Page 54 of Pied Sniper

“You haven’t heard the news?”

“What news?”

“Do you have your cellphone on you?”

“Yes, but it’s dead.”

“Tiffany was kidnapped last night.”

Jonathan’s head shot up and he blinked hard, then nodded like a forlorn dog. I wasn’t sure if it were the news or the effects of the alcohol that determined his movement. “Say again?” he said, righting himself.

I explained but I don’t know how much of what I said registered with him but finally, he replied, “I don’t believe it!” and laughed.

I recoiled from his beer breath. “Why not?”

“How did you find me here anyway?”

“Someone called on our tip line. See that guy?” I pointed to Delgado. Jonathan shifted in his seat to see past me, then nodded.

“The thug? Or the one that just looks deadly?” He slurped from his glass.

“The thug, but he’s really very sweet so don’t call him that. He’s been here surveilling you.”

“About time someone did,” huffed Jonathan. He placed the glass on the table and pushed it away with the tips of his fingers. “I have no idea why I’m drinking. It’s all Tiffany’s fault.”

“Why don’t we get you something to eat while we talk?” I suggested. “And you can tell me all about Tiffany.”

“I want to stay here.”

Loud hammering sounded at the windows and I looked up to see three girls with their faces pressed against the glass pane. One of them squealed Jonathan’s name and he glanced over, grimacing. The three of them squealed some more and hurried towards the entry.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. C’mon,” I said, rising. “Let’s go somewhere nicer than this bar.”

“I want to go home,” mumbled Jonathan. “I missed my flight.”

“I’m sure we can arrange another one,” I said as he got unsteadily to his feet. I signaled Solomon and Delgado and they abandoned their table. Jonathan brushed off their offers to help and staggered in the direction of the doors, weaving like he was on a ferry.

“Is there another way out of here?” Solomon asked the bartender.

“That way is the alley,” said the bartender, pointing, calmly unsurprised by the request.

“Let’s go. Delgado, get the car,” said Solomon, tossing his keys to Delgado, then turning Jonathan towards the back entrance and setting him in motion. “And run interference at the door.” We jogged after Jonathan who was attempting to pull on the handle of a push door. At the same moment Solomon got Jonathan’s arm over his shoulders, hooking his other arm around his waist to keep him upright, the girls burst into the bar. Solomon pushed the door and swept Jonathan through it while Delgado did an awkward dance of stepping left then right, anticipating exactly where he needed to be to prevent the girls’ progression. I dashed through the door after Solomon and we hurried through a small, dark corridor before emerging from a fire door in the alley. I pushed the door shut and we rested our backs against it. A few minutes later, Delgado pulled up and the two men heaved Jonathan into the back of the car.

“Get in the driver’s seat,” said Solomon as he opened the rear door. “We’ll take Delgado back to his car, then we can all meet up at the office.”

“You go,” said Delgado. “I’ll jog back to my car.”

“Where are we going?” slurred Jonathan.

“To our office where you’ll be safe from prying eyes,” said Solomon.

“Good,” said Jonathan as he slumped into the back seat. Solomon rolled his eyes and buckled the seatbelt around him, then ran to the passenger side. I changed places with Delgado and we took off for the agency. There, Solomon assisted Jonathan into the elevator and later to the boardroom where Jonathan took a long, hazy look around before slumping into a chair. “I’ll get you some water,” said Solomon, stepping out. To me, he said, “We need to sober this guy up before we can talk to him.”

I pointed to the boardroom. “I think he’s already sleeping it off.” Jonathan dropped his head on the table and was quietly snoring.

“Damn it!”

“I agree it’s frustrating but at least we know where he is and there’s no point trying to question him while he’s clearly so drunk.”

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