Noire: Detective of L.A.

Noire: Detective of L.A. Part 9

Noire: Detective of L.A.

Chapter 3: The Driver's Seat, Part 3

Jackson drove up to Cavanaugh's Bar. Noire never drank. He considered drinking sloppy and unnecessary, and seeing the drunk men staggering on the side walk, it re-enforced the idea. He grunted with disgust. "Who gets drunk at 3:00 in the afternoon?" he asked.
"Hey, some guys have more problems than you, Noire." Jackson joked. Just then, an intoxicated man reeled over and fell on Noire. Noire caught him before the man bashed his face on the sidewalk. The stench of whiskey hung in the man's breath. "Heyyyy, I know you!..." slurred the man. Noire pushed the man off of him. "No, you don't." Noire quickly said, brushing the man off. He briskly stepped into the bar, with Jackson laughing close behind.

Noire walked up to the bar. "You lookin' for someone?" the bartender asked.
"Yeah, I am. You know Frank Morgan?" asked Noire.
"Sure, Frank's a regular. He's the loner in the back." the bartender said, pointing towards the back room.
Noire walked quickly to the back. He saw a man in an olive green mess suit, drinking a beer alone. "Frank Morgan?" Noire asked the man.
"Who's askin'?" Morgan inquired.
"Mark Noire, LAPD. I understand you're a friend of Adrian Black."
"Yeah, I know him."
"Are you aware that he's missing?"
Morgan shifted in his chair. "No, I hadn't heard that. Tough break..."
We found Adrian's car abandoned in a freight depot. Covered in blood. You know anything about it?"
Morgan did an unconvincing look of surprise. "Hell no. I'm sorry to hear that. I like Adrian. He's a good boss!"
Jackson let out a snort of disbelief. "Oh please. Don't tell me you actually believe this jerk-off, Noire."
"I don't, Jackson. I know you're lying, Morgan. You were there." Noire accused.
"And you're talking out of your ass, Detective. How about you prove that I was out at that railyard?" Morgan shot back.
"Oh yeah? We found a receipt in the trunk of the car. It has your name on it. We can call the slaughter house, and nail you on it."
"Alright already! That fool Adrian's fallen for some dame in Seattle. He wanted to make it look like he'd been attacked."
"Where exactly is Black holed up?"
Morgan gave an over-exaggerated shrug and look of stupidity. "No idea. I think he took off for Seattle."
Noire stood up and leaned over the table. Putting his face close to Morgan, he said, "I'm tired of your shtick, Morgan. Spill it! Or we take you into the alley, and knock it out of you!"
Morgan sighed. "He's holed up at my place. He's waiting for some money to come through before he blows town. It's an apartment house at the corner of Temple and Figueroa. Apartment number two."
Satisfied, Noire stood up from the table. "I think that's all. Thanks for your help, Morgan."
"Hey, just glad I could help. I love cops." muttered Morgan.
"Cuff him, let him go? Your call, Noire. No way I'm writing up this idiot." Jackson asked.
"Just let him go, Jackson. We've got bigger fish to fry."

Noire and Jackson got in the car. Jackson took the wheel, and Noire rode on the passenger side. "I've met some pretty good liars in my time, Noire." Jackson said. "People who sound convincing because they actually believe in their own bullshit. That type is clever. Hard to catch out. Frank Morgan? He's not one of those people."
"No, he is not." said Noire, smiling slightly. Just then, the police radio crackled, "KGPL, calling car 11K. 11 King come in."
Noire reached over to respond. "11K. Go ahead KGPL."
"Message from Technical Services: blood found in abandoned Lincoln at the PE Freight Depot is not human. I repeat, not human. Compositional analysis reveals swine as most likely match."
"Roger, KGPL. Time to reel this guy in, Jackson."

Noire drove the car up to the apartment building. "Apartment two." Noire reminded himself. He and Jackson opened the door and headed up the stairs. He took a left on the second floor and found the apartment. He hammered on the door. A middle-aged man, with a slight belly answered the door. It was the cheating weasel himself. "Can I help you, gentlemen?" he asked timidly.
"LAPD Detectives, Mr. Black. You're under arrest."
A look of shame came over Black's face. "Look, I'm really sorry about this. I just needed to get away from L.A. ... I won't put up a struggle. Just let me get my things..." Adrian stood there quietly, then quickly slammed the door in their faces.
"I knew it!!!" Jackson shouted, as Noire kicked the door down. "Noire, go after him! I'll try and head him off with the car!"
Noire dashed into the room. Spotting an open window, he quickly climbed through it, onto the fire escape. He saw Black running to the top, not far ahead.
"There's no point in running, Adrian!" Noire called after him. Black ran across the roof and slid down the side ladder. With Noire on his tail, Jackson drove in front of Adrian cutting him off. "Stop right there, Adrian!" Jackson shouted. With nowhere to go, Black gave up the chase.
"Why not come clean with her, Black? Why all the melodrama?" asked Noire, exasperated.
"I-I thought it would be easier!" Black stammered.
"No, it just got a whole lot harder! Adrian Black, you're under arrest for conspiracy and fraud. We'll see what the DA has to say about wasting police resources on a wild goose chase like this."
As Jackson cuffed Black, he said, "You're gonna lose your wife, your job, and probably end up in the big house! I hope she was worth it, Adrian." said Jackson, shaking his head.

Back in the captain's office, Captain Gordon Leary, head of Traffic, congratulated them. "Turned out to be some case, huh? Adrian... what an idiot. But in other news, you got an arrest and a clearance in your first case and in fine style too. Well done, Detective Noire. Efficient investigation technique, good public presence. You keep that up and you listen to Jackson, you could go a long way."

Noire smiled, taking this all in. Case closed.