Chapter four
1005 Words
Clifford Hamilton was an attractive looking man in his thirties. He had black, unruly
hair, dark eyes, an athletic build, and a warm smile. With looks from Hollywood, the
ladies were constantly roaming all over him like fleas. Perhaps the only thing that
put some of them at bay was the fact that he was an officer of the law who could
easily have them locked up for assault.
Growing up as an only child had made Clifford rather defensive and this played out
in his interactions with people. He was the kind of man who stood his ground even
if it meant fighting alone.
Today, Clifford had come to work disturbed. The events of the past night still
replayed in his mind, although now, it seemed more of a dream than reality. He sat
before the computer screen in his booth staring blankly at it for almost an hour
before he suddenly came to himself as he felt a presence around him.
"Hey, Clifford. What's up?" A familiar voice said.
Clifford lifted his face and met the gaze of Officer Hillary, his friend. Suddenly, the
events of the previous night came crashing back into his memory and his face
became washed with embarrassment.
"You look really hung over," Officer Hillary was saying. "Are you sure you don't need
a day off?"
Clifford shook his head. "Last night was crazy," He said lamely. "I can't believe we
actually went to see a Shaman. But it was so surreal."
Officer Hillary gave a light chuckle. "You needed to have seen how drunk you looked
yesterday."
"You mean before or after we saw the Shaman?"
Officer Hillary's eyes widened in amusement at his question. "Both times. We really
should never do that again. I was so scared for you."
Clifford smiled slowly. He was touched by his concern. But there was something
else he was touched with. Officer Hillary had taken the hint from the look on his
face and had asked what this was about before he said a word.
"You're worried about the Shaman, aren't you?"
Clifford eyes flashed at once in fear. "Lower your voice, man," He warned.
"Someone might hear us. I have no intention of explaining what I was doing at a
Shaman's house last night to anybody."
Officer Hillary apologized at once. "I didn't mean to be loud. But seriously, Clifford,
don't tell me you're taking what that old man said seriously. It's probably nothing."
Clifford gave him a pointed stare. "Or it could be something, Charles. Did you see
the look in that man's eyes? It didn't look like he was joking to me!"
"Yet, he got money from us."
"I don't get it," Clifford snapped. "Were we not supposed to pay him for the job?
What's your point exactly?"
Officer Hillary drew a deep breath. "My point is that whatever that man is doing
there, he's doing it for the money. He had to tell you something__anything to
convince you that you didn't waste your money consulting him."
Clifford looked at him for a moment, processing the words he'd just heard. "So
you're saying that there's a possibility that none of these is true."
"Yes!" Officer Hillary barked. There was a small spark in his eyes. "I mean, we paid
the man for his services and he just had to tell us anything to get us satisfied for
giving him any money in the first place."
Clifford thought for a moment. "Your logic would make a lot of sense if I had not
seen the fear in that man's eyes. It was like I'm some kind of devil he's trying to
avoid. Is that something I should ignore?"
"And are you certain that was what you saw?" Officer Hillary asked a curious look
on his face. "You were drunk, Clifford. You could have misread or misheard something.
"That's very unlikely," Clifford retorted. "Come on, man. You were there with me!"
There was a long silence. Clifford tapped his finger against the side of his chin, as
he always did when he was plotting or scheming.
"You know what?" He said after a long pause. "Maybe you're right. We're probably
just making a mountain out of a molehill. I should focus on work and put all of these
behind me for now."
Officer Hillary's eyes began to glow. He had waited a very long time to hear those
exact words.
"That's my man!" He beamed. "To be honest, I was beginning to think I'd have to
recommend you to my therapist."
Clifford frowned. He detested the suggestion at once.
"What's new in the g******e case?" He asked, changing the topic. "Any witnesses
yet?"
Officer Hillary heaved a sigh. "Looks like we need to push a little harder on the
suspect."
"That's fine," Clifford said. "I'll come to talk to him myself."
"Great."
Officer Hillary turned to walk away.
"Grab me some lunch when you go for your lunch break, will you?" Clifford called
after him.
He did not receive a response immediately but he knew better than anyone else
that he wasn't going to have to remind Charles to bring his lunch when it was time.
Clifford forced his mind to work at once. He was punching on the keys of the
keyboard, going through the details of the case he was handling when a lanky
police officer approached his booth.
"Is there a problem?" Clifford asked without looking up.
"There's a mail here for you," The officer said. "The mailman brought it and left
almost immediately. He insisted that the mail be read by you at once. He sounded
pretty urgent if you ask me."
Clifford looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. He reached out and collected
the mail from the police officer. "Thank you."
Alone once again, Clifford cut through the seal of the mail, opening it. He stared at
the first few lines in horror, wondering what the hell it meant. He felt a chilly
sensation in his spine as he picked up his cellphone.
- Writer
