The Subtle Art of Brutality

“Three Wise Men.”

“Just a shot? Want a beer also?”

“No, no beer. But you can put the shot in a glass.”

“What kind of glass would you like?” He smirks, asshole-like. “A shot glass?”

“A collins glass is fine.”

“You want that much booze?”

“Yes, I do.” I make it a point to turn my attention back to his wife’s chest.

He simply turns his back and begins grabbing bottles. Good boy.

“Three days ago?” I ask her boobs.

“Yes. She stayed here for about a week and then left. Just got antsy one day. Upset. It was hard to talk, really. I offered her a longer stay, but she said she was going out of town.”

“Say where by chance?”

“Three Mile High, I believe.”

“Say where in Three Mile High?”

“No. But she has a boyfriend up there.”

“Does boyfriend have a name?”

“Something about Jimmy. Jim. Or John...”

“James? James Dobbins?”

“Yes! Thank you.”

“My wife is terrible with names.” Mr. Franklin sets the collins in front of me. He smiles and for the first time I can see he doesn’t want me looking at his wife the way I am. Which, incidentally, I have not been trying to hide at all.

“I’d hate for Juliette to not be able to help you with your case. I’m glad you’re able to jog her memory about those things. I know I can’t,” he says.

“No problem, Mr. Franklin,” I say and take a drink. Severely watered down. Cocksucker. “I’m good with getting what I want from women.”

He gives me an incredulous stare and I persist, “So don’t worry about the case. If there’s anything else your wife is terrible at that I want, I’ll be able to work out in the end.”

“I see...” He draws from his beer and looks to his wife. She looks back and smiles blankly.

“So Delilah came here. Say where she’s been?”

“Poor thing. Said her stepdad tossed her out of a place he bought for her, so she went to her real dad and he wanted nothing to do with her. She came here and of course we put her up for the night. She just let her hair down for a few days and then she said thanks but she had decided to move in with her boyfriend in Three Mile High.”

“I see.”

“Funny,” Mrs. Franklin says, thinking hard. “You know, I never remember her mom remarrying. Also, Delilah never struck me as the type of girl to just run around like she’s doing, sleeping on

couches and moving in with men.”

“Well, honey,” Mr. Franklin says, “you two have lost touch since high school. A lot can happen to a person to change them.”

“Of course,” his wife says.