An American Crime Saga: Part Three
Welcome back! Here is chapter 2. Enjoy and REVIEW!!!! please.
Chapter Three:
"Here we are!" the nice man in the car announced to his passenger when they arrived just outside of Jimmy's father's house.
"Thanks for the lift, Mr.…" Jimmy said.
"Ed Thompson's the name. And no need to thank me. I'm here to help."
"Here, uh…, I really don't have any money with me. Is there any way I could mail some cash to you?" Jimmy reached into his pockets, finding nothing.
"No, no, no… don't bother with paying me! I just want to help. Good luck with whatever it is you're doing, buddy!" Ed insisted. Jimmy couldn't believe how lucky he was to find a man this nice to drive him here.
"Oh, well thanks." Jimmy smiled and went on his way.
"Ding-Dong!" the doorbell rang within the run down, single-floored home of Hugh Neutron.
"Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!" Jimmy was getting impatient. What if he wasn't there? Where would he go? Luckily he heard the very voice he'd come to hear.
"Okay! Okay! I'm coming! Jeez!" Hugh didn't sound all too good. He'd been something of a mess for a while now. He had drinking habits.
The door opened like a beam of light signaling for Jimmy to forget all of his troubles, if only for a second.
"Dad! It's me, Jimmy!" Jimmy smiled at the sight of his shocked father.
"J..Jimmy? What are you doing here?" Hugh managed to get some words out. He was speechless. I mean, his only child, whom he'd lost connection with and hadn't talked to in years, just shows up at his door out of the blue!
"Look, I'll explain everything. May I come inside?" Jimmy explained.
"Y..Yeah, sure Jimbo. I'll make some coffee or something." Hugh was taking it rather well so far.
It didn't last too long, though. Jimmy did as he said. He explained about the robbery, Lazanno, Castillo, Shorty, Detective West, the money, and Libby's death. The look on Hugh's face said everything. He didn't know what to say.
"Alright, lemme get this straight. You participated in a robbery, got involved with Maxx Lazanno and Salvador Castillo III, and have to retrieve some money back from the police, or Lazanno and Castillo will track you down and kill you. And you need me to give you some cash so you can get by for a while? Did I get everything?" Hugh asked.
"That's pretty much it." Jimmy confirmed.
"Now, what makes you think that I'll give you money? What makes you think that I'll approve of all of this. Huh? What the hell makes you think I won't just dial 911 right when you leave and report you. What makes you think that?" Hugh began.
"Because you're my father." Jimmy answered.
"Because I'm your father!? I haven't seen you in years! I don't know what's been going on with you! Hell, you just popped up outta the god damn blue to explain all this to me! I may be your father by blood, but I don't seem to be your father by heart! I'm sorry, Jimmy, but you'll have to try harder than that!"
"I just thought…"
"You thought wrong, Jimmy! You thought wrong! I mean, you could've gone to Sheen, or Carl, or even you're god damn wife! Why'd you come to me?!"
"Because I wanted to patch things up! I want to know that my own father gives a damn about me! I wanted to know that when I die, my dad cared about me. That we ended where we started! Dad, I need you for this! I would rather walk into Lazanno's office right now then know that my father hated me at the end of my life! I mean sure, I could've gone to Sheen, Carl, or Cindy for the money, but I felt you had to know!" Jimmy cried. It was all true, too.
"Look, I ain't mad at ya, Jimbo. Hell, you're my son! I love ya! But I wanna patch things up, too. So I'll give you the money and I won't rat you out. I want to help. Just promise me that you'll visit for Christ sakes!" Hugh calmed down.
"Thanks, dad."
"You're welcome, Jimbo."
They walked together to the door and Hugh reached into his wallet.
"Here's a hundred. It ain't much, but it should get ya to a hotel for a while. Get some rest and some food. You don't look too good." Hugh handed his son the money.
"Thanks, and be careful. If that detective is on my trail, chances are he'll end up here. Just think of a story to tell him, and lay low. I'll try to visit soon." Jimmy warned his father.
"Okay. Bye, Jimmy." Hugh said.
"Bye, dad." Jimmy hugged his father and went on his way.
"Wh.. What did you say?" Cindy had a teary look in her eyes as Sheen spoke to her.
"We lost Libby. She was found shot in the head. The cops think Jimmy did it." Sheen repeated. He was devastated, but knew that he had to keep together. It was his duty to guide Cindy through this.
"Oh my god! Libby's dead! This is a joke, right? You're trying to mess with me, right? Right?" Cindy cried. Sheen just stood still, a single tear ran down his cheek. Cindy knew at that moment that her best friend of 20 years was gone.
"This is my fault! I sent her to follow Jimmy! I should've known that she'd be in danger too! And now she's gone, oh god!" Cindy was weeping. She collapsed to the ground on her knees, crying a river of tears. It hurt Sheen just to watch.
"It's okay. Jimmy will get this guy. I'm sure. There's no way he did this. I think the detective killed her and covered it up. And if that's true, then there is only one man to blame." Sheen determined.
"Who?" Cindy wiped up some tears from her face.
"The detective said that he was tipped off about Jimmy by someone within the gang. That is about the only thing that came out of his mouth that I believe. Nobody outside of the gang, you, Carl, Libby, and me knew of Jimmy's involvement. I mean, Lazanno knew, but now that I think of it, he must've been tipped off about Jimmy as well. He wouldn't of come after him unless they knew of his involvement!" Sheen blew open a big piece of the puzzle.
"Who would do that? Carl and Libby wouldn't have told the cops anything, and why would anyone in the gang want a man who helped them in custody?" Cindy wondered aloud.
"That's what I'm gonna find out. Someone ratted Jimmy out, and I owe it to you and him to find that rat." Sheen told Cindy. He was going to get to the bottom of this.
"So, now what?" Cindy asked, still teary-eyed.
"Call Carl, and give him the news. I'm gonna try to reach Jimmy." Sheen answered. Unfortunately, they didn't know one thing.
Detective Troy West was on his way to Carl's house as they spoke.
"Ding-Dong!" The doorbell rang at Carl's parent's house, where Carl lives too.
"Hello?" Carl's father answered the door.
"Hi, I'm Detective Troy West, Retroville P.D. May I speak to you're son, Carl." West held up his badge, signaling that he meant business.
"Carl? What did he do?" Mr. Wheezer asked.
"He hasn't done anything wrong, I just have some questions about his friend, Jimmy. May I come in?" West answered. He was putting on a fake smile, acting nice.
"Oh, sure. He's in his room. I'll go get him." Mr. Wheezer let West in.
"No, no, I'll talk to him in his room." West insisted.
"Oh! Well, it's just up the stairs to the left. You can't miss it!"
West started up the stairs and turned to the left. It had a bunch of llama pictures and posters on the door. Mr. Wheezer was right, he couldn't have missed it if he wanted to. He knocked on the door.
"Hello?" Carl opened the door to see a badge in his face.
"I'm Detective West, may I come in?" West lowered his badge.
"Do I even have a choice?" Carl laughed opening the door wider to allow his guest in.
"Look, I'm just here to ask you a few questions."
"Questions about what?"
"Your friend, Jimmy Neutron."
Carl stood there, knowing what was happening. Jimmy was on the run, and the cops wanted information. Libby, Sheen, and Cindy may have already given up information, but he wasn't about to give away his friend.
"Jimmy? What about him?" Carl asked, playing dumb.
"We have reason to believe that he was involved in a heist for the Red Cat gang. Do you know of this?" West explained.
"A heist? I had no idea!" Carl answered, lying through his teeth.
"Has he been speaking with the gang recently by any chance?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Do you know any members of the gang?"
"No, I don't."
"Okay, one last question. Do you by any chance know his current whereabouts?"
"I haven't spoken with him for weeks. I have no clue where he is or what's going on."
"You spoke to him weeks ago? What was it about?"
"We talked about sports, mainly."
"Sports? You talked about sports?"
"Yep."
West sighed and looked at Carl with eyes of a snake. He knew something was up.
"You aren't telling me the truth, Carl. I'm a trained detective. I know how to spot a liar. Now tell me the truth. He won't be hurt, and neither will you if you tell me the truth."
"I don't know what you're talking about! This is the god honest truth!" Carl was sweating. He knew he was gonna have to take one for the team by lying.
"Carl, look at me. I am a nice guy. And nice people like me want to be nice to people like you. However, when people like you take my kind nature and take advantage of it by telling me lies, it makes me feel that my generosity is unwanted. So, I stop being so damn nice." West was so intimidating.
"Uhhh…" Carl was dumbfounded. Should he tell this scary detective about Jimmy, or face the consequences, whatever they may be.
"Now you see, Carl, when I'm not being nice, I go right to being a heartless bastard. And, for your information, this heartless bastard has a loaded 36 caliber handgun by his side. Does that help persuade you, Carl?" West opened his jacket to reveal a gun in a holster around his waist.
"Look, sir. I want to help you, and I sure don't want to be shot, but I am telling you the truth. Now look at me and tell me if I'm lying when I say, I have no clue about Jimmy." Carl swallowed his only chance at living without pain.
There was a brief silence before West spoke.
"Ya like music, Carl?" West asked.
"Yeah." Carl answered, confused.
"Mind if I play some on that fine looking radio you got over there?" West looked at Carl's llama decorated radio.
"Go right ahead."
"What kinda music ya like, Carl?" West looked back.
"Ummm… I like country." Carl replied.
"Country? I like country too. There's just something about it that makes it feel so real. So honest. Am I right, Carl?"
"Y..yeah, I guess so."
West got up and walked on over to the radio, tuning it to a country station.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a treat for you. Here is a great song that every country fan has to love! Here's 'Dead Skunk' by Loudon Wainwright III!" the radio D.J's voice glared through the speakers.
"Oooh, I love this damn song." West began jokingly singing and dancing to the song before continuing.
"Hey Carl, you smell that?" West laughed.
"Smell what?" Carl was confused. What was this man doing?
"A dead skunk. I think I smell a dead skunk. You know what a skunk is, Carl?" West asked.
"An animal?" Carl answered.
"No! No! No! A skunk is Retroville P.D lingo for a dirty, stinking, no good liar. You know what? I think I found our dead skunk. I'm lookin' at him!" West then punched Carl right in the jaw, knocking him off his feet.
"Owww!" Carl moaned in pain. His jaw must've been broken.
"Let me tell you something, Carl. I love to torture people. Especially when I'm torturing someone to music. Like I said earlier, the great think about country music is that it is honest. That is something that you ain't. Now, I'm not gonna use this gun, not yet. I'm just gonna beat the spit outta you. Then, if you don't tell me what I wanna hear by the time this song's over, it's lights out for you, and your parents." West laughed as he wiped the blood from his fist.
"I don't know anything." Carl could barely speak.
"You don't know, huh? You don't know." West kicked Carl right in the gut. He started to dance around a bit, to the song, and kicked him a few more times. By now, Carl was coughing up blood.
"You know now, punk?" West asked. He wasn't even breaking a sweat.
"I.. I don't know…" Carl was wheezing hard now.
"Ha! Let me tell ya, I'm having the time of my life. I don't know about you, but I could do this all day!" West laughed, taking a few more swings at Carl's face and gut.
"The song's almost over, dickhead! Better fess up!" West yelled in Carl's ear.
"You can hurt me all you want, but you'll never know what you want to know." Carl laughed and spit blood on West's suit. Laughing hurt Carl. At that point, he was gonna die either way. It would be better to keep the secret and be shot sooner than fess up and lie there motionless, waiting for death to come.
"This was a new suit, jack-off. Now you got me pissed." West pulled out his gun, but didn't shoot. He drove the butt of it into Carl's nose instead.
"That hurts, don't it. Now, I'd say you have about thirty seconds left of the song before I blast your brains out. Now, every inch of me says to shoot you now, but I want information more then I want revenge. I'm a professional, Carl. Now you're gonna tell me what I want to know!" West eyeballed what he'd done. Carl was bleeding from a broken nose, coughing up blood, had bruises and cuts all over his face and gut, and had a black eye.
"Ten seconds! Better start talking!" West added.
"Screw you, hot-shot." Carl laughed.
"You ain't tellin' me, huh? Well guess what, song's over. Time to say goodbye." West loaded his gun and took aim. Then the phone rang.
"Pick up, Carl!" Mr. Wheezer yelled, "It's Cindy!"
"O..Okay!" Carl struggled to reply.
"Pick up." West told him, "Pick it up."
Cal crawled to the phone in his room and answered.
"H... Hello?" Carl struggled.
"Carl, did you hear the news. We've lost Libby." Cindy explained. Carl realized what was happening. West ran to the other room and picked up another phone, dragging it back to Carl so he could keep aiming the gun.
"Libby's dead?" Carl was too hurt to care too much. After all, he'd be seeing her soon.
"Yeah. We think that the detective Sheen spoke to was lying to us. The detective said Jimmy killed her, but we don't buy that. Anyway, we think Jimmy's probably going to come to see us for help." Cindy didn't notice West on the line.
"Cindy, don't say anything else, the detective is listening to…" Carl tried to warn her, but he couldn't finish. He'd forgotten that West was aiming a gun at him. One shot was all it took. West hung up the phone and left. Two more shot's where fired to kill Carl's parents. He reached into his pocket and called his boss.
"Well?" His boss answered.
"It's me. We have a scene over here. I tried interrogating Carl, but he tried to escape. He and his parents tried to run, so I shot them. I need an ambulance over here for the recently deceased." the detective explained.
He talked a bit more and hung up. The radio continued to glare country music. West turned and shot it to pieces.
"I friggin hate country music." He said as he left the room. Now he knew what the others know.
How was it? Please Review and wait for chapter three, coming soon. See Ya!