The Unlikely Baker

The last thug’s head hit the pavement with a rather sickening thud, and Lute took a final look around before nursing his sore left hand.  That big bruiser had put up a pretty good fight, and he would definitely feel the cracked ribs in the morning. Marvin had already begun busily moving the miscreants towards the nearest light pole or mailbox, zip-tying their hands around any object he could find that was anchored to the ground.  It wouldn’t hold them forever, but it would at least keep them busy until some cops could show up. If the cops ever did show.

            “I thought he was going to have you there,” Marvin grinned.  There was nothing like a good brawl to put Marvin in high spirits. 

            “I guess you weren’t concerned enough to help out,” Lute retorted.  He hadn’t really been worried, even when the lead pipe had made its appearance; Lute had an iron jaw and the scars of a thousand fights covered his body.  One last hook to the chin had put the man down.

            “I knew you had him old man.  You’ve got a few years left in ya.  It’s not going to be some street urchin that takes you down.”

            “Did any of them have anything?” Lute had rifled a couple of the unconscious bodies but hadn’t found anything of interest.  A couple phones he would try and break into later, but nothing else.  

    “Nah man.  Why on earth would the Grabovs be knocking off convenience stores?”

“Well shit, Marv, thank you for re-stating why we’re out here tonight, it’s much appreciated.”  Lute grunted, annoyed with his partner. There weren’t many better in a fight, but Marvin could be trying.  

“No need for the hostility Lutey boy.  I just got so excited beating ass.”

“I want to go home and think.  These idiots were a waste of time.”  Pocketing the two phones and giving the big guy one more kick in the ribs (he groaned in a pretty satisfying way), Lute started walking down the street.  They had done their questioning in an off-the-beaten path alleyway, so he wasn’t too worried they had been seen. Of course, the motion sensing cameras the city had installed almost everywhere were a concern, but he was reasonably sure they had missed this area.  

“Alright, give me a ring when we’re ready for the next step.” Marvin leapt up, grabbed one of the window ledges about 10 feet off the ground, and started jumping up the side of the building.  “Always a show-off,” thought Lute irritably. His friend’s high-flying abilities definitely came in useful but they could also grate the nerves. He continued down the road, pulling his coat collar up to better hide his face.

A short walk and a subway ride later, Lute was home.  A poorly lit, somewhat dingy studio apartment on the east side, it was a place he could get some rest while he wasn’t out crushing the city’s seedier residents.  He got some bandages down for his hand and started the oven. While the rest of his place was largely in disarray, with papers related to various investigations he had going strewn on almost every surface, Lute kept his kitchen immaculate.  It was small but it had everything he needed to practice his one true enjoyment in life: baking. If Marv knew Lute was sure the least he could expect were some snide comments, and the various other entities Lute knew around the city saw him as little more than a gruff, irritable vigilante with a one track mind for taking down crime families or powered ne’er-do-wells. Adding “prodigious baker,” to his list of titles might make him a bit too three-dimensional to be taken seriously.

Lute wasn’t necessarily against his favorite pastime getting out; generally his conversations with others involved the sordid details of an autopsy, following lines of laundered money, or trying to figure out where that bullet could have come from.  There wasn’t much opportunity to bring up his latest attempts to whip up a batch of macarons or how his last pain au chocolat had turned out.  He sifted some flour as he considered what he had learned tonight.  Not much of anything, now that he thought about it. That gang of thugs had been busily packing money into mattresses for shipping around the country; add furniture stores to the lists of businesses to check.  

Lute cracked an egg in the bowl he was using for the cake batter he was making.  He normally mixed batter by hand, but this time he might consider using an electric mixer judging by the state his hand was in.  Today he was making some madeleine cookies, a simple recipe that he hadn’t tried in awhile.  He needed something simple to work on while he thought this latest revelation through.  “Not really a revelation,” he thought sourly, a frown appearing on his wrinkled, hardened face.  He and Marv were no closer to figuring out what the Grabovs were up to. “At least a few more are off the streets for a couple weeks.”  

Just then the buzzer for his apartment rang.  Three quick beeps; that was probably Marvin. He had luckily reached a point in his task where he could let the batter sit in the fridge for a little bit while he handled his partner.  “Hope you aren’t busy,” Marv said after Lute had pressed the intercom button. Lute knew he meant it as a joke; as far as Marv knew all Lute ever did was work cases.  

“Of course not,” Lute grunted.  “What do you need?”

“I think we should hit the docks tomorrow.  I just got a bead that some of Antonin’s bodyguards have been seen down there a few times this month.  Might be something hot going on.”

Lute considered for a moment.  “It’s worth a look. Good work Marv.”  He could tell by the pause that Marv had been taken aback by the compliment; they were few and far between with Lute as a partner.  He usually felt a little more amenable when he’d been baking.

“No problem buddy.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”  Lute went back to the kitchen and sighed. He was known throughout the city as someone to be feared, and he wasn’t sure how being an accomplished baker might factor into that reputation.  He usually just gave his work to the nearest homeless shelters; he wasn’t necessarily into eating his creations. He pulled the batter out and got back to work. Maybe he’d try a madeleine this time.