Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Rex
The scene was growing increasingly chaotic. Hopefully I could head off any more trouble before someone got hurt.
Of course, I had absolutely no legal jurisdiction here. Being a licensed P.I. didn’t give me the authority to intervene. But I couldn’t stand there and watch a poor guy be hassled—and possibly worse.
The man who had been yelling was a big guy—an inch or two shorter than me, not as much muscle, but a little more weight in his midsection. He towered over the guy he was pushing around. They both looked to be about thirty or so.
“You either come with me or I kick your ass right here,” the bully said.
A lot of people were watching now. To the crowd’s credit, I noticed more than one person calling the police.
It wouldn’t be long before the cops flooded the scene. The Original Farmers Market was connected to the Grove shopping and entertainment complex. There were always officers around. Plus, the Grove had its own security.
But I didn’t think the guy being bullied had long enough to wait. The aggressor seemed to really be escalating his attacks.
In a second or two, a punch would fly. I’d seen enough of these situations to know. But it wouldn’t stop there. The bully was so angry he was red and his hand kept dipping to his pocket. In his jeans was the outline of something I believed to be a folding knife.
My brain calculated everything.
Getting the knife free of its denim confines would take a few seconds. More so than had it been clipped to his belt or something. Unfolding it would take a few more, unless I was wrong and it was a switchblade, in which case all he’d have to do was push a button.
I watched his hands. That’s the thing you learned in the police academy: always watch their hands.
This guy was twitchy. It was obvious to me that he wanted to pull that knife.
“I’m going to advise you that additional officers are on the way,” I stated sharply.
I was bluffing here and could get into big trouble for impersonating officers. Though, technically, I didn’t say I was a cop. But that additional comment could cause someone to reasonably assume.
Hopefully, the bluff worked. Someone might take a swing at a random stranger jumping in their business, but very few people wanted to attack a cop. That made things a lot worse when they got arrested!
“Who are you?” the bully demanded.
He’d turned away from his victim to focus on me. Good. Maybe that guy wouldn’t be hurt after all.
“Detective Sterling.”
I was bluffing again, but it wasn’t a lie. I just didn’t add the crucial detail that I was a private detective.
“What do you want with me?”
“I’ll ask the questions.” I looked at the victim. “What’s going on?”
The man was clearly terrified. “He says he’s gonna kick my ass because I’m dating his ex! He said he’ll kill me!”
Using the k-word certainly escalated things and it told me something about the bully.
“Everything is going to be fine.” Looking at the instigator, I said, “I want you to keep your hands where I can see them and?—”
“He’s going to pay!” A string of curses followed the proclamation.
I couldn’t really take my eyes off him, but I didn’t hear any cops running toward us, so I needed to keep stalling.
Looked like we were out of time, though. The bully reached into his pocket with surprising swiftness and brought the knife out.
It was a switchblade.