(Blue Octavo) Intel Smintel
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July was sitting in the kitchen drinking some Gatorade. He'd been drinking the night before and wanted to get some electrolytes in him. He had texted the guys earlier and was just waiting for them to arrive to talk about the info he'd gathered. It wasn't much but it was a start.
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"Sup."
Let's stop meeting like this. No, really. Are all the meeting necessary? Some people work. Okay, some people are on a payroll.
Lilacs wafted off of fresh scrubbed skin; damp hair lay limp and uninspired. A rumpled maroon topped off jeans, and the whole ensemble looked like it had been left wadded in a dryer for a week. (It had).
Hands pulled out a blender and set it down with a thump, then started fishing out milk, vanilla extract, and a bag from the freezer.
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The faintest whiff of whiskey follows Arthur as he makes his way to the kitchen. There has to be a way to deal with that. Other than just forcing the wind to behave like its the freeway.
"Hey guys" Arthur slides into a chair and thinks about getting a glass of water but doesn't feel like moving out of the chair.
It might have been a normal morning of touching base. Kind of boring, somewhat needed, but without those all important manilla folders that suggest that things are getting done. The Gatorade is salty and no amount of food coloring will change that. It might even compete with bacon on some phantasmogoric level. Never really know unless it's tried.
Then, two text-messages come in rapid succession from two different people to two different cellphones ( Arthur July ). The messages might differ but the meaning is the same:
Del Paso Heights, <<address>> you might want to swing by.
"Morning fellas," July said briefly. But before anymore words could be spoken he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He looked down and read the message before talking again.
"I just got a lead to check out Del Paso Heights." He looked up at his two partners in the investigation to see their response.
Sometimes it didn't matter what one did, a lead could come out of nowhere, though July doubted they'd find a happy scene. at the location. A cold chill went down his spine as he recalled a former investigation into a serial killer. The longer they took, the more people would die. And if too many died, he didn't know what he'd do when they caught the suspect...
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"Del Paso?"
The blender cranked up, cutting off words like the frozen banana within. Pulse, pulse.
"Man, that's like, north, right? By the golf courses." Get out your plaid shorts and knee-highs. Pale, lumpy liquid the color of ecru slopped into a glass.
"There was a shooting over there, like, hmmmm, three or four months ago? Wait, no. Two shootings. Like, boom, boom." That's right. Thank goodness, too. Not that people got shot, but because the paper pics were so awful. What is, Hiring Better Photographers.
"Let's bounce. I'll grab my shoes. Ummm. Wait. We all riding together? Or separate?"
Shotgunning banana smoothies. Who's living dangerously?
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Arthur pulls out his own phone as July shares his news.
"Shit, my guy sent the same thing." Left hand runs through his hair as Arthur looks at the text message again.
"Together works for me if anyone is willing? Otherwise I'll walk a few blocks and pick up a cab."
They both got the same intel? Something big must have happened, like another murder...
"I'm fine with us all going together. We're going to the same place anyway."
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"Well..."
See? Caballeros are useful.
"...I just have my bike, so..."
Someone with a car feel free to start a new thread
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