Jonathan lay on the uncomfortable bed of the shabby motel in town. He had three missed calls from his ex and one from Brenda. His ex didn't leave voicemails, she'd rather have Jonathan call her to see what she wanted instead. Since the divorce and the custody battle, the only thing they talked about was their daughter. If Jonathan had it his way, he'd be done with this woman.
He wanted to call for his daughter, Milla, but when he checked the time. It was midnight here in Little Cove, and Milla's bedtime is at 9, so she'd just been put to bed. Jonathan texted her mother instead.
-Sorry, I missed your call, it's hectic over here. Is everything okay?-
-Everything is fine, she just wanted to talk to you before she went to sleep.-
-Okay. I can call before she goes to daycare tomorrow.- Jonathan watched the dots tapping the side of his phone. Jonathan has a strong intuition. It's more than a gut feeling, he's never wrong. Especially when it came to his Ex-Wife. He'd made the mistake of marrying a woman who he knew didn't love him. He didn't even love her. They had a shot gun wedding in a quicky chapel when she was three months pregnant with Milla. Jonathan loved the bun that was baking in her oven, but knew his ex wouldn't give him custody.
-Will you? Because I called you three times and you didn't care enough about our daughter to answer your phone.- Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose.
-I didn't have reception.-
-You just said it was hectic. Which one is it? Did you not have reception or was it hectic?-
-Can it not be both? Look, I'm sorry I missed your call, but I promise I'll make sure to call you.- His ex took a while to text him back. When she did this she wanted him to sweat before they agreed. Sometimes it took a few minutes, and when they were together it would take weeks. And even though he can see it coming from miles away, it ticked him off.
He was exhausted from going to Thomas's, and a little traumatized. At this point, he knew Thomas's death wasn't of natural causes. There was nothing natural about anything that Jonathan witnessed.
As he waited for his ex to decide when she wanted to text him back, he listened to Brenda's voicemail.
"Hey Jon, it's Brenda. I suspect you saw something unpleasant while you were... there. Tomorrow, I'll be having lunch at Orla's Diner. Meet me there, and we'll talk." Reading people was like reading a book. He knew his ex had the hots for him before she opened her mouth. She put on her best poker face, but it was transparent to Jonathan. But Brenda on the other hand, was shielded. Around her, it was Jonathan who was exposed, and he couldn't stand it. Jonathan turned up his phone volume and put it on the nightstand.
His ex texted back.
-You can call at 7.-
Jonathan knew he ought to go to sleep now, there was a big day ahead of him. Many big days it seems. But despite his eyes being heavy and his body wanting to be wrapped up in the thin blanket, Jonathan sat up and went for a walk.
Little Cove was like many of the small towns Jonathan has visited in his life. Not much to do here, and everything of entertainment was closing or about to close. Except for Brady's Bar a couple of blocks over from the Motel. The patrons consisted of an elderly man slumped over on his stool struggling on his glass of whiskey. Two young women in a booth at the back of the bar. Sisters perhaps. Jonathan sat at the bar and ordered a ginger ale, and got a strange look from the drunk old man.
"Ain't bright comin' in a bar when you're sober." Slurred the man.
"Not sober." The bar tender, a barrel chested man with hairy arms, slid Jonathan his ginger ale. From the corner of his eye, one of the women- she was dressed in a curve hugging red dress and heels that made her stand at about Jonathan's height- the old man leered at her as she left.
"Now that's one fine piece of ass." The old drunk dug in his pocket with liver spotted hands and paid his tab. A sick feeling rose from the pit of Jonathan's stomach. So powerful it made his soda taste acrid. He watched the man stumble off his stool, feeling that sickness within him grow.
"Hey-" Jonathan pulled on the old man's arm, who snatched it away so hard he tripped over himself and fell outside on the sidewalk. "Oh, I'm so sorry." Jonathan tried to help him up but the old man swatted at his face, coming nowhere near Jonathan's face. The old drunk looked up at him, or at least tried to. The woman in red, looked back at them from over her shoulder and disappeared down a side street. Once she was out of sight that feeling vanished.
"What the hell! Watch what you doin', boy!" The old man gracelessly got to his feet, gave Jonathan the finger and hobbled off. Jonathan came back into the bar. The other woman- she adored a black maxi dress- was sitting next to Jonathan's seat. She was working on a sex on a beach, it appeared she was waiting for him. He took his seat beside her.
"The old coot is a perv that the people in this town just ignore." She said. "Say he's harmless." Jonathan chuckled dryly.
"No such thing as a harmless perv."
"My thoughts exactly." She beckoned the bar tender. "From now on, everything he orders is on the house."
"Yes, Ma'am." Said the bar tender obediently. The woman stood and gave him a smile. It wasn't warm nor was it friendly. If anything, the way she grinned was as though she knew something that Jonathan didn't.
"Welcome to Little Cove, Detective Ember."
"You know who I am?"
"Of course I do. You're the talk of the town." She turned her back on him and exited the bar. He suppose it made some type of sense. Word travels at the speed of light in small towns. He wonders if his impending retirement reached Little Cove, it barely circulated around his colleagues in LA. For all they know he's taking a leave of absence and not plotting how to go about his early retirement. Jonathan finished glass of soda and reached for his wallet.
"No, no. It's on the house, remember?" Jonathan smiled apologetically.
"I'd rather pay." The bartender waved his hands warding off the money, his eyes kept darting toward the door desperately. Jonathan put his wallet away. "Thanks." He said. The bartender's broad shoulders relaxed and he met Jonathan with a relieved smile.
"My pleasure." Said the bartender.
Back at the motel, Jonathan fell asleep without realizing it. He opened his eyes to the sound of his alarm going off and news playing on the tiny tv on the wall across from the bed. He checked the time, it was 6:50. Jonathan called his ex before he could get the crust out of his eyes.
"Thought you were going to flake." Was the first thing she said to him.
"Where's Milla?"
"Right here." There was a little commotion and then the raspy voice of his ex was replaced by the sleepy voice of Milla.
"Hi Daddy."
"Hey sweetheart, how are you?"
"Good."
"Are you behaving for your mother?"
"Yes." Jonathan was geared up to pull another question out of her when she asked; "When am I coming home, Daddy?" Jonathan paused. Of course his ex didn't explain anything to her.
"You... you are home, baby. Your home is with your mother now."
"I don't like it, Daddy." Jonathan dropped his head, his heart was being punched repeatedly.
"Neither do I. But don't worry, I'm gonna fix it. As soon as I get home. I promise."
"Pinky swear?"
"Pinky swear. Now go back to sleep, little girls need their rest."
"Okay, bye Daddy." Before he could say bye back, his ex had the phone again.
"Do you think, you can bring her here, so I can see her. I don't know when I'll be back in LA." She sighed.
"You realize I have a life. You know I can't just pick up and leave whenever you want." There was another man in the picture. It may even be the same bastard she cheated on him with. No. She disposed of him the moment their little affair was out in the open. It wasn't dangerous anymore, and the poor sap was dumb enough to want more. Who's the man she got around my daughter? He wondered.
"Just had to ask." The news report caught his attention. Local man found dead in alleyway outside of Brady's Bar. The footage showed paramedics wheeling a body bag into the an ambulance. Jonathan didn't need to see the body to know it was that drunken perv who bit the dust. The report talked of a note that was found in the victims hand that only said I'm watching you. A single note that investigators are using to rule his death as a murder.
"Hey, um, I'll call you back." His phone chimed, it was Brenda.
-We need to talk. NOW.-