Cantina Problema: Part Two

The waitress at the rest stop didn’t know much... She said that He had seemed troubled and that he slipped a big wad of cash into the donation bucket.

“I suppose that was a signal wasn’t it?” She asked.

“I guess… well, thanks for your help. I’ll be off now.”

“Was he a friend of yours? She asked as I was heading out.

“Yeah… something like that.”

Zipping my jacket up, I stepped out into the night air. A cold chill ran down my spine as I walked past the empty car, it wasn’t the police tape around it, or even knowing what had happened in there that did it. It was something else.

For a split second I thought I saw someone in the car. I looked again; there was no one there.

“Get a grip man, you need some sleep.” I said to myself. But first, I think a drink or five is in order.

I figured at this point it would be easier to cross the border and find a bar there. Walking to my car, it all just hit me.

Reality came crashing down and I crumpled to the gravel surrounding my car, I could never do anything to fix it now. That had been taken away from me. There was nothing for me back home now. I was going to cross the border and I wasn’t coming back.

“…You bastard…”

Forty-eight hours earlier...

My head was swimming. The information overload was too much, I was barely aware what was being said to me.

"-we regret to inform you…

...the body was discovered this morning…

...could you come…

...identify… sorry for you loss..."

But… How?… Why?...

"Why?”

“We are unsure of the events at this time, relying on eye-witness reports and CCTV footage, but it appears the perpetrator was acting alone.”

“You found him? You got who did it?”

“Well sir, I don’t know if you’ll take this as any comfort but it appears he took his own life.” Answered the inspector as gently as he could.

“Oh… I don’t know how to take that just yet. But… why my boy? Why him?”

“Unfortunately it appears to have been a case of wrong place, wrong time for you son. There doesn’t seem to be any motive for any of this man’s actions, we're still getting the odd report of odd things occurring that he seems to be responsible for, including a missing dog, and a trashed motel room or two."

“I just... I just don’t understand… why…”

Present...

Lying down on the bed in my motel room for what seemed like minutes when I was startled awake by my alarm.

“-ning listeners, here’s that classic oldie Johnny B Goode!.” Said the radio host.

“What kind of rat-sick-bastard plays that song at this hour of the blessed AM!” I exclaimed, slamming my hand down on the clock's snooze button to turn it off.

I didn’t see the point in showering before I left the motel, I just packed my few things into my duffel bag and left. I returned my key and settled my bill, walked past the room that had been sectioned off for cleaning one last time, there was nothing useful in there now.

I got into my car and drove off towards the border. Towards a new beginning...

As I pulled out of the motel’s driveway I spotted a 1975 Chevy Impala pulling in. Beautiful machine, I thought.

I would have liked to get my son one like that when he was old enough…

Twenty-four hours earlier...

I was getting nothing from the police, some bull about ‘confidentiality’ and ‘due process’ saying they couldn’t give information on the man responsible to a family member.

“I’m sorry sir, but that’s the law. I can’t give that information to a victim’s family member.” Said the weaselly desk sergeant.

“All I want is the bastard’s name! What harm could it do? The man’s dead, it’s not like I can take revenge.” I pleaded in vain to this sergeant that was clearly too young for his job.

“I’m sorry sir, it’s just not possible-“

“I’ll deal with this Danny.” Interrupted the inspector from yesterday.

“Yes sir, Inspector.”

“Now Mr Mendax, please come with me and we can talk.”

I followed him through the station and into his office, he closed the door behind us and motioned for me to sit, I did and he sat across from me behind his desk.

“Mr Mendax, I can’t imagine what you’re going through at the moment but I’m afraid we can’t just give you the information on the man responsible for your boy’s death. As a father myself, I wish I could, but my hands are tied by the law.”

“I just want to know who he was. Maybe I can find out why he did it. I have nothing else. My wife left me years ago, and now she will never talk to me again. She blames me, says if I hadn’t had him for the weekend he’d be fine... Maybe she’s right.”

The Inspector sighed and looked at me with a sympathetic understanding.

“I shouldn’t even tell you this, but the man was a writer. He’s done a few pieces in local rags but I’m afraid he almost always used pseudonyms when writing. Even we’re having trouble narrowing down which one is the real name. He was carrying three ID’s on him at the time of his death.”

“Well I suppose that’s something, is there anything else you can tell me?”

He was about to say something when an officer opened the door abruptly.

“Sorry sir, we’ve got a new one. Looks like it’s the Red Wolf again.”

“I’ll be there in a second.”

“Red Wolf?” I asked.

“A new gang in the area. It’s getting pretty bad. Just the other week we had a scare at an airport.”

He quickly wrote something down on a scrap of paper, waved for me to follow as he got up and started to leave.

“I wish you all the luck with your search Mr Mendax. I wish we could be more help.” He said as he passed me the note and held my gaze for a moment.

“Thank you Inspector… sorry I never caught your name?”

“It’s Fides. Detective Inspector John Fides. Also, if you’re going that way, I suggest the rest stop just before the border, never know what you might find.”

“Thanks, I might just do that.”

Present...

I looked up to find the bartender staring at me.

“One more.” I said.