Bad Guys Everywhere

Jake and Lyle decide to drive to Tony's Lounge first, since that's the last place John and Lyle had investigated before John was murdered. At this infamous place where the sleaze of Jackson Beach often came to get drunk and have their own version of a good time, Jake and Lyle stepped inside and took a look around. There was the usual assortment of young and middle-aged men and women playing shuffleboard, Tapper, and pool. It looked like same people were simply minding their own business to Jake and Lyle. A woman in a blue shirt was sitting alone at the bar. Tony, the bartender, stood behind the bar, ready to serve whomever wanted a drink.

Jake decided to talk to Tony. He showed his badge to the bartender and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Tony. What can I do for ya?"

"Do you know of a man named Richard Cobb?" Jake asked him.

"Afraid not, officer," said Tony.

"Cobb used to frequent this bar about ten years ago," pressed Jake.

"I've been working this bar for the last twelve years, and I ain't seen no Richard Cobb," the bartender said patiently, "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." He returned to his job of scrubbing the bar.

But Jake wasn't going to give up that easily. He got out Cobb's mug shot and showed it to Tony. "Are you sure you've never seen this man, Richard Cobb, before?" Jake pressed him again.

Tony's face brightened a little. "As a matter of fact, I have. But I didn't know him as Richard Cobb. I only knew him as 'Snow Man.'"

Jake remembered "Snow Man" as being a nickname for Cobb, and knew that Tony did indeed see Cobb before, now.

"He comes in here every now and again and orders a beer with sauerkraut and pickled eggs," explained Tony, "Whew! After ten minutes I can smell him from one end of the bar to the other!"

"Is there anyone else here that might know him?" asked Jake.

"Why, yes, Kate Prittchard's her name. And you're in luck, because she just happens to be sitting here at the bar right now. Hey Kate, talk to this guy here, will ya?" he said to the woman in the blue shirt.

Jake walked up to her and started to question her. Showing her his badge, he introduced himself as a police officer, and she introduced herself as Kate Prittchard in return.

"Do you know anything about a man named Richard Cobb?" asked Jake.

"Oh, I know him, all right. We were very close once," she said. "Why are you asking about Dick, anyway?"

Jake explained, "I'm investigating a couple of murders that took place eleven years ago, and I believe Cobb may have a connection to them. The murder case was never solved. I'm trying to find something…anything…that can help me solve this case, and I thought maybe your friend, Cobb, could give us some answers."

Kate looked a little unconcerned. "Good luck, pal," she said, "If Richard's involved, you won't be able to do anything about it. He's too well connected."

Jake, who didn't appreciate that attitude, said, "Gimme a break, ma'am. Can't you think of anything that might help? Anybody your boyfriend knew at that time who might still be in the area?"

Kate thought about it for a moment. "Well, there is a guy that Dick's been hanging around with, lately," she said.

"Give me a name, ma'am," said Jake impatiently, "I need to know who he is."

"I don't know his name, mister!" she replied, "All I know is that he's some filthy little jerk Dick hangs out with, and that Dick calls him 'Weasel.' That's the only name I know him by." She wrote down "Weasel" on a bar napkin and handed it to Jake. "Last a heard, he works down at the bowling alley."

Jake looked at the napkin, and said, "Thank you very much, Ms. Prittchard. You were a big help." And he meant it.

"Any time, officer," she said, "But who knows if that little slime is even still in town?"

"Don't worry, ma'am," said Jake, "We'll track him down somehow." With that having been said, Jake and Lyle were now heading to the Alley Cat, Jackson Beach's resident bowling alley.

At the Alley Cat, the citizens of Jackson Beach enjoyed playing bowling with each other, obviously. It was popular with groups of schoolchildren and their supervisors when they were out to enjoy a drug-free Saturday night, as well as for other clean activities with the kids of Jackson Beach. The high school kids loved the bowling alley. Evidently, however, there were some shady and dirty people playing there, too, and even working there, as well, and Jake and Lyle were getting ready to identify at least one of them.

Jake flashed his badge at the young man standing behind the front counter with a cigarette in his mouth, and said, "I'm investigating a murder case and I wanted to find out if you know anything about it."

"Sure thing, Officer Ryan," said the man, "What do you wanna know?"

Jake showed him the bar napkin. "Do you know anyone who calls himself 'The Weasel?'"

"'The Weasel?'" said the clerk, "Why, sure. That's Follet. He works here."

"Follet?" said Jake in astonishment, "You mean Forest Follet? He works here?"

"Yeah, he's in the back," said the clerk. "I'll go get him for ya." He walked over to the back door, opened it, and shouted to Follet that someone wanted to see him. Soon, Forest Follet himself came out to talk to them, quite reluctantly, evidently.

"Are you Forest Follet?" asked Jake, "Flashing his badge at him.

"Yeah, that's me," said Follet.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Go jump in a lake," said Follet rudely.

Jake smoothly showed Follet the APB for his arrest and informed him that they could either talk this out at the bowling alley or they could do it downtown at the police station.

"What do ya wanna know?" said Follet grudgingly.

"You've been implicated in the Strathmore Nation Guard Armory burglary," said Jake.

"Whoa! You ain't gonna pin that on me!" Follet exclaimed.

Jake looked at him mildly. "Then give me another name."

"I don't have another name," said Follet.

"Take him downtown, Lyle," Jake said to Lyle.

"No, wait!" shouted Follet, "Snake! That's all I know! Some guy named Nico the Snake!"

"Where can I find this Snake?" asked Jake.

"I met him once, and that's it," said Follet.

"No, that isn't it," said Jake, "Come on, I don't have all day."

"All right! He let me stay in his trailer once, down by the Bikini Hut! But that's definitely all I know at this point!" Follet sulked.

"Thanks, Mr. Follet. You were a big help," said Jake, "Lyle let's take him out to the car and book him."

"Got it, Jake," said Lyle, "As soon as we check out his story, I'll take him in."

"Hey! Wait a minute!" protested Follet.

"Can it, Follet," said Jake sternly, "When you run with the big dogs, you're gonna get bit. Get him out of here, Lyle."

Lyle gladly took away Forest Follet. Jake had a couple more questions for the clerk.

"Can you tell me anything more about Follet?" Jake asked.

"I just dropped him off at some trailer once," said the clerk, "That's all."

"Did Follet keep any of his personal belongings here?" Jake asked next.

"I don't know for certain," said the clerk. "I guess I can check the back and find out." He went into the back of the alley again.

When he came back, he was carrying one small thing. "Only thing back there is this key. It ain't mine."

"Thank you, mister," said Jake, "Is it all right if I take the key?"

"Sure. Like I said, it ain't mine."

Jake took the key and returned to Lyle's car to drive back to the Bikini Hut.

At their next destination, there was said trailer sitting next to the store. It looked dilapidated. Lyle offered to take Follet in while Jake checked out the trailer, and Jake agreed to this. Jake knocked on the door to the trailer, and when no one answered, he unlocked and opened the door.

Inside, the trailer was well furnished, but it left a lot to be desired in the cleanliness department. An unmade bunk sat by the wall next to the door. A small, battered couch sat against another wall with old newspapers on it, old news Jake had read before. There was a 12" RCA TV with a custom-built antenna. There were wooden crates stacked on top of each other, and they were filled with books. An eating table was against a third wall, along with a sink dripping with water, a crazily-hanging cupboard door, and mold and fungus in some of the dishes. Snake needed to take out his trash, apparently. And there was a small box on top of the cupboards.

He walked over to the cupboards and took a closer look at the box. It was named ANG and 9mm Luger on its sides. This Snake was also connected with the case of Jake's parents' deaths. He knew that the ammunition inside the box would be an important piece of evidence.

He also noticed a pair of boots on the floor next to the couch. Jake took a curious look at them. This was interesting. One of the boots, but not both, had an orthopedic lift built into the sole and heel…

He flashed back on his mother's murder again at that moment. For some reason, he remembered that the murderer had walked with a slight limp, as if one of his legs or ankles hadn't perfectly healed from some past injury…

Bringing himself out of his fantasy again, Jake took another look at the boots. One of the heels looked a little strange, like it hid a secret compartment. He successfully opened it and found that it was a secret compartment! Inside was a folded-up sheet of paper, which was initialed S.C. It was a list of dates for arms shipments from a Marble Head Island warehouse. Jake knew that he'd better take very good care of this piece of evidence. Finding nothing else to investigate there, Jake went back outside and shut and locked the door.

Lyle had returned by then. He asked if Jake had found anything.

"Sure thing, Lyle A schedule of arms shipments out of Marble Head Island with the initials S.C. and some of the 9mm ANG ammo," Jake said. "Why, look at this! The schedule even mentions Future Wave, and by its name!"

"You hit the jackpot, Jake," complimented Lyle, "That's the break we've needed. Let's go back to the office."

"I'm right behind you, Lyle," said Jake.

Outside of Jamison and Ryan, Lyle said to Jake, "I'll see what I can do tomorrow to get the ATF in on this case. You check out Marble Head Island… partner."

Jake broke out in a look of astonishment and respect. "Partner? You mean it?"

"Sure, why not?" said Lyle, "Your name's already on the stationary. You check out Marble Head Island, and get back to me when you've found something. You'd better go home and get some rest now. I'll see you tomorrow, Jake." He went back inside the office. Meanwhile, Jake did as he was told and went home to rest.

It amazed him how, after all these years of such a cold trail, his parents' murder case might be solved at last. As someone raised to believe in God, he didn't believe in vigilante justice or revenge, but it would sure feel good to see that the animal that butchered his mom and dad was finally defeated. Besides, he'd have another dangerous criminal off the streets, and that would do the common citizens of Jackson Beach a favor, too. Plus, since this Strathmore arms burglary case seemed to be connected to it somehow, he would save a lot of people from being unnecessarily killed by trigger-happy maniacs who wanted to cause mayhem with machine guns.

Jake Ryan let these happy thoughts carry him into a good night's sleep before he would go out on what might be the biggest day of his life.