Cleansing Of The Wicked: Book 1

Cleansing Of The Wicked: Book 1 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sometimes, Barrett was reminded that he wasn't a robot; that he needed rest that didn't involve succumbing to the weight of too much bourbon. Today made the list.

He struggled to focus on much of anything that wasn't the oversized wall clock in his office, and he was growing more and more impatient with it every slowly-passing minute. He was trying to stay somewhat coherent, as he had a meeting with Benny in twenty minutes to discuss where they were at in terms of leads, but if the voice in his head was any indication, he was losing that battle. Good news, he desperately needed.

The solace he'd found in knowing that Marilyn would have dinner ready for him when he got home was something that he didn't know how to replace. Having to cook when he got home usually meant picking up take-out on the way home. He had no interest in expending the energy to replace her, only to have to do it again when that one inevitably tired of being kept at arm's length. When she, too, lost her place in Quincy's world, her importance buried under a pile of alcohol-fueled demons.

A good day at the agency helped his restlessness, but ultimately it was a thinly veiled, fleeting distraction that barely bridged the gap until he could start drinking heavily again.

All he could think about was Benny bringing him good news. He desperately needed it.
He poured another coffee and tried to manufacture something to be hopeful about, other than good news from Benny, when there was a rap on his door.

"Come in.."
"Hey, boss.....You feeling better than you look? I can come back.." Benny offered, and Quincy took it as a bad omen for what he was about to hear.
"Have a seat, Benny. I've been waiting for this all day," he took a sip of his coffee and reclined back in his chair. "So? What do we know?"

"Not much. The kid was clearly living in the apartment, but the lease isn't in his name; assuming his name is Sam, of course. I don't have a last name, DOB... nothing." Benny was a bit rattled.

"Ok..So, who's name is on the lease?" Quincy asked, hiding his immense frustration.

"It's Fred King. I could find no criminal history for anyone who would be relevant by that name, no phone listings, not even any social media that immediately ties in. The super says rent was paid two months before anyone moved in, it was paid in cash, and it was paid for twelve months. He doesn't remember who paid it, or ever seeing the applicant."

"And what's your take on that? This guy is a clueless super who wants no part of this mess? Or, he just wants no part of this mess because he's not simply a clueless super?" Barrett always trusted Benny's instincts.

"I think he's on the outside here. I think he probably didn't give a damn who it was handing him that kind of cash, and certainly wouldn't care about a name on a rental application. When I talked to him, he invited me in, didn't rush me out, made me coffee. He just seemed like a guy trying to keep up with life around him; pay his bills and go about his day to day."

"Ok. What about the boyfriend from 2A..," Quincy asked, "Jimmy Clarke?"

"I went back this morning to talk to the girlfriend. She wasn't home, and called in sick to her job, so until I track her down.."

"I think I have something," Jack announced, as he strode into the room.

"I should hope so," Quincy said, annoyed, " and, knocking on doors is something you should be pretty used to by now."

Jack continued, "Sorry, Boss...Ok, so I stopped by the building and talked to Bethany's roommate. She told me all the same stuff that Bethany did. I wanted to search around the apartment, so, I turned on the charm, flirted with her a little bit, and convinced her to let me dig around a little bit."