//The Other Side\\
//Laguna Beach\\
10:33 AM
Police Head Quarters...
"So when we left off last night, Green just sped off heading through town?" The agent says, pacing the floor behind where he previously once sat. The Detective we've come to know and love simply sits in the chair, looking at the ash tray that hadn't been emptied since last night. He smirks, pulling his first cigarette from the pack of new ports that rested in his coat pocket.
"Yeah, that was pretty much it." He says, planting the butt of the cigarette to his lips, sparking the bic and bringing life to the cigarette.
"I thought for awhile I had lost him, and was turning to head back towards the house when I managed to see him heading the same way, so I followed him back to his house." He finishes the sentence with a drag off the cigarette. He rolls the smoke around in his mouth for a moment, tasting the menthol before quickly inhaling it, quickly blowing it out through his nose.
"Alright, so that was it? He went home for the night and stayed there?" The agent says, reading over a piece of paper and rubbing his chin. The Detective nods before taking another drag off his cigarette.
"That was it..."
11:44 PM (previous night)
Green Residence...
Travis slowly walks into in house, slamming the door behind him as the 240SX pulls into the driveway across the street. Travis locks his front door and heads up the stairs towards his room. He opens the door and walks inside, taking a seat in his chair and spinning around to the desk. The book rested in front of him. He looked at it, grabbing the pen that sat near by. He rolled it around through his fingers as Ara's creepy laugh comes from behind him.
Ara: Finally found a use for the book did you?
Travis: No one ever makes a fool out of me like that. NO one.
Ara laughs at Travis opens the book, picturing the shit stain known as Dillian in his mind. Quickly his pen hits paper, first written: "Dillian Degrossi". Travis pauses for a moment, letting a few seconds pass by before writing in the time, "3:00AM". He then tapped the pen around on his fingers for a few moments, with Ara perched behind him, looking down from near the ceiling and watching intently how Travis plans on working this. AFter another moment of debating, he quickly writes it out, "Cocaine Overdose".
Ara laughs as Travis closes the book and sets the pen down on top of it.
Ara: Now that's going to be interesting. How'd you figure that one?
Travis: Well, from what you told me, I'm hoping it makes his heart explode. And during the autopsy, they just find proof that there would be cocaine in his system in high amounts. Granted, it may not happen like that, but he will die either way, won't he?
Ara: Well, if he has access to it, chances are it will happen that way, but if he doesn't he may just have an arrest and drop. I'll have to wait and see.
Travis: Yes you will, you'll have to tell me how that goes down. I hope it isn't pretty.
Ara laughs as he rolls backwards, across the top of Travis' bed, landing squatting on the floor on the other side of it. Travis opens his drawer and pulls out a pipe, opening a zip lock bag that it was sitting on, he pinches a nugget of weed, ripping it from the stem and stuffing it into the pipe. He stands up and walks towards the hallway, Ara following.
Ara: This is going to get interesting, especially with that guy across the street following you around all the time.
Travis: I know, that's why I'm going to try to lure him out. I need to hear what he's going to say, because I know something's up and he's trying to put two and two together.
Travis opens his front door, and takes a couple steps outside, leaving the door open. He walks over onto his grass, taking a seat underneath a tree. He pulls a bic out of his pocket, lighting it and taking a rip off the pipe. He holds the hit in for a few minutes, before blowing it out into the air. Sure enough, he heard the door across the street close. It was like fishing, put out some bait, and you're sure to get a nibble.
Well sure enough, by the time Travis was on his third hit, the detective came walking through the opening in the path on the street. He walks across the grass, coming face to face with Travis, in mid hit.
The Detective: Listen, I'm sure you've already put two and two together, I can't say anything really except that I can't stand it, but I need money, you know?
Travis nods, blowing the hit out into the air.
The Detective: But the least you can do is not be that obvious about your chronic. Even if you are scripted-
Travis: I am.
The Detective: Then there isn't nothing that can really be done, except to warn you to be more discreet. But, you got a wall.
Travis: You were watching from the second floor, weren't you?
The Detective: Yeah, yeah I was.
He sits down under the tree, setting his beer on an exposed root in the ground. He lets out a sigh before continuing.
The Detective: Something is going on. They think I'm sleeping right now. Either way I've been talking to a federal agent about a strange pattern possibly appearing soon.
Travis takes another rip from his pipe, holding it in for a little before exhaling.
Travis: Interesting, so what does it have to do with me?
The Detective: I don't know. Maybe they think you're in danger or something, I'm not sure myself.
Travis: Either way, it's entertaining to me. Although having you follow me around, tends to reduce my chances with the girls, as I'm sure you noticed earlier.
The Detective lets a chuckle escape his lips before taking a drink from his beer. Travis offers the detective a hit from his pipe, holding it and the lighter in front of him. The Detective looks at it, tempted, finally he grabs it slowly, putting pipe to mouth and taking a hit out of the pipe. He hands it back, exhaling and grabbing his beer.
The Detective: Well, I guess it's time I hit the ol' dusty trail...
He stands, nodding to Travis, who nods in return, before watching the Detective head back out of his yard. Travis takes one more rip, holding it in as he looks out towards the ocean, hoping to see some stars, but none were visible tonight. He sighs...
10:41 AM
Police Head Quarters...
"You know Dillian Degrossi was found dead this morning in his house right?" The agent says, looking over the file in his hands. The Detective squinted curiously, quickly grabbing the file and looking through it. He reads the first page, looking at the picture of him. There wasn't anything wrong with him really, not bruised or anything, just dead staring at nothing.
"How the hell did this happen?" The detective said, a serious tone in his voice as he smoked his menthol.
"The doctor performing the autopsy says it looks like what happens from a cocaine overdose. Your heart works so hard from being up that is literally, explodes, or rips and causes death almost instantaneously." He pauses, taking a seat at the table.
"I don't know what to tell you. When I went to sleep the house was on lock down, no lights on or anything, and when I woke up he was still there." He pauses, taking a drink of coffee, slowly starting to feel awake from the first cup.
"And trust me, I watched through most of the night, he didn't go anywhere." He smirked, insomnia was a bitch.
"We know your history of sleep illness, we don't doubt your word. Just keep your eyes on him. If you need to, go one step closer and become friends." The agent says, the detective smirking just a bit.
"Go undercover? Is that what you want me to do?" He laughs, before taking another drink off his cup of coffee.
"He isn't that stupid. He already knows something's going on, but hey, I'll try my best. Alright buddy?" He smirks, standing up and grabs his pack of cigarettes from the table, slipping them into his pocket inside his jacket.
"I'll keep tabs on him, don't worry. I have a feeling he'll let me closer than you think he will..."
