Best Friend For Hire Reprise, Entry 194

I bumped my coffee, knocking it over as I reached for the radio. Sighing, I started cleaning it up. I was later than usual for lunch already, and the coffee had gone cold. I’d just pick up a new one when I picked up my sandwich. While still trying to wipe up the coffee, a call came over the radio. Someone was injured just two blocks from me. Lunch would wait. I told the dispatcher that I was on my way, not wanting some rookie to get caught up in the affairs of the triangle. Dangerous neighborhood.

When I arrived, there was someone in a too-large, black hoodie kneeling over what hopefully was the victim and not a new body. The man in the hoodie turned, and I knew something was off. He was perfectly clean-shaven, had well-groomed hair, and his shoes looked expensive. He was also young, probably a teenager. I knelt down by him and told the man on the ground to sit tight. Possible broken arm and leg. No bleeding. Nothing I could do that wouldn’t just hinder the paramedics when they arrived.

“Mind telling me what happened here?” I asked.

“Oh. No, sir. I was just walking by when this man fell, landing here pretty much as you see him.” explained the kid, his accent further betraying that he didn’t belong around here.

“He fell? Tripped and broke his arm and leg?” I asked.

Shaking his head, he said, “No. From up there somewhere. I’m not precisely sure how high he was, since I didn’t see him until he screamed. He was still in mid-air, so I came running over.”

I looked up and didn’t see any broken windows, though there were a couple open. Was our “victim” trying to jump between windows? If so, why? He was lucky he didn’t end up even worse for wear.

“Mind if I take down your information? Name, date of birth, phone, etc.” I told the boy.

“Oh. Sure.” he replied before listing off his information.

I wrote everything down in my notepad for my report. “Thanks, James. You’re free to go. I’ll take care of him from here.” I assured him. I’d love to know what his story was. What brought him to this neighborhood? I was sure he had his reasons, but this type of place wasn’t safe for a kid like him.

As James walked off, I started questioning the man on the ground. I didn’t want him to pass out for one, and I was very interested in what he was doing that led to his fall. He wasn’t very coherent and probably had a concussion. The ambulance arrived before I asked too much, but I was betting his fall didn’t come about simply from goofing off.

I wasn’t even back to my car yet when another call came over the radio. Robbery just down the street. Did someone miss the flashing lights over here, or was I supposed to be too busy to respond? Someone replied to the dispatcher just before me and went flying past as I stepped into my car. I sighed, knowing the voice. Pat. Good kid, but he had a lot to learn still.

Another police car sped past. I followed. Seeing someone in a red hoodie running remarkably fast, I knew where Pat was going. He’d forget about checking for injured, accomplices, or anything else. The figure in the red hood had been acting as a vigilante for months now. Rumor was that he had a fancier costume now, so why the red hoodie again? Did we have multiple vigilantes running through the streets? Possible, but unlikely. Considering some of the people we’ve found tied up, the person was incredibly tough.

The car in front of me was quick to pull over. Peterson stepped out. He had enough experience to know what he was doing.

I slowed down, looking around. A silver DB5 had parked across from the shop, looking completely out of place. The owner perhaps? I was somewhat tempted to follow Pat and keep him out of trouble. I shook my head as I noticed James standing next to a man who was probably the shopkeeper by the uniform. The altercation was over, and I knew Peterson would be able to cuff the man on the ground easily enough without me. James seemed to have the man on the ground secured. Still, this was the scene of the crime, and the person in the hoodie had never injured an officer.

Wanting to hear what James’ story was now, I parked behind Peterson’s car. Peterson was already frisking the robber and had a firearm off the man.

“James, right? This just isn’t your lucky day, is it.” I stated. “Any idea who that guy in the red hoodie was, James?”

He shook his head and said, “Not a clue, sir. The whole thing happened in a flash. One moment, the robber there was stepping out of the store, and the next moment, the guy was taping up his hands.”

His blue eyes stared into mine, daring me to doubt him, but he seemed a bit nervous. Most people would be nervous this close to an armed robbery, but James didn’t seem to have a problem holding the man down.

“That’s what I saw too, sir.” claimed the shopkeeper.

Peterson had removed the robber from the scene as we were talking and came back.

“Would you mind showing Officer Peterson any surveillance footage you have?” I asked.

He nodded.

I waited for them to go inside before asking “Did you get a look at the guy in the red hoodie, James?”

“No, sir. Things happened too fast. Sorry. I was still mulling over what happened down the street when this fell in my lap. As you implied, this just isn’t my day.” he replied.

I nodded, though I still felt something was off about him, so I asked “You don’t really look like you’re from around here. Do you come this way often?”

“No. I just happened to be in the area today. I can’t imagine I’ll come this way again though. Things are a bit too wild for my tastes.” he explained.

Pulling out a card, I said, “Well, here’s my card. Give me a call if you remember anything else. Oh, and I didn’t get your address earlier. Mind writing it down for me?” I asked. I handed over my notepad with a pen. There was something about James that made me feel he was a good kid, but I really wanted to know how he ended up here today.

When he handed back my notepad, I looked to find he had written down an address. If he actually lived at the address, his parents had to be well off. I couldn’t afford to live in Naperhill.

“Thanks again, James. Take care of yourself.” I told him.

To my surprise, he crossed the street and hopped into the DB5. Where was the driver? Was the car his? If so, who was he? I quickly wrote down the license plate. Then I did a search on my phone for the price of his car. My jaw dropped. Who was he?

After I helped Peterson wrap things up, I ran James’ license plate. He was the registered owner. I called in my lunch break and looked up James’ name online. Turned out that he owns a business called Best Friend For Hire. If someone from the triangle had hired him, there was dirty money involved. Some of the suggested rates listed on Best Friend For Hire’s website were up there, especially for James himself.

My phone rang before I could look at anymore. I didn’t recognize the number but answered. As the Superintendent of Police announced himself, explained that he was informed I ran James’ plate, and directly ordered me to drop any investigation into James Michael Somerset III, I found myself wondering yet again who that kid is. He certainly had friends in high places.

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