The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Seventy-Three
Interrogation
Ichabod
Crane was busy inspecting the bullet casing that had been found in
Mort’s damaged computer. He had saved them to perform experiments
and was in the middle of such an endeavor when he felt a presence
within his personal space. He lifted his head, the oversized glasses
giving his eyes a cartoonish owl-like look.
He found it
difficult to ascertain the identity of his visitor and pulled off the
goggled glasses to find himself face-to-face with Sparrow. He jerked
to attention and stepped from harm's way as he saw the anger in the
pirate’s eyes, the pinched, taut mouth, and the clenched hands.
Absently he had let a small cry escape him as he attempted to
protect himself from the pirate’s possible assault.
“I
must say Captain, you gave me a fright. Please try to make yourself
known when someone is occupied. I wish…’
“Where’s me
letter? Where’s me weapons?” Sparrow asked, his head bent
slightly forward so the pirate's eyes looked up at the constable in a
menacing stare.
“Ah, the letter, yes…” Crane repeated,
trying to bide for time as he tried to slip away. He managed to move
to the next table but Jack followed him like a snake after a prey,
the table still between them, something Crane planned to continue to
do…keeping something between him and the pirate.
Crane’s
eyes darted back and forth as he searched for another route of
escape. “The letter, you ask?” he stalled for time. “Well, you
see, Captain Sparrow, the letter, has the interest of higher
authorities.” The constable managed to put another table between
him and Jack. But like before Jack followed. At the next table sat
Sands, listening to the pirate and officer.
“Higher
authorities?” and being English himself, Sparrow gave his attention
to Inspector Abberline. Why would the Inspector want his letter? Or
maybe Crane meant royal authority and searched The Room for
Rochester. An Earl? Interested in his letter from Jessi? It did not
make sense.
He turned back to Crane, and to his surprise found
him gone.
“Bloody ‘ell,” he cursed. The man did it
again. How could he let this little Englishman get the best of him?
First the letter, then his weapons, now this. It was then he noticed
the kitchen door settling back into place.
He pushed past the
empty chairs and made his way to the kitchen. He gave no notice to
Sands who sat at the next table, a small smile on his face.
Sparrow
slapped the kitchen door open and found Sam unpacking a new delivery
but his face showed that he was nervous about something.
“Where
did the constable go, young Sam?” Jack lowered his voice in his
attempt not to yell. Without a word Sam let his eyes fall to the
banana closet.
Sparrow closed the space between him and the
unit and grabbing both doors swung them open wide. There on the
bottom, crouched within was the constable. Jack reached in and
grabbed the man by the coat lapels and pulled him out.
“Please
Captain, I must warn you, I am unarmed!” Crane cried out.
“And
I must warn ye, so am I! But I still have me fists and me wits and I
will use both to get out from ye the information I need. Now, I ask
again and ye better savvy…where be the letter and me weapons?”
“They’re no longer in my possession.” Crane explained.
The pirate did not like the answer. He glanced over to Sam who now
stood with his back to the counter as he watched the fight play out.
Jack noticed what Sam had been working on and dragged Crane over to
the counter.
“Now, ye cur, answer me question fairly and I
will treat ye with such. Again, where be the letter and weapons?”
“I assure you Captain, I do not know…I was just doing
what I was told by the higher authority and….”
“Wrong
answer,” Jack warned . He looked down at the counter to see the red
vegetables Sam had been unpacking and grabbed a handful, stuffing
them into Crane’s opened, protesting mouth.
“No,
Captain!” Sam yelled out. “They’re red chili peppers! From
Mexico! From Jessi!”
The words Mexico and Jessi caught the
pirate’s ear. “What say ye?” he said, shoving Crane away. The
constable ran to the sink and began spitting out the peppers, turning
on the water and began gulping mouthfuls.
“No, Constable!”
Sam cried to the man. “Not water, never water…here, eat some
bread, it will calm the fire.” Sam handed Crane a slice of bread
which the officer crammed into his mouth. With flicking fingers he
pantomimed to Sam for another slice and quickly consumed it in a
matter of seconds. Sam ran to the fridge and extracted the glass
bottle of milk, with plans to pour the officer a glass. Instead Crane
grabbed the bottle and quickly began drinking the soothing liquid,
streams of white trailing down his chin.
Finally Crane
breathed slower, the fire in his mouth slowly subsiding. “I
could…have…you arrested…assault…on…officer…” Crane said
between breaths.
When he was able, Crane looked up to the pirate
and found him standing there holding another chili pepper in his
hand, gazing at it like a fine prize, then let his eyes fall to the
constable.
“Do we do this again or are you going to tell me
where me letter and weapons have gotten to?” Sparrow asked,
twirling the red, shiny pepper in his hand.