CHAPTER THREE

LIKE IT GOES

John wakes up with a tolerable headache, he had many headaches throughout his life but this one was the least annoying of all. If he would rate it would be at a solid 3,6. Not great, not terrible. What a great day, he thinks to himself. But it wasn’t day it was night, and it was raining. He walks to the window as he opens the blinds.

“What is this madness? How can it be night again?” John asks, shrugging in disbelief.

“It is as though I am inside some noir book, except the author of the book has little idea how to write a good noir atmosphere so he makes every day a night and every night it’s raining,” John says in dissatisfaction as he lights a cigarette and puffs a circle of smoke in the air.

Well, he tries to puff a smoke circle, but it comes out as a smoke Rorschach shape. He never could puff out a smoke circle no matter how much he tried and believe me he tried. John is smoke-circle challenged.

Either way, today he felt good, and he decided that nor rain nor sleep shall stop him in progressing further with the case; similar to detective postman. That and let’s be frank, he could use the money. He looks around his office/home for a bit and it looks as disappointing as he feels. Yes indeed, he could use the money. At least there are no rats, he thinks to himself as a cockroach passes through the room. Yes, there are no rats, John nods in acknowledgment.

John heads outside and as he opens the door, he sees Alex with his hand in the air just about ready to knock.

“Just the smelly orphan I wanted to see,” John says.

“Did you find anything about Mary yet?” Alex asks.

“Not yet, but I am one day closer to finding her,” John says.

Alex blankly stares at John.

“Either way, there is something I could use your help with,” John says.

“Help? Will you pay me?” Alex asks.

“Whenever I decide to pay you I will, without a doubt, pay you unless I decide to decide against that decision,” John says.

“Okay?” Alex says, looking in confusion.

“What do you need my help with?” Alex asks.

“Well, Stephen, I need you to do what you do best,” John says.

“What do I do best?” Alex asks as looking up to John.

“Be a nuisance,” John says with a grin.

“It is Alex, by the way,” Alex says.

“Exactly like that. You learn fast, my growth challenged friend,” John says.

They arrive at the motel Motel. Standing near a lone tree on a patch of earth, Alex stomps it with his tiny orphan shoes as John watches over. He stomps them with extreme prejudice.

“Are your shoes dirty enough?” John asks.

“Yes, but why...” Alex asks as he gets cut off.

“Excellent, now go young orphan-mon I choose you,” John says pointing his finger towards the motel.

Alex sighs as he proceeds towards the motel. He runs inside with remarkably muddy shoes.

“Mommy, mommy? Where is my mommy,” Alex yells, stampeding around in a muddy-shoed frenzy?

The motel porter looks at the dirty orphan and notices the impressive amount of mud on his shoes as a look of utmost worry shows on her face.

“You can’t be here. Get out!” the porter screams.

“I think my mommy is upstairs,” Alex says running upstairs leaving a trail of mud everywhere.

“Wait! Stop!” the porter screams as she leaves her post to chase the young orphan.

John walks inside with a huge grin on his face.

This has got to be one of the best plans I have come up with; at least it is one of the most amusing ones.

John skims the ledgers as he finds out the room number where Mark Aubrie is staying. With some quick and graceful maneuverability, well in his mind, he finds it is room number three. Just like this chapter, what are the chances, he thinks. John looks around and sees there is a key for the room on the key shelf; a good place to hide your keys, John thinks. He grabs it with a huge grin on his face like a beaver grabbing a piece of highly delicious wood as he sneaks around in all the glory of a cartoonish villain, all the while having an enormous smirk on his face.

The furious porter caught the fleet-footed and muddy-footed orphan; holding him by the ear, she throws him outside. While this is happening John sneaks upstairs trying to walk as stealthily as possible and ridiculous. He knows this all too well, but with all the happiness he feels, he does not care what the readers think of his image. In his mind, he is a graceful ninja.

Finally, he sneaked inside the motel that is guarded by the ever-vigilant elderly woman. What an achievement! A grown man sneaking inside a motel by using an orphan child. What an achievement indeed. The illustrious door of room three stands in front of him, glowing like the holy grail of motel room doors. He walks to it as he opens it. What glorious treasures will await, what clues will await, what answers to all these mysteries will be there, he asks himself?

So much build-up, so much drama only to find it is... disappointing. Just like real life, John thinks.

A small room with a bed, a small cupboard, and a cabinet near. In the next room, a small bathroom. Well, this is disappointing, John thinks. Disappointing, he thinks again because thinking it only once doesn’t do the disappointment justice.

We often hope everything will be much better than it turns out to be, John thinks as he forgot one of the most basic rules in life. Expect too much and you will be disappointed, expect too little and you will still be disappointed but expect nothing and that is where the money lies. Always expect nothing in life. This is solid advice. I would be a great motivational speaker, he adds.

Time to search around; by the looks of it won’t take a lot of time. John looks under the bed only to find a pair of dirty socks. They smell of dirty socks. Quite fitting. If it looks like a dirty sock and it smells like a dirty sock, it must be a dirty sock. Well, I am not one to complain about the state of tidiness, I am, in fact, the last person who should do a thing like that. John searches the bed and finds nothing, he opens the cupboard to find an impressive amount of cigarette packs and one child’s doll in it.

A child’s doll, John wonders. Well, there is still the cabinet. Inside the cabinet, there is a decent amount of tidy hung clothes and a suitcase below it. Opening the suitcase and thoroughly searching, he finds a piece of paper with a name and an address stating Maurice and Liberty Street 5; besides this paper, he finds a picture of, what he can assume to be, the man in question himself Mark Aubrie and in the picture beside him a red-haired woman. The lover in question for our hard to find a friend? Either way, an address, and a name I didn’t have. Time to go.

Leaving the motel, John passes the motel porter as she looks at him with clear disdain.

“What are you doing here?” the motel receptionist asks as she throws him a piercing glare.

John pretends to be drunk with believable skills, after all, he is well versed in the part. He leans on her desk.

“Imma lookin’ for the little boy’s room for little boy business,” John slurs.

“You are drunk,” the woman says, smelling alcohol on him.

John not only can not only play the part of a drunk well but the lingering smell of booze, even when he isn’t drinking, is so strong that it would fool everyone.

“No, no, I am John,” John says.

“Get out,” she screams.

“No mad to be reason,” John slowly says as he stumbles outside.

He fake-drunkenly gets out of the motel with another smile emerging from his face.

“And the Oscar for the greatest actor goes to... me. The man with the skills, the man with the talent, the man with the...” John says as two dark figures appear from behind him and smash him in the head. He falls to the ground as darkness consumes his vision.

John wakes up sitting on a chair. Only muddled darkness surrounds him. He tries to move, but the weight of his body is heavy. The feeling of waking from a deep sleep lingers on him.

“Am I such a talented actor that I even acted out a drunk blackout?” John asks himself wondering.

“I am afraid not. The blackout would result from blunt trauma to the head by a big club,” a man standing across from him in the shadows says.

John squints hard to see the man standing in the dark. His head is ringing from the pain, his vision is blurry and most disheartening of all, he has had nothing to drink yet.

“I know you?” John asks as an image forms in his head.

“Indeed, you do, Mr. John, you do,” the man says as he approaches.

“The gentleman bruiser, Roderick, was it?” John asks.

“The gentleman bruiser? I like that Mr. John, yes it is none other than I,” Roderick says.

“Where is your brother? Finishing his college degree?” John asks.

“He is there in the corner,” Roderick says as he nods in his brother’s direction.

In the corner, the not so gentle giant sleeps.

“Why is he sleeping there?” John asks, looking puzzled.

“Alas, we were tasked to stand watch over you and to be, as ordered, menacing,” Roderick says.

“I think sleeping isn’t that menacing, but then again I could be wrong,” John says.

“Quite right,” Roderick says as he turns over to Harry and yells his name out loud.

The bruiser wakes up startled as he throws a wild punch in the air.

“I don’t want to fight with you again, grandma,” Harry says as he realizes he was dreaming.

“Must be one hell of a grandma,” John says.

“She was an... interesting woman,” Roderick adds.

“What wrong, brother?” Harry asks.

“Get our boss, will you? Our guest has awoken,” Roderick says.

“Oh! Looks like it may be time for some rock’n’roll,” Harry says, with a vicious smile.

“Still?” John adds, shaking his head.

“What can you do? You are born with your family and there is no choice in the matter,” Roderick says as he shrugs.

Some time passes as the door opens; an older gentleman walks into the room. Wearing a fine expensive suit without a speck of dirt or dust on it. Only a small golden broach in the shape of a flower. Thin black hair, but just enough not to be called bold or going bold. Looking to be in his 60s but with a stature of a much younger man and piercing black eyes.

“Ah! Mr. Anderson,” the suited man says.

“Mr. Anderson?” John asks.

“Our boss is a bit of a movie buff,” Roderick whispers to John.

“I see you have been graceful enough to visit us,” the suited man adds.

“It was hard to decline an invitation, especially hard to decline when you get hit over the head and it renders you unconscious. You know, because being unconscious messes with your ability to speak,” John adds.

“Yes, I imagine so, but what matters is you are here instead of being home alone,” the suited man says.

John stares at him with a blank expression or an expression of an excited stone, whichever one you like more.

“It is a movie,” the suited man adds.

“Yes,” John says as looking with no emotion.

“Well, I am Mr. Malone, but you probably guessed that,” Malone says.

“Yes, but I didn’t guess why you would have me knocked out and brought here,” John says.

“I heard it through the grapevine that you have some business with a Mr. Mark Aubrie,” Malone says.

“How is that any of your business?” John asks.

“I could make it my business,” Malone says.

“You wouldn’t like it the pay is too small,” John says.

“Ha! Very good detective, a movie quote! I love those,” Malone says.

“What movie?” John asks looking at Roderick who just shrugs.

“Do you drink, detective?” Malone asks.

“Constantly,” John answers.

“Another movie quote, capital,” Malone says as an enormous smile appears on his face.

“Is everything a movie quote with you?” John asks.

“Movies are one of the seven arts and the only art where one can combine many art forms to get one magnificent combination of all the human artistic achievements,” Malone says.

“What about books, I’m sure you can get many more quotes from them,” John says.

“Meh, books, I don’t like books. Too much reading and can you imagine writing one? So much work to get it published, and if by any chance you succeed, you make next to nothing. If you ask me, book authors are truly a sad bunch,” Malone says.

“I guess. What is that you want with me?” John asks.

“As you have probably guessed it, I had you followed,” Malone says.

“And you had me clobbered in the head,” John adds.

“And I’m afraid I will have you clobbered many more times unless you prove to be helpful and stop interrupting. Do you understand?” Malone says with a vicious smirk.

“As crystal clear as a clear crystal shining in a crystal clear lake,” John adds.

“Good, good. I like when I am understood after all there is no law here, in here I AM THE LAW,” Malone screams the last part unnecessarily loud.

“There is no need to shout,” John says as Harry approaches and smacks him in the face breaking his nose.

Luckily, the power of lingering alcohol in his system dulls the pain.

“You don’t speak unless spoken to, understand?” Harry says.

“I was spoken to,” John adds.

Harry raises his hand for another good smack, but he stops as Mr. Malone interrupts.

“I think I can handle things here, Harry,” Malone says shaking his head.

“Yes boss,” Harry says, walking away.

“About that drink you offered,” John says, wiping the blood from his nose.

Harry approaches again but is stopped by Malone’s hand gesture.

“What we got here is a failure to communicate. If you help us, I will get you all the drinks you can drink,” Malone says with a smile.

“Are you sure? I am a huge alcoholic,” John says.

“Oh! I think I will manage, you just have to help me help you,” Malone says.

“Please, I can’t handle any more movie quotes, just ask your questions,” John says, twisting in visible mental anguish.

“Straight down to business, I can respect that. Very well, tell me where Mark Aubrie is,” Malone asks, leaning closer to John.

“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to find him for some time now,” John says.

“You don’t know where the man you work with is? A little hard to believe,” Malone says.

“Work with? I am a private detective paid by his girlfriend to check if he is cheating on her, or at least that is what she said. But it is hard to look in that matter if I can’t find him and the client was of little to no help,” John explains.

“Is this true?” Malone asks, turning to his thugs.

“It is likely we have been following him for two days now and he has been running across the city like a headless chicken,” Roderick says.

“Headless chicken,” Harry repeats as he chuckles.

“You wouldn’t be lying to me now, would you, detective?” Malone asks, gazing menacingly.

“I would and I usually do but not this time. Maybe it is the lack of booze? I feel more self-aware than usual,” John says as he thinks about it.

“Tell me, have you found out something about him?” Malone asks.

“Not much. It looks like he has vanished from the face of the earth,” John responds.

“Yes, we had the same problem,” Malone says as he turns around and walks to Roderick.

They converse in private as they leave John sitting in his chair with a broken nose.

Looking at them it is clear they are small-time mafia wannabes and the wisest thing would be not to get involved with them, but I am rarely the one to do wise things, John thinks to himself. Not to mention the lack of options makes options lacking.

An idea pops into John’s mind.

“Maybe we can help can help each other?” John asks.

Maybe you can not beat me and throw me in the canal if I pretend I am working with you, John says with his quiet voice.

“How so?” Malone asks with surprise turning around.

“If you tell me why you are looking for him, I could use that information to my advantage and when I find him, you would also benefit from that. Yes?” John asks.

And possibly next time I will have a gun and be able to shoot you to prevent any canal swimming is sure to follow. I should carry my pistol but bullets are so expensive and I can always use the money to buy booze, John thinks.

“Hm!” Malone says, taking a moment to ponder things over.

Come on, you stupid movie quote-man! Just say yes so I can get to not have my knees broken, John says again with his quiet voice.

Malone continues to think as John continues to sweat; trying his hardest to conceal it.

Come on, you old bastard. Just say yes. John continues to think pretending to be as cool as a sober cucumber. Very cool.

“Very well but if you don’t prove satisfactory, I will be forced to use the FORCE on you,” Malone says exaggerating the word force.

“It shall be done. There is no try but only to do or do not,” John says feeling sick pampering to Malone; better to feel sick than to have your knees broken, beaten to a pulp, and thrown in a canal, right?

“Very good detective. Let us say that Mark Aubrie borrowed a large sum of money from me and he is way overdue,” Malone says.

“Did he say why he needed the money?” John asks.

“Do you want me to explain my business to you?” Malone asks with a displeased grin as Harry approaches John almost on command.

“Just wait, my nose is broken enough. Each piece of information helps me and this helps you. You want him to find, don’t you?” John asks.

Malone looks at John as he smiles and waves Harry away.

Thank god that mutant is a pain in the ass, but more importantly a pain in my nose, John thinks.

“He just said that he needed to borrow a large sum of money and I didn’t go into any details. Suffice to say that I am not a person from which someone borrows money and does not pay it back,” Malone says.

“You just lend him the money like that or was there some catch?” John asks.

“I see you are not a detective just for show,” Malone adds.

“He is little for show considering...” Roderick says looking at John.

“Let me guess, I look unkempt?” John asks, shaking his head.

“Extremely,” Malone says as Roderick and Harry nod their heads in an almost parent-like disappointment.

“Yes, yes... so can we get back to the case?” John asks, ignoring the comments.

“He left his car as collateral and his contact information,” Malone adds.

“Can I see the car?” John asks.

“Is this the time to be indulging in such trivial pursuits?” Roderick asks.

“I don’t care about seeing the car for the sake of seeing the car, but I care to check it out for possible clues,” John says, largely irritated.

“Checking the car for clues? So simple and yet we didn’t even think about it,” Malone adds nodding to Roderick.

“Very well, check the car and find Aubrie with speed. It is what I need,” Malone says.

“That is not a...” John says, but he stops.

“Yes?” Malone asks.

“Never mind, I shall do my utmost best. Better than all the rest,” John says, thinking to himself, with a little shame, that he is infected with Malone’s modus operandi.

“I look forward to hearing from you if not you will hear from me. Is that understood?” Malone asks as he wickedly smiles.

“I have to hand it to you, you have a knack for intimidation,” John adds.

“Make sure you produce results. Oh, and I always wanted to do this... thwow him to the floor,” Malone says.

Roderick and Harry grab John as they move him like a rag doll and throw him to the floor.

Is this my life, John thinks to himself? It seems more like a bad comic book. I should have tried staying at school more.

“Well that was fun, now let us go to the car,” Roderick says with a childish smile.

“Are you sure it wasn’t down there? Maybe I should take another look?” John asks, struggling to get back on his feet.

“Please, detective, don’t go using somewhat changed lines from movies, I have enough of that here,” Roderick adds.

“I apologize, it was kinda infectious,” John says.

“From what movie?” Harry asks, looking stupid as usual.

“Lebowski,” Roderick says.

“Who is this Lebowski guy? Do I know him?” Harry asks.

Roderick and John look at each other and sigh.

“Just move it,” Roderick says as they leave the room.

Stuck in the middle of the two bruisers, John finds himself in the Lucky Casino as he notices a familiar face sitting at a table with a man in a checkered black and white suit. It is the singer from the Seahorse, the sister of Mark Aubrie. She glances at him but quickly removes her gaze, pretending not to have noticed him.

I may not know much, but I know a person who does not belong here, John thinks. Something is off here, something indeed.

As the three leave the casino they approach a large storage building; guarded by other thugs.

Thugs so thuggish they give thuggishness a new meaning. Appearance akin as if handpicked from a cartoon; dirty wife-beaters check, body shape of a reversed pyramid check, almost square-like faces check, and eyes shining so dim of intelligence that one could mistake them for a tree, a very large tree with that.

“Nice security,” John adds.

“Amateurs, they do their part,” Roderick says.

“Okay, Roderick, do you see what...” John says as he gets cut off.

“Yes, it was an accident. It truly is infectious,” Roderick says.

“We just have to try our best and work through this,” John says.

“Indeed,” Roderick says as he agrees while Harry looks with his standard unaware expression.

“I mean if this was a movie or a book, most likely, it wouldn’t be able to get published because of all the quote stealing,” John adds.

Roderick nods in affirmation.

“I like books,” Harry adds.

Both John and Roderick turn around and look at him with open jaws.

“You like books, Harry?” Roderick asks.

“Ye, they are good for smashing people on the head,” Harry adds pridefully with an enormous smile.

“I was afraid for a moment that I was going insane,” Roderick adds.

Roderick and John nod their heads in unison as the statement of Harry makes much more sense now.

Inside the large storage-like facility there is everything. It is a hoarder’s paradise. Paintings, motorcycles, bicycles, cars, canned food, a collection of old shaving machines, children’s toy’s and the list goes on and on to infinity, and... the narrator stops himself as he realizes he is also a victim of Mr. Malone movie quote syndrome. Roderick talks to a worker who quickly goes through a list and points them at a destination. Rummaging through this labyrinth of junk they finally arrive at the car Aubrie had pawned as collateral.

A black Ford Focus SE stood there with next to no dust on it, looking almost like it has barely been used at all.

“Nice car,” Roderick says.

“I like cars,” Harry adds.

“What do you drive Harry?” John asks as curiosity gets the better of him.

“I don’t drive,” Harry adds with a sad look on his face.

“Why not?” John asks.

“What’s it to you?” Harry asks angrily.

“Why don’t you go outside and wait for us, Harry,” Roderick says as calming the not-so-gentle giant.

“What was that about?” John asks as he watches Harry walks out.

“He failed the psychological exam for the driver’s license,” Roderick says.

“Well it happens, I guess,” John says.

“And he beat up the person who was administering it,” Roderick adds.

“Hardly surprising. It is time to check the um...” John says as he stops.

“Ford Focus SE?” Roderick says.

“Yes, exactly the black car,” John says.

“You don’t know your cars?” Roderick asks.

“I do, this is a black car, as opposed to a car that is white or whatever other colors there are,” John says.

“One would think a basic understanding of cars would benefit your work as an investigator,” Roderick says.

“One would think being sober would benefit my work as an investigator, but who would the fool be in that, I ask you?” John asks.

“You?” Roderick adds as he and John stare at each other with squinted eyes, waiting for the other to respond.

“Either way, time to get to work,” John says as breaking the awkward stare moving to the car.

Searching the Ford Focus SE or the black car as John would say he finds, besides the obvious documentation one would keep at the car, a small picture. In that picture, there is a man and a pregnant woman. Though being frank one should probably avoid complementing and giving congratulations to a woman, he thinks is pregnant because if the woman in question is not pregnant then a slap would be more than sure to ensue. But pictures cannot slap you back, so John gives his congratulations to a picture. In the back of the picture, the names Mark and Lauren tackily circled with a heart. Turning back the picture, John focuses on the red hair of the woman. The same red-haired woman that on the picture he found at the motel and here she is pregnant. A wife, John thinks?

One pregnant lady plus one pregnant lady equals one pregnant lady since it is the same person... simple math. This was the wife of Mark Aubrie and the mother of the same missing girl Mary Stilsky that the smelly orphan boy named Justinius wanted to find. The puzzle is coming closer and closer to being finished.

“I think I am done here,” John says as he finishes his searching and pocketing the picture.

“Did you find anything?” Roderick asks.

“I found that the man in question probably likes black Audio focus cars,” John says.

“It is Audi and you mean black Ford Focus cars,” Roderick says.

“Exactly, black cars,” John says nodding.

Leaving the hoarder’s paradise, he heads back to his office. Too tired from the events, he goes to sleep.