Booktree.ng_Forgotten-Witness

“Everybody lives somewhere.” Morgan stuck his hands into
Ian’s pockets and came up with a key attached to a piece of
white plastic. Morgan smiled and Ian Francis mimicked him.
“Is this yours, buddy? Where are you staying? You want to go
home, dontcha?”
“Yes. Please. I need to get back to my girl. It’s cold here,”
Ian muttered.
“Yeah, you should have a coat. Is she there? Your girl? Will
she take care of you?” Morgan glanced at Eugene. “The guys
who brought him in said some girl was asking about him.
Maybe she’ll be back.”
“Good grief, your guys are inept. This man just spooked a
hundred people in a hearing, assaulted a witness, assaulted me,
and you let the one person who showed interest in him leave?
The inmates are running the asylum, Morgan.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Morgan deadpanned.
On the couch, Ian Francis shook his head, nudged his
glasses up his nose, and beetled his brow as if trying to hold
on to one cogent thought. He looked up at the two bickering
men. If they had bothered to look, they would have seen tears
in the crazy man’s eyes. Instead, as Ian sat up Morgan clapped
him on the back and rubbed it hard, rattling his brain.
“My brother’s kid has some problems. He gets agitated and
such. You give ’em a rub and everything’s good,” Morgan said
to Eugene.
“Artichoke? You know? A few marigolds still…” Ian spoke
to his clasped hands.
“Guess he’s hungry.”
Morgan laughed but Eugene wasn’t listening. He was
staring at Ian Francis. Slowly, he put his hands on his knees
and brought his face close to that of the befuddled man.
“Artichoke. Chatter. Marigolds,” Eugene said.
Ian’s eyes snapped up and brightened with gratitude, “Yes.
Marigolds. You remember?”