How To Go Back in Time Book One: Chapter Nine

The ambulances arrived quickly, and so did Paul. I stood under the overhang, smoking a
cigarette with a ghastly look on my face. Like a long shadow was covering me. I didn’t get it. Did
reality just glitch? Was I schizophrenic? I had to be crazy. So when Paul walked up to me and asked,
“So, what’d you see?” You could imagine how I would react.
“Uh, Rosa went inside to the cashier, and I went around back.”
“And that’s when you found Justin.”
I choked. “Yeah.”
“I’m gonna write all this down for the report. Of course, you’re gonna type one up and give that
to your operative—“
“Paul.”
“What?”
“Justin didn’t kill himself. I know that’s what you think, but—“
“Irwin, he—“
“I know that’s not—“
“Irwin.”
“Okay!” I yelled. “When you have seen the things I’ve SEEN, PAUL! Justin did not kill
himself. The real guy is still out there!”
He took a step back and blinked. “Irwin, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Take the rest of the day off. I guess, yesterday was the last day of your work here.”
“Alright.”
* * *
I laid across the bar counter with my head on it. My cold hands gripped the glass of beer and
that was it. There was a lot of tension inside. I had so many questions and I didn’t have the answers to
any of them. And it seemed it would just expand.
After the argument with Paul, I stormed over here and immediately downed a shot. A couple
hours passed, and I could see the pink sunset through the window. The sun was glowing.
Justin was dead and that meant the killer was dead, right? But then again, he alibi was also
confirmed. If it turned out the alibi was fake, then that would suggest an accomplice. Was it fake?
Real? Either way, the case was not over.
To his right was a man with long, gray hair, wearing a denim jacket. In his hand, was whiskey.
“Hey.” I said, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned and I saw a big ol’ wart on his nose. “Say you
have a thing that’s possible, and another thing that makes more sense, but it’s impossible. How do you
know which one is right?”
He paused for a moment, and I thought that I had got too drunk. You always let secrets slip
when you’re drunk. “You go with your gut.” He said.
And for some reason, my gut said both were right.