"Aaron, Boom-boom's here and he wants to talk to someone."
Deputy Aaron Banks sighed back at her over the ancient intercom system. "Bernie, I officially authorize you to be 'someone.' If it sounds like nonsense after five minutes, just thank him and tell him we'll call." Aaron had no idea where they'd actually call Boom-boom at, since the guy hadn't had a permanent phone number since his last stay in jail, but, knowing Boom-boom, it hardly mattered.
"I don't think that's gonna do it this time," Bernie protested. The station was so small that Aaron could also hear Boom-boom's voice both faintly through his closed door and over the intercom. It sounded indignant. He could hear Bernie as well as she started to panic: "Sweetie, I know you're a big important man, but I really think you need to handle this." There was an anxious edge in her voice.
"All right, Bernie, I'll be right out." Aaron rolled his eyes as he slid his hat on and hefted his solid farmboy frame into motion. If there was one thing he didn't want to do today, it was arresting Boom-boom for another drunk & disorderly. And if Boom-boom was at the station and scaring Bernie, he was almost certainly drunk & disorderly.
Reception was its usual stretch of boring desolation sprinkled with spots of crazy. There was almost nobody in there, but Jimmy Carpenter was on his usual bench – the man was in his eighties and a WWII vet, so they tried not to complain when he came in every day to explain how Kennedy had been killed by the CIA, they just listened and thanked him politely. Aaron could almost immediately identify that hollow-cheeked woman, in the corner, too – looked like Rick had maybe finally gotten a hooker to come in to identify that greasy little pimp who was actually daring to have his girls walk Main Street. Good. And, of course, there was five feet four of Boom-boom, dressed in gear from the army/navy surplus store, dancing around the reception desk in front of Bernie like somebody was lighting firecrackers under his feet.
"Aaron," Bernie told him, "Mr. Corning needs to see a deputy." Sweaty, her pancake makeup running, her two hundred wheezing pounds were a silent demand that they give in and turn on the air conditioning, even though it was only May. Aaron was willing to bet that that was the real reason she'd refused to deal with Boom-boom on her own – that if she bugged everyone enough by refusing to get out of her chair when it was so humid, they'd give in and switch it on.
"Gonna show the man, gonna show the man, gonna show the man," Boom-boom was muttering, shifting around in a little dance that was almost elegant.
"Boom-boom, you look like you had a real long day," Aaron was already starting. "Jimmy here's been waiting for a while – ain't you, Jimmy? – and we better listen to him first, but we're a little busy." They were, of course, nothing of the sort. Not much of import tended to happen around this Texas panhandle county sheriff's office – but, frankly, even listening to Jimmy's old story was usually more rewarding than dealing with ratty little Boom-boom.
Boom-boom, indignant, had jammed his legs down straight and begun rooting around in his ancient backpack. "I knew you were going to treat me like I didn't know a thing," he said. "Like I didn't know what I was talking about."
"I really don't know what you're trying to talk about," Aaron told him. "All's I know is I see your face in here too much."
"You just tell me you don't believe me now," Boom-boom yelled triumphantly, and that was when he slammed what looked like a withered monkey's paw down on the counter around the reception desk.
From the files of H. Carruthers, Assistant Special Agent in Charge – ARI Division – FBI Headquarters, Washington DC.
Report # ARI-47023-TX-001
Date: [REDACTED]
Investigation in re: ARI incident, [REDACTED] County, Texas
In light of the unfortunate incident involving SA Norman Jayden, and the resulting difficulty in understanding the information provided by his ARI, Director Fletcher has asked for my assistance in compiling information to prepare an official report. As per my capacity as ARI SAIC, the majority of my own contribution to the report largely consists of notes on the technical and medical aspects of the ARI involvement in the case. As the full report indicates, I arrived on site only after case's major events; therefore, all information regarding the case history and events before my arrival are pulled from SA Jayden's ARI notes. I have given reasonable context for these notes; the full files may be accessed only by those with sufficient clearance via the associated electronic appendix.
Please see the executive summary for full recommendations re: potential disciplinary actions, further ARI field use, allocating field assignments for other ARI agents, and interaction with local law enforcement to prevent future negative incidents.
What they'd wanted, what they'd asked for, was someone from the FBI who could nail up tight the jar of worms that Boom-boom had unexpectedly opened. Someone who would just swoop in and take care of everything. Aaron envisioned a federal agent the size of Tex Bunyan, who had guns peeking out of every crevice. At least, someone who could match him in armwrestling. What they got was Norman Jayden, who Aaron outweighed by at least fifty pounds in muscle alone.
Aaron had trouble even finding him at the airport; he waited out in his squad car for ages, then called Bernie again to make sure he hadn't screwed up the flight time. He ended up talking to a long string of airline employees before he found his way to the lost baggage counter. There was an anemic-looking man in a dark suit there there, yelling so hard at the desk clerk that his voice was cracking like a teenager's. The bulky guy behind the desk was Ted Conklin, a man Aaron had arrested once for domestic battery charges, but looked now like he was trying to desperately escape the confrontation he was currently locked in. Aaron sighed. It figured.
"Agent Jayden?" he asked. "I'm Deputy Banks. There a problem?"
The other man's head whipped towards him. "I don't have any goddamned clothes," he snapped, immediately. "They've lost my bags. Does this little rathole even qualify as an airport?"
Aaron counted to three to check his own temper before he answered. "Not exactly a major hub, out here. You look like you had a rough flight. If Ted there has your info, there ain't much else he can do. Let me take you to your motel, yeah?"
"Fuck my motel," the FBI agent snapped at Aaron. It wasn't just his face that was relatively colorless; even the man's eyes were so pale that his darker hair and suit made him look ghostly. "I just want to get to work, and I can't work without any goddamned clothes."
Aaron, still reeling from the f-bomb, was harsher in his response than he would have been if he'd thought it through: "Well, you're wearing some now. Yellin' at Ted ain't gonna get you any more."
Norman Jayden was still holding up an accusatory index finger towards the man behind the counter, though he had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed at Aaron's mild rebuke. "No," he admitted. "It's not. The most important stuff I need is all in my briefcase, I guess, and I kept hold of that. Thank Christ I didn't check my gun. Four dead women?" Ted, who had started to relax as Agent Jayden stopped yelling, looked freshly spooked.
"Four so far for sure," Aaron replied. "We found some other weird stuff out there with 'em in the last couple of hours. I'll get you back in the loop. Can we, uh. Can I tell you about it in the car? We'll just make sure Ted here has your name and everything. Ted, he's gonna be staying at the Valentine Inn, if his stuff comes in."
"The Valentine?" Ted looked dubious. "The one off 83? Really?"
"Really," Aaron hastily assured him. "You know to get a hold of me if you have trouble tracking him down, okay Ted? Agent Jayden, we should probably get moving if you want to get filled in before shift change."
The FBI agent was starting to look a little unsettled himself, now. He finally curled that indignant finger in towards his palm. "Please," he said. "I can deal with only having one suit, but I'm not gonna wander around a crime scene for a week in the same pair of underwear."
Aaron couldn't blame him; the guy already looked a little grimy from his trip. "I'll make sure we do something about it. Get you directions to the Kmart."
". . . Kmart," Agent Jayden replied, his scowl reintensifying. "Jesus, just shoot me. Okay, show me your corpses, I guess."