Serial- Part 2

A Story by DownTheDrain

Near everything about the men was black- everything. Other than their skin, of course, which was quite simply: a whiter shade of pale.

“What do you they’re bothering him about?” inquired the man in the passenger seat.

“Does it matter?” responded the man in the driver’s seat.

Complete with black suit and tie, two men drinking black coffee sat in a black sedan perched just to the rear of the side entrance of Lewiston’s Grocery.

“I guess not,” retorted the first man. “We’ll know it all in time.”

“Precisely.”

It was 2:37 AM. It was dark, nee, black outside. A large, rather menacing man of Native American descent stood not twenty yards from the car. He went unnoticed. The wind whistled through the trees in a way which reminded the passenger seat man of his youth; of the tea kettle his grandmother had made much use of. He attempted to regale the driver with a boyhood story. The driver responded with a swift slap to the yarn-spinning man’s face.

“We’re not here to swap girl scout stories, Stupid.”

“Ofcoursesir.Sorrysir.”

He spoke in such a way that his words ran together. The man in the driver’s seat wore a nametag bearing MORRIS. The man in the seat opposite’s read STUPID.

“Look at those guys, Stupid.” commanded Morris.

“What about them, sir?”

“They appear to be mocking the- uh… Canadian fellow.”

“Yeah, it looks pretty shameless.”

The well-dressed men in the car observed two poorly-dressed men through the store’s considerably broad side window. The poorly dressed men were laughing it up.

“I guess that’s what Old Man Lewiston sees fit to hire these days: morons.”

“They say he isn’t all there anymore.” Stupid said as he pointed to his head, suggesting Lewiston to be a senile old bat.

“Yeah, I hear what they say,” responded Morris. “Now, let me just say: you can’t trust everything that they say.”

“Duly noted.” Stupid stated. There was a long pause. “… Are you suggesting Lewiston is in a perfectly fine mental state?”

Morris pondered.

“I don’t know…” he answered “Am I suggesting that?”

“This is giving me a headache. There any aspirin in here?”

Morris laughed.

“Yeah, there should be some un- Oh! Here he comes!”

The men perked up as they actively observed an average-looking gentleman approach the car. He was of average height and weight- had brown hair and eyes. He walked up to the driver’s side window; his nametag reading WADE. He reached underneath his white undershirt and reached around for a moment.

“Got anything good for us?” asked Morris.

“Not really” ‘Wade’ responded. “A couple morons talking. That’s about all.”

“Damn.”

The man called Wade pulled his hands out of his shirt. He held a tape recorder. He handed it to the man in the driver’s seat.

“Have you gotten any face time with Lewiston?” questioned Morris.

“Why would he want face time with that old crow?” Stupid interjected. He was confused.

Wade ignored the interjection.

“Not really. I’ve seen him, though. Walking around the place like he’s three quarters short a’ dollar. We can’t prove a damn thing, man, really. I get the feeling this is all for nothing.”

“Relax, son. Relax. We’ll get him.” Morris answered.

Stupid shot his glance from Morris to Wade, then back to Morris. He had no idea what was going on. Was Lewiston really more lucid than he appeared?

A long silence began. And persisted. And ended. Morris felt the need to verbally comfort Wade, as well as himself.

“Rest assured,” Morris began “We’ll get that old scumbag before he- … before he-…”

He took a deep breath and sighed.

“Before he… kills again.”

Stupid’s jaw dropped. He was utterly stupefied.

To Be Continued