Digging Up the Past – Chapter Three
I carpooled with Derek Thomson, my good friend since high school, and his friend Alex Jacobs. He had to go to the airport too, so Derek picked me up too. His knew Chevy was very convenient as it was able to carry all of my luggage in the trunk. It was a normal, everyday drive on the highway to the airport.
Derek was, and always will be, a very energetic person. You would have guessed that he drinks five cups of coffee every hour but, the truth was, he stayed away from caffeine. I always wondered why he was so hyper.
Alex, on the other hand, was rather laid back. Derek had told me how they worked together for five years, doing paperwork for a radio station. Alex now ran a business of his own, but he and Derek remained friends.
Alex and I went our separate ways when we got to security (me getting through within seconds after showing them my badge which made me eligible to carry a gun with me).
I picked up "The New York Times" Newspaper that sat on an empty seat in the boarding waiting room. I picked it up and read it, knowing that little news stories had proved useful in past investigations. My theory had proved very useful. The New York Yankees were hosting the Los Angeles Dodgers that day and then the night after. I would simply stay a night in The Bronx, catch the game, maybe find this James Mason or some information on him, and then head to Brooklyn.
But Yankee Stadium is huge. How am I suppose to find him or even someone who knows him? I whipped out my cell phone to call Jimmy but wasn't surprised when there wasn't an answer as he rarely had his cell phone with him. I decided to call his office and was told he was out of the office by the secretary.
I found the nearest restroom to check the wound that locked me up in my office for almost a year. It occurred on my last case. I had found the suspect and had chased after him. He was a famous drug dealer in Mexico – famous for killing his customers who backed out of deals – who had illegally crossed the border and killed an innocent man. I chased him all over New Mexico and one day I cornered him. He turned around, wielding a knife. I had pulled out my gun and as I did, he charged. I shot and the pulled nicked his ear. Blood started to pour out but it didn't stop him. He stabbed me in my left hip and he got away.
It's stitched up now, but swells up every so often and I've been told a number of times to get it checked out but I always refused. I can't stand hospitals or doctor's offices even though part of my job is talking to victims – who more times than not - are hospitalized.
I find it swollen but don't think anything of it. Why do I always check it if I don't seem to give a damn? Good question. Let me know if you find the answer. I exit the restroom to hear the boarding call for my flight. I grab my laptop case and board. I take my seat by the window in the 16th row. Somebody sits to my left. He doesn't introduce himself. After the airplane is level, and we're allowed to take out electronics he whips out his laptop and opens up a word document.
I glance at the word document a minute later to find it saying this:
James Mason
Dodgers 4, Tigers 8
The L.A. Dodgers fall to the Detroit Tigers. Derek Lowe pitched just two innings and gave up seven runs. He is scheduled to start tonight against the Yankees as tonight's scheduled pitcher Brad Penny took over in the third inning last night.
He's a sports writer for the Dodgers! He's on his way to the game! This has to be him! I try to hid me excitement and fear as it's a very strong possibility that a murderer is sitting next to me.