Chapter 4 (part 1)

When he reached the bar, he still had no ideas as to how to improve his current situation. He was sweating profusely, his feet were aching when he arrived at the bar, and he had no clue as to where to go from there. His brain remained empty of ideas when he took a barstool, was still empty when he finished off his first drink and emptier still when he ordered his fourth.

After placing the order for his fourth drink, the bartender smiled at him and began to mix his Vodka Tonic. “Rough couple of days, I take it?” the bartender asked.

"You could say that,” Evan said. “Was my performance last night all that memorable?”

“I’ve seen better,” the bartender said. “But just to let you know, if you get that drunk tonight, I’m calling you a cab. I shouldn’t have let you drive as drunk as you were last night.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Also,” the bartender said, “this drink is already paid for by the nice man sitting there on the other end of the bar.”

Evan looked to his left and saw a man sitting on the opposite side of the bar with a bottle of beer. Seeing that Evan had spotted him, he smiled and waved. It took Evan a while to place the face but it finally came to him. It was the policeman that had pulled up next to him that morning during the fiasco with the elderly boxing match.

Evan had always been nervous around any form of law enforcement, but he figured there was no trouble he could get himself into right now. Sam had the drugs and the drug money, leaving Evan’s hands clean. And as far as his personal life, Evan had not touched any form of drug—other than alcohol—in over three months. So what was the harm in going over to thank the policeman? Besides, the fact that the guy was drinking and not in uniform made him a little less of a threat anyway.

Evan walked to the end of the bar and took the stool next to the officer. “Thanks for the drink, man,” he said. “I really appreciate it. What’s the occasion?”

“For breaking up Senior Citizen Wrestlemania this morning,” the cop said. “Most people would have just had a laugh and carried on with their day, you know?”

Evan tilted his head and shrugged. “Honestly, I usually would have done the same thing. I don’t really know why I stepped in. It seemed like the right thing to do, I guess. And it was just too funny to pass up.”

“Well anyway, it was nicely done.” He took a sip of his beer and then offered his hand. “Max Young,” he said. He was a man of average build. He had a face that men would call haggard but women would call rugged. There was a decent growth of hair on his face but it was not so thick that it could be called a beard.

“Evan Abner,” Evan said, shaking the man’s hand. “What happened to those two old farts anyway?”

Max Young shook his head and took another sip of beer. “Man, today was the worst day I’ve seen in a long time. I’ve been a cop off and on for eleven years and I never saw anything like today.” He then nodded towards the beer in his hands and said, “This is the first beer I’ve had in about two years. Today was that bad.”

“Yeah, I heard about the hit and run and the shooting. That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, we tried to keep the whole shooting incident quiet, but it got out. When one cop offs another one in plain sight, it’s pretty big news, you know? But today, it seemed like everything that happened was bad. There was that hit and run, then the old guys fighting, then the shooting.

“But as far as the thing with the old guys…that got even weirder,” Max explained. “I knew right away that I was going to let them go. I’d just warn them, like a slap on the wrist, you know? So I talked to both of them and they went on their merry ways. Then right around four o’ clock this afternoon, right after I got off duty, I got this call at home. One of those old men—the one in the checkered pants—killed his wife and then tried to kill himself.”

“Oh my God,” Evan said, genuinely shocked.

“It’s obviously not looked well upon when a cop divulges all this kind of information to a stranger, but I had to get it off of my chest somehow, you know? This has been one absolutely fucked up day.”

Max Young truly did seem upset about something and while it did seem peculiar that a cop would spill this type of information, Evan was glad that he could help the man unwind…even if he was a cop. Besides, there was something to Max's voice that made Evan think that he didn't give a damn if someone found out that he was blabbing police business to a stranger. Max Young seemed pissed, upset and extremely anxious about something.

“Yeah, it sounds like it” Evan said, sipping uncomfortably from his drink.

After a moment’s silence, Max said, “So you’re not from around here, I know that. I know every face in this town. What brings you here to Shinoe?”

Evan thought quickly, hoping to kill two birds with one stone. “Well, I heard about this tribe of Indians out in the desert. And I’ve been fascinated with the culture since my freshman year of college.”

“You’re not talking about those peyote freaks out to the west, are you?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Nothing but trouble. We’ve had tips that they’re dealing the stuff to these big name guys in California and Texas. But when we question them, they pull this ‘you’re infringing on our religious practices and rights’ bullshit.”

Evan was well aware of this fact. It was why his Emile Gorrengo had selected the tribe as a source in the first place. “That must suck,” Evan said.

“Yeah,” Max agreed. He tipped his beer to his mouth and finished it. He looked at the empty bottle, contemplated getting another and then decided that it was time to leave. Apparently not having one for two years had made Max cautious around the bottle.

"Well, I just wanted to thank you for your good deed this morning,” Max said. “Be careful driving home. And if you do head out to find those hallucinating-mushroom- eating-peyote freaks, watch out. You could get in a lot of trouble. ”

“You don’t think much of them, do you?”

Max Young shook his head. “Not a bit.”

Evan thought better of asking for directions to where the tribe could be found. Although he could think of no better pleasure than putting a few rounds through Sam’s stupid head, Evan knew not to push things. The last thing he wanted to do was to make a police officer suspicious of him.

“Well, thanks for the drink,” Evan said.

“No problem,” Max answered. “And it was nice to meet you.”

With that, Max paid his tab and left the bar.

Evan sat at the bar by himself for a while. A few stragglers came in and out of the bar as he watched the TV behind the counter and shared small talk with the bar tender. Somewhere in the midst of the talk, Evan finished another drink. His head was a bit swimmy and he was feeling incredibly pleasant.

“What number was this one?” Evan asked the bartender.

The bartender took a moment to count in his head. “That was number six. But I’ll be honest with you…I started making them weak after number three.”

“That was probably for the best.” Evan looked at his watch as was amazed to find that it was 8:45. “Eh, I guess I’ll pay my tab and take you up on that offer for a cab.”

The bartender nodded and handed Evan his bill. “If you don’t mind my asking,” the bartender said, “are you okay? Like, are you in trouble or something? You look sort of antsy and came off as a bit uncomfortable when Officer Young started chatting with you.”

“No, I’m not in any trouble,” Evan said. “It’s just been one of those days, you know? A really strange and messed up day.”

“Yeah, for the whole town or so it seems. What a weird day.”

Evan and the bartender shared a silence as Evan paid his tab with his credit card. The bartender called a local cab company and after that, headed to the other end of the bar to refill another customer.

Evan got off of his barstool and then went to the bathroom. When he came out, he waved to the bartender and headed outside to wait on his cab. As he sat there on the bar’s small porch, he stared into the approaching night.

Somewhere off in the distance he could hear the piercing sound of ambulance sirens.