Jimmy began his inspection starting from the bedroom, and since there weren't many items in the house, he was able to take inventory quickly.
He pulled out his small notebook and pen from his pocket and started to register his losses.
Items missing: One Smith and Wesson M686-1, a box of .375 Magnum bullets, a suit, a few pieces of clothing, some spare change which was left in the living room mainly for tipping, and the beer in the fridge.
Items damaged: The door lock was broken, the TV had a dent in it, the cupboard locks were damaged, and the things originally placed on the shelves and on top of the cupboards were scattered on the floor.
Jimmy handed the list over to Chris, who had already contacted the forensics department to come over; once they would arrive and collect fingerprints, Jimmy could start tidying up the room.
The two patrol officers, seeing that there was nothing more to do here, greeted Jimmy and Chris and then left.
The forensics team arrived about half an hour later. They collected evidence from the doorknob to the cupboards, and notable footprints on the floor, excluding those made by Jimmy and Chris. They were busy for almost an hour before they finished.
When Chris and the forensics team had left, Jimmy looked at the messy room, his head throbbing with pain. When he first came through, he still maintained his old habits, obsessively tidying his room. But gradually, he had let himself go.
It had been nearly two years now, and he was almost like any single man. Although his place wouldn't usually be that messy, the idea of sorting out such a clutter late at night was not appealing to him.
The door lock was broken, so Jimmy just propped a rod and a chair against the door. This would only fend off the gentlemen, but it wouldn't stand a chance if someone really tried to break in. However, Jimmy wasn't too worried; as long as he didn't sleep too soundly, he would definitely know if the door was being opened.
Jimmy glanced at the time, it was already 11 pm. Forget it, he thought, he wouldn't bother with anything else. He tidied up the bed linens that had been tossed about, washed up, and then went straight to bed.
Early the next morning, Jimmy made a call directly to Cage. Thieves who break into places are of two kinds, either they're from gangs or they're lone wolves.
If it was a lone wolf, there was nothing much to say, just wait for LRPD to investigate. If it was gang-related, Cage, being the old fox he was, would definitely know which gang claimed the area around Jimmy's apartment. He'd go straight to them.
Jimmy didn't think he had any personal enemies. Those angry gang bosses would usually make complaints through James, and if they really committed such a break-in, it would turn an official matter into a personal vendetta.
He believed that the bosses who could command respect would know what it meant for a violent cop to bear a grudge. Unless they were out of their minds, they would never do such a thing.
Cage really came through, directly giving a name and an address. Jones, the boss of the 14th Street gang—Jimmy's apartment was within his territory. Jones typically hung out at a bar on West 14th Street.
Knowing the name and address, Jimmy drove straight to the police station. With his home broken into, he needed to report the incident and also to request some time off.
As soon as Amy learned the reason for Jimmy's leave, everyone at the precinct knew about it a little while later.
Jimmy hadn't even had time to drive away from the precinct when James's call came through, so he had to go back to see Chief James.
James: "Jimmy, your place got robbed?"
Jimmy nodded and said, "Yes, when I got back last night, I found the lock had been broken and everything inside turned upside down. They stole the reserve gun I kept at home. Everything else doesn't matter much, but this is a big hassle."
James: "Got any leads?"
Jimmy: "Yeah, Jones from 14th Street. I'm planning to go have a chat with him. If it wasn't his people, then we'll just have to wait for news from LRPD."
James: "Yeah, go ahead, be careful. Call for backup if you need it."
Jimmy: "Sure, goodbye, Chief."
With that, Jimmy had reported in. If anything unexpected happened this time, it would be embarrassing. He hoped that Jones wouldn't have to bring out the Butcher to talk.
Jimmy drove to Jones's bar on West 14th Street, but he wasn't the first one there; Detective Chris was already at the bar entrance. However, when Jimmy arrived, Chris was talking with a security guard at the door and then turned to leave.
As Chris was about to leave, he saw Jimmy getting out of his car and came over to greet him.
Chris: "Hey, Jimmy, you're here too."
Jimmy: "Yeah, I've had a theft, so of course I need to talk to Jones first. Any news on your end?"
Chris: "The fingerprints are still being analyzed. I was planning to speak with Jones first as well, but I didn't see him."
Jimmy: "He's not here?"
Chris: "Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. Without a search warrant, I can't just barge in."
Jimmy frowned and turned to look at the bar. Heart Eye activated. Although it was morning, Chris's arrival had already alerted the people inside; Jimmy could see three figures near the door of the bar, which was too far away to see clearly.
"Ptooey." Jimmy spit, resting his hand on the butt of his revolver under his arm. "Jones is not giving you any respect, eh? Maybe he needs a different way of talking."
"Stop, Jimmy, calm down, calm down," Chris said, breaking into a cold sweat when he saw Jimmy's move. Although he had never worked with Jimmy, the legend of Jimmy was well-known throughout the LRPD.
Damn, they didn't get his nickname wrong. Jimmy was nothing like a cop, who else would draw their gun so casually? He was like a bull in a china shop.
Chris grabbed Jimmy's right arm. "Calm down, Jimmy, I know you're a bit angry, but let me handle this. Trust me, I'm very familiar with these guys. I'll take care of it, you wait in the car for a bit."
Jimmy nodded, let go of the gun butt with his right hand and turned back to the car. He opened the door and sat down on the driver's seat, watching the bar's entrance.
Jimmy was genuinely a little angry. If someone used his registered gun for something bad, it would be troublesome, and what was more troublesome was the other 92F. If he couldn't get it back, he had to make sure no one knew that gun was his.
Chris breathed a sigh of relief, turned, and went straight back to the bar entrance. Jimmy didn't know what he had said to the security guard, but the guard went inside to fetch someone, and Chris waited at the door.
After a while, a bald middle-aged man came out, a white man wearing a sleeveless denim jacket, his arms covered in dense tattoos.
Chris said a few words to him. Jones glanced at Jimmy's car, talked with Chris for a couple more shots, and then turned back into the bar.
Chris came next to Jimmy's car and gave Jimmy a thumbs-up.
"Jimmy, the Butcher's reputation sure comes in handy. Let's wait for Jones's message."