Jack tried to recall all the movies Uncle Cage had been in—there were just too many, a mix of good and bad films. Even with Bridget Fonda in the mix, he still couldn't place the plot of the movie.
What had impressed him about Bridget Fonda back in the day was her role as the lead in *Kiss of the Dragon*. Even though she played a prostitute, she was absolutely stunning.
"The guy in the newspaper is Charlie, a patrol officer from Queens. He's one of the rare good ones, the most honest and kind-hearted cop I've ever met. Now, he's stuck in a mess and needs someone to help him out."
Dupree hadn't noticed Jack's surprise. He pointed at the newspaper, at the picture of a panicked Cage hugging Bridget Fonda, clearly caught off guard by the paparazzi.
"I don't know if you'd call it luck or misfortune, but he had a habit of buying lottery tickets. About a month ago, he won the jackpot—four million dollars."
"Why call it misfortune? Isn't it good when nice people get rewarded?" Jack asked as he grabbed a bottle of water, washing away the overly sweet aftertaste of the barley tea that he found hard to drink.
Four million dollars—while not an obscene amount—was still enough to change a person's life, perhaps even to climb the social ladder. But it wasn't the kind of money that would get someone killed.
According to some pointless statistics, around 70% of lottery winners in the USA go bankrupt within seven years, compared to about 50% in Europe.
But four million dollars wasn't the same as those astronomical jackpots in the tens or hundreds of millions. Only a month had passed; what could have gone wrong? Fraud?
Dupree glanced around the noisy restaurant, clearly feeling it wasn't the right place to tell a story. He quickly paid the bill and led the way to find a quieter spot.
After driving past the New York Hall of Science, Queens Museum, and the botanical gardens, the two finally arrived at Flushing Meadows-Corona Park.
It was early afternoon, with bright sunlight streaming down. Sitting on a bench near the lawn, Dupree began to tell Jack an absurd story.
It all started before Charlie found out he had won the lottery. A month ago, he was doing the same work Jack had done when he was with the LAPD—patrolling the neighborhood in a squad car.
According to Dupree, it was around this park that Charlie patrolled, which was also the area where Dupree had grown up.
But unlike Jack, this was a safer part of Queens. Charlie's work mostly consisted of catching the occasional petty thief and resolving minor neighborhood disputes, like helping people find their lost pets.
Everyone in the neighborhood, from the elderly to the kids, liked the warm-hearted and kind police officer. He was an ordinary guy, married to a Latina woman, living a simple life.
If all went well, maybe one day they'd save enough money to have a child.
But, of course, things didn't go as planned. Charlie had a habit of buying lottery tickets, spending two dollars on a Lotto ticket nearly every week.
One day, after finishing his patrol, he stopped to buy a ticket. Starving afterward, he and his Black partner walked into a café they had never been to before.
After enjoying two cups of coffee and some decent pastries, Charlie went to pay but realized he didn't have enough change for a tip.
So, after some good-natured banter, Charlie seriously promised the waitress, whom he'd never met before, that he'd leave his freshly bought lottery ticket as her tip.
He told her that if the ticket won that night, he'd split the winnings with her. If it didn't, he'd return to pay the tip.
"That café, right there on the corner," Dupree turned halfway around, pointing across the street from the park.
"Ivonne's Café?" Jack turned as well, reading the sign.
"Yep. Before, it had a terrible name—just *Lunch Café*. The owner was a bald Mexican guy, real unpleasant," Dupree said dismissively with a wave of his hand.
"Where was I? Oh, right, so that night, Charlie hit the jackpot. His numbers matched the $64 million grand prize. Though 16 people bought the winning number, each still got about four million dollars."
Jack had already guessed where the story was going, but it still seemed unbelievable.
"You're telling me Charlie gave half of his four million dollars to the waitress?"
"Exactly." Dupree's eyes went wide, his excitement evident.
"Hard to imagine, right? But he kept his promise, and after some persuasion, he got his wife on board. They split the four million with a complete stranger. The waitress used her share to buy that café and renamed it after herself."
"Yeah, I find that hard to believe."
Even though Ivonne had the face of Bridget Fonda, Jack put himself in the story and couldn't imagine doing the same. Whether it was in his previous life or when he first arrived and struggled near the slums, there was no way he'd be that generous.
The story felt more like a modern fairy tale.
"I don't believe it. Charlie must've known that waitress, Ivonne, before all this. The papers are saying they were already having an affair, right? And there are photos of them leaving *The Plaza Hotel* together."
Jack held up the *New York Post*, grinning at Dupree, the newspaper's photographer and investigative journalist.
"Oh, for crying out loud, that was taken by my gossip-obsessed colleagues. I only report serious news." Dupree waved dismissively, as if brushing away something dirty.
"Let me make it clear: Charlie is the kindest and most honest person I've ever met. Before the lottery incident, he and Ivonne didn't even know each other. The neighbors can vouch for that."
Dupree placed his hand over his heart, as if swearing an oath.
"Charlie's even the volunteer coach for my son's baseball team. He spends most of his free time with those kids. Everyone on his street knows what kind of man he is."
"Alright, so what do you need me to do?" Jack shrugged. "The FBI doesn't handle divorce cases."
The newspapers and magazines focused on Charlie's ongoing divorce. After the media caught wind of his alleged affair with Ivonne, his wife filed for divorce and demanded the return of the $2 million given to Ivonne.
Public opinion seemed to be overwhelmingly against Charlie and the waitress.
"I'm proposing a little trade. I've been trying to figure out a way to help poor Charlie, but I haven't come up with anything good. Now, with the task you've given me, I'll be even busier.
So, I'm thinking, why don't we swap tasks? I'll handle digging up dirt on that crooked judge, and you come up with a plan to help Charlie. After all, there aren't many good guys left in this world."
Dupree clasped his hands together, as if pleading, though there was a sly gleam in his eyes.
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