The Truth Behind It All

Chapter 3

                                                                                                        April 7, 2007

            “So? What did he say?” Adam asked once they exited the facility. They walked side by side towards the American car they had rented the same day.

            “The usual. He only knows Velez from a project ten years ago, he’s had no further contact with him.”

            “Did you show him the photo where he is having lunch with Velez?”

            “Of course I did. He kept denying the whole thing. Let me tell you, I know we just got here but I am already tired of Americans, they are nothing but liars.” Brian walked towards the right side of the car then bangs at the window. “Stupid American cars, why is the passenger seat on the driver’s side?” he complained.

            “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.” They both got in the car and Adam started it. “Where are we going now?”

            Brian pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and reads through it, “To a pub called Jefferson’s, at . . . “

            “Sunrise Blvd and Cherry Street. I know where it is,” Adam interrupted.

            “You do?”

            “He is our connection. Jefferson was a detective in the police department at London twenty years ago. Father born in Manchester, mother was born here, in Arizona. He spent most of his life in Manchester with his father. After working for the force, he decided to come see his mother but his mother had died month’s earlier. As a result, he inherited a scrapbooking business which he later changed into a pub, now called Jefferson’s.”

            “So, you know him?”

            “No, never seen him in my life. He currently has two rooms that he rents out. We will be staying there; he will provide us with everyday necessities and equipment for the case.” Adam pulled over in front of a building with a wooden sign in the front written in Celtic font, Jefferson’s.

            “How do you know all this?”

            “It was in the packet James gave us this morning. Didn’t you read it?” Adam stepped out of the car.

            “I did, and there was nothing about Jefferson’s past.” Brian hurried next to him as Adam opened the door.

            “Oh that. I researched it on my own.”

            When they entered, the pub was empty. Round tables were scattered around with four chairs around them. The bar was at the front; behind it, were all the alcoholic beverages it offered. A TV was at the corner turned to a basketball game. A man in his fifties was staring at the screen laughing at whatever the commentators were saying. Adam cleared his throat grabbing the man’s attention.

            “Oh, hey guys!” he stood, “I was expecting you earlier.” He shakes Adam’s hand then Brian’s. “I am Jorge Jefferson, nice to meet you.” Adam could hear the American accent taking over the British.

            He was a big man, maybe two hundred pounds. He wore Hawaiian shirts. He was balding so he shaved his head instead. He had a pleasant smile and a strong shake. He had a band on his left hand and for the look of it, he had about twenty years of marriage. He had a grandchild of about six years old, for the macaroni necklace he had around his neck, it was pink, so Adam decided it was a girl.