I returned to DCI headquarters to check in the Chief. He was shoveling jelly donuts down his face hole and getting shit all over the paperwork.
“Can you believe this shit, Jack?” he said while shards of donut was flying out of his mouth.
“I’m a Christian, Chief,” I replied, “I believe everything that I’m told.”
“Take a look at this.”
Chief handed me a report from the Pittsburgh FBI office regarding a series of murders. I had to swipe away jelly just to read all of the paragraphs.
“So what?” I asked.
“The autopsies came back from the McGarth killings. It can’t be a coincidence Jack. The same guy killing all them hookers in Pittsburgh is the same guy who killed McGarth and our two prostitutes.”
“The FBI are a bunch of jokers, Chief. I wouldn’t trust them to find a missing cat. Especially after what they did to President Donald Trump at Mar-a-Lago!”
“Now cool it, Jack!” Chief said. “I know that you hold a grudge against the Bureau after they shitcanned you and sent you to Ohio BCI, but I expect your full cooperation!”
“Cooperation?” I asked. “The fuck are you talking about, Chief?”
“The Feds are coming to help us with our investigation,” he replied, “and I don’t want ONE word out of you! You hear?! Or you’ll be sent to Toledo so fast that you’ll bust your pants!”
“I already busted in my pants once today, Chief,” I said, “then I prayed for the Lord’s forgiveness. So don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“That’s it!” the Chief yelled, “get out of my office!”
“With pleasure.”
The FBI would not be getting my cooperation. But I couldn’t solve this case on my own. So I went looking for my good friend: local gangster Gregg Poppovich.
I found him enjoying a plate of lasagna at his Italian restaurant that he owned just outside of town. I grabbed his head and shoved it into the plate.
“Jesus, Jack!” he said as he wiped away the tomato sauce from his face, “you could have just said hello!”
I laid the .38 down on the table. “I need some answers,” I said.
“About what?!”
“Art McGarth.”
“I told you! I know what you know!”
I grabbed the plate and smashed it against his face. “Not good enough!” I yelled.
Gregg grabbed another towel and began wiping the blood from his face. “Is there something wrong, Jack? You seem a bit agitated,” he asked.
I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Thanks for asking Gregg,” I said, “but it seems like the FBI is always up my ass!”
“I know how you feel,” Gregg replied, “it ain’t easy being a local gangster, ya know?”
“Unfortunately, they’re coming down here from Pittsburgh to investigate the McGarth killings,” I said. “I don’t need their help. What good has the Federal government ever done?!”
“Jack, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye,” Gregg said, “but if you ever needed any assistance, I’m always here to help.”
“Thanks Gregg,”I replied, “you’ve always been a good friend. So since you’re offering, I’m gonna need the entire Cleveland criminal underworld to help me catch a killer.”
TO BE CONTINUED….
The Internet Ruined Everything 