Have a Beer

It had been a long day for Al. The case that he had been assigned wasn’t a particularly difficult one, but it was time consuming. The good thing was that he had already been able to determine a suspect, and he was pretty sure that the guy he had fingered was guilty. Now the problem was the burden of proof.

         Al got up in the morning and made himself a cup of coffee. As he lit a cigarette, he pulled his notes towards him from the day before. Everything that he had written yesterday pointed to James “Jimbo” Johnson as the guilty party. Today would begin the gathering of the proof. 

         One thing that Al liked to do was to get to know the perp inside and out. Usually, they ended up letting slip some information that helped him prove his case. He was going to follow Jimbo around for the next few days and get down his schedule and routine. Then he would make his move to get to know the guy.

         After following Jimbo for a week, Al had learned that he liked to frequent a bar in the evenings that went by the name The Golden Eagle. There was nothing golden or majestic about the dirty little hole in the wall bar, but that was usually the case, anyway. Al watched Jimbo enter the bar on Thursday evening at about five. He waited fifteen minutes and then he, too, strolled into the bar. 

         Al was glad to see that Jimbo had chosen to sit at the bar instead of a table. This way, Al could sit near him and it would be easy to strike up a conversation. Al selected a stool one over from Jimbo and ordered a draft. He glanced over and saw that Jimbo was already halfway into his. Good. The more buzzed he got, the more he would be willing to talk. It always worked out that way.

         When Jimbo finished his first beer and ordered another, Al made his move. 

         “How you doin’ there, pal?”

         “Good, fine. How ‘bout you?”

         “Woman troubles, my man, woman troubles.”

         “Tell me about it, my friend. I’ve had a few of those in my time.”

         Al smiled inside. Outwardly, he kept up the downed look of a man with problems. He ordered another beer and slid over to the stool next to Jimbo.

         “Al’s my handle.” He said, holding out his hand.

         “Jimbo.”

         Al offered to buy Jimbo another beer and he agreed happily. No man wants to pay for all of his own beers. Al began talking about his imaginary woman troubles, and soon Jimbo was chiming in with his, as well. 

         It appeared that until recently good ol’ Jimbo had had himself a wife. Suddenly, said wife had disappeared. Of course, Al knew this, as he was investigating said wife’s disappearance and believed that she had been murdered.

         Jimbo shared that she had taken some clothes and valuables with her, but that the police felt that there might have been foul play and that they suspected him. Al sympathized, although he suspected the very same.

         By the end of the evening, the two men appeared to have become friends and agreed to meet up at the bar again the next night to drink and watch a football game.

         Al went straight home and made notes for the next two hours. He felt that he would get his proof very soon and the case would be done. He hated hanging with the murdering scum, but knew that it was the best way to gather the information that he needed.

         After hanging out at the bar for a week, the two men felt friendly enough to have a bar-b-que at Jimbo’s house. Al agreed to bring the beer, and Jimbo would grill them a couple of steaks. This was perfect for Al. He would get a look at where Jimbo lived and where the murder had most likely occurred. This would be a perfect opportunity for Jimbo to slip up with some information.

         The two men ate their steaks with pleasure and sat outside drinking beer until it started to rain. Jimbo invited Al inside, to which Al agreed. Al asked for the restroom, and Jimbo gave him directions. As he headed that way, he noticed that there were pictures of the wife all over the place. Normally, it was hard for a murderer to constantly see images of his victim. Jimbo must be a particularly cold fish, Al thought.

         The men sat inside drinking and talking. Al brought up Jimbo’s missing wife. He asked what Jimbo thought had become of her. At that point, Jimbo said the oddest thing. He told Al that he felt she was still around, like nearby somewhere. Normally, murderers would give some far off local that the victim had always talked about wanting to go visit, or something like that.

         “Why do you think that?” Al asked.

         “Because she is a hateful, vindictive bitch and would like nothing better than to frame me for murder. But, knowing her, she would want to be close to watch it happen.”

         “I noticed that you have quite a few pictures of her around.” Al commented.

         “Yeah, as nasty as she is, I love her with all my heart and soul and wish every second of every day that she would come back to me.”

         Wow, Al thought. He’s even colder than I thought. Then Al thought of asking a very important question.

         “If you had killed her, how would you have done it?”

         “I never thought about it, really. I guess the best way to hide a murder would be to suffocate the person, chop them up, and invite people over to grill and chill.” Jimbo glanced over at Al. 

         Suddenly, Al felt a little sick to his stomach. He had never had a mark make him feel this uncomfortable before. He wasn’t sure what to do. If he left now, Jimbo would know that Al thought he was guilty. 

         “That is, if I had the stomach for something like that.” Jimbo continued. “But as it is, I can’t even watch The Walking Dead because of all the blood and cannibalism. It nauseates me.”

         Al breathed a sigh of relief. 

         After going home and making his notes that night, he was more convinced than ever that Jimbo had done it. He had basically confessed to suffocating her. Now it was just to find the body. He wouldn’t have cut her up or anything because of the blood, but her body had to be somewhere.

         A couple of days later, Al invited Jimbo for a cookout. As they ate and drank, Al brought up his fictitious woman troubles and asked Jimbo what he thought the best way would be to hide or get rid of a body – if one were inclined to murder someone and do something like that, of course.

         Jimbo frowned for a moment, concentrating. After a few moments of thought, he spoke.

         “You know, I truly am not sure. I wouldn’t want to just dispose of it, because then it could be found. You wouldn’t want it to be just stashed somewhere, because it would start to smell. I guess about the only way would be to seal the body into a wall or something like that. At least, if you are like myself and squeamish about blood.”

         Al was beside himself. Jimbo had just told him where the body was hidden! He had even shown him the room that he claimed to have remodeled just before his wife had disappeared. In that room, he had added a new wall. This was it! This was the breakthrough!

         Once Jimbo had gone, Al made his notes and called the officer that had requested him for the case. The officer was thrilled to hear the news. Al hung up, but as he started to get up, the phone rang. He sat back down and answered it. There was a woman on the other end of the line. She thanked him for helping her to frame Jimbo. She told him that now she and her lover (the officer) could be together. She told him not to try and report them, because they were leaving town.

         Al asked her why she wanted to frame Jimbo so badly. He wondered had Jimbo done something, had he beaten her, or mistreated her. Something to have caused such hatred and malice. Her response was cold. 

         “I just honestly don’t like the guy.” She replied.