1960: My uncle is the FBI Director

Why is one chapter missing from Chapter 38?
The next day, Theodore, still hungover, almost missed his appointment.

He had barely sat down when a radiant Bernie pushed a cup of coffee toward him.

Theodore was once again amazed by Bernie's incredible ability to manage the situation. He looked around with his coffee in hand, pointed to the empty corner seat, and asked Bernie, "Sam isn't here?"

Bernie shook his head. "Maybe he overslept."

Theodore finished his coffee, glanced at the time, and realized he had been at work for an hour.

He got up and went to Sam's desk to help him file the organized case files. When he returned, he was gradually surrounded by his colleagues.

The homicide squad office was bustling today.

Theodore proved himself once again, earning a chorus of "wows".

His colleagues began to actively seek his advice.

They didn't want Theodore to follow the case from beginning to end like in case 600113; they just needed a little hint from the 'ghost'.

Theodore selected three cases and accepted the case files. He needed to read them carefully first.

Profiles are not a panacea.

He spent the whole morning reviewing case files, and took time at noon to take notes on the cases.

He hadn't finished writing about the previous case yet, so he took advantage of this break to record Holt and Roy's stories.

However, he had only written two paragraphs when Bernie called him to the gym.

After sweating it out at the gym all afternoon, Theodore suddenly remembered Sam as it was almost time to leave work.

Sam was usually very low-key and practically invisible in the homicide squad. When Theodore asked his colleagues, no one had even noticed whether he was there or not.

Theodore checked the attendance records and found that Sam had come by today.

Bernie glanced at it and urged Theodore to leave quickly.

"It's probably his bastard brother who's back."

"Brother?" Theodore asked, puzzled.

Bernie pushed him toward the parking lot, explaining, "It's the partner he's been longing for."

"They are twins, and his brother's name is Jacob."

Bernie paused, then reminded Theodore, "That bastard isn't like Sam. He's a rat, obsessed with joining the FBI."

Theodore said, "Joining the FBI isn't a bad thing, is it?"

Bernie raised his voice slightly, "There's nothing wrong with joining the FBI! But he shouldn't neglect his regular job just to join the FBI!"

His voice quickly returned to normal, and he complained, "He dumped all the work on Sam and focused all his energy on figuring out how to pass the FBI selection process. And guess what? He took the test three times, and was rejected by the FBI three times!"

"Deserve it!"

Bernie concluded by giving a summary.

The next day.

Sam was still nowhere to be seen.

He didn't even see his twin brother.

Even Bernie frowned this time. Theodore suggested checking the attendance records, and Bernie gave him a strange look.

“The guy in charge of attendance fills those out for us himself,” Bernie whispered. “He can imitate dozens of handwriting styles by himself.”

Theodore was speechless. So he was the only one who diligently signed in and clocked in every day; no wonder that guy always looked at him strangely.

However, Bernie also felt something was strange when he didn't see Sam for two consecutive days.

He made a last-minute change to Theodore's training plan, and the two decided to go to Sam's house to check on him.

Sam lives in a Mexican-American community in the West Side.

The environment here is below average in the West End; it's dirty, messy, old, cramped, and chaotic. Compared to this, Theodore's apartment is practically a five-star hotel.

As for Bernie's house, it's a luxury resort-level property.

The homicide detectives' salaries aren't high, but they're definitely enough to move out of here.

Theodore couldn't understand why Sam insisted on living there.

The people living here are probably of Mexican descent; they are very wary of strangers, and the way they stared at the two of them made people very uncomfortable.

The feeling was unsettling, sending shivers down his spine. Bernie stood at Sam's door, banging on the wooden planks, but no one answered.

Then someone from next door came out. He was a burly middle-aged man who stood at the door and told them warily that Sam wasn't home and hadn't been there for the past two days.

Theodore wanted to ask more questions, but the man only urged them to leave quickly and warned them, "You are not welcome here."

The two returned to the car and remained silent for a moment.

"How did he join the FOP?" Theodore suddenly thought of this question and asked it.

Bernie started the car, his tone somewhat low, "He's also a member of FOP, but he's different from us."

“He has no power to promote people, cannot vouch for newcomers, and only enjoys partial exemptions. Del Rio Funeral Home is also reluctant to customize a coffin for him.”

"He was the only non-white member of the Felton branch."

There was some silence on the way back.

Aside from the patrol department's roll call requirement, attendance requirements are quite lenient in other departments of the police station.

Sometimes, when I suddenly have to leave for a few days due to personal matters, my colleagues will tacitly help cover for me. In such cases, I usually treat everyone to a drink when I return, and that's it.

Neither of them knew for a moment whether Sam had left for personal reasons or if something had actually happened.

Being a police officer in this era is a high-risk profession.

Bernie suggested keeping quiet and waiting for Sam to return on his own in a few days.

Theodore shook his head. "I think we should inform Mr. Wenner."

Bernie's expression shifted, and he watched him nervously, afraid that he would begin to describe the case as he had done in the previous cases.

Theodore saw this and has now completely given up on 'correcting' Bernie.

“Sam is a thoughtful person. Even if he has to leave for personal reasons, he can go to the police station to let them know, or by phone. If he doesn’t have time, he can ask his neighbors for help.”

“He was very respected in that community, and many people were peeking through the crack in the door when we knocked.”

Bernie frowned and asked in a deep voice, "You mean, Sam is missing?"

Theodore did not object to this statement.

In this era, disappearance is basically equivalent to death.

…………

Wenner isn't here. He's been very busy these past two days, only making a brief appearance each day before leaving.

Director Widek wasn't there either. He was even more elusive than Wenner.

Carhorse is there, but neither Bernie nor Theodore will go looking for him.

A colleague told them that Chief Widek had gone to headquarters with Wenner, apparently to discuss the matter of the deputy commissioner, and that they probably wouldn't be back until the afternoon.

Not wanting to wait idly, the two decided to start their own investigation.

Theodore did a quick analysis and decided to start with Old Gun Bar.

They got completely drunk at the Old Gun Bar that night, and Sam disappeared the next day.

To Theodore's surprise, the Old Gun Bar was open even in the morning.

It was very quiet inside, with no customers in sight, and the owner was fast asleep on the bar counter.

Bernie woke up his boss and asked about what happened that night.

The boss poured himself a glass of wine and drank it all in one gulp. His mind cleared up considerably, and he couldn't understand what the two men were up to.

Bernie said gravely, "Sam didn't go to work the next day, and he didn't go today either. Nobody's home either. We suspect he might be missing."

The boss immediately frowned. Instead of answering their questions, he grabbed the walkie-talkie on the bar and switched it to the police channel.

"This is Old Gun Bar. Who was on duty the night before last? Come over here immediately."

After a brief silence, responses of "Received" and "Coming Soon" came through the walkie-talkie.

The boss seemed dissatisfied with their nonchalant response and yelled into the walkie-talkie, "Fuck off! Hurry up! Don't make me stab your ass!"

The response from the walkie-talkie immediately became excited and high-spirited.

"Yes, sir!"

(End of this chapter)