Drops

 

 To his hands, he looks. And, like always, she is there, talking to him. Telling him where to look.

Outside of this, O’Malley is calling for cab service and in speaking quietly into the headset, one look to Lewis and he knows better to leave him alone. Carrying on in making sure arraignments met, O’Malley follows up with speaking to a staff member employed at the Evergreen Inn. Ending the conversation, he sees that Lewis is still busy looking at something he cannot see. Thinking the man beyond his world, he leaves him be.

Within walking distance of the café, their cab ride to the Inn, is short lived. Checked in to separate rooms, both meet up shortly, and walk on over.
Inside the café, there are a few patrons that are either sipping coffee or dragging a fork along. At any rate, the scent of it all, has both ordering. During their wait, O’Malley turns to Lewis. “You alright?” He gets it. “Yeah. I’m good. Hungry though.”
Interrupting their flow of words, is plates of steaming food set before each of them. Cooling off his pile of spuds with a douse of ketchup and a heavy sprinkle of pepper, he goes to town on the eggs over easy.
Ticket paid, tip under the coffee cup, the two make their way outdoors.
Rosewood is awake with its passerby’s going about their business. “Where to,” O’Malley asks.
“How about we pay a visit to the Chief of police.” “Hold on.” He waits as O’Malley does his thing. Within minutes, comes their ride.
He is mean looking. Sour in sitting behind that desk. With nothing to bask in, comes the sharp term. “Heard about you.”
There is no love felt in the man’s words. 

“Is he available or should we return at another time?”

With the phone cradled to his ear, the desk sergeant speaks into the mouthpiece. “They’re here. Alright, I’ll send them your way.”

“Go through the door and then make a right. Chief’s office is at the end of the hall.”

Portraits of the past are hung on wood paneling running the length of the hall. Underneath their feet is faded blue carpeting while above is the hum of fluorescent lighting. Directly ahead, is a partially opened door. O’Malley looks at Lewis, “Are we supposed to knock?”

“Probably. Listen, if the chief is anything like the sergeant, try your best to stay calm.” O’Malley gives a tight smile, “I’ll do what I can up to a point.” “That’s all I’m asking.”

Etched in gold lettering is Archibald Henry, Chief of Police. Giving a solid rap, a disembodied voice calls out. “Come in.”

He is a lanky man that goes well with his cropped hair. Walking around his desk, a handshake is extended to both. “How do you like our town so far?” “Food’s good, people seem friendly.” “Well, that’s real nice to hear.” Twin chairs offered to, the chief walks to his.

“So, who’s who again?” “I’m Lewis, this is O’Malley.” “Lewis, hmmm. That thing you do, were you born that way?”

“I guess.” “And it happens just like that?” “Sort of. It’s hard to explain but what I can tell you is there were plenty of great minds who tried to figure me out. Unfortunately, all failed.” Chief Henry folds his hands on the table, his face holding disbelief bordering on acceptance. “No offense, but it seems to be a stretch.” “I understand.” Chief Henry draws his silent card before he says, “Connie has your requested files. At the end of the hall is an elevator. Press G. Room one. If there is anything else, let Connie know, and she’ll do her best to accommodate you.”

Walking by the portraits once again, O’Malley and Lewis say not a word even on their way to the ground floor. Door ajar, O’Malley pulls the door outward. “Age before beauty.” Lewis grins, O’Malley too. There to greet them, Connie says, “To give you some privacy, I put what you asked for in the conference room. I’ll be right here at my desk if you need anything else.”

Time spent combing through the files, O’Malley looks over, “I can’t find any discrepancies.” “I figured. Well, how about we play tourists.” “Best idea yet.”

Bidding Connie farewell, the strange look on her face is similar to the desk sergeant’s.

The sky is clear, the air warm under the bustling township where everyone knows their neighbors. Two blocks up is the Evergreen Inn and walking this time, O’Malley says to Lewis, “If it wasn’t so creepy, I would move here.”  “A weekend getaway does sound nice.” “Definitely truck country.” “I got dad’s Willys in the garage.” “That’s right, forgot about that.” “It’s never talked about, so, it’s okay.” About then, both slow to a stop in reaching an intersection. Lewis looks over to O’Malley, “Time feels different here.” “A little slower.” “Doesn’t fit, does it?” “Something is out of place.” Given the sign that it is safe to walk, once across the street, the two hang out for a minute. “Is it too early for a beer?” Lewis looks to what O’Malley is looking at. “Guess not.” The two walk inside the Log Cabin tavern. Walking up to the bar, the bartender looks up, and after putting the morning paper aside, walks towards his new customers. “What can I get you?”

“Two drafts.” Taking in his surroundings, Lewis sees that the other customers are mostly older, their wrinkled fingers holding onto pints of sipped beer as their blank faces stare out into space. Bringing Lewis around, O’Malley asks, “Ever have a pickled egg?” “A couple of times.” O’Malley points to a specific punch board. “If you play this one, you have a chance of winning that massive jar over there for only ten cents a punch.” “I don’t care for pickles eggs that much.” About then, the barkeep shows up and after skipping two coasters upon the bar, delivers the goods before going back to his newspaper. “Here’s to us.” “That’s it.” The first gulp is always the best and with O’Malley digging his fingers into a bowl of popcorn, Lewis reaches for a smoke. After exhaling his fix, the guilt has him rolling the ash off the tip of his cigarette. Outside of his own wondering, other customers are beginning to float in. With the din of the room increasing, the barkeeper is up and moving along the bar. Gone by twice, Lewis breaks the barkeep’s stride. “Do you have a menu?”

“Frank’s running late, something to do with his kid.” The bartender moves along, and, in his wake, Lewis catches the whiff of cold, dank air.  Letting the vision unfold, he says to O’Malley, “We need to go.” Tip under pint glass, once outside, O’Malley asks, “Where too, and please don’t say the cop shop.” “That’s our last resort, trust me.” “So then, where?” “Frank’s house.” O’Malley calls for a cab while Lewis lights up a smoke. The off scent of wet straw and a brick size window does not compare to the iron legging fastened to a chain long enough to reach the corner used as a toilet. Having himself another drag, O’Malley mentions to him, “Frank, along with wife Judy and their only daughter May, live at an apartment complex named the Hideaway. Unit B 14.” The cab pulls curbside, and after direction is given, twelves blocks including two righthand turns has the cabby smiling after receiving over what is owed. “Wait for us.” “I will and thank you.”

Climbing the stairs to the second floor of a three-tiered unit, knocking on the door, a woman answers. “Can I help you?” “This is Lewis, I’m O’Malley.” “I’m not interested in what you are selling.” Door shut, O’Malley says, “That went well.” “We should get a rental.” “There’s a place over on fifth and Morrison.” With their conversation drifting up the stairwell, at that same moment, Judy has her back against the front door and after the second ring, Frank picks up. “No luck so far.” “Frank, I’m scared. Real scared.” “Hang up and get 911 on the phone. I’ll be there shortly.” “Please, hurry.”

Both a step away from retirement, Price and Mott climb the concrete steps to the second floor.  After walking a short distance, Price knocks on the front door. Having the woman step out from the apartment, he asks her, “When did you see your daughter last?” “This morning when she went off for school.” “Made to every class?” “As far as I know.” “We’ll check on that. What about friends?” “Outside of school, she, no, not really.” “Ok. That’s all we need for now. We’ll keep in touch.” Door closed behind her, Judy fades to thinking Frank is going to come up empty.  With her world crashing down all around her, Judy opens the sliding glass door before she steps out onto the balcony just in time to watch the police cruiser make its way out of the apartment’s parking lot.

Not far away, Lewis is having a smoke while waiting on O’Malley who is taking care of business. Flicking the ash and absorbed in watching where it falls, trying its best to break through in coming center stage is the muffled shouting. Welcome to your new world, and from this point on, your name is longer May. That has Lewis taking in another drag. Exhaling, the man has proved to himself that he is unstoppable. A genus hidden amongst the clueless. Having one more drag, a city bus rolls to a stop that takes up all of his attention. A person boards, and after watching the bus move on, he turns to look at the building with its tinted windows. Somewhere inside is O’Malley doing what is necessary to secure a ride, but it is taking longer than he has the patience for. Smoke close enough to be called a shorty, Lewis has the last drag before crushing it under his boot. Walking towards the glass doors all the while dreading the stale atmosphere and quaint snack bar set off to the side, saving Lewis is O’Malley pushing through the doorway.

Close enough, O’Malley says to Lewis, “They’re bringing her around.” Not a second later, an attendant pulls the vehicle curbside. “I see that she has every bell and whistle.” “I need the ports. Where to?” “May’s school. Principal’s office if we’re to be seen.” The drive is quiet. After a minute and what seems like a thousand red lights, what stands in their way is the length of a striped arm blocking further entry onto school property.  Inside the shack, it is plain to see the guard adorning his cap before exiting the cubicle. “State your business.” Carrying a salty look on his face, O’Malley says with equal authority, “We have an appointment with Principal Sherry Woods.” Cordial about it, the guard says, “I got to call this in seeing that it’s after hours.” The man steps inside his cubicle and not long after, he operates the arm to where the guard waves them by. Parked, and once up the steps leading to the glass doors, O’Malley shows off his learned manners by holding the door in letting Lewis pass ahead of him.

Artwork and inspirational messages decorate the walls of the hallway that has O’Malley saying to Lewis, “Here we go.”