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82
The Corner Pocket Billiards Club had been a fixture on Cleveland’s west side since the Prohibition Era when it doubled as a speakeasy. Rumor has it that Al Capone once played a game of 9 ball there, but like many tales of that time, it was never fully substantiated.
The Corner Pocket, once a proud establishment, was now just another Cleveland relic that was lucky to still be open. Most of the customers were the same 10-15 regulars who played there every night and accepted the antiquated pool hall for what it was.
New patrons to the hall were often met with a cold response. The regulars were always wary of pool sharks who would travel from town to town hustling the regulars. The irony is that most of those patrons were nothing of the sort, rather they were just looking for a “home” establishment to play billiards. The icy response usually meant one-and-done visits from these patrons, who would move on to find another place to play while the Corner Pocket continued to struggle.
Detective Jason Knox and his commander, Mick McCarthy, were getting a taste of that icy treatment as they approached the bar. Upon entering the rundown pool hall, they were met with watchful eyes and most conversations stopped.
The bartender, an older gentleman with a grey mustache and horseshoe ring of hair surrounding a bald head, walked over to the two new faces at his bar.
“What can I get for you, officers?” the old barkeep asked.
Jason and Mick looked at each other, puzzled.
“Detectives, actually…” Jason said as he and Mick each showed their badge.
“Was it that obvious?” Mick asked.
“When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, you can spot a cop before they get in the door,” the bartender replied.
“Well then, let’s get to it. We are looking for one of your patrons, Ernie Page. Have you seen or heard from him today?” Jason asked.
“Nope. Haven’t seen him in a few days, actually. Maybe his wife finally put her foot down. I know that some of the guys here sure miss him.”
“Why’s that?” Mick asked.
“Because they call him ‘Easy Ernie’ around here. For a guy who plays as much pool as Ernie, he’s absolutely the worst regular player I’ve ever seen. But, that doesn’t stop him from, well, you know…” the bartender said, stopping short of incriminating his patrons for gambling.
“We aren’t here to bust anyone for gambling on pool, so relax,” Jason said.
“Well then, why are you here? Ernie in some sort of trouble?”
“Is there anyone here who you’d say is closest to Ernie?” Mick asked.
The bartender leaned in so only Jason and Mick could hear what he was saying.
“Pool halls are dens of thieves, Detective. Nobody ever gets real close to anyone else around here, especially not Ernie. He would usually come in half in the bag. Then he’d finish the job, play pool, lose money, and leave. He’s an obnoxious asshole, on top of it, so that didn’t help him much in regards to making friends. From what I hear, his own brother doesn’t even like him - and he’s his boss!”
“Did he ever talk about going anywhere else besides here?” Jason countered.
“Not that I can recall, but he did give me this a few weeks ago when he found out it was my birthday.”
The bartender turned around and retrieved something from below the back wall of the bar. He discreetly handed it over to Jason before offering a disclaimer.
“This might help, but I dunno. He said he was old pals with this guy and to mention his name if I ever wanted to go out. Said the guy owed him some favors and he’d take care of me.”
Jason looked at the business card that was just handed to him by the barkeep. It was a traditional cream-colored business card that read Jake on the Lake Fishing Charters. The owner was listed as Jake Kingston and the address was 6500 Cleveland Memorial Shoreway.
“6500… hey isn’t that…” Mick started to say after Jason showed him the card.
“Edgewater Park Marina…” Jason finished Mick’s sentence for him.
“So, are you guys gonna tell me what this is all about? Everyone in here is going to be asking when you leave, and I don’t need anyone thinking I’m some sorta snitch,” the bartender said in a hushed tone.
“Tell them that we’re investigating his car dealership. Nobody would doubt that for a second,” Jason replied, nodded to Mick, and the two left the Corner Pocket Billiard Club.
“So, do you think Ernie is actually there?” Mick asked Jason as the pair drove towards Edgewater Park Marina.
