CHAPTER EIGHT

THE WAY OF THE NINJA AND MUSHROOMS

Another night in a bar with a drink in hand, another day without purpose with a drink in hand, just another one in the countless; with a drink in hand. Wasting away as small sips make everything better. If I only knew which glass this was, what number of the times I tried, in vain, to escape, John ponders. The dim lights shine like stars in the night, and they shine ever so dimly... but still they shine. I hear a sweet melody; candy to the ear that makes you feel funny and jiggly like the word jiggly. Jiggly! On the small dark stage, an angel sings, an angel who still smiles. An angel who still holds faith in this wretched thing we call existence. Sadly, it will all end, for there comes a time when even the smiles of angels fade away. The same old song, the same old lyrics, and the same old feeling; with a drink in hand.

I will wait for you

As you wait for me

So don’t you leave me blue

While I walk in the dark

I am waiting for you but, I’m afraid, I will leave you blue, John thinks as he takes one more sip and one more puff. Trying to exhale a circle of smoke, an unidentifiable shape comes in its place.

The meager crowd claps as they feel, for a slight moment, a breeze of happiness; and with them John. The song ends. Short and sweet, and so is the song.

Rebecca walks down from the stage as she lightly smiles.

“I see you are a regular,” Rebecca says as she takes out a thin cigarette.

“Please, sit down,” John says.

Rebecca sits.

“How did you like the performance? I don’t mean to brag, but I think singing here helped me hone my craft,” Rebecca says, gently smiling.

“It is something else,” John adds, looking away in discomfort like he is hiding something; he is.

“What is wrong, John?” Rebecca asks, noticing the obvious.

“I’m afraid I have bad news,” John says.

Rebecca freezes with fear, her skin turns white then from white to pale.

“I’m afraid...” John says as he gets cut.

“Is he dead?” Rebecca asks.

“I’m afraid so,” John says, feeling empathy after... a long time. He can’t remember the last time he felt this way.

“How? Where? Why?” Rebecca asks, trying to hold herself from falling apart.

“I found your brother’s body in a freezer at the warehouse of Pink Daubrey. He had a gunshot wound in his stomach... the reason, I’m still looking at that,” John says, making a slight pause while explaining.

“I see,” Rebecca says, avoiding eye contact. She dares not to make eye contact.

“I will find out who did it!” John says, almost losing composure... almost.

“Why do you care?” Rebecca asks.

“I just do,” John quickly responds.

“The police will contact you. I mean... you have to...,” John speaks, but the words elude him.

“Identify the body, yes,” Rebecca says.

“I can go with you to the police station and we can...,” John says as he gets cut off.

“Thank you, but I will be fine. I shall go there myself,” Rebecca says as she gets up.

“Are you sure?” John asks, standing up on instinct.

“I just need some time alone,” Rebecca says.

“I... I understand,” John says, watching Rebecca leave the bar.

She leaves with no smile and the warmth around her turns to ice.

Yes, there comes a time when even angels stop smiling.

Leaving the bar John stands outside boiling with fury. His face red, and his movements erratic. This is all the fault of that Pink Daubrey, he is the reason. He! That stupid checkered suit man. I will get him if it is the last thing that I do, John thinks.

“I will get him!” John screams.

The same parents from before pass nearby with their child looking at him with shock, yet again.

“Mommy, it is the crazy man,” the child says, pointing at John.

The mother and father quickly grab their child’s hand and pull it closer to them, proceeding to flee away with a visibly worried look on their mind.

The crazy man, indeed. This crazy man found something to go crazy about, John thinks as he determinedly heads off in the distance. He stops after three steps. Looks around with squinty eyes. Where am I supposed to go, John thinks? Where, indeed?

John’s emotions subsided as he thinks. Why do I care? Why am I getting so worked up over something that has nothing to do with me? Why even bother looking for more trouble when I could be somewhere else... anywhere else? There is no answer. He has to find the man in question, but he does not know where to look. The question is, who does? A thought crosses his mind. There is no way that one crime boss wouldn’t know where another one is, but why would he share that information with him? The answer is simple he wouldn’t; he wouldn’t share it willingly.

A smile comes across John’s face as he continues his lonesome walk in the dark.

Back at the Lucky Casino, John walks to the entrance. He hears loud rock’n’roll music as he continues to walk towards the entrance. He stops for a while and turns dramatically.

“Can you stop with the damn racket?” John yells.

Near him, two teenagers are playing on the street. They look at him with contempt as they just ignore what he said and continue.

“Damn kids,” John says as he continues walking. The same song continues in his head.

Quite a catchy tune, he thinks.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Walking inside, he hums the tune and mumbles the words.

“Dum, dum, dum, dum,” John sings, nodding his head in rhythm.

Without reservation, he heads towards Mr. Malone’s office.

The two bruiser brothers stop him.

“Why detective, to what do we owe this pleasure?” Roderick asks.

“I thought Mr. Malone is interested in watching a movie, so I came to ask,” John says.

“The weird thing is he might take you up on that, but if he doesn’t like the idea, he will have your knees broken. But if you must ask, ask away,” Roderick says, opening the door.

John walks inside.

“What movie?” Harry yells from the side as both John and Roderick stop to look at him with a disapproving head shake, he continues.

“Harry, sometimes I wonder about you,” Roderick says, still shaking his head.

“Wonder what?” Harry asks as Roderick sighs.

Inside the enormous office, there is, with no surprise, an entire shelf with movies sticking out like trophies; movie posters fully cover the other wall.

At the end of the room, across the large black table, Mr. Malone sits in a spiny chair drinking whiskey in a large glass. A spiny chair, John thinks. A man of culture.

“How can I help you, detective,” Mr. Malone asks.

“I’ve found Mark Aubrie,” John says.

“Good, good. Now, I can finally collect my debt,” Mr. Malone says.

“I’m afraid you won’t be collecting any debts,” John answers.

“Why is that?” Mr. Malone asks, leaning towards John and gazing with a vicious smile. A vicious smile? I didn’t know you could make one of those, John thinks.

“Like the old saying goes dead men tell no tales and they also don’t pay no debts,” John says.

“Fubar!” Mr. Malone yells.

Fubar? The hell is that John asks himself?

“Fubar, indeed,” John says, pretending he knows what it means.

“Are you sure he is dead?” Mr. Malone asks.

“Well, he had a big hole in his chest and was sleeping for a long time in a freezer... about 50% sure,” John adds.

“Where was this freezer located?” Mr. Malone asks.

“At Pink’s warehouse,” John says.

“Very well, I thank you for a job well done,” Mr. Malone says.

“As much as I enjoy thanks they don’t work so well with paying the rent,” John says, pausing for a moment as he wonders if it’s a good idea to ask money from someone who would not bat an eye while breaking your legs and arms all while doing movie quotes. But there were no movie quotes till now, so things look up.

“Show me the money, you say,” Mr. Malone says.

And there it is, like a moth to a flame; well, I guess I had it coming, John thinks.

“If it is no problem,” John says.

“No problemo at all, we should reward jobs done well,” Mr. Malone says as he pulls out a fat wad of cash; he takes out some bills and slides them over.

“This will help feed the liver,” John says, taking the cash.

“Your work is done. I trust you will not be involved anymore,” Mr. Malone says.

“Of course…,” John says.

I will, he adds in his quiet voice. He is not the smartest brick on the block, but he sure isn’t the dumbest one either. A reasonable brick, John concludes.

“Goodbye, Mr. Bond,” Mr. Malone says.

You always pay with something, no matter what you do in life.

As John leaves the office Mr. Malone calls in Roderick and Harry.

“Roderick, Harry, come in, I want to see you,” Mr. Malone says.

“You wanted to see us, boss?” Harry asks.

“Did I just not say I wanted to see you?” Mr. Malone says angrily, looking at Harry.

“Um... no?” Harry says as he tries to guess the correct answer...he guessed wrong.

“Are you a dimwit?” Mr. Malone asks.

“No, boss, I am Harry,” Harry says.

“Forgive my brother, he is a bit...,” Roderick adds.

“Eh, I cannot seem to get used to it,” Mr. Malone says as he sighs.

“Trust me, Mr. Malone, I’ve tried to get used to it but... I’m still working on it,” Roderick adds.

“Who is this dimwit? Do we need to find him?” Harry asks, looking puzzled.

Both Mr. Malone and Roderick look at him, pretending they have heard nothing; if you can’t beat them, might as well ignore them. Seems to be the easier way.

“Anyway. I want you to go find Pink and explain to him he killed a man that owes me money and that I intend to get what is mine,” Mr. Malone orders.

“Understood, Mr. Malone,” Roderick says.

“What about this dimwit?” Harry asks.

“Harry, for the love of God, just shut up,” Roderick says.

Harry and Roderick leave Mr. Malone’s office.

“Oh! And if there are any issues, use the force,” Mr. Malone adds, viciously giggling. Who knew one could viciously giggle?

“I always use the force,” Harry says, half-grunting, half-laughing.

The brothers leave the casino, making their way across the city.

Walking towards their destination, they are unaware of a shadowy figure hiding in the dark. From the darkest corners, two eyes stare at their prey. The glimmer of these eyes shines as bright as a dying star; as two brothers walk a distance, the shadowy figure follows moves. The shadowy figure hits a wall. Ouch, the shadow figure says. The darkness of the dark corner is no joke.

“Damn wall! Who put it here?” the shadowy figure blurts out.

The brothers stop as the loud banging noise draws their attention.

“What is it?” Harry asks.

“I thought I heard something,” Roderick says. They observe the surroundings.

“Must have been the wind,” Harry adds as they continue.

Moving through the districts, the shadowy figure follows like a shadowy figure since it is a shadowy figure... it makes sense. Following carefully, following intensely but most important of all following with little-to-no grace it continues the pursuit of the two brothers.

Approaching a small park, the hiding places became scarce. The street lights reveal the shadow- it is John! To no one’s surprise. No place to hide except the tall withered trees of this once-majestic park. Why was it once-majestic you ask and what happened to it you ask? Don’t think about it too much. The brothers feel something is off turn around and with incredible speed, well incredible for John, he hides behind a tree. Just barely evading their notice.

“What is it now?” Harry asks.

“I have a feeling we are being followed,” Roderick says.

“If we were being followed we would know,” Harry says nodding his head.

“How so Harry?” Roderick asks.

“Well, I am following you and you know it,” Harry says.

“Harry, how do you put your pants in the morning?” Roderick asks.

“Hm? Well, one leg at a time I guess,” Harry says, thinking about this question far more than he should have.

“Do you?” Roderick asks in frustration and sarcasm.

“Hm, yes, I believe I do,” Harry says, pridefully nodding.

Roderick sighs as he continues to walk.

Hiding behind a tree, John smiles with satisfaction.

Try as you might you will never catch me, John concludes.

“For I am a ninja,” John says out loud, laughing maniacally.

From the nearby bench, two parents with their child stare at him with huge open eyes as one would eye a crazy person. John turns and notices them in the middle of his manic laughing.

“Oh, we meet again,” John says as he recognizes the same family he met before.

All good things come in threes, John thinks to himself.

“As much as I would like to catch up with you all sadly it is time to move on,” John says as he continues his pursuit but not before bumping into a tree.

“Who put this tree here?” John says.

The slightly exciting tailing ends as they reach their destination; a regular house in the city. Like all slightly exciting things in life, this one too must come to a slightly exciting ending.

The brothers knock on the door waiting for an answer.

Knock, knock, the sound on the wood echoes as Roderick knocks. There is no answer.

Knock, knock, the sound on the door echoes again as he Roderick continues to knock on the door. No answer.

The look of displeasure grows and their patience diminishes; fast.

Knock, knock, the door trembles as Harry takes a turn, less knocking and more pounding and smashing it. This is what it means to get on his unpleasant side, John thinks, impressed by the sheer rage that is let loose upon this innocent piece of well polished and crafted wood. Perhaps I should refrain from making jokes aimed at him, John adds to himself as he is stealthy, like a ninja, observes the situation unfolding from his small but sufficiently dark corner.

“Looks like no one is home,” Roderick says as he grins.

“Should we go back then?” Harry asks, looking puzzled.

“I was making a signal with my face that we should break in, Harry,” Roderick says as his grin turns into a frown; such a wasted grin, and the opportunity was perfect, but one should know much better than to be subtle with someone as unsubtle as an unsubtle person can be. Quite unsubtle.

Harry smashes the door with immense force; with a single kick, the door breaks. Truth be told it wasn’t so much the sheer force of his lunge that broke the door but the fact that the door was, in fact, poorly made.

“It still looks nice,” John says, not wanting to retract the compliments he gave to the piece of wood. He is interesting that way.

The sound of the cracking door creates a commotion but seeing the size of the two who did it the curious onlookers soon lose their curiosity. Slowly returning to their abodes. Nothing to see here. They walk into the house as John waits in his shadowy corner.

He rummages through his pockets as his flask is empty and standing around doing nothing can get boring quick. The only thing left is the highly questionable mushroom. Should John eat it or not? The answer is almost always and not just in this situation but in any other situation in life where one finds himself in a position of eating a questionable mushroom of unknown origins- no. Do not do it! There is absolutely no reason to eat it and nothing good can come out of such a weird, poor, and just plain stupid decision. Doing the insensible thing, John takes a nib of the mushroom; it has pleasant colors. Grey and brown.

This summarizes his life choices. Yet again, this could still prove to not be such a poor decision. Full disclosure, it will not. After a few moments, the two brothers leave the house and head back. A perfect chance! John sneaks in the house as they leave it unguarded and doorless. Walking through the door, he does not hit himself on any obstacle; a perfect entry worthy of a ninja.

Things are looking up but like all things that look up eventually they must come down, this is the rule of things; such rules exist or are created on the spot for a reason. The case here is the latter one, but that does not mean it does not stand; not at all.