Chapter 29: Clues

Jimmy strolled slowly along the highway, his mind occupied with thoughts of Frank Moses. If one were to set aside the bizarre reality of a movie star living in seclusion here, he was undoubtedly in the world of a film. His current task was to synthesize every clue to determine which film world he had landed in, whether it was one he was familiar with, and if he was in any danger.

The only familiar face was Frank Moses. He immediately ruled out the idea that Moses was a police officer; police work was generally frantic, and a man like Moses, who spent his time renovating his own home, didn't fit the typical schedule of a cop. More importantly, if his memory served him correctly, the police officer played by Bruce Willis in such roles usually belonged to a major city like New York or Los Angeles, certainly not a place like Little Rock.

If he were a secret agent, given the intensity of gunfights in such films, he was likely from the CIA. At forty to fifty years old, he would be a retired CIA field operative—too old for high-intensity missions and having failed to reach a management position. If this was the final conclusion, then any potential conflict or shootout would likely be an act of revenge, and he would need to keep a close eye on the situation.

With the current clues, that was as far as he could deduce.

Jimmy turned his car back toward Summerfield and found the person who had filed the complaint, relaying the results of his investigation: his neighbor had agreed to stop construction work at night and would apologize to them tomorrow. Satisfied with this outcome, the neighbor accepted Jimmy’s business card, with instructions to call him directly if anything else came up.

...

Patrolling the roads at night was different from being a city cop. City police handled a high volume of cases, given the dense population and chaotic nature of urban life. For a county deputy, highway patrol was a game of chance; if the dispatch center didn't call, one could spend the whole night simply wasting gas. To ensure he wasn't caught slacking, Jimmy deliberately targeted a few unlucky drivers for tickets. There were always minor infractions to be found—speeding was common enough that if he was willing to look, he would always find someone to pull over.

Jimmy’s apartment was modest, featuring a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and a single bedroom. It was small, but functional. Over the next few days, he moved in like an ant carrying crumbs, slowly filling the space with necessities, including kitchenware like an oven.

Because of the demographics in Little Rock, there was no Chinatown like those found in major cities. His kitchen tools were all Western-style, including the knives. A wide Chinese cleaver was a rare commodity here, and despite a long search, he hadn't been able to find one.

The population of Little Rock was only 100,000, with an ethnic Chinese population of just 1%, who were scattered throughout the area. In all his time patrolling, Jimmy had only seen a handful of Chinese residents, all of whom were completely assimilated and couldn't even speak Mandarin.

Since becoming a police officer, Jimmy hadn't visited the Wolf House for a meal in a long time. With his home now mostly set up, he decided to treat himself. He was tired of living off fast food.

When he arrived at the Wolf House, it wasn't very busy. He greeted the staff as he walked in. Since he was off duty, he wasn't wearing his uniform. Annie was clearing tables, and Erica was zoning out at the register.

"Annie, Erica, long time no see. Where is everyone else?"

"Hi, Jimmy! Long time no see. How have you been? Karen is off today," Annie replied, then called toward the kitchen, "Jacob, come out for a second, Jimmy’s back!"

Jimmy hugged Annie and Erica, and Jacob emerged from the kitchen to greet him with a fist bump and a hug.

"Jimmy, long time no see. Missing my cooking again?"

"Of course, Jacob. Give me an order of your signature filet. It’s been ages."

"Okay, give me a minute." Jacob returned to the kitchen. Even though it was his afternoon break, he didn't decline the request and went straight to work.

"Erica, is Jon around?"

"No, he's not in the shop much these days."

"Alright."

Jimmy sat at a table and picked up a newspaper to pass the time; having worked at the restaurant for three months, he knew exactly where they kept them.

About twenty minutes later, Jacob brought out the steak. He pulled up a chair across from Jimmy, lit a cigarette, and watched him devour the meal.

"Jimmy, how does it feel to be a cop?"

"It’s miserable. Twelve-hour shifts every day. I don't have the time to cook when I get home, so I’m stuck eating fast-food burgers. I really missed your steak."

"Hahaha, that’s the job you chose. At least it beats being a waiter here."

"That’s true. It’s just a bit dangerous. I’ve had to push the car to 130 mph a few times at night. My heart was pounding, terrified I’d flip the car."

"Run into any shootouts?"

"No, I’ve been lucky. Aside from the shooting range, I haven't had to fire my weapon yet."

"You should practice more, then, so you don't freeze up when you actually need it. When are you on leave? Let's go hunting."

"Now? It’s February, not really hunting season. At most, we’d only catch some wild boars. By the way, Jacob, how do you guys handle the game you catch?"

"I don't know how others do it, but I always just dump it or bury it in a pit. There are too many germs on wild animals; nobody wants to eat that. Hunting is just for the sport. It’s not like I’m short on meat."

"Fair enough, you’ve got a good mindset. My leave probably won't be until summer. Let's make plans then. Come to think of it, I haven't even bought a personal gun yet."

"Okay, let's touch base later." Jacob left after saying this; he only had a three-hour break and needed to rest.

Jimmy paid the bill and said goodbye to the others before leaving. Although there was still some time before his night shift, he headed to the police station anyway. There was free coffee and snacks there, and for a bachelor like him, it was no different than being at home.

He had actually come in early for another reason. He had been training primarily with a revolver, but the department-issued weapon was a Beretta 92F. He wanted to request a revolver as a backup, but he wasn't sure if they had any in stock.

Jimmy went to the Sheriff's office to speak with Chief James. After receiving verbal permission, he headed to the armory to check the inventory. He received some not-so-great news: the only revolvers available were small .38s, which were completely unsuitable for modern police work. They lacked power and had a low capacity, which was why the department had phased them out years ago.

Jimmy sighed; he had no choice but to keep saving his money. Once he had enough, he would buy his own revolver and register it with the department so he could carry it as a backup. Of course, it wouldn't be appropriate as a primary weapon—the ammunition count was simply too low. While it had plenty of stopping power, it couldn't handle the requirements of fire suppression.