Off the Grid

Kelly was a social animal. So when he dropped Jodie back at the hotel after a briefing with the Staff, he changed out of his uniform and instead of going home to an empty house, he went to the only bar in town, Jenny’s Blarney. Jenny had styled it after an Irish pub. Jenny, not at all Irish, had visited the lovely green island and fell in love. She changed the theme of her honky-tonk bar and got rid of the horseshoe above the door and any decoration that was cowboy related. Dark wood, low lighting, good pub food and kegs of Irish ale transformed the place from a cowboy bar breaking even to an Irish pub making a marginal profit.

Kelly liked the place and he liked Jenny. An older woman who didn’t take any crap, she routinely tossed out men who had too much to drink and by consequence, loose tongues. In her youth, she had almost made the woman’s Olympic powerlifting team and still had the natural strength to pick a man up by the back of his neck and toss him outside. Kelly had to deal with complaints from men who had been tossed out. Jenny had every right to toss out an unruly or rude customer and most times, the reason the man was so upset was that he got thrown out by a woman and he knew he’d be berated and harassed by fellow ignorant men. That wasn’t Kelly’s problem and the men usually left with a pouty, protruding lip and a grave injury to their pride. What pissed them off was that Jenny wouldn’t allow them back in until they apologized for their behaviour. They’d have to stand in front of her, explain why they were sorry and promise to never do it again. Kelly had seen it once. The man resembled a child standing in front of a disappointed parent. Chin tucked into his chest and hands clasped at the waist. Most men did apologize but only because Jenny ran the one bar in town. Kelly visited the bar often and everyone in town knew it, including Greg.

By the time he walked in through the front doors, it was after 9:00 o’clock at night. He would have to get up early tomorrow to get to the station, change into his uniform and pick up Jodie to do whatever it was she had planned, so he decided to have a quick meal with a Guinness before turning in for the night. He stopped at the entrance and enjoyed the smell of baked, greasy food before making his way to a bar stool. Families sat in booths, a baby cried and Irish folk music played softly from speakers. Young waiters dressed in white shirts with black ties hustled about. Jenny stood behind the bar staring at a screen. The glow lit her scowling features. She noticed him, smiled and said, “Hey Kelly. How are we tonight?”

“Hey, Jenny. Fine.”

“Any luck finding Lynda yet?”

Frowning she said, “That’s a bad business.”

“What can I start you with?”

“A Guinness. Sirloin steak, medium with garlic mash.”

Kelly drank his beer, ate his dinner and spoke to people passing by, everyone curious about Lynda and what, if any, leads they had. With his social quota filled, Kelly paid his bill, left a tip for Jenny and left.

In the parking lot, he passed people walking in, said hi to those he knew and nodded to those he didn’t. He took the keys out of his pocket, jangled them and approached his pick-up truck sandwiched between a minivan and another truck. He was considering watching the new episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine recently added to Netflix and since each show was twenty-one minutes long he thought it wouldn’t keep him up too late. He didn’t want to be dragging his ass tomorrow. Detective Reyes moved fast and he needed to be fresh to keep up.

He clicked the unlock button and reached for the door handle on his truck. A shadow popped up in front of the minivan and rushed him. He put a hand up, said, “Hey!” The knife slid under his outstretched arm and sunk into his stomach. His knees shook and he locked a hand onto the wrist holding the knife. A fist crashed into his jaw, he let go of the wrist, saw bright stars wavering before his eyes and he felt the sharp blade leave his guts.

Kelly said, “Don’t!” The knife rammed into his chest and was yanked out. Blood ran out of him. His clothes soaked some of it up. The rest ran down his skin. With his back to the truck, his legs weakened and he slid down the door. Another flash of silver and the knife went into his chest again. He heard the other man grunt. Kelly dropped to the pavement, his breath in shallow gasps as the shadowed man stuck the knife in him once more. The man knelt down beside him and patted him down, went through his pockets. All this for a robbery? Stab a man for the change in his pocket? The man put his hands on Kelly’s midsection and grunted as he pushed him under the truck. With every grunt, Kelly slid further under until he could see the undercarriage. There was beer on the man’s breath and maybe some marihuana, something strong and earthy. Kelly raised his hands to hit the man, or did he? He wanted to, oh god, he wanted to except his body wasn’t listening to him anymore. Kelly was freezing. Strange, because the blood leaving him was so warm. His teeth chattered.