In Between the Lines

Wanna know why I was there again? In that heavily empty pub where only the boss and me were eating while the bar owner cleaned the windows at the counter? Pub which I don't even know the name of?

The reason it happened was as follows, about two hours ago: me and my friend Boe were in the Ivory Beans. Boe came up with his usual gossip:

"Do you know the rumors?"

"Rumors? What rumors?"

"Someone else was murdered with his back torn, eaten. Plucked out with teeth," my friend Boe made overly illustrative gestures with his hands, "It happened just this morning. In that ditch next to downtown Meadow Park... Then the whole press gathers... Then the word is spread... It all happened really fast, you know?"

"How strange. Had the back ripped off, heh?" I took a sip of my coffee. My friend leaned forward.

"Exactly! Just like Jeffrey killed that Gerald guy. Seriously, exactly alike, Spikey!"

"That Jeffrey? But he is in jail now."

"He is. But this person was killed just now. And in the same way."

"And who would that person be?"

"Apparently this guy called Jim Sanford."

"Know him?"

"Not by name, no. But to tell you the truth, I haven't gotten that much informed yet."

"Then why are you telling me all this?"

My friend Boe sipped his sparkling water.

"That's because I wanted to know what you think about it: I think Verde is behind this."

"The boss?"

"Do you remember he told that Norman guy he arranged for the money to be stolen just so Jeffrey could join the group? What if he had gone even further? What if the one who killed Gerald was someoone Verde hired and had nothing to do with Jeffrey?"

I stopped to consider.

"But wait, Boe... Gerald McMiller was killed after -not before- the police were chasing him. And it was after he stole the jewelry store."

"Yes, yes... But if the boss was so obsessed about hiring him... See, he gets him out of prison, then makes his brother lose his money, then makes him go recover it. If all this is a test to see how he behaves while running away from the police, who knows if he couldn't have killed someone by making it look like it was Jeffrey, just to make things even uglier in order to see if he has the ability to escape without a trace? I don't know... It's just a hypothesis. I'm just speculating."

"I don't think so... Killing a person just to test the ability of a newborn zombie? It's not the boss's style."

"I dont know. But I have my suspicions... In fact I think it's 'exactly' the style of the boss," my friend Boe contradicted me.

"Well then... Why don't you ask that straight to him?"

Boe addressed me enthusiastically:

"What about you, Spikey? Would you ask him that?"

"Huh...?"

"I mean... You're the most friend of Verde's. You can ask him while playing that checkers-like game you two play. I talked to Gary and he's curious about this too."

"Gary? How is he...?"

"He's still recovering from that blow using his sane as much as he can, since he can't go to a hospital... I bet after one more day he'll be fine. But anyway... Would you ask Verde?"

I tried to contour the subject and get rid of this awkward awkward task, but he insisted so I eventually had to give in. In the end it was agreed that on the next opportunity I would broach the subject when I met the boss again. My friend Boe reminded me:

"Spikey. Remember: Don't ask the question directly. Just bring the matter up and read between the lines, see? While you're in it ask who of the three of us Verde is thinking of signing up for the tournament. I would like to know that too."

"Ok. I'll ask."

"But don't forget: Between the lines," my friend Boe stressed.

"Ok." Who would even want to ask such questions directly anyway?

This way I called the boss trying to formulate an excuse to meet him in person, but as soon as he answered he said "oh, I'm glad you called, I was going to call you" so I didn't even need the excuse. When the boss has something to say he doesn't care about irrelevant details like why was I calling to begin with.

And two hours later we were in that place of that friend of his. In that heavily empty pub where only the boss and me were eating while the bar owner cleaned the windows at the counter? Pub which I don't even know the name of?

And then we reach the beginning of the story.

"Alfred! Bring me that Martini!" The boss ordered.

I didn't know exactly how to bring it up. It was better to wait for him to do so himself. We stood in silence for a moment. A very awkward silence... Staring into each other's faces. Until then he broke the muteness, at first referring to our last operation:

"Gary... You told me Gary was the one who had the least success in the operation, right? How is he?"

"He's recovering, sir. But he should be fine soon."

"Good, good... That's good." The bar owner brought the glass, as requested. The boss caught it up. "Too bad it didn't go exactly as you planned, but in the end the result was good. These things, how can I say... They happen on your line of service, right? 'It happens.' "

"Yessir... It happens..."

"Anyway, it was a good deed not to have killed the girl. That was a good attitude. We can't draw too much attention of the police... The less the better. I know what I asked of you was a huge way to do just that, but the invitation is special. Apart from the invitation... I want to draw attention to myself as little as possible. Great decision there, Spikey."

I was Just watching the boss. What he said he had already spoken in other words by telephone. He was also preparing to come to the central reason we met in person. After a short pause, he was more direct:

"You called me. Did you have anything to say?"

"Er, well ..." It was just a rhetorical question, he didn't even give me the time to formulate the answer.

"I had something to say to you..." The boss looked at me, cutting me off. "To tell the... Spikey-Gary-Bo ... That's what you call yourselves, isn't it? Haha. Spikey-Gary-Boe."

I confirmed with a nod.

"I meant to inform you of an interesting case that happened... A case... Of violent nature. Another one. It's been happening a lot in Sproustown, isn't it?"

"I think I already know what's this about, sir."

"Oh so you already know about Arthur Cooper."

"Arthur Cooper?"

"Had his house attacked yesterday. It was broken into, objects were thrown to the ground... He filled a complaint form in the police and then disappeared."

"This Arthur Cooper you mention, sir... Is he that same Cooper from the invitation? The trafficking leader... The politician?"

" 'Trafficking Leader'... It's an interesting nomenclature. No, no, Spikey... I see you were not at all aware of what happened as you said you were. Perhaps you had another violent attack in mind?"

"Er... To tell the truth..."

"We'll soon get there, Spikey," the boss interrupted me once again raising a hand, "I will explain to you what happened: the civil police were notified of the break-in, informed by the owner of the house. Some belongings were taken, then after a preliminary investigation the case was passed to the SAD this morning. It's not any random theft that gets passed to SAD all of a sudden... Curious, isn't it?"

"But what about Arthur Cooper?"

"Yes! That's the point. The name of the owner of the house is Arthur Cooper, but it only coincides with the name of the politician, to whom the invitation refers. He is another citizen residing in Sproustown with the same name and surname. To be more precise his name is Arthur B. Cooper. B is from Bernard. 'ABC'. Haha."

"Haha..."

Taking a sip of Martini, the boss stared at me as if seeking a reaction. I kept silent.

"Know what this means, Spikey?"

"Er... Sir?"

"Although he started digging in the wrong place... Someone is trying to take the invitation from us. So I would like you to prepare. Always stay connected. A lot can happen during these upcoming months."

So whoever came into this new Arthur Cooper's house who's living in Sproustown... Tried to kill him? Is someone trying to take the invitation from us?

"And you know what else? Do you know how else I know there is another... 'trafficking leader', " the boss made the quotes with his hands, "as you say... Behind the invitation?"

"Yes, sir...?"

"Because yesterday a client of mine warned me: this client was attacked at home. Everything makes it seem it was someone with... 'skills' such as yours. Went into his house and wanted him to say something."

"Inside the house? Who are we talking about? Was it Norman? Godfrey?"

"No... It's someone you don't know. But it happened. He was attacked at home. They entered the window of his office and shot down two guards. It was all over in an instant. What was it that our trespassing friend thought Carter would know anything about?"

I didn't know this Carter guy. The boss was talking more to himself than to me there.

"Didn't this Carter guy ever say anything? Did he died?"

"No, Spikey, he didn't. Only the bodyguards died. Strange that he said he didn't spill a bean and stayed alive. Puts the veracity of the statement in check, if you understand me."

"Maybe it's a reckoning? This client of yours could be... How can I say... Not so... Devoted... I mean... Not as faithful as your business preference... I mean..."

The boss nodded slowly and affirmatively, as if expecting that deduction.

"Insightful, my dear Boe... I mean: Spikey... Did I just call you Boe? Insightful, Spikey. That's exactly what I had in mind. And that would explain why this someone knew where Carter was living so he could walk there in person, no? If my comrade Carter is really involved with Wilkinson or the Dragon, and if one of the two learns that I... That we... We just got our hands on the valuable invitation... Then one of them sends someone to try and press him to spill it out... Everything makes perfect sense."

The chief made his conclusions while holding Martini's glass and making stupid gestures with the same hand, almost knocking over the glass' contents.

"But how did it happen? Did he get in the house, kill the guards and force him to say something? Like... Putting his hands around his neck?"

The boss in one gulp just finished his Martini shot and slammed the glass on the table.

"This part, my dear Spikey... You're gonna have to find out. My client just gave me the information he gave me. If he's lying or covering something up... He isn't going to admit now, is he?"

By now I was more than intrigued. Not only had there been an attack on a wrong Cooper, stating clear the intention to get hold of the invitation, they had even appealed to the boss's own clients. The situation was getting worse. But if we found out who it was... Woe to those who mess with the boss's business.

And it was all happening at the same time! Another thing that happened later that weekend, or rather after the weekend, was the death of that Sanford citizen my friend Boe mentioned. It reminded me that I was supposed to ask about Sanford, about the relationship with the murder of that day with Jeffrey, and what the boss's plans were for the tournament.

Hard to believe Sanford's death had nothing to do with all the latest events, unless the boss was responsible. So I decided to bring the matter up, as if unsuspecting:

"You sir are right. I didn't have this case in mind. What I had in mind was another recent case I heard of the death of another citizen that Boe mentioned... Died in exactly the same way as that McMillan? That? McMiller...? You know... the one who allegedly Jeffrey murdered the day he was captured."

The boss gave me a slightly sharp look. I tried not to explain that we suspected he was the author of the plot. I just wanted to see if he himself let on that it was him. Of course it would be tremendously unethical to ask, 'Wasn't it you who killed him instead of Jeffrey?'

"Come again? This I am not knowing." The boss said.

"Er... So, sir... From what Boe told me... Looks like it happened downtown. In Meadow Park. Just before I called you... And from what he told me the symptom was that he had his back ripped off just like last week's man..."

The chief squinted and made a gesture for me to hold off:

"Wait... Let me think about this: last week it happens the misfortune of Sprohic killing a good citizen exactly on the day of the robbery. How many days have passed as of now? What day did that really happen aagain? Was it on a tuesday? Yes... So... Six days? No... Seven days."

He stared at the ceiling and wiggled his fingers counting something. He got lost in his thoughts.

"Did that happen this morning, Spikey?"

"Er... Yes sir. At least that's what Boe said."

"And did he even say who this guy was? An ordinary citizen like the other?"

"Er... Apparently it was a man named Jim Sanford."

The boss hit the table hard suddenly. I even startled.

"Jim Sanford? Really!? Did you say Jim Sanford?"

"Did you know him, sir?"

The boss burst out laughing. Not an ugly, loud laugh of those forced, but it was a long, spontaneous laugh. A muted laugh, but still spontaneous. The kind hard to hold. He covered his mouth with his left hand and waited until the laughter passed. I did not understand a single bit.

"Alfred..." He said when he finally got to stop. The barkeeper was nearby. "...Bring me another shot of that Martini."

I just stared at him expectantly.

- Spikey... Se vocês soubessem... Se você, o Gary e o Boe soubessem... Uau. Jim Sanford? Isso é uma surpresa. Mas pensando bem... Agora tudo faz sentido.

"Spikey... If you knew ... If you, Gary and Boe only knew... Wow. Jim Sanford? This is a surprise. But on second thought... Now it all makes sense."

He closed his eyebrow and speculated some more on his own. It seemed that he would leave me in the dark about his conclusions. Well... Alright. I'm used to being left in the dark. After all, Spikey-Gary-Boe is not part of the team, we are like guest musicians. We just follow the music... That is, the conductor's scores.

One thing is certain: judging from his genuine face of surprise I was able to infer that the boss was not aware of this latest murder. From what I can conclude, Boe's earlier statement was wrong: he wasn't the one arranging for people to die with their backs torn off. It must be someone else.

I don't know if it was the work of a serial killer with peculiar tastes, but it was probably someone the boss either knew or at least someone he knew something about.

The drink arrived and he finished half the dose without saying a word. Only then did he decide to partially share his mind:

"Spikey..."

"Yessir...?"

"What happens here is that there is someone besides us. Beyond the three of us... Beyond the three third parties... Beyond the balance. Bingo! Someone tries to shake Sproustown's balance. This cannot be the work of Wilkinson or the Dragon. In fact…" he kept pondering more to himself than to me. I gave up on following his line of thought, "yeah, that must be it. It has to be someone else. Someone different"

"Well!" He slapped one more of his annoying slaps on the table, finalizing the subject. "What you three are going to do is the following: I want you to keep an eye on Richard Galloway... The Galloway. 'Our' galloway. You understand?"

"Yessir."

"Keep an eye on him, and write what I'm telling you: more will happen in the next few days. Someone will appeal to the violence," he finished his second dose, "and we... We'll have to resort to violence too. Stay tuned because I will definitely contact you."

The boss's spirit seemed to have changed a lot after he heard this Sanford's name. Who in heavens was he?

"Er, sir...? Mind if I ask you... Who is this Jim Sanford?"

The boss stood up and dusted off his blazer.

"Yeah... You don't know, heh... Let's just say... He was involved with the good part and the bad part of town."

"Do you mean... The police?"

"The police and Wilkinson."

"That Wilkinson?"

"Yes, Spikey. 'That' Wilkinson. Anyway... Keep an eye on the news and you'll learn more about it. Whatever... Now that he's dead it doesn't matter anymore. The information I was missing I now have my hands on. Now it's all about waiting for them to react accordingly. After all the invitation is still under our possession, no?"

I opened my mouth to ask more about Sanford, but the chief hurried over and gave me his valedictions. He seemed to be in a hurry all of a sudden.

"Don't forget. Keep the phone with you all the time. I'll need one more favor from you three."

"A favor?"

"Yes. You are going to know it."

He straightened his blazer and left after exchanging something with the pub owner. That young man usually behaved strangely... But today he exceeded himself. He ran off and left me alone in that deserted place.

And worst of all ... I completely forgot to ask about the tournament. Who of us would he choose?

Indeed. In fact, whoever he chose would be a bad choice for the other two. Just since he could only pick one. At any rate, I smelled a bit of contention between the Spikey-Gary-Boe over this. One of us would make a lot more money than the other two...

Therefore it might have been better not to ask anything that afternoon.