Friday McDaniels and the Case of the Missing Nutsack

Part 4: There's Always Consequences

"What expression did he have on his face when you asked him?" Wednesday asked again.

Wednesday and Friday sat in Friday's office an hour after the Rananda Tippertoe fiasco and Friday was tiring of the conversation. He was trying to enjoy his lunch, a lunch that he was already an hour behind in enjoying. 

"I don't know. We've been over this five times." Friday said, taking a sloppy bite of his burger. Ketchup and mustard squeezed out the back and plopped on the box, "What's it matter?"

Wednesday was impatient as always, Friday could tell. "Body language matters, Friday. Look, if this job is too much for you, maybe you should find something else to do with yourself."

Friday threw his burger down, "How dare you!" he spat, "I'm good at this."

Wednesday glared across the desk at Friday. Friday didn’t soften his stare. He wasn’t aftaid of Wednesday.

“You’re so good at this you had to break into an innocent woman’s house and steal evidence?”  Wednesday said.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Friday snapped, “I risked my ass for that appointment book and you don’t even appreciate it. Who do think you are?”

“I’m a man who acts with decency and integrity. We have a business to run, Friday, and I’m tired of McDaniels and Son’s being the butt of everyone’s jokes. What I don’t understand is why you had to steal the book in the first place."

Friday shrugged, “She’s a bitch. I don’t know what to tell you. I turned to leave and she took the book from me. She didn’t say why.”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with your uncanny ability to spew offense every time you open your mouth to speak.” 

“You better watch what you say to me, Wednesday.” Friday said, feeling his hands start to shake and his vision blur. It wasn’t often Friday became angry, but when he did, nothing good ever came of it. He’d even blacked out a few times and came to pummeling someone’s face, their body unmoving.

But Wednesday didn't reply. Instead he jotted down some things in his notebook. He looked calm and didn’t appear to have anything more to add to the conversation.

Friday stared at his brother, incredulous. Who the hell does he think he is coming in here and spouting orders? Friday was tired of Wednesday’s I’m-in-charge act. Without Friday this place would cease running. He waited for Wednesday to speak but Wednesday never did. The place was so quiet Friday could hear the ticking of the clock in the waiting room.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Friday said.

Wednesday looked at Friday, rubbed the bridge of his nose, "No, Friday I don't. It never makes a difference with you." He shut his folder and stood, "Why don't you go down to Griffin's, have a couple of drinks, and try to remember as many details as you can." He fumbled around with his pile of notes and forms, took out a blank notebook and tossed it to Friday, "And start taking notes. I know you don't like to, but it's important. Meet me at nine o'clock at Mrs. Peachtree's. We have to check out the surveillance and question Franklin Pettigrew."

Friday didn't respond. When Wednesday left the room he tossed the notebook in the garbage, grabbed his burger, and finished eating.