Free Abacus by Josh Burton

Randall complained, opening his top draw to pull his pistol out. Looking outside the Fishbowl, he saw that all his staff were out with the exception of Hobbs who was seated at his desk, gorging one of the many protein shakes he drank every day. “Big fella, just got a call from a troubled individual, wants to end it. Quickly finish your Milo, then we’d better go.”
    Both d etectives set out to the high-rise hotel on the other side of the patrol. En route, Hobbs calmly looked out his window and asked, “So what did he say?”
    “He said he wanted to end it and he was going to use a gun, that’s pretty much it,” Randall said casually. “Then the rude bastard hung up before I could ask him anything.”
    Hobbs looked across and smiled. “Blood y rude of him, wasn’t it?”
    “Too right it was. If you were talking to the very last person before you topped yourself, wouldn’t you at least engage in some sort of meaningful dialogue? I know I am probably not your first choice as a conversationalist, but I do feel that it was a lost opportunity for him.”
    Parking outside the hotel, Hobbs asked, “Boss, do you think we should call the tactical guys or not? If he has a gun it might be a good idea.”
    “No, no, we’ll go and have a look first. We don’t want to turn it into a big show. Once we know what we have got, we’ll make a decision then. Okay?”
    Flicking his police badge open to the young duty manager, Randall said routinely, “Detectives Randall and Hobbs. We have received a call that one of your guests in room one two one four has some serious mental issues. Could you get me a spare key for this room so we can check on him? Thanks.”
    The young politically correct manager made the dire mistake of questioning Randall’s authority. “Well, Officer, do you have a search warrant to enter the room, because I don’t think you have the grounds to just demand a key for a man’s room.”
    Hobbs looked away . He knew the manager had made a grave mistake. Randall leant on the counter, inches from the manager’s face, and said calmly, “You obviously watch a few crime shows on tele, don’t you? So you would know the law inside out, wouldn’t you? Well, fucking listen to me, pencil neck. The bloke in room one two one four has probably got a gun. And if he shoots the joint up and kills a few of your customers, I hope you’re prepared to explain to the coroner just how you fucked the police around who were there to save lives. But if you’ve watched a few re-runs of Dirty Harry and think you’ve got it all in hand, go ahead, we’ll leave you with it.”
    The Duty M anager seemed to instantly adjust his attitude. “Oh well, in that case, I’m sorry, I’ll just get the key for you,” he said as he hurried into an adjoining office.
    Hobbs looked at Randall . “Jeez, boss, you went easy on him. I thought you were going to let him have both barrels.”
    Randall sighed with arms crossed. “I don’t know, big fella. There are so many of these silly, misguided bastards like him walking amongst us these days, you get to a point where you can’t help but feel a little sorry for them all.” Hobbs looked away to hide his amusement.
    The manager returned a couple of minutes later, “Sorry, I can’t locate one now, officer. Let me just check these front drawers.”
    As he rifled through the draw ers it became obvious they were dealing with a young man new to the job. “Have you by chance heard any loud noises or had any of the occupants report a loud noise on the twelfth floor today?” Hobbs asked.
    With his head down madly searching, the manager replied, “No, nobody has reported anything.”
    Randall’s patience had waned. “Mate, we will head up there now. If you get a key, be a sport and run it up to us on the twelfth. Okay?”
    The manager nodded as he continued to pull items frantically from the draw ers and stack them on the counter.
    T he detectives entered the mirror-lined lift awaiting them. As