepped into the alley. “Another piece is out here.”

Leya stepped over an oil stain and joined him.

Barkuloo continued. “I had to replace the sheet metal because of them animals. Look.”

She followed his gesture. A second strip of plywood hung on the outside of the building.

“Twenty screws,” Barkuloo said as he knocked on the rectangular piece of wood. “Both sides.” He clacked his front teeth together and once again drew Leya’s attention to the hole in his mouth. “That’s where I made my mistake—believing those rotten animals wouldn’t be interested in what little I had.”

The alley smelled of cat urine and rotting garbage, but it didn’t seem to bother Barkuloo. He tapped on the plywood again and leaned forward to study one of the screws.

Tumbleweeds accumulated along the back fence line. Behind the engine repair shop was a cluster of small industrial buildings with residential homes scattered in. The sun was almost at its zenith and the temperature was in the low sixties. It was an unseasonably warm November day—too nice to linger in the alley’s stink. The week’s remaining forecast was warm—a pleasant break from the cold and rain they’d experienced the previous month.

Leya glanced left and right. About a block to the west, two men were headed in her direction. She could suffer the alley’s stench a couple of minutes longer.

She consulted her file. “The break-in occurred two nights ago.”

Barkuloo smacked his hands together again. “Sons o’ bitches took all my tools. Can you believe it? Hobbled my business in one fell swoop.”

“Did you notice anyone suspicious hanging around before that night?”

He laughed without mirth. “It’s East Sprague, darling. This whole place is nothing but suspicious.” Barkuloo ruefully shook his head. “Years ago, this part of town might have been a little rough, but you could run a business without looking over your shoulder every other minute. It changed with Ronnie Raygun. Businesses moved out, junkies and whores moved in. Trickle-down economics, my ass.”

Barkuloo pointed west. “Then the power company came in with that monstrosity of theirs, waving promises of community revitalization, like they were the second coming of Expo or something.”

He was talking about the Catalyst Building, a five-story structure that was self-sustaining, since it wouldn’t use any fossil fuels and could produce its own green energy. The structure was hard to miss as it stood out like a sore thumb in the East Sprague Corridor. It led to a wave of recent revitalization in the once economically depressed area.

Barkuloo continued. “All that high-minded bullshit brought was developers who think they can clean up this area.” His eyes narrowed. “You know what revitalization really does?”

Leya shook her head. She didn’t care about Barkuloo’s rant. She was waiting for the two men walking toward them to get closer.

“It squeezes the little guy out,” Barkuloo said. “First, we get pinched by the criminals. Then the wealthy put their greedy hands in our pockets.” His face reddened. “Because of them, we can’t afford our property taxes no more. You think them animals are going to steal from the new properties? Not a chance. Those greedy bastards got better security. They got the fancy cameras that work in the clouds.” His hand wafted into the air as he made a sound like a plane taking off. “Besides, the cops watch out for the rich because they’re the only ones who can afford to donate to the policeman’s ball.” Barkuloo’s expression softened. “No offense.”

Leya lifted a conciliatory hand. “We don’t have a ball.”

“Gala, then. Either way, I’m frustrated.” Barkuloo’s lips vibrated as he blew air through them. “I’ve been fixing engines almost fifty years, but I’ve had about enough. The world has gotten to where I just don’t understand it anymore.” He noticed the approaching men and put his hands on his hips. “Case in point.”

The two men appeared to be in their late thirties. They had the gaunt and haunted look of those who lived on the streets for too long. Their clothes, while different styles, were covered in the same grime.

“Morning,” Leya said.

The two refused to make eye contact with either her or Evan Barkuloo.

She pulled her sport coat to the side to reveal her badge and gun. “Can I ask you guys a couple questions?”
Their gazes dropped to her waist, but they didn’t stop walking. They didn’t increase their pace either. They simply walked by wordlessly. Dust kicked up in the alley from their shuffling feet.

“You two live around here?” Leya asked.

“Arrogant sons o’ bitches.” Barkuloo banged his front teeth together as he watched the men leave the alley at the end of the block. “They probably live over in that lousy camp.”

She eyed him. “Camp Faith?”

“As far as I’m concerned, the city is responsible for that whole damn mess.”

Barkuloo stepped back into his shop and Leya followed him.

“The city council is nothing but a bunch of bleeding-heart liberals now. They let those animals get away with murder just because they’re homeless.”

He pulled the door shut and slammed the bolt back into place.

“Homeless, my ass. We should call them bums, like we did when I was a kid. Let’s give them a good dose of humiliation instead of coddling them with so many damned handouts and excusing their behavior with sissified words like displaced.”

Leya wanted to point out the inconsistencies in his argument. One moment, he spoke against Ronald Reagan and economic revitalization, and the next, he railed against the liberals and the homeless population. Perhaps he was just a cantankerous old man, and nothing would make him happy. She pulled a business card from her coat pocket and handed it to him. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Barkuloo.”

He took the card, frowning. “You prolly think I’m a crotchety old bastard—”

She politely smiled.

“But let me tell you something.” He flicked the card with his middle finger. “The businesses in this area are suffering from these break-ins, and our customers don’t want to come down here because of them bums. Who do you think benefits from that?”

Leya moved toward the door. “I’ll let you know if I find anything out.”

“Think about what I said, Detective.” Barkuloo pointed the business card at her. “Who benefits from what’s going on down here?”