Read The Car Bomb (The detroit im dying Trilogy, Book 1) for Free Online Page B

heading back behind the bar again. “He was pissed. But he wanted a drink more than he didn’t want to be carded.”
    With Frank and Jackson talking, a bearded, heavy-set fellow had moved from the back of the bar and was standing now directly in front of Frank. He was wearing a T-shirt that strained to contain his belly. The shirt said, “I Like Tits.”
    Frank looked up, read the shirt and said, “Can I help you, pal?”
    “ Yeah, Frank, you could retire.”
    “ Retire, eh?”
    “ Yeah, man, then I wouldn’t have to watch your fuckin’ face on TV.”
    Frank glanced at Letty, telling her with a brow lift that he’d been through this a million times. Then he said, “You know, I didn’t catch your name.”
    “ Name’s Merle.”
    “ Well, Merle, why not turn the dial?”
    Merle smirked and swayed, glancing back at his two buddies watching avidly at the pool table. “I don’t have to turn the fuckin’ dial. I don’t never watch your ass anyways.”
    “ Then what’s the problem?”
    “ The problem? I’ll tell you what the problem is. You, Frank. You’re the fuckin’ problem. You don’t never give just the straight news like people want. You always gotta put your fuckin’ two cents worth in. And that’s about all it’s worth, is two cents.”
    “ So you’d like a little more journalistic objectivity.”
    “ No, I’d like a lot less Frank on TV.”
    “ Well, Merle , but how do you know all this if you never watch me?”
    “ See, right there, that’s your problem. You’re a smart ass. I don’t have to watch you. Everybody knows this shit. Like tonight talkin’ about that car bomb like you know all this stuff, like it’s drug-related, and you don’t know shit.”
    Frank’s tone remained reasonable and friendly. “So, Merle, you know something about it?”
    “ I don’t know nothin’ about it. But I’m not on TV like you, actin’ like I do.”
    Behind Merle Frank spotted Randal Byrd walking into the bar. Byrd saw Frank at about the same time, and their eyes locked. After a second Frank called out: “Hey, Randal Byrd, let’s talk.”
    Byrd froze for an instant, glanced at Jackson, then wheeled out of the bar. Quickly on his feet, Frank did a brief dance with Merle, then sprinted for the door.
    Crossing the dark street in front of the bar, Byrd ran hard, spinning around a car that nearly hit him as it screeched to a halt. As Frank reached the street, Byrd was disappearing into an alley on the other side. Dodging traffic, Frank followed, but when he finally entered the alley, there was no sign of Byrd.
    Back inside the bar, he found Jackson sitting with Letty. Obviously in Frank’s absence the bartender had carefully outlined Merle’s options for him. When Frank passed his table, the man who loved tits barely gave him a glance.
    Jackson struggled out of the booth as Frank arrived. “Any luck, Frank?”
    “ Naw, must have slithered down some rat hole.”
    “ Who was that?” asked Letty without a smile now.
    Frank looked up suddenly feeling weary. “Oh, just a little rodent who gave me trouble the last time in here.”
    “ Well, you look exhausted. We need to eat our burgers and find a place for you to lie down.” She tilted her head and gave him a wink.
    Giving her one back, he nodded. “Yeah, I was up at six this morning, writing.” He slipped his vial of little reds out of his breast pocket, popped one out and swallowed it. “You want a little extra energy?”
    She smiled and shook her head. He swallowed some beer and put the pills away, knowing that he’d be quietly boasting in a few seconds. There was clearly no need to with this gal. So was he that insecure, or did he just want an excuse in case his performance later was less than sterling?
    “ Up at six! What are you writing?” She was already impressed.
    He blew smoke at the dingy ceiling. “Oh, it’s a labor of love, mostly. I’m writing a history of the small Belgian community in this city. Probably about four