Billionaire Mountain Man

He stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled casually off. When he was out of earshot, I turned to speak to Ben.

"Something doesn't seem quite right with that cop," I remarked.

"You're telling me, Ev. He's done nothing useful for the whole six or seven months he's been on this case."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's how long he's been working this case, and nothing has come of it?"

Ben shook his head. "Nothing at all."

"That seems a little too suspicious to me. We've got these dealers selling to kids in the open, operating brazenly in this area, selling a life-threateningly dangerous drug – and this guy isn't doing anything about it?"

"He's not doing much at all. That's why we needed to get someone like you in on this," Ben reminded me.

I nodded. "I understand. Yeah, I get it now... Look, I'm not making an official accusation or anything, but do you think he might be working with the dealers? Taking bribes to look the other way? Getting kickbacks from their profits in exchange for protection."

Ben scratched his chin. "It's a definite possibility. I don't know how else to explain his inaction or his lack of interest."

"Well then, we better not let him know that we're investigating this on our own," I added.

"No... but word is gonna get out that we are. Maybe he already knows."

"Maybe he does. Regardless, we have to keep our involvement under wraps as much as we can, at least until we've got something the cops can charge these guys with. You know, hard evidence, stuff that can't 'get lost' in a police station."

"I agree,” Ben stated. “But Mr. Mask, if he is working with Captain Smith, he's gonna tell him about you and me. He knows we're on his tail, and he's gonna want all the protection he can get."

I wondered if Ben had any idea what had happened last night.

"Ben, did Panetti message you last night?"

He looked surprised. "No, I didn't hear anything from him. Why? What happened?"

I let out a long, slow sigh.

"There was some, uh, drama last night."

"Drama? How so? What happened?" Ben asked.

"Panetti messaged me about a deal that was about to go down. Said I had a good chance of catching Mr. Mask. I just assumed that he’d told you as well – I guess he hadn't, though. And I was an idiot – I didn't bring my phone with me. I got so caught up in things that I raced off to the place and left my phone behind."

"Where was this?" Ben questioned.

"The same apartment building we scoped out."

"Ah, alright. And what happened there?"

"I uh, I got shot…by Mr. Mask," I informed him.

Ben's jaw dropped with surprise. "You what? You got shot?!"

I nodded. "I was lucky. It’s just a flesh wound. I have a friend who is a, well, a vet."

"You mean someone who works on dogs and cats? That kinda vet?" he posed.

"That kinda vet, yeah. He stitched up the wound."

"Everett, you didn't go to a hospital?! Are you crazy?! You let a freakin' vet see to something as serious as a freakin' gunshot wound?!"

"Relax, Ben. Like I said, it wasn't a serious wound. Look at me; I'm fine. Nothing to worry about."