32 Chapter Thirty One/ Middle of the night

Detective Wade had almost made it home when he felt the kick of the Crown Vic as it sucked the last drop of gasoline through its fuel injection system. He quickly threw the car into neutral and coasted the better part of a mile on the straight four- lane to an open Sunoco One Stop convenience store, conveniently landing right in front of one of the pumps. The gas was free at the station for the detective but on more than one occasion he had been so completely consumed in thought he had needed to use his own money to put enough gas in the car to get it to the station. It had been quite some time since he had ran out of gas but considering his current case and the slight overindulgence at Dream Girls he was due for such an occurrence. He still had a large wad of dollar bills bulging in his front pocket and decided to lighten his load by paying for the gas in singles.

The inside of the One Stop was brighter than God’s glory which made the detective take two steps back when he first opened the door. Somehow the brightness of the inside and the fifty below air conditioning had made the effects of the nights libations appear to double instantly in the detective’s core. He made four uneasy steps towards a sunglasses display and grabbed a pair of ten dollar shades to circumvent the convenience stores sun light like fluorescents and then made his way to the chip aisle for sustenance.

“Let me know if you need anything.” A young man of maybe twenty appeared from a door at the back of the register island looking disheveled. Maybe Wade had woken him from a nap or by the looks of it interrupted a romantic encounter.

“I’m fine” Wade stated loudly and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and flashed his shield. He preceded to the cooler and grabbed two twenty-two ounce Coronas to finish off the night and then a half gallon of milk for breakfast. He then passed a wine aisle that would rival an average grocery store and considered how romantic a woman would feel being poured a glass of wine with a bright orange price sticker from a gas station on it. Standing at the front counter he decided to make his occasional mistake and selected a pack of Marlboro Lights, for some odd reason ever since being entombed in the rusty rocket with Connie Fry at the trailer park, he had been craving one, which in hindsight would be the same as seeing a dead junkie and then craving a spoonful of black tar heroin. As the clerk rang up the goods, Wade stared blankly into the only monitor in the entire store. On the screen he can see an RV pull up out front next to the pumps. The driver gets out, realizes that the tank is on the other side and then pulls forward making a large circle by cutting out on to the road and then pulling back into the pump correctly. Detective Wade can see the tag on the vehicle from either angle and like a ton of bricks unloading on his head he realizes why the RV that they have been looking for seemed so familiar. It’s the same kind and color they used on the TV show Breaking Bad specifically remembering there was an episode when the DEA agent pulled video of it from gas station. He laughed at his own stupidity and pulled his cell out of his pocket. The phone only rang twice before officer Gaines answered.

“Yes Sir.” He was obviously mid dream when called but able to wake right up and address the senior officer correctly, he didn’t have a drinking problem, not yet at least.

“We are chasing the fucking Chrystal Ship from Breaking Bad.” Wade’s words slurred just a bit as he made his declaration.

“What sir?”

“Tan fucking Fleetwood Bounder with an orange and yellow stripes, it’s the RV from Breaking Bad.”

“So what does this mean sir?” Wade hadn’t actually thought of that. He was now more dumbfounded than when he realized it. Had the stupid old bags at the RV Park been fucking with him or did his criminal actually happen to roll in the same wheels as Walter and Jesse?

“I want you to make sure that there isn’t a dumbass tour of Breaking Bad shit in Albuquerque that happens to roll around in one of those or any other kind of tourist attraction that has one. Then be ready for my call by 8 a.m. because I might need you to haul some old ladies into the precinct for obstruction.

“Really sir?”

“Look son we’re chasing our tales because of what two walking cancer sticks with handbag skin said. If another kid dies because of them being fucking funny, they will be relieved if all I do is give them free room and board till they croak.” Wade was pissed. The worst part is he didn’t even know if he was allowed to be pissed yet. The old bitches may have been telling the truth about the RV. At least they hadn’t said it was an old bald guy and a kid in baggy clothes that had been wandering around the RV. He hated this; it was like when you have a loved one that is running an hour late. You don’t know if you’re pissed because they are disrespecting you or worried because they crashed into a ditch and are bleeding out. It was absolutely fucking maddening.

He was now standing in the parking lot beside his Crown Vic pacing back and forth. He hit the phone book for Date in his phone and decided to go with his cell in case he had already gone to bed. He answered on the first ring.

“Breaking Bad RV, really Teddy? Date had already realized it and must have had his hand on the phone when Wade called.

“It may just be a coincidence Terry.”

“Then why are you calling me in the middle of the fucking night, it just hit ya didn’t it?” Date had him dead to rights.

“Yeah, but I don’t think the first old bag was fucking with me, I think she really did give me info because of it being about the Ransom Murders.”

“Well maybe it’s not a coincidence, maybe it’s supposed to look like the RV from the show.”

“I thought of that, I’ve got the kid looking into tours or anything else that might need a Chrystal Ship of their own.”

“Oh you did, did you? You called your boyfriend first.” There was a sense of hurt in Date’s voice but what did he expect, for the past year he had spent the majority of his time at either the bottom of a bottle or Dream Girls getting to the bottom of one of their bottles.

“Yeah, well he has been keeping it tight for me.” The joke lightened the mood and with that the two said goodnight and agreed on a now earlier 8 a.m. pick up time.


simple man Copyright © by jshugahi. All Rights Reserved.

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