Transmat World: Chapter 20
Streets of Atlanta; 5:30 P.M., Friday, December 3, 2145 A.D.
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The bar had a sour odor like stepping into the belly of an alcoholic whale that smoked illicit substances and had a penchant for swilling cheap cologne. It was the fourteenth closest bar to where Roy Betelman used to work before he disappeared.
“Whew, doesn’t that smell just make your dick hard?” said Detective Fulbright as he and Detective Morris entered the fuzzy, multi-colored ambience of the Low Zone Lounge and walked to the bar.
“The only smell that makes your dick hard is the smell of doughnuts,” said Detective Morris.
The bartender looked up from menacing the dirty bar surface with a damp towel.
“Two cops walk into a bar and — ”
“Give you a hard time about your license, health certificate, and the nasty rumor you serve minors unless you can tell us the whereabouts of this man,” said Detective Morris. He slid the picture of Roy Betelman into a pool of light on the bar formed by a holographic beer ad sign floating two feet below the ceiling.
“He used to hang around here a lot, carp about his marriage, and drink a lot of beer. I haven’t seen him in several weeks. What’s he done?”
“Is there anybody that comes in here that used to pal around with him?” asked Fulbright.
The bartender said nothing but his eyes cut to the left for a couple of seconds.
A gentleman sat on a stool halfway down the bar, nursing a beer, and watching the detectives in the big mirror behind the bar. They sat down on each side of him.
“Know this guy?” asked Morris, proffering the photo.
“Yeah, what’s this about?”
“Let’s see some I.D.,” said Fulbright.
“David Nelson,” said Morris, reading the driver’s license lit by another pool of beer ad light. “Mr. Nelson, if you know Roy Betleman, perhaps you know these people.”
Detective Morris laid two more photos on the bar and watched Nelson’s reaction.
“No, I don’t know either one of those people,” said David.
Detective Morris picked up the photos of Terence and Lori from a happier, pre-blown-up era and put them back in his pocket.
“Do you know where we might find Mr. Betelman?” asked Fulbright.
“No, I haven’t seen him in a while. He must have gone on vacation or something,” said Nelson.
Fulbright looked at Morris and nodded ever so slightly.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Nelson. Please give us a call if you hear from Roy,” said Morris as he laid a smart card on the bar. The detectives got up and walked out of the Low Zone Lounge.
“Wow. Did you hear him swallow when you laid down those pictures of Terence and Lori?” said Fulbright.
“Yeah, and it’s kind of odd he hasn’t watched a holovid or seen an Internet article about the sextel murders as well. He probably won’t take that card with the tracker chip I left on the bar,” said Morris.
“Then it’s a good thing I slipped another one into his pocket.”
“I knew you would.”
“I knew you knew.”
This went on for half a block before the doors of their iCar® swung open. They sat in the open car letting a soft breeze blow the bar stench out of their clothes.
“What now?” asked Fulbright.
“Old-fashioned stuff. We see where he goes and who he knows. This could take awhile.”
