Ready. Set. Psycho.

Chapter Fourteen: Reg

           

Reg's phone rang. His ring tone was a simple bell — he could not stand the tones most people used these days. The very first thing he did whenever he got a new cellphone was change the ringtone to the most old-fashioned ringing bell that came preloaded. It was exactly what he had done when Sol gave him the burner he was using for the heist.

Sol had called. He asked to meet Reg as soon as he could, and Reg traveled down to The Dog and Duck to meet him. It was not far from Reg's apartment, so he did not mind the twenty or so minutes walk. When he arrived, Sean pointed him to the back room. If Sol was waiting there, it meant something serious.

When Reg opened the door, Sol was halfway through a bottle of 50, with an empty in front of him. "Sit down," Sol said.

"What's up?" Reg asked while seating himself.

"I need to ask you to do something for me," Sol said.

"A favor?"

Sol shook his head. "Nah. This isn't a favor. This is police work. I wasn't sure I'd ask you to do it."

"Because I'm a rookie?"

"Nah."

"Because it is too dangerous?"

"No, Reg. I was just going to do it myself, but I can't really leave the city and do this myself. I can ask Sham if you'd prefer." Sol picked up his phone.

Reg put his hand out. "Sol, you don't need to ask this way. You don't need to play me. I want to help."

"You're my first choice because you've read more of my file. Sham isn't the file-reading type. Most doctors aren't."

Reg shrugged. "That's what the stats say."

"It's also what he'd say, if you ask him. Which I did. So you know who this is." Sol opened his wallet and took out a photo.

"That's Justin Graham. The primary suspect for Psycho."

"He is Psycho," Sol replied.

"As you say," Reg said.

"Here's what I know," Sol said. "After killing Greg, he fled the country. Got to Europe. Used a credit card once — dumb luck, sloppy mistake, maybe putting us off the trail by letting someone else use it, doesn't matter. He did it. Not someone else. Him. My guess? He was bragging — bragging that he got away, daring us to come get him when he knew that was nearly impossible. And then there were new videos."

"More than the ones I gave you?" Sol nodded. "I didn't know about those," Reg said.

Sol nodded. "You aren't supposed to. I've seen them. Kevin helped interpret them — ran them through the audio filters that showed pictures of Justin's time in Europe. A photo album for this fucked-up asshole. And then, he came home."

"He's here?" Reg said, leaning forward.

"Yeah," Sol said.

Reg leaned back. "So what are we doing? Are we cancelling the heist?"

"No," Sol said. "It isn't my case. I'm not investigating it. I'm not even a cop. I'm just trying to get out of a shitty situation myself. But a few people on the force are pulling for me. Hoping that I find Justin first."

Reg nodded and felt that he knew what that meant. He was not sure if he believed in that type of justice, but hoping to be a cop himself, he felt the best idea was to be modestly enthusiastic about the idea that Sol would kill Justin, and that this would be alright. "And what do we have?" he asked.