《Of love and murder》 An unsolved case ALEX WENT FOR HIS third cup of coffee of the morning. No matter how much he read those papers, none of it made any sense. Jack came along. He was a recently graduated agent, and Alex had made him sort of his pupil, for he recognized the relentlessness in the eyes of the young man, which very much reminded himself of a few years ago, for he was just a few years older than Jack. "So, what you''ve got? Judging by the amount of coffee you''re drinking, I''d say not much." Alex smiled. He had ordered Jack to make a copy of the file and read him by himself. He didn''t like to be interrupted while reading. "You got me," said Alex, shaking his head. "Nothing at all." "Clean, right?" "The cleanest thing I''ve ever seen. No one saw, no one watched a thing." Jack sighed. "But why the director is so determined to solve this case?" Jack asked shrugging, in a frustrated attitude. "Well, technically, the case was never closed, so this should be running until we find the murderer. And regarding his interest, well, I''ve heard he''s planning on being a candidate for the next elections, and you know how much loved Jeffrey Russell was in this town. So finding his killer will most certainly help him in the pots." Jack nodded. That explained the Director''s sudden interest in this case. "Very clever of his," he finally said. "Indeed. But a pain in the ass to us. The elections are within six months, so we''re working against the clock." A phone began ringing in another cubicle. "Six months to solve what legendary Hudson couldn''t solve in two years?" The phone kept ringing. There was noise in the office and everyone was chatting and no one seemed to care who they were calling for. "Hudson did his best for sure, but I don''t know. Something''s off about this case. Maybe Hudson was too methodical, too orthodox, and because of it he couldn''t get the answers he wanted." The phone rang again. Alex took his glance off Jack''s eyes and looked around as if he was expecting to see someone running towards the phone to answer it. ¡°And do you feel confident about solving this case, boss?¡± Alex exploded. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Can someone pick that damned phone up?!¡± he yelled at the top of his lungs. The office went completely silent. It should. Besides Director Rogers, Alex was the boss in there. A young passant rushed to the phone and picked it up. Alex looked angry, as the passant threw a gaze at him, mustering words on the phone. ¡°Let¡¯s go outside. I need a smoke,¡± said Alex, taking his coat and leaving the office in a fast stride. Jack went behind him. Outside the Metropolitan Police¡¯s building, the noise wasn¡¯t any better, but at least it all sounded more distant: a big avenue separated the building from the crowd. Alex took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. ¡°I¡¯ve never failed before,¡± he said, more relaxed now. ¡°And I know how hard I work and how persistent I am. But this is a tough one, at the very least.¡± ¡°I agree,¡± Jack said. ¡°Have you watched the news lately?¡± Alex moved slightly to his right, to put himself under a dim sunray, as he loved to do in the mornings. He closed his eyes for a second. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t. Why?¡± Russell¡¯s widow. She¡¯s seemingly not happy about the Director reopening the case. ¡°It¡¯s not being reopened. It was never closed.¡± ¡°Right, we know that. But she doesn¡¯t, or she does and acts as if she doesn¡¯t. The thing is, she was asked by a reporter what her thoughts were about Director Roger¡¯s intention of clarifying his husband¡¯s murder, and she said they should respect his memory. She declared she wasn¡¯t ready to be interrogated again and reviving all those horrific memories.¡± ¡°Sounds like an excuse.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Jack nodded. ¡°Well, we have something to start from, now. You have her address?¡± ¡°Yeah. She moved to a smaller apartment in Las Mercedes. She sold the big house she used to live in with Russell. She said it brought her too many sad memories.¡± ¡°So she had already some pocket change from that transaction. Interesting. Let¡¯s get to work. Drive me there.¡± *** Alex had the file in his hands, watching old pictures of Russell, when they arrived to Miss Linda Russell. It was a private neighborhood, so they had to use the credentials at the entrance to get in. The receptionist was a thing, a pale-skinned guy in glasses, who looked horrified at the Police identification of the guest, so as fast as lighting he gave her the number of Miss Russell¡¯s apartment. ¡°Apartment 6-9. Do you believe in coincidences?¡± Alex said. Jack chuckled. They split. Alex took the elevator, Jack the stairs. When it was about an interrogation, Alex never let anything to luck. Never had a suspect escaped before a surprise visit, or an interrogation. He was there in a few seconds. He thought about waiting for Jack to come, but then decided against it and rang the bell. He rang it twice. No one came. He rang it again and he heard some noises. Someone was murmuring. He heard another door slamming close, and finally, the door was opened. ¡°Miss Russell?¡± Alex said. She was a hot, voluptuous blonde. She was wearing a red, silk wardrobe. She was exactly how one would imagine a trophy wife ¡°Yes. Who are you?¡± ¡°Detective Miller, from the Metropolitan Police. I need to ask you a few questions. Her face showed disgust. ¡°Oh no. This is about my husband. You all should leave that thing alone.¡± ¡°Please. It is very important, Misses. We need to clarify some things. I bet you want to know the truth too.¡± ¡°What if I refuse?¡± she said, after thinking for a moment. Her hand was on her hip in a challenging attitude. ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll find a warrant, and I¡¯ll make you the questions in a cold room with hard chairs and for forty-eight hours straight. My guess is your sofa is more comfortable. She rolled her eyes. ¡°All right, come in.¡± She was covering her breasts as the sound of Jack¡¯s steps disturbed her. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯s my partner,¡± Alex said. Jack hurried up in a jog. ¡°A hot blonde, isn¡¯t she? This might get fun.¡± Jack murmured to Alex as they got in. A HAPPY WIDOW SHE OFFERED THEM COFFEE. They were overloaded with it. Nevertheless, accepted it. Jack couldn¡¯t help looking at Mrs. Russell¡¯s ass as she was in the kitchen. Alex gave him a pat on the thigh that meant: ¡®behave.¡¯ After taking the first sip of his cup, Alex put it down on a small, round glass table that was between them and Mrs. Russell, then he said, ¡°Who can you think of? Who, from your standpoint, could have murdered your husband?¡± Mrs. Russell didn¡¯t flinch. She was accustomed to that question. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Detective Alex. My husband was a very smart, successful man. He was very well known in town for his philanthropic efforts. He loved to help people in need. He almost every day recalled his younger days, in which he had nothing, so he felt almost obliged to give back to those who were in the same position he was then. With this, I¡¯m not saying he was a saint. Of course, he had a temper, and he could be ruthless when regarding his business. But if I¡¯m honest, I never knew of any enemy. One that represented a real, dangerous threat, no.¡± Alex had picked up his cup again, so when he was about to interrupt Mrs. Russell with a question, he had his mouth filled with coffee. She noticed and continued, ¡°Maybe it was an envious person, you know. Envy exists. Evil exists. He had everything in life. He was still young, I mean, for a businessman of his caliber, the early forties is super young. He had money, mansions, businesses, the respect of people. He was well known, even popular if you will. And he had me. I¡¯m not going to be modest. I¡¯d been winning beauty queen contests before having my first period. Who wouldn¡¯t want me? Who wouldn¡¯t want his life?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve said something remarkable, Mrs. Russell. You just told me you didn¡¯t know of any enemies who represented a real, dangerous threat to your husband, implying he had some enemies, although, before your eyes, not very dangerous ones. Can you elaborate on that? Who are they?¡± If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Mrs. Russell shook her head as if regretting what she had said. Maybe she was underestimating Detective Miller¡¯s perspicacity. Detective Hudson had never been a problem for her. ¡°It¡¯s nothing, you know,¡± she started. ¡°Nothing. Uh, let¡¯s say¡ªsome days he fired people, you know. And sometimes people didn¡¯t liked it and they argued against it. Or maybe sometimes he forced rising companies to sell the majority of their actions to him, so he gained control over them. And then you¡¯d hear rumors in the halls of the big companies¡¯ buildings and five stars hotel lobbies. They¡¯d talk shit about him and what a selfish prick he was. I heard them. My friends heard them. No one cared.¡± She shrugged. Alex took a look at Jack. Jack looked back to Alex. They were wrecked. Alex began to understand why Hudson couldn¡¯t make anything out of talking to this woman. Alex was in a bad humor. He looked at his watch and it was fifteen past ten. Almost all morning was gone now and he was exactly in the same spot: without anything to sniff, nothing to track down. He stood up and was planning to say goodbye to Mrs. Russell when he heard a violent noise coming from one of the rooms. What the fuck. I told you to put that beast in his cage! Yes, it came from one of the rooms. It was a man¡¯s voice. Russell immediately looked nervous. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you weren¡¯t alone, Mrs. Russell.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t have to,¡± she said, trying to regain composure. Linda! I swear for God I¡¯ll kill him! I¡¯ll kill him today! As soon as I have my gun in my hands I¡¯ll kill him. The noise again. It sounded as if the man inside the room was throwing the drawers of a closet around. It was a violent event that was happening inside. Mrs. Russell shook her head, in a frustrated attitude. Jack went for his gun. He took it out of his waistband. Alex made a sign to him with his open hand, telling him to calm down and wait. Alex just stared at Mrs. Russell fixedly. ¡°Are you telling me who¡¯s inside and what exactly is going on? Who is that man going to kill?¡± Mrs. Russell covered her face with both hands, rubbing his cheeks violently, and then, after a violent yell of complaint, she gave in. ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll show you.¡± A YOUNG STUD MRS. RUSSELL OPENED the door. There was Michael, a young, tall fellow standing on the bed, with one pillow in one hand and a curtain pole in the other. He had taken down the curtains. The room was a mess. ¡°What¡¯s the deal?¡± Mrs. Russell asked him. ¡°That bloody beast of yours!¡± he said, pointing below the bed. ¡°I told you to put it in his cage.¡± Jack put his gun back in his waistband and let out a chuckle. ¡°Who this guy is?¡± he said. Michael was in boxers. He had an extremely athletic body. Alex immediately recognized him: he was the center field of The Caracas Lyons. Despite being so tall and rather athletic, he was a home run hitter. He was very much a star in town. Alex watched him almost every week when he had time. His father had taught him to love baseball. ¡°Michael Harris,¡± Mrs. Russell said. ¡°My fianc¨¦.¡± Alex broke in. ¡°Mr. Harris. What¡¯s the deal?¡± ¡°Hey!¡± Michael said. ¡°Who are you? Anyways. Linda let that freaking beast loose again. I think is under the bed. Las time I saw it, it went under the bed.¡± Linda sighed. Alex moved fast. ¡°Let me take a look,¡± he said, getting on his knees and palms. He turned up the lamp of his phone and looked around. A big, fat, and hairy hamster looked back at him with shiny, scared eyes. ¡°It¡¯s just a hamster,¡± Alex said, rather puzzled. Linda shook her head, as if she was ashamed, although it may not be clear what embarrassed her the most if the fact that she didn¡¯t wait too long after her husband¡¯s death to be with another man, or that man being so afraid of such a harmless creature. But when Alex managed to take the animal off under the bed, she smiled with genuine content. ¡°What did that crazy man do to you, baby?¡± she talked to the animal the same way people talk to babies. Michael finally got off the bed. He put on some pants quickly, as if now that the creature was far from him, he had suddenly recovered the sense of pudor. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°Michael,¡± Alex gave a step forward. ¡°Big fan. You were amazing last game against The Tigers.¡± Michael smiled. He suddenly appeared to be the confident, charismatic stud he seemed to be on TV. ¡°Yeah, she shouldn¡¯t have repeated that curve, though.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Alex put an end to the baseball conversation, for now, out of nowhere, he had another suspect: Michael Harris himself. *** The next day, Alex and Jack were waiting for Michael to show up for training. They were waiting for him in the parking lot inside Alex¡¯s Ford Fiesta. When they saw him coming, Alex aborded him, showed him the warrant and escorted to the car. ¡°Where are you taking me?¡± ¡°Relax, Michael. We just want to talk.¡± This time Alex was driving. He had had to get a warrant to bring Michael to the headquarters for an interrogation. The judge signed the warrant but suggested Director Rogers to act with as much prudency and secrecy as he could. Baseball players were like rockstars in Caracas, and sometimes messing up with them could get you spat on in a stadium. Plus, if the media found out about it, they¡¯d have it posted everywhere, which, for Judge Elliot Cameron, a man who personified prudence and frugality, it was something that should always be avoided. ¡°Talk about what? I have a game tomorrow night and you know it.¡± ¡°Pretty boy doesn¡¯t even know what we want to talk to him for? Really?¡± said Jack. He didn¡¯t like Michael, but maybe his being a Tigers fan had something to do with it. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you in the office. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯re almost there.¡± ¡°You know, my boss will call whoever needs to be called for you to release me.¡± ¡°Your boss is Linda, you fucking moron!¡± Alex exploded again. Maybe because Michael reminded him too much of himself. He played baseball as a kid, and around his teens, he was being watched playing by some Boston Red Sox and L. A. Dodgers scouts. But then that tragic accident happened and he decided he was going to be a detective for the police. ¡°My boss isn¡¯t Linda. My boss and A. J. Woodly, my manager.¡± Jack rolled his eyes. Alex shook his head. ¡°Linda owns the fucking team, you fucking moron,¡± Alex began to question whether he felt envious of Michael. He could have been a great player. However, he was the best detective in town. And regarding money, he had his own, enough to live a good life. He decided against it. He wasn¡¯t envious of Michael. Michael was just a stupid big guy with one talent: batting and catching baseballs. He preferred being himself. He considered himself, as he would often say, making everyone around chuckle, ¡®smart as fuck.¡¯ His stress and his bad humor were because of the whole mess of a case he had to solve. Linda was a liar. She never told anyone about Michael. The ¡®reasonable doubt¡¯ he argued with the Director and Judge Cameron was that Michael Harris had been fired from the Caracas Lyons a year ago, before Mr. Russell''s death. Now, that he was in a relationship with Mr. Russell''s widow, he had suddenly come back to the team. He had to say many, many well-structured and well-spoken words for Judge Cameron to finally buy it and sign the warrant. ¡°I know she owns the team, but I¡¯m talking about baseball, not about shares and that stuff. My boss in A. J. Woodley.¡± ¡°Shut up, man. Just shut up,¡± Jack said, shaking his head, and looking to his right through the window. Michael, sitting in the back seat, leaned back and sighed. He was in for a long day. DIGGING DEEPER ¡°When did you first start to date Mrs. Russell?¡± Alex asked, leaning forward at the table. ¡°It was recent, man. And it¡¯s not like we planned it. We just liked each other.¡± ¡°Bullshit! You were with her before Jeffrey¡¯s death!¡± Michael shook his head. ¡°Why do you say that, man? We just hooked up. And it was a few months ago, after I signed for the Lyons again.¡± ¡°You were banging her. You were with a married woman, you little piece of shit.¡± ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t. Our relationship started after her husband¡¯s death.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t believe you,¡± Alex stared directly into his eyes, waiting for the slightest sign of weakness. Alex took a glance at Jack, who was visibly frustrated. He stood up and lit a cigarette, pacing back and forth silently. Michael remained in his chair, appearing relaxed. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s start again,¡± Alex said. ¡°Why were you fired from the Lyons?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, man. They didn¡¯t tell me why. I was just notified they were going to pay my clause and let me go. The Tigers wanted me. So I didn¡¯t give it too much thought. After all, they were paying my clause, it was free money, you know. I was free to go and sign with another team. So I took money from the Lyons and from the Tigers. I didn¡¯t care why they were letting me go.¡± ¡°Maybe it was because you were involved with the boss¡¯ wife, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°No,¡± Michael raised his voice. ¡°I already told Linda that I started seeing each other after Jeffrey¡¯s death.¡± ¡°You know, Michael, Jeffrey was a splendid man. He gave a lot to the poor. But he wasn¡¯t a fool. Why would he pay for someone¡¯s clause and let him sign with the rival team? It doesn¡¯t make sense to me. Plus, you were having a remarkable season. Businesswise, his decision is not one you could expect from him.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯d tell you to ask him. But the man¡¯s dead.¡± ¡°Where were you on March twenty-seven last year, at eleven thirty in the morning?¡± Michael raised his eyebrows and shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know, man. Why would I remember such a thing?¡± ¡°You¡¯d remember it because you need an alibi.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember where I was, but I wasn''t killing somebody, okay?¡± Alex took another drag from his cigarette. There had to be something. This dumb, pretty boy couldn¡¯t outsmart him. ¡°Damn, if he¡¯s telling the truth, I¡¯ll be in the exact same place again. If he¡¯s not, he¡¯s a hell of a liar. Maybe Mrs. Russell prepared him exhaustively for this kind of interrogation.¡± He looked at Michael, getting closer. Michael thought he was going to hit him. Alex¡¯s eyes had a thrilling expression, as if they were reading and scanning Michael¡¯s body language. Alex got even closer, throwing all the smoke in Michael¡¯s face. ¡°What are you doing, man? I quit smoking.¡± Alex stepped back. He went to look at himself in the glass, which from the inside was a mirror. ¡°What are we doing with this prick, sir?¡± Jack asked. He was inside there, just witnessing the interrogation, as Alex was in charge of the questions. ¡°This isn¡¯t over. I¡¯m making up my mind on a few things. I know this dumbass knows something; he¡¯s just really well-trained by that bitch Linda.¡± ¡°Hey, come on, man. She¡¯s a lady. You should at least respect that. You can tell me everything, I don¡¯t care. But have a little respect.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t respect her husband when you rag dolled her, being a married woman.¡± Jack chuckled. He loved being present in interrogations because Alex could get very creative. For him, Alex''s bad mood and ruthless techniques were straight comedy. He used to say it to him sometimes, when they went for a beer after a long day of work. ¡°I already told you my relationship with her started before that bastard¡¯s death.¡± ¡°Uhh, what did I just hear? Why was he a bastard for you?¡± Michael shook his head. ¡°Because he was. He was always trying to diminish my work, and exactly like you do, make me look like a dumb super athlete. Okay, I get it. Maybe I¡¯m not the smartest of men, but I do my job well. I don¡¯t want to be no Einstein.¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Very well said, Michael,¡± Alex lit another cigarette. ¡°This is the smartest thing I¡¯ve heard from you since I''ve known you, actually. But it''s not over.¡± ¡°But why, man? I already told you what I know.¡± ¡°No, you haven¡¯t.¡± ¡°Of course I did.¡± ¡°No, you haven¡¯t.¡± Alex came onto him again, looked into his eyes with that fierce intensity. He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled all the smoke into Michael¡¯s face again. ¡°You see, Michael, men like me, especially in my position, with time and experience, develop something we call a sixth sense. Pretty much like you, when in the batter''s box, just know the pitcher is coming with a fastball. You sense it. You feel it. Well, I can feel you¡¯re not being fully honest. There¡¯s something you¡¯re hiding from me. This is gonna be a long day. Jack, make someone bring him some crappy fast food and a soda. We¡¯ll continue in an hour.¡± Alex was outside the building. He needed some fresh air. Jack came by. ¡°Hey, so what do you think? Is he telling the truth?¡± ¡°Definitely not the whole truth,¡± replied Alex. Jack reached for his pocket, took out a pack of cigarettes. ¡°A smoke and we go back?¡± he said, showing the pack of cigarettes to Alex. ¡°There was only Marlboro at my regular shop. But I bought it anyway. They aren¡¯t so bad¡­¡± Alex remained silent for a few long seconds, ignoring completely Jack¡¯s comparison of cigarette brands. I quit smoking. That¡¯s what Michael had said to me in the interrogation room. But had he? He recalled his fingers, stained, and he remembered Mrs. Russell''s apartment smelled like they tried to cover the smell of smoke with perfume. ¡°That dumb son of a bitch,¡± Alex said and went into the building running full speed. Jack knew his boss had found something. This was going to be fun. He ran behind Alex with the cigarette lit and pressed between his lips. THE POWER OF A RAT Alex slammed the door behind him, marching straight to the table, and seized Michael by the collar of his shirt. ¡°You lying son of a bitch!¡± He shook him, locking eyes with intensity. ¡°What the heck¡ªman? What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± ¡°There were ashes at Jeffrey¡¯s crime scene. A smoker was definitely present when it happened. Why would you quit smoking suddenly, if not to avoid becoming a suspect in the investigation?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± said Michael, remaining unusually calm, as if they had nothing substantial against him. ¡°You were there. I know you were there. They found him in that alley, above fresh traces of ashes. Either you did it, or you went to discuss something very private between you two.¡± ¡°Listen, man. I played along with your theatrics. You brought me here to play the tough cop. I get it. But none of this adds up. Just let me go, or I¡¯ll call a lawyer and won¡¯t answer another one of your questions.¡± Alex sighed. He knew his suppositions were weak. He had nothing against Michel. However, his instinct told him Michael knew something, and he wasn¡¯t telling the truth, at least not all the truth. But then something ticked in his mind. He recalled he¡¯d been taking a shit in home every morning before leaving for work, and avoided all kinds of fast food during the day because the Metropolitan Police bathroom was a dump. They were waiting for the major to approve a budget for them, to remodel their headquarters. But the current major was simply a piece of shit, that was the reason why Alex though his boss, Director Rogers, actually stood a chance of becoming Caracas¡¯ new major in next elections. ¡°Wait a second,¡± he said to Michael and left the room.¡± Jack was outside, watching everything. He was thirsty, so he had stopped to drink some water before going into the interrogation room to witness his boss¡¯ show. Alex stood closely in front of him. ¡°Go to the bathroom and bring me one of those big, nasty rats. I don¡¯t care if you have to break a pipe to do it. Just do it, now. Fast. Bring it into the room.¡± Alex went inside again and brought an ash can with him. He put it on the table and sat, relaxed. He took his lighter and a pack of cigarettes out and out them on the table as well. ¡°All right, Michael. Let¡¯s talk. Let¡¯s relax a little. Want some?¡± he offered a cigarette to Michael. Michael doubted. ¡°Come on, man, just for today,¡± Alex insisted. ¡°I really want to clarify a thing to you, but I need you to be relaxed.¡± ¡°All right,¡± Michael took one out of the pack and lighted it. He took a deep, long drag to it, and kept looking at it in his hand, as if wondering why he had actually quit it. ¡°I needed this,¡± he said, smiling. ¡°I know, right?¡± Alex smiled back. ¡°Listen. What I wanted to tell you is this. Whatever you¡¯re hiding from me, I¡¯ll find it. It¡¯s useless, kid. You know, I¡¯m very good at my job, like you¡¯re good at batting and catching baseballs. You¡¯re not telling me everything you know. So why no better to talk right away? You could be now finishing practice. You take a bath, and go all fresh to smash your lovely fianc¨¦e. Why complicate things?¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°Listen. I already told you what I know.¡± ¡°No. You haven¡¯t.¡± ¡°How can you be so sure?¡± Michael smiled, with genuine curiosity. ¡°I just know.¡± The door opened. Jacked came into the room with a metallic can. Something seemed to be inside it. You could hear something scratching the cold metal desperately. Jack just put it on the table and left. He ignored the can. He just kept staring at Michael. Michael looked nervous now. He frowned, bothered by the scratches from inside the can. ¡°What¡¯s in there, man?¡± ¡°Wanna talk?¡± Alex asked him. ¡°No. But tell me, what¡¯s in there?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mind about the can. Talk to me. Where you in that alley?¡± Alex shook his head. Took the final drag to his cigarette and turn it off on the ashtray. ¡°Seriously, man. What do you have in there?¡± ¡°What were you doing in there?¡± Michel looked down, and scratched his forehead. He drew his chair back a few inches from the table. ¡°I wasn¡¯t¡ªI wasn¡¯t there, man.¡± ¡°You want to see what¡¯s inside?¡± Alex picked up the can. ¡°Yes, let me see what¡¯s in there.¡± Alex grabbed the lit of the can and began to opened it slowly. The scratches were now fiercer, one a little light was entering the can. Michael swallowed hard. Alex opened the can partially, trapping the head of the rat with the lit. The rest of the animal¡¯s body was still inside the can. ¡°What the fuck!¡± Michael stood from his chair, almost falling in doing so and went into a corner. ¡°Take¡ªtake that shit out of here, man. Oh my God! What the fuck, you fucking moron, I have a thing with those beasts. Please, man. Take it out.¡± Michael was desperate. Trembling. His voice had gone shaky. He was truly scared. Alex stood up and walked towards the corner in which Michael was. ¡°Come one, Mike. It¡¯s just a little harmless animal. Come and touch it!¡± ¡°Are you out of your fucking mind?¡± He ran towards the door and tried to open it. He couldn¡¯t. It was closed. ¡°What were you doing in that alley, boy? Just tell me and I¡¯ll take out of here.¡± Michael kept punching the door with his shoulder, trying to force it open. Alex ran quietly towards him and caressed his ear. The can still closed. Michael screamed like a little girl would when seeing a cockroach. He turned back and saw Alex laughing. He looked around for the rat and there was none. The can in Alex¡¯s hands was still close. Alex opened it now and let the rat get out. The big, fat, ugly animal ran towards the door, trying to pass behind it. Michael screamed again and began to tremble a lot. He was breathing heavy. He ran to the table and climbed it. ¡°Get that fucking animal out of here now!¡± he yelled at the top of his lungs. Alex could see tears in his eyes. ¡°Tell me what the fuck you were doing in that alley, then, you fucking moron.¡± ¡°I was appointed to be there!¡± Michael screamed. ¡°Appointed by who?¡± ¡°Jeffrey! Jeffrey told me to come. He needed my help.¡± ¡°Help with what?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll tell you when you take that fucking, disgusting animal out the room!¡± Alex took his keys out of his pocket and opened the door. The rat quickly escaped. He heard a few more screams from his female coworkers in the office. But that was fine. In his mind, this kind of fear were more justified in a lady. He made a gesture that seemed to be a smile, looking at Jack, and then he closed the door again. SECRET AFFAIRS JEFFREY RUSSELL LOOKED at his watch. Inside his car, he kept looking around, uneasy. Five thirty. It was time. He got out of the car and arranged his suit. He looked always impeccable. He had made it in life: he had money, businesses, a beautiful wife, and a collection of cars. Plus, he had the respect of the entire town. There wasn¡¯t a nightclub or any other social place to which he¡¯d arrive and not get cheered by one of his many friends and acquaintances. He was wearing a nice blue suit. This part of town, the west, he didn''t frequented much these days. He lived here in his younger days when he was broke. However, after achieving success, he became too occupied with living the good life to return. It smelled of urine and cheap bread, with a bakery just around the corner. People walked by with large bags of bread in their hands. Jeffrey always believed he was destined for wealth. He simply refused to accept a different reality for himself. Even when he had nothing, he possessed an unwavering confidence and certainty that he would be a millionaire, a conviction that often led those around him to question his sanity but also brought laughter, so it was all good. Five thirty-three. He saw him. Michael had just turned in the bakery corner, wearing a black leather jacket and a black baseball hat. He gestured him. Michael saw him and hurried up. ¡°So what¡¯s the deal, Jeffrey?¡± ¡°They wanna kill me.¡± ¡°Who? Are you out of your mind?¡± ¡°No, listen. They wanna kill me.¡± ¡°What the hell are you talking about, man?¡± ¡°Listen,¡± Jeffrey¡¯s eyes were cold as if he knew that somehow, he was living his last moments. ¡°I know about you and Linda. I¡¯m not mad at you. And don¡¯t bother to deny it to me. You know, I¡¯m a shark. An old shark. I made my money reading people, you know. In sales, you get to learn who¡¯s gonna buy and who¡¯s gonna waste your time. It transfers to other things in life. I knew it, Michael, from the beginning. I even allowed it." You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
¡°Why did you tell me to come here?¡± Michael asked, ashamed, shrugging. ¡°I need to ask you something. I need you to tell Linda something. But there can be no records of what I¡¯ll tell you, do you understand?¡± ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll tell her whatever you want me to.¡± ¡°Michael. This is a serious matter. You messed with my wife; don¡¯t mess with my legacy, too.¡± Michael shook his head. The fact that Jeffrey was so cool about him sleeping with his wife just made him upset, and it confused him. He reached into his pocket and lit a cigarette. Michael took a long, massive drag of his cigarette. Then he frowned. ¡°But what legacy, man? What are you talking about?¡± ¡°Listen, Michael. I know I fired you when I noticed you were banging Linda. But it wasn¡¯t personal. I just couldn¡¯t allow to have the man who fucks my wife to work for me. But I think we¡¯re both done with that. I need you to go, now, and tell Linda burn, hear me right, burn a laptop that¡¯s in my desk room. I¡¯m not going back home.¡± ¡°But what¡¯s in there, anyways?¡± ¡°None of your business, boy. Just do what I told you. Please, from man to man, do me that favor. I¡¯m leaving, Michael. They¡¯re gonna kill me.¡± ¡°Who? Who¡¯s gonna kill you?¡± Jeffrey didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°That¡¯s the thing. I¡¯ve hurt too many people. It can be anyone.¡± Michael looked stressed. He didn¡¯t know what to do. He dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and left. After giving a few steps in the direction from which he had come, he turned around and faced Jeffrey once again. ¡°You¡¯re a good man, Jeffrey. I know you are. Maybe a little crazy and paranoid, but a gentleman for sure. I¡¯ll do what you¡¯ve told me.¡± Jeffrey smiled and nodded. He was about to reenter his car when he heard heavy steps on the asphalt, behind him. It was them. They¡¯ve caught him, after all. A HARDCORE FAN BRADLEY CANE HAD always been a loner. He was the type of guy who did well in life but, for some reason, he never really got to get along with women. He didn¡¯t know if it was just him, or maybe he just had bad luck. He saw Michael when he first arrived on the team and was astonished by how natural it was for Michael to leave the stadium with a hottie he¡¯d just met. It was an easy thing for him. He¡¯d sign an autograph, or maybe take a picture, he¡¯ll dictate his number to the girl, and by the end of the game, he¡¯d just ask the girl to leave the place with him, in his fancy Mercedes. Bradley could never do that. Well, at least he had never tried, also, women just didn¡¯t seem to throw themselves at him the way they did with Michael and other men he found to be ¡®luckier¡¯. But regarding his job, Bradley was a beast. He was the best catcher in the league, by far. He just wasn¡¯t too much of a ladies¡¯ man nor too popular, but his numbers had kept him for years in the first team. Nonetheless his professionalism and success, this thing kept bothering him. Of course, he¡¯d hire hookers, when need demanded so much from him, he felt he wasn¡¯t going to be able to perform well in the field. But why did he have to pay, when others got the same for free? It kept bothering him. But one good day, he heard his name, amid a practice before a game against The Cardinals. Bradley! Oh my God! It¡¯s Bradley Cane! He turned. On the other side of the fence, there was this young, blonde, curvy teen lifting a Lyon¡¯s shirt in one hand and a pen in the other. ¡°I¡¯m a fan of yours. You¡¯re the GOAT of catchers. She looked nervous and excited. Bradley was nervous, too. He wasn¡¯t used to this kind of interaction. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, grabbing the shirt and signing it. ¡°I¡¯m a catcher myself,¡± the blonde said. Bradley frowned. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yes. Caracas Lionesses, softball inferior league.¡± ¡°Congratulations. It¡¯s not an easy position to play.¡± The pitcher called Bradley. He was warming up his arm. ¡°No, it¡¯s not. But you make it look so easy. I wish I could learn from you,¡± Bradley saw her flush, and she moistened her lips, in a gesture that seemed as if she had intended to bite them, but changed her mind at the last moment. It turned him on.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Well, I can be your teacher,¡± he said, and regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. For some reason, he had always been scared of public rejection, and for being ashamed by a woman. Because of that, he¡¯d always come across as shy. He had an irrational fear of being disrespectful or too direct with women. He¡¯d always thought that kind of accusations, can lead to problems, and his career was the most important thing to him. ¡°Will you?¡± The blonde¡¯s eyes shone with joy. Bradley nodded, with a shy smile on his face. ¡°Bradley, come on!¡± Ryan Dean, the closer of The Lyons, yelled again at Bradley. ¡°I have to go, they¡¯re waiting for me,¡± he said, turning around. ¡°Wait,¡± she said. ¡°Extend your arm.¡± Bradley was going to ask why, but then he just did what she asked. He extended his arm towards the fence. She wrote her number on his forearm. ¡°Here is my number,¡± she said. ¡°Please, text me. I have too many things to learn from you.¡± ¡°All right,¡± Bradley now was almost speechless. For him, this amount of interest and attention was surreal. He turned again and carried on with his practices. During that night¡¯s practice, when the pitcher was out of the mound, arranging his hat or just stretching his arm, Bradley would seize the chance to read the number on his forearm, over and over again all night long. He feared the sweat could erase it. He didn¡¯t want to lose this chance at love. *** He couldn¡¯t sleep. He was turning around in bed over and over again. He had read or heard sometime somewhere that it wasn¡¯t good to text a girl the same day she gave you her number, that the best was to play strong, not be thirsty and create some expectation, and let her wait for your message. It was still early. Just ten o¡¯clock at night. Maybe she was still awake. ¡°Fuck it,¡± he thought. He just couldn¡¯t get rid of the picture of that beautiful face with pinky cheeks in his mind. He couldn¡¯t stop thinking of those big, round buttocks she had, which stood out favored by the blue-gray yoga pants she was wearing. And her legs. Her big, white, and beautiful legs. He texted her. ¡°Hi,¡± he wrote and dropped his phone on his chest. He felt a childish impulse to cover his face with the pillow as if he didn¡¯t want to face the consequences of his texting. A few minutes passed. He checked the phone every few seconds. The answer didn¡¯t come. He began to think negatively. Maybe he was being too na?ve. Maybe that girl just wanted some help with her catching skills, and he was making up a romance already in his mind. He was ready to sleep when he received the answer. ¡°Hey! Oh my God. Bradley, it¡¯s you! I didn¡¯t expect you to text me,¡± she texted. He didn¡¯t know what to answer now. ¡°I just came home from practice, and I remembered you asked me to text. So here I am,¡± he answered after writing and deleting three different versions of that same message. ¡°You don¡¯t know my name. My name is Paula Lennox. Thank you for not forgetting about me.¡± ¡°Sure. So tell me, what is it that you need help with?¡± ¡°Well, I can tell you that tomorrow. Do you have twenty minutes to see me?¡± ¡°I think I do. The afternoon is better. I go to the gym in the morning.¡± ¡°That¡¯s perfect for me,¡± she wrote. ¡°We have a date, then. I¡¯ll confirm the time and place tomorrow morning, is that okay?¡± ¡°It is, Paula.¡± ¡°All right. I won¡¯t take more of your time. Have a good night, GOAT.¡± She sent some kissing emojis along with that last message. Bradley didn¡¯t know what to answer, so he didn¡¯t. He slept very well that night. LIKE SOMEONE ELSE LIFTING WEIGHTS HAD never been so easy for him. He effortlessly dominated every gym machine he encountered. Somehow, meeting Paula in the afternoon became a motivation for him to work even harder at the gym, as if his muscles would miraculously grow bigger from morning to evening. After finishing his session with his coach, he decided to extend his workout, adding more presses and cardio exercises. As he checked the time on his phone, he noticed a WhatsApp message that had arrived fifteen minutes earlier. It was from Paula. ¡®Hey, Goat. I¡¯ll be at Lionesses¡¯ stadium at 4 o¡¯clock. See you there.¡¯ Now, he had a date. He wondered if his presence there would go unnoticed. He''d heard many stories about his colleagues occasionally trying to pick up girls from the women''s softball team, but he didn''t care. He just wanted to see Paula again. The reassurance she provided made him feel special, truly special. She made him feel like he wasn¡¯t himself, but someone else. Someone more confident. He didn¡¯t feel like cooking, so he hopped into his Toyota Corolla and headed to his favorite restaurant, where he waited for Gary to arrive. Gary was his best friend, and they had played together in the rookie leagues. However, Gary wasn¡¯t as dedicated to baseball. When he received a scholarship to Law University, he immersed himself in the wild school lifestyle, drinking and partying hard. As a result, his performance as an outfielder suffered greatly, and he eventually quit baseball to focus on law. Now, he was a fairly successful lawyer. Bradley sat at his table, passing the time by playing a baseball game on his phone, when he heard Gary¡¯s voice. "Hey, man, I thought you''d never take me on a date again," Gary greeted him. Bradley stood up and hugged his best friend. "Sometimes I wonder about it; you''re too thrifty," he joked as they both sat down. "Oh, you know me. I''m just a simple lawyer. You''re the star between us. If I were you, I''d always foot the bill." Bradley shook his head. The waiter approached their table, and they ordered steaks along with two beers to pass the time. "How''s everything going, buddy?" Gary asked, gently clinking his bottle against Bradley''s. "Eh, alright," Bradley sighed. "I''m a little concerned." He dropped that phrase and locked eyes with Gary. Gary had been his lifeline for as long as Bradley could recall. They made an excellent team. Gary, an extrovert with outstanding social skills, complemented Bradley, who was more reserved. Whenever Bradley faced trouble, he always turned to Gary for support. Their friendship began when, as kids, Bradley''s own teammates began teasing and bullying him in the dugout. Gary didn''t tolerate it and defended him by throwing a helmet at the bully''s face. Since then, they had been inseparable. So, when Bradley gave him that look just now, it conveyed everything Gary needed to know: Bradley was in trouble, or seeking advice, at the very least. "Tell me, what''s on your mind?" Gary inquired after taking a long swig of beer. "Well, technically, everything''s fine. But, you know... I''ve met this girl. And... she seems perfect. You have to see her. She''s beautiful." This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Gary grinned, then shrugged, not fully grasping Bradley''s point. "And...?" he prompted. "Well, that''s just it. She''s... she''s too good, you know," Bradley confessed with a hint of shame, taking a long sip of his beer to shield his face while also watching Gary''s reaction closely. "Hey, man," Gary''s tone shifted, taking on the weight of a concerned father. "Enough with this nonsense. Ever since I''ve known you, you''ve been with low-quality women. Sure, it''s fine for a one-night stand, but deep down, you know you deserve better. You can do better. I understand how you feel. Look at me, Bradley. I understand. You still blush when they interview you on national TV and praise your performance. You''re a shy guy, I get it. But you need to change the way you see yourself. You need to see yourself as a winner, as the man! When you do that, you won''t question why a hot girl wants to be with you; it''ll simply be what you deserve." "Yeah, I know. But it''s just who I''ve always been, you know? And it''s tough." "But you''ve got to change that. Come on, man. You''re the best catcher in the league. Handsome, wealthy, only thirty-two years old¡ªrelatively young. You''re every woman''s dream, every hot college student''s fantasy. The problem is you don''t believe it. You still see yourself as that shy little boy who was bullied in school and in the dugout, so you avoid drawing too much attention to yourself." "Exactly. I struggle with attention, you know. Sometimes I even feel like I''m a better catcher because I play wearing a mask." Gary burst into laughter. "You''re certainly a character, Bradley Cane. If that''s the case, then wear that damn mask everywhere and be the damn man everywhere, just like you are on the field." As the waiter brought their steaks, Gary charmingly requested, "Two more beers, please." Bradley chuckled. "You''re shameless, aren''t you? I''m footing the bill and you just order whatever you please." "Hey, my advice doesn''t come cheap either." They both dug into their meals, savoring the juicy steaks. Bradley always insisted that this restaurant served the best meat in town. "Anyways, who''s the girl?" Gary asked, cutting a piece of his steak and lifting it to his mouth with his fork. "She''s a young girl. A Lionesses catcher." "Oh, so she''s a catcher too, huh?" "Yes, she is." "Well, I think that''s a good thing. You see, being a baseball player herself..." "Softball," Bradley interjected. "Right. Being a softball player herself, she''ll likely understand your routines, your travel schedule, your commitment to the game. So you won''t have trouble with that." "Yeah, I thought the same thing." "So what''s really bothering you? Tell me." "Today, she wants me to meet her at her team''s field," Bradley said with difficulty. "So what''s the issue? Are you worried about someone else seeing you with her?" Gary inquired. Bradley chuckled. "No, it''s not that. I just don''t want the attention. You know, I''m the catcher for the first team. The men''s baseball first team. They probably all know who I am, and there''ll be comments, you know." Gary rolled his eyes. "So what, man? What are you afraid of? What kind of comments would bother you?" "You know, malicious ones. Like she''s too young for me, or that I''m taking advantage of her and things like that." Gary wiped his mouth with a napkin. ¡°Listen to me, motherfucker. I love you. You¡¯re my brother. But you¡¯re being a bitch. Who the fuck cares what a bunch of unhappy losers think or say? Live your best life. Fuck all those bitches. As long as they¡¯re not underage, you can be a fucking Venezuelan sultan and have seven wives and twenty-one kids. Man the fuck up.¡± Bradley chuckled again. He really needed Gary¡¯s encouraging words. He felt now better prepared for that date. A DREAM GIRL BRADLEY RETURNED to his apartment to shower after having lunch with Gary, feeling somewhat rejuvenated. Gary''s words echoed in his mind, "You''re not a kid anymore, buddy. You need a spouse, a good woman by your side. You''ve had your fair share of hookups, but it''s time to settle down." He was right. Bradley had always grappled with trust issues, having been heartbroken too many times. Consequently, he rarely allowed any woman to get too close to him. He was always open to casual encounters, opting for one-night stands or calling a prostitute if necessary. Yet, while living alone, there were nights when he yearned for someone to trust enough to share his bed. Uncertain about what to wear, he deliberated for a few minutes before settling on joggers and a sweater, just in case Paula sought catching advice from him. This attire would ensure his comfort. Donning his Lyons'' hat, dousing himself in perfume, Bradley left his apartment half an hour earlier. When he arrived at the facility, he understood why he''d heard so many stories about his teammates hooking up with some of the women''s softball players. There were gorgeous women everywhere, one after another. Some even looked better than Paula. However, he wasn''t willing to risk anything by trying to be a playboy. He was solely focused on Paula. He texted her, ''I''m here.'' Standing in the field, he observed the practice, sporting his athletic sunglasses and exuding a relaxed, chill demeanor. Spotting Paula trotting towards him, already in her gear¡ªsporting a small black shorts, high socks, her chest protector, and mask¡ªalong with her pet nestled in her left arm. "Oh, hi!" she greeted him, removing her mask to kiss him on the cheek. "Let''s go, I want you to watch me practice, then I''ll tell you what I need your help for." "Alright," he replied, following her eagerly. She introduced him to her coach, Alexa, a stunning blonde who seemed too beautiful to be a softball coach. "Danielle," Paula addressed the tall brunette who was pitching to her. "Throw some wild pitches low to the ground." Danielle nodded, executed her mechanics, and sent a fastball hurtling towards the home plate. Paula lunged to block it, almost succeeding, but Bradley noticed her mistake. Paula removed her mask. "You see? I keep struggling with those pitches," she confided in Bradley. "It has cost us numerous games in the league." Bradley smiled. This was part of his daily routine. He faced wild pitches regularly, preparing himself for high-stakes games. "So, are you going to keep smiling or will you tell me what I''m doing wrong?" Paula joked. "You''re trying to catch it," Bradley said, shrugging. "But I''m supposed to catch it, aren''t I?" Paula replied. Bradley shook his head. "With a low count, yes, you can try to catch it without exerting too much effort, whether you succeed or not. But with two strikes, or three balls, or men on base, you should not catch it; you should stop it." "Yeah, I know that. But I keep going for the catch. And sometimes I don''t judge it well and end up missing." "Yes, and that''s why you need to use your whole body to block it. You''re relying solely on one hand, your left hand. Now imagine using both hands, your chest, your legs, and even your face." If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "My face? Okay, you lost me," Paula said incredulously, throwing a glance at Danielle, as if to convey her suspicion that Bradley was joking. Danielle simply arched her eyebrows and grinned, shrugging. "Let me show you," Bradley offered, stepping forward and lifting Paula up with both hands. They locked eyes, studying each other closely for the second time. Bradley could have easily gotten lost in her round, blushy cheeks and green eyes, but he remained focused. This was his realm of competence; here, he was an authority. "Give me your gear. I''ll show you how it''s done," he said confidently. She looked at him, marveling at his assertiveness. Despite her efforts, she couldn''t help but wear a big, flirtatious smile on her face. She removed her mask, pet, and vest, handing them over to him. As he put everything on, he couldn''t help but notice that the pet was a bit small for him. After adjusting it as best he could, he declared, "All right, Danielle, give me your wildest pitch." Danielle nodded and went through her pitching motion, delivering another fastball. The ball veered to Bradley''s left, prompting him to quickly lunge from behind the plate, stopping the ball with his chest and part of his shoulder. The ball rebounded off his mask as well. "Wow, I wouldn''t have stopped that in a million years," Paula exclaimed. Danielle laughed, impressed and excited by Bradley''s performance. "It''s just practice, you know," Bradley replied humbly. "You won''t get injured; that''s what your gear is for. Once you lose the fear of injury, you can block any wild pitch within reasonable reach." "Great, but how do I throw myself at the ball?" Paula asked. "Come here," Bradley signaled for her to approach. "Get down." Paula assumed the catching position, crouching down. "Alright, so you''re in the squatting position. You see a short wild pitch coming. Swiftly, you drop to your knees," Bradley demonstrated, and Paula followed suit. "And what do I do with my hands?" she inquired. Bradley positioned himself directly behind her. "You open them. Extend your arms and lean your chest forward, so after the ball hits the ground, it rebounds and hits you in the chest or on the mask." "Like this?" Paula adjusted her stance, but Bradley could see she needed to lean forward a bit more. "Yes, like this," Bradley guided her by her waist. Her waist felt small and warm against his touch, heated by both the ambient temperature and her body''s exertion during practice. From this angle, her behind looked considerable, accentuated by the position. He couldn''t help but imagine that the thin black fabric of her shorts could tear at any moment. Her lower back, with its blonde and nearly imperceptible little hairs shimmering in the sunlight and lightly glistening with sweat, seemed like a promised land to him. He sighed, attempting to regain control of his thoughts. The sight of Paula''s butt had momentarily sent his mind into a frenzy. "You got it?" he finally managed, feeling his heart race. "I think so," she replied. "I like how you look in this position," he said, summoning bravery. "Do you? Maybe you could get used to it," she responded, her voice laced with sensuality. "Guys," Danielle interjected, breaking the tension. "We''re here to practice softball, not film a kinky porn movie." Bradley laughed, though deep down, he felt a pang of shame. Paula didn''t seem embarrassed at all. In fact, she shot an annoyed glance at Danielle, as if she wanted to linger on the ground, flirting with Bradley forever. "We should keep practicing," Bradley suggested, standing up and removing his mask, placing it onto Paula''s face. "Wait for me. I''m free tonight. I want to spend more time with you," she said, her gaze tender as she looked into his eyes. "Well, I can go to my place and change quickly and come back," he signaled, gesturing to his joggers, now covered in dust from his catching demonstration. "Oh, look what I made you do. Don''t worry, I''ll wash it all for you," she reassured him. Bradley frowned. "How? Where? When?" "Wait for me. We can go to your place together, if no one is waiting for you," she replied, her shyness evident. For the first time in his life, Bradley had a woman throwing herself at him. Despite seeing her interest and flirtation, he also noticed her timidity and fear in those last words¡ªa fear of rejection, one he had often experienced himself. But of course, he wasn''t going to reject Paula. "I have my dog waiting for me. Her name is Kira. You''ll love her," he said, realizing he already had Paula wrapped around his finger. WHITE BEAR INC "BRING THOSE DAMN pizzas in here!" Alex commanded, his hunger evident. He had clearly instructed Michael not to leave until he divulged everything he knew. A slender girl wearing glasses entered the room and placed two pizzas on the table. "Thanks, Clarisse," Jack acknowledged. He expressed gratitude on behalf of Alex, knowing his boss was too stressed to do so himself and not wanting Clarisse to think poorly of him. "Damn, I needed this," Alex remarked, half-leaning, half-sitting on the table. Michael reached for a slice of pizza. "I shouldn''t let you eat. You''re a lying son of a bitch," Alex accused, his tone sharp. Michael shook his head. "Listen, man," Michael began after taking a swig of soda and hastily swallowing a large bite of pizza. "I didn''t say anything because of Linda, okay? I wanted to protect her. It''s really that simple. I didn''t kill anyone, so I''m not a criminal. I''m a baseball player. I stayed silent because I didn''t want the police to uncover my relationship with Linda. That would damage her public image, you know?" "Oh my God, you''re bringing tears to my eyes," Alex retorted sarcastically, his frown deepening. After a pause and a few more slices of pizza, Alex seemed to relax. "You know what? I believe you. I know you didn''t kill him. But there has to be something. Who were ''they''? Who were the potential killers? And what did he mean when he said, ''I''ve hurt too many people''? That''s the crux of this case. Who did Jeffrey Russell hurt?" Alex pressed, his tone more serious. Jack took a sip of his soda, glancing at his boss. Alex sat there, stroking his beard, lost in thought. "I''ve got an idea," Alex declared suddenly, breaking the silence. "Jack, drive me to White Bear INC. I need to speak with someone there. Ahh, I''ve eaten too much. I can''t even walk," he moaned, attempting to rise from his chair. Jack quickly grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "Is that all? Can I go now?" Michael chimed in, arms open in a hopeful gesture. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "Yeah, you''re free to go. I''ll call you if I need you again," Alex replied. As Alex made his way to the door, Jack announced, "I''ll wait for you in the car." "Hey," Alex paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What''s the deal with the rats? Why are you so terrified of them?" Michael grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. "It''s called musophobia, you know. I can''t help it. I''ve been diagnosed. You think I didn''t see a specialist? Of course I did. It''s like a fear of heights or claustrophobia. It''s something beyond my control." "Alright, just make sure the Tigers don''t catch wind of it, or they might release rats in your dugouts during your next series in their city," Alex joked, winking as he grabbed his jacket and exited the room. Michael shook his head, grabbed the last slice of pizza, and followed suit. As Jack drove to White Bear Inc headquarters, Alex couldn''t resist teasing him. "Come on, are you, my grandmother? Step on it!" Jack rolled his eyes and pressed down on the accelerator, eager to get to their destination. "Listen, Alex, this is not your dinky Ford Fiesta," Jack retorted, raising an eyebrow. "I''m not about to mess up my ride because of some investigation. Rogers won''t be shelling out for a new one anytime soon." Alex shook his head in disbelief. "You need a beat-up car, my friend," he insisted. Jack furrowed his brow. "What? Why the heck would I want a junker?" "Because you need it, buddy," Alex explained. "Cars are like women. Who has just one woman? You need at least two. One for fancy events, and another for the dirty work." Jack couldn''t help but chuckle. "Alright, so your Ford Fiesta is like your side chick or something?" "Exactly!" Alex exclaimed. "My Fiesta is that wild side chick who''s always down for a crazy adventure. You can send her off to run errands and she''ll never say no." "Alright, mate. That pizza didn''t sit well with you," Jack teased. "No, seriously, think about it," Alex persisted. "You''ve got your fancy occasions, like a wedding. You take your main girl, or your wife, since we''re not kids anymore talking about girls. But then let''s say you''re out of town, working undercover on some dangerous case, like busting a drug lord. You need to catch him red-handed, but you''re flying solo in this new town. What do you do? You call up that crazy bitch. Yeah, don''t laugh. You call up that side chick, book her a flight, and she meets you at the hotel. You spend the night banging her brains out, then you send her in as bait to the bad guys. She finds something useful, you bust the drug lord, and boom! You''re a hero, getting a raise and a promotion. It''s a win-win!" "Oh my God, you''re insane," Jack burst out laughing as they pulled up to White Bear Inc headquarters. Alex flashed his ID to the security guards in the parking lot and they were granted access. "Maybe we should crack this case, get Rogers elected so he can give us a raise, and then I''ll reward myself with a side chick. Maybe a Renault Twingo," Jack pondered aloud. "I''d rather die than cruise around town in a Twingo," Alex scoffed. "Well, side chicks aren''t always the prettiest," Jack remarked. "Hey, you''re onto something there. Learn from the master while you can, kid. I won''t be around forever," Alex said with a grin as they strolled towards the building''s entrance. A HONORABLE WITNESS ¡°WHAT WE CAME here for, anyways?¡± asked Jack as he and Alex got into the elevator. Alex stared at him with indifference, as he used to do when he was in a bad mood. ¡°There¡¯s a witness I want to interview.¡± ¡°Mr. Barnes?¡± Jack retorted. ¡°He¡¯s now the President of the company, isn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°He is,¡± Alex muttered. ¡°I need to find something. Rogers is breaking my balls. Every twenty minutes he sends me a WhatsApp asking how the case is going, so it¡¯s better to move.¡± ¡°It¡¯s always better to move,¡± repeated Jack, emulating his boss¡¯ voice. That was a phrase Alex always said. Alex just threw a contemptuous glance at him and he just smiled. He knew his boss could take a joke, even in the worst of times. Mr. Barnes received them politely, offering them some drinks. ¡°What you have?¡± asked Alex. Mr. Barnes tried to hide his surprise. He clearly offered the drinks just to be polite, he didn¡¯t expect them to accept. ¡°Well, I have a great, eighteen-year-old whiskey, if you like.¡± ¡°All right. Pour that thing on two glasses. I think it won¡¯t hurt us. I really need to talk about that day, Mr. Barnes.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± said the old but energetic man as he served the three glasses of whiskey. Alex took a sip and sighed. ¡°I need you to tell me something, Mr. Barnes. Jeffrey was your colleague, your boss. This guy right here,¡± he said pointing to Jack. ¡°Knows my every move. I can¡¯t fuck a bitch without him knowing who¡¯s her and what she does. You see where I¡¯m going, right?¡± Mr. Barnes shook his head, a gesture that Alex recognized as characteristic of the man''s politeness. Determined to break through the formalities, Alex aimed to bring him out of his comfort zone and engage in conversation as if they were three buddies sharing beers after a football game. ¡°Please be more specific,¡± demanded Barnes. Alex shot Jack a glance that crackled with fury. It was the same look he gave right before he switched off the cameras and unleashed his wrath on suspects in the interrogation room. Jack silently thanked his lucky stars they weren''t in that room right now. He could see the longing in Alex''s eyes; he yearned to be back in that room. ¡°Our investigation has led us to believe there were some people who wanted to hurt Jeffrey. A presential witness who met him in the very crime scene minutes before he was killed, declared that Jeffrey said to him the phrase, ¡®They want to kill me.¡¯ So for now, the key piece in the investigation is finding who ¡®they¡¯ are. Do you understand?¡± ¡°I do, Detective Alex. But I don¡¯t see how can I know who those people were, if they existed at all, for Alex wasn¡¯t known for having many enemies. He was a pretty popular man, with many friends and acquittances and a truly remarkable social life.¡± ¡°That I know, Mr. Barnes. But what I don¡¯t know, and what I want to find out is¡­ What secret affairs did Jeffrey have? He must be hiding something, because he had enemies, as he stated minutes before being killed. However, everyone around seems to ignore such a fact. And how¡¯s that possible? Jack, tell me the breast size of my last hookup.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°34-B,¡± Jack replied, with a gesture of his hands that illustrated big breasts. He finished with a kiss to his fingers. "You see? He knows everything about me. I was having an affair with this chick, and Jack covered for me with my girlfriend. He even had to bring some lingerie to the hotel because... you know I¡¯m very¡­ aggressive¡­during intimacy.¡± Alex winked. There was an awkward pause. Jack couldn¡¯t help a chuckle though. Alex downed his whiskey in one gulp and lit a cigarette without bothering to ask for permission. Barnes grew increasingly uncomfortable with each passing moment. "You won''t offer me another?" Alex said, gesturing his glass toward Barnes. Barnes was taken aback. He didn''t understand the tactics being employed. As a well-mannered man, he wasn''t accustomed to this kind of behavior. "Of course, my pleasure," Barnes responded, promptly standing up to refill his guests'' glasses, including his own, as he felt he needed it this time. Alex took another sip of his whiskey, took a long drag of his cigarette, and as he exhaled the smoke, he began to speak. "Mr. Barnes, the police report indicates that Jeffrey was here at White Bear headquarters just before he was murdered downtown. Can you recall if he seemed nervous or did anything out of the ordinary? I need you to remember now because, you know, I have a court order, and I really don''t want to make things so¡­ What''s the word, Jack?" ¡°Tedious?¡± Jack replied instantly. ¡°Right. I don¡¯t want to make this more tedious for you. You are a busy man. I¡¯m a busy man. Imagine wasting precious hours of our lives in an interrogation room. We¡¯re not going to recover those hours, and we¡¯re not getting any younger.¡± ¡°He¡¯s old,¡± said Jack to Barnes. ¡°He now gets drunk with two glasses of whiskey.¡± Alex nodded and shrugged, staring at Barnes defiantly. After a lengthy pause, Barnes relented. He sighed heavily, finally grasping the implicit threat behind Alex''s behavior. He was keenly aware of the potential ramifications and preferred to avoid drawing public attention to himself. Barnes was inherently reserved by nature. ¡°All right, gentleman. I do remember something,¡± he finally said. And right after, he emptied his glass of whiskey. He frowned and swallowed hard after drinking it. The way he did it, make signaled to Alex that he hadn¡¯t drunk an entire glass of anything in years. ¡°What a boring life,¡± Alex thought. ¡°My good old friend Jeffrey, months before being tragically murdered, he developed this addiction to his laptop. He was always in it, at all times. I think it was a year before his death that it all started. He searched for the right angles in which to put himself so no one could see what he was doing on the computer. I spotted, it was an obvious thing, you know. And he always used earphones, too. As to the nature of his activities on that laptop, I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know anything. Like I said: he never allowed anyone to come close or to watch. He was always in front of you, never on your side, so no one ever took a look at his laptop. And the very day he was killed, he was here before me, and he didn¡¯t discuss anything about work. He just spent the whole day in that gadget until he left in a hurry and then we found out he had been murdered. That¡¯s all I have to say.¡± Alex and Jack looked at each other. *** ¡°So the laptop again,¡± Jack said to Alex as they got into the elevator. ¡°Yes. But that bitch of Linda burned that shit.¡± ¡°Yeah. Probably burning it was the best for her. If Jeffrey had some dirty shit in it, it doesn¡¯t exist anymore.¡± "Exactly, and the worst part is that we can''t do anything about it," Alex retorted. "Burning a laptop isn''t a crime. She was simply following her husband''s orders. Her still-living husband." ¡°Oh, man. We¡¯re screwed,¡± Jack complained. Alex slipped into a contemplative mood, replaying their entrance into Barnes'' office and their entire conversation in his mind. He prided himself on his discretion; he wasn''t one to seek trouble. Unlike the other witnesses, he maintained his composure and displayed a willingness to assist, albeit reluctantly. The phrase "eighteen years old whiskey" echoed in Alex''s thoughts. Was the old man subtly implying something? Could that be why he remained silent during the initial Metropolitan Police investigation? Perhaps he sought to avoid scandal and protect the company, now under his presidency. Alex let his instinct run in his mind freely. He thought that if Barnes was trying to tell him something about Jeffrey and eight-teen years old, that meant that Jeffrey liked younger girls, which is nothing extraordinary. But his weird behavior involved his laptop, so maybe it was an eight-teen-year-old online girlfriend he had? Regardless, a man who likes young ladies won¡¯t limit himself to the internet, Alex reasoned, and being the owner of a female sports club¡­ it was Disneyland for a pervert. ¡°Jack,¡± Alex said as they entered Jack¡¯s car, his tone serious. ¡°Do you like softball?¡± ¡°No. I hate it.¡± ¡°Yeah, me too. We¡¯re watching a game tonight.¡± PARADISE OF NUBILES "ARE YOU IN for a couple of beers tonight?" Jack asked Alex as they parked the car. They were at the Lionesses¡¯ facility. That night, they were playing against the Mighty Sharks, a team from La Guaira, a smaller city located a few miles from Caracas. "Well, if you¡¯ll pay¡­" Alex shrugged. "Why are you so cheap?" Jack complained, frowning and smiling. When they got to the stadium, Alex kept making comments about the beauty of some of the players of both teams. ¡°Imagine if I was the coach of a team like this,¡± he said, as they paid for two beers and walked towards the stairs. ¡°I would spank them,¡± he continued. ¡°A wild pitch? Five spanks. Punched out? Ten spanks then. I would spank them so much they¡¯d be able to pay from my bank account by putting their asses in a biometric payment device." Jack shook his head. At the beginning, he couldn¡¯t stand Alex¡¯s retorted sense of humor, but now, knowing the amount of stress he endured, he understood it better and even liked it. As they sat in the stands, Alex couldn¡¯t help but continue talking. He was in a good mood. ¡°You know, these girls must really love the game,¡± he said. ¡°Many of them... look like magazine models. Insane body, pretty face. It¡¯s crazy.¡± ¡°Maybe they''re daughters of baseball players, so it¡¯s something that runs in the family and is important to them,¡± Jack suggested. ¡°Maybe,¡± Alex agreed, taking a sip of his beer. They were in the upper stands; Alex insisted they sit there so he could smoke as much as he wanted. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan, boss?¡± Jack asked. Ignoring him, Alex lit a cigarette and took a long drag. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he finally said as he exhaled the smoke. ¡°I came here just to watch.¡± ¡°Watch? Watch what, who?¡± Jack inquired. "I don¡¯t know, Jack. I''ve embarrassed myself enough with this shitty investigation. Too much pressure. I need to relax and just observe. You know, I¡¯m here just watching these girls play. Do they know something about Jeffrey that can be of use to the investigation? I don¡¯t know. But if they do, I¡¯ll know. Trust me when I tell you this¡­ I¡¯ll know. If there¡¯s something off with one of these girls, I¡¯ll sense it as soon as we lock eyes." ¡°I see,¡± Jack replied. ¡°Well, stalking is definitely better than doing nothing. Plus, I won¡¯t complain about stalking all night with a beer in my hand.¡± ¡°We need to find out what was in that laptop. Linda won¡¯t tell us.¡± ¡°Yeah, that woman seems to be very secretive,¡± Jack added respectfully. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°She¡¯s a bitch,¡± Alex muttered. As the game was about to start, Alex caught sight of a man coming to the stands. He looked familiar, but with the baseball hat on, Alex couldn¡¯t be sure. The first pitch was thrown by Danielle Letterman, the star pitcher of the Lionesses. It was a fastball straight into the strike zone. The catcher stood up and threw the ball back to Danielle. Alex nudged Jack. ¡°Who¡¯s that guy?¡± Alex asked Jack, pointing discreetly towards the lone figure. ¡°I think I know him, but I can¡¯t be sure from here.¡± Jack shrugged, casting a curious glance at the man in question. He was alone, dressed casually in jeans, sneakers, and a nondescript black jacket and baseball hat. ¡°He seems like he doesn¡¯t want to be noticed,¡± Alex mused, leaning forward slightly to get a better view. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll go grab us a couple more beers. Maybe I can get a better look at him on my way back,¡± Jack suggested, rising from his seat. ¡°Good idea,¡± Alex replied, his gaze still fixed on the mysterious figure. As Jack made his way down the stands, Alex continued to observe the man with growing curiosity. He tried to discern where the man''s attention was focused, but it was difficult to tell. It appeared as though he was simply watching the game like any other spectator. Lost in thought, Alex couldn¡¯t help but mull over the details of Jeffrey¡¯s death outlined in the police reports. Despite his popularity, Jeffrey seemed to have enemies lurking in the shadows. But who were they, and why did they want him dead? It was a puzzle that had been gnawing at Alex for some time, and the lack of answers was beginning to weigh heavily on him. Just as he was starting to feel the stress of uncertainty creeping in, Jack returned with a smile on his face, interrupting Alex''s thoughts. ¡°It¡¯s Bradley,¡± Jack announced, passing the beer to Alex with a nonchalant air. ¡°Bradley who?¡± Alex inquired, his curiosity piqued. ¡°Bradley Cane,¡± Jack replied casually, as though the name held little significance. ¡°What on earth is he doing here?¡± Alex mused aloud, his brow furrowing in thought. ¡°Perhaps he''s got a little crush on one of the Lionesses,¡± Jack suggested with a shrug. Alex considered Jack''s suggestion, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. ¡°Well, I suppose we''ll just have to wait until the game is over to find out who he''s here for,¡± he remarked, lighting another cigarette as he settled back in his seat. *** He was just about to start his engine when he heard casual knocks on the driver¡¯s window. Two figures stood outside: a tall, blonde man in his mid-thirties and a slim, pale brunette who appeared a bit younger. "Fans?" he mused, though the timing seemed odd. Pressing the button on his car door panel, the window descended swiftly. "Mr. Bradley Cane," greeted Alex with a smile as the window lowered. "Hey..." Bradley replied, a pang of embarrassment hitting him. He hoped no one had noticed him slipping out during the fifth inning. Now, confronted by two unfamiliar men, he was curious about their intentions. "How can I help you?" "Metropolitan Police," Alex announced, displaying his badge. "Police?" Bradley''s brow furrowed. "What does the police want with me?" Alex glanced at Jack, whose grin signaled the beginning of an unauthorized interrogation. "As far as I know, nothing, sir," Alex responded politely. "However, we''d like to ask you a few questions, if you don''t mind." "Sure, of course," Bradley agreed, stepping out of the car. Alex noticed him crossing his arms, betraying a hint of nervousness. After allowing a deliberate silence to stretch for a few seconds, Alex finally spoke. "When was the last time you saw Jeffrey Russell?" Alex inquired, noting Bradley''s immediate reaction, which suggested this interrogation would not be a waste of time.