North America Gunman Detective

While thinking about Frank Moses, Jimmy slowly strolled along the highway. If he disregarded the peculiar circumstance of a movie star living incognito here, he felt certain he was in some kind of movie world. Now, it was time to gather various clues to determine which movie world he was in, whether it was one he was familiar with, and whether there was any danger.

The only familiar character he encountered was Frank Moses. He first ruled out the police profession. Normally, police officers are very busy. Decorating one's room like he did did not seem to fit a police officer's schedule. Importantly, if he remembered correctly, the cop played by Bruce was usually based in a big city, like New York or Los Angeles, definitely not a small town like this.

If he was an agent, considering the intensity of movie shootouts, he would likely be from the CIA. Then, at the ages of 40 to 50, he would be a retired operative, too old to perform high-intensity tasks and probably without a managerial position. If this was the final conclusion, any outbreak of conflict or a shootout would most likely be an incident of revenge afterward, which still warranted attention.

Based on the clues he had, that's as far as he could speculate.

Jimmy turned his car around back to Summerfield, located the person who called the police, and shared the investigation results. His neighbor had agreed to stop the nighttime construction and would apologize tomorrow. Satisfied with the outcome, the neighbor took Jimmy's business card, in case they needed to contact him directly.

...

Patrolling the roads at night wasn't like city policing—they received more cases since cities were more densely populated and chaotic. For the county police patrolling the highways, it was often about luck. Without dispatch notices, they might just waste fuel all night. To ensure he wouldn't get caught slacking off, Jimmy deliberately issued a few tickets to unlucky drivers. After all, driving offenses like speeding were common. If he wanted to find issues, there were always a few to catch.

Jimmy's rented apartment was fairly small, but it had a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and bedroom—all essentials, though it only had one bedroom. Over the next few days, Jimmy continued to stock his room with necessary life items, including kitchen appliances like an oven.

Due to the residential environment in Small Stone City, there wasn't a Chinatown like in the larger cities, so his kitchenware was all Western style, including the knives. Chinese-style wide kitchen knives were scarce here, and he had searched for a long time without success.

The total population of Small Stone City was only 100,000 with a 1% Chinese-American demographic, and even those were scattered. Having patrolled for so long, Jimmy had only seen a few Chinese-Americans, all of whom had completely assimilated and didn't speak Chinese anymore.

Since becoming a police officer, Jimmy hadn't gone to Wolf House to eat for a long time. With his new home arrangements nearly complete, Jimmy decided to splurge at Wolf House. The everyday fast food was nearly driving him crazy.

There weren't many people when he arrived at Wolf House. Jimmy entered the restaurant with a greeting. As it was his day off, he wasn't wearing his uniform. Annie was cleaning tables and Erica was daydreaming at the cash register.

"Annie, Erica, long time no see. Where's everyone else?"

"Hey, Jimmy, long time no see, how are you? Karen is off today." Annie responded first, then she shouted toward the kitchen, "Jacob, come out for a sec, Jimmy's back."

Jimmy hugged both Annie and Erica as Jacob came out of the kitchen and fist-bumped him.

"Jimmy, long time no see, missed my cooking, huh?"

"Of course, Jacob, serve me up your signature filet, it's been too long since I've had it."

"OK, just wait a bit." Jacob went back to the kitchen, although it was already past the afternoon rest period, he didn't refuse and immediately got busy.

"Erica, is Jon here?"

"He's not here, he's spending less time at the restaurant now."

"Alright."

Jimmy sat at the dining table, picking up a newspaper to pass the time. He had worked at the restaurant for three months and was very familiar with where the newspapers were kept.

About 20 minutes later, Jacob brought Jimmy's steak over and sat directly across from him. He lit a cigarette and watched as Jimmy wolfed down his meal.

"Jimmy, how does it feel to be a police officer?"

"It's tough, working 12 hours a day with no time to cook when I get home. I can only eat fast food burgers every day. I really miss the steak you make."

"Hahaha, you chose the job yourself, and it's definitely better than working as a waiter here."

"That's true, but being a police officer is a bit more dangerous. I've increased my speed to 130mph several times at night, trembling with fear, always worried about overturning."

"Have you been in any gunfights?"

"No, I've been lucky. Other than at the shooting range, I haven't fired a gun yet."

"Then you should practice more, lest you get scared when you really need to use a gun. When are you taking a vacation? Let's go hunting."

"Now? It's not even hunting season in February; at most, we could shoot a few wild boars. By the way, Jacob, how do you deal with the game you shoot?"

"I don't know how others handle it, but I always just throw them away or bury them. The animals are too full of germs, no one wants to eat them. Hunting is just for the sake of hunting; I don't need the meat."

"Alright, you really have a good attitude. I probably won't have a vacation until summer. We can set a date then. Speaking of which, I still haven't bought a gun."

"OK, we'll set a date," said Jacob as he left, since there were only three hours in his lunch break, and he needed to rest a bit.

Jimmy paid the bill and then said goodbye to others before leaving. Although there was still some time before his night shift, he went straight to the police station, where there was free coffee and snacks. For a bachelor like him, there was no difference between being at home and at the police station.

He actually came to the station early today for another reason. As for his service weapon, he had been training mainly with a revolver, but the police station issued Beretta 92Fs, so he wanted to apply for a revolver as a backup gun, but he wasn't sure if there were any in stock.

Jimmy first went to the office of Chief James to obtain verbal permission. Then he went to the equipment room to inquire about the availability of a backup revolver. He then received some not-so-great news: the only backup revolvers available were .38 specials, but these were wholly inadequate for police use now, having less power and fewer rounds. The police station had phased them out a few years ago.

Jimmy had no choice but to keep saving money. When he had enough, he'd buy a revolver and register it with the station so he could carry it as a backup. Of course, it wouldn't be suitable as a primary weapon because the ammo was too scarce; it had sufficient stopping power for individual shots, but it couldn't perform tasks requiring suppressive fire.