Avenge him

Bottles

Abbie's POV

"Who?"

"Thea."

"Why the hell is Thea at your apartment?!"

"She's drunk, and she thinks her husband was murdered."

"How does she know! She's drunk!"

"Just get over here Abbie!"

Megan hung up the phone and I grabbed my bag. I'm still in my pajamas, but Megan sounded urgent. I whistle at the nearest taxi.

I swear if it's Harold I thought.

Getting in the car, I notice it's not Harold. Letting the breath I was holding go, I tell the lady Megan's address.

***

I stand outside Megan's apartment, waiting for her to let me in. I'm leaning on the door, hearing a click it swings open, making me fall in.

"Oh my gosh! Are you ok?" Megan asks leaning down, trying not to laugh.

"It's almost midnight, I'm in my pajamas, and I'm lying on a hardwood floor," I say slowly. "No I'm not ok!" I lash. Standing up, I dust myself off. "Sorry, I'm just a little cranky. So where's the alcoholic." Megan elbows me in the gut.

"I'm not an alcoholic!" Thea proclaimed stumbling over the torn up couch obviously drunk. "My husband been murdered by the killer that killed Drew and those other men." Thea slurred.

I get my phone out and click on the internet.

"What are you doing?" Megan asks looking over my shoulder.

"If Thea's husband was murdered by the killer, they would have found him in the dumpster behind Bottles. That seems to be the killer's pattern."

"Brilliant." Megan whispered, and I roll my eyes. I scroll down the news page coming upon the top news. To my surprise it said A man was found dead in the Dumpster behind Bottles. His forehead contained a knife wound.

"Shit," I mumbled clicking my phone off.

"A-are you guys g-going to help me now!" Thea proclaimed.

"Yeah, we will help you Thea. First thing in the morning. You can go home with Abbie tonight. My apartment is a little, torn up." Megan said putting her hand on Thea's shoulder.

I eyed Megan, still not too keen on helping Thea. She gave me a look back that said 'I don't want to argue right now'.

"Fine, but you're on the couch." I say walking towards the door. Thea stumbled behind me.

***

I wake up in the morning to find I had fallen asleep at my desk. I lift my head, peeling the piece of paper that had stuck to my face off. Turning around, I see Thea sound asleep on the couch.

Yawning, I stand up and walk to the kitchen. Pouring myself coffee, I see Thea stirring.

"Coffee?" I offer as I see her put her hand to her head.

"What happened last night?" She asked standing up.

"You got wasted after you figured out your husband was murdered. Then you came to Megan and I asking for help. So now you're here." I say bluntly.

"Oh my gosh," she sits back down, starting to tear up.

Bringing the coffee over to her, I sit down on the couch. As soon as I sat down she started hugging me. I was taken aback by this gesture. Maybe it was the years of torment from her and Joycelyn, that made me so surprised, or the fact that hugs are more Megan's thing.

"There... there?" As you can tell I'm not the best at comforting people.

"He only went to Bottles on Thursday! I don't understand why the killer picked him! Out of everyone! Why him?" She whined.

I thought for a second, then something clicked. "Why did I not think of this before!" I proclaim. "I'm such an idiot!" I push Thea off of me, and rush over to my cell phone sitting on my desk.

Dialing Megan's number, I wait for her to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Megan! What do all of our murders have in common!"

"Abbie, it's eight in the morning can this wait till later?"

"No! Now what do all of them have in common?"

"I don't know!"

"Bottles! They all regularly go to Bottles!"

"So?"

"So! I say we give Harold another visit! Be there in five!" I hang up to phone and rush out the door.

Harold had always been suspect number one in this case. He seemed to be there before Megan and I could make a move. He had become our shadow and disguised himself as different characters. Harold ALWAYS knew where we were so he had a persona to match the role.

Bartender.

Taxi driver.

Hell, if I know if Harold is even his real name. But he was an accomplice in the end. He knew the whole time exactly who the killer is and where she may be hidden.

I finally hit this realization in complete anger and then remember two things,

Thea and I am still in my pajamas.

"Crap!" I yell running back in the door. "Thea get ready! We are going to Megan's!" I yell throwing on a pair of jeans, a red tank top, and my favorite leather jacket.

****

Megan, Thea, and I bust through the door of Bottles.

"Harold!" I yell.

"Abigail! What a pleasant surprise!"

"It won't be so pleasant when I'm bashing your nose in." I say walking over to the counter. "Now tell me, who is the murderer."

"Abigail I don't know what you mean!"

Hopping onto the counter, I grabbed the back of Harold's neck and smash it into the hard wood table top. "How about now?" I ask, lifting his head up, but still holding onto his neck.

"I'm sorry Abigail! I don't know!"

I smash his head again. A little bit of blood emerged from his nose.

"Still have no idea?"

"No!"

I am about to smash his head again when he yells, "Wait!" I let go of his neck, and throw him back. he hits the shelves of bottles making some fall.

He breathed heavily, "120 sycamore lane, the abandon factor. That's where she's at."