The last few days was about as weird as it could get for Edgar Willis. Meeting with Jessica Johnson and hearing her story had rattled his cage greatly. So when Friday finally came along, he was more than eager to hit his favorite bar and hang out with ex-partners from the force and talk shop. Being an cop for the better part of a decade made Edgar welcome to hang out with the guys, especially if he was willing to use his privately generated funds to buy a few rounds. Even though he liked being there and with the men he used to work with, business wise it was a good idea to remain in the good graces with the boys in blue. You never know when you'll need something from them and being on good terms made arm twisting less of a chore. Edgar strolled into the bar and slapped down two twenties and bought a few brews for himself and off duty officers sitting at the bar. While they were slamming down their long necks, many of them were talking shop but Edgar was still deep in thought about the messed up stuff that had happened earlier that day. After hearing a few stories, Edgar departed and went to his own table to dwell on the frustrations of his day alone. After nursing his beer for a few moments, he noticed Tuck walk into the bar and motioned him to order a few more drinks. Tuck came back not only with more brews for Edgar but with some honey garlic wings and a side of Jack Daniels for himself. After watching his partner wolf down a wing or two, Edgar broke the silence.
"Do you think I was too mean to her?" he asked his partner.
"You mean the nine eleven chick?" Tuck said, tearing off the side of a drum like a hungry raptor on a fresh carcass.
"It's clear that she was obviously shocked by what she saw," Edgar recalled, "Regardless if there's a logical explanation for it or not. No one walks into a station full of cops and blurts out a story like that if she didn't in her own way believe what she saw. She really believes her mother is alive."
Edgar stopped talking and again tried to drown his curiosity in alcohol. It wasn't a good habit, but it kept him out of real trouble.
Tuck stopped eating and looked back at Edgar, "You want to take this case, don't you?"
"No, no, no... never!" Edgar exclaimed, "I do not want this case! I just mean it's a shame no one can help her. Even if I wanted to, which I am not confessing too, we can't afford to spare the time and manpower for it anyway. There's no money in in, and this would take a very long time to see through."
"You're preaching to the choir on that," Tuck confirmed, "I wish we had a client base solid enough to take any case we wanted to just for the hell of it, but our business has barely been up and running for close to eight years. We don't have the power or the finances to drop what we're doing for what is likely the mother of all goose chases. One day when we're more settled in, we'll have the power and freedom to make that choice. Until then, Uncle Ben rules."
"I know. Uncle Ben's the man." Edgar took another swig and sank a hand into his face. Uncle Ben was their nickname for that guy who graced the one hundred dollar bill. Right now when he talked, bullshit and pretty much everything else went for a long stroll. Tuck was right however, and until they were more stable and had a base to work off of, they couldn't take the case regardless of how he felt.
"We are not in the business of conspiracy theories, that's someone else's job." Tucker gestured to another person in the bar. In a far off corner sat a nerdy looking man with glasses and a tall mixed drink, eyes locked on his notebook computer.
"Of course," Edgar said with a grin as he finally realized who Tuck was referring to. "Do you think I should talk to him about it? Pick his brain and see what falls out?"
"He's good at what he does," Tuck added, "And you can never have too many friends who work for the police."
Tuck was right. You could never have too many friends in this business, especially when they have badges. Edgar drained his bottle and walked up to the bar. He ordered another beer and a side of garlic bread. When served, he carried them both to the young man in the corner booth. He was head down into the notebook and typing away at a furious speed. Edgar caught his attention when he sat down and place the garlic bread on the table.
YOU ARE READING
The Manifest
Mystery / ThrillerYears after a mysterious plane crash, a woman feared dead is spotted at an anti-war rally. A private investigator named Edgar Willis is hired onto the case, however, he must abandon his virtues after learning of the real destiny of the airplane.