“Well, I know Pimples is still here. I saw him just yesterday right there across the street,” he pointed. “He got in a car with some faggot and drove off.”
“Still as eloquent as ever, Billy.” She again turned and started to walk away from him, but Billy was persistent.
“Well, hold on, girl, wait up.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Since I’m here with you, we should discuss my compensation for the time I been gone.”
Jennifer turned to face him, “Like I said, Billy, I don’t owe you shit!”
“Oh, but you do, Twink,” Billy said. “Once you work for Billy, you always work for Billy.”
Jennifer was about to ram her knee into Billy’s groin when she glanced over his shoulder and saw the Thunderbird coming up Grant Street from Seventh Avenue. “Get this through your head Billy, I don’t owe you anything. So, fuck off!” She started to walk past him. “My ride's here.” Jeff brought the Thunderbird to the curb as Jennifer approached.
Billy stood and watched her as she walked toward the vintage car. “Oh, yeah! A Sugar Daddy. She done real good for herself.” Then he called out to her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart! We’ll catch up soon.”
Genghis jumped into the back bench seat as Jennifer opened the passenger door and got in. As Trent pulled from the curb and slowly passed Billy, he and Genghis both made eye contact with Billy who just gave them a sly smirk in return.
Jeff glanced over at Jennifer, who was being uncharacteristically quiet, and asked, “Ah, Twinkie? Who was that man you were speaking to?”
Jennifer just watched the road ahead of her. “That was Billy Bourbon. He was kind of ...” She paused for a moment. “He was my old boss.”
Jeff and Genghis both understood. Genghis looked over his shoulder and watched Billy slowly walk across the street, still staring at the cruiser. Hope he gets hit by an auto-mo-bile, Genghis thought.
“Twinkie, did he hurt you?”
“No, no, no he just wanted to talk,” she said, still looking ahead.
“About what?” Jeff asked.
“Oh, he says I owe him money, which I don’t!”
Genghis was still watching Billy as he made it safely across the street to the other side. Damn it!
“Well, don’t worry about him, Twinkie. If he bothers you again, Genghis and I will talk to him.”
She looked at Trent. “You don’t have to Jeff. I can take care of myself.”
“Oh! that, I have no doubt!” Then to change the subject, “So, let’s see your new telecommun . . . Ah . . . phone, tele-phone you purchased?”
“It’s so cool!” She took it out of the pink-and-black case that was hooked to her belt. “I can get online and search the web, play games! It’s got GPS, I can check my email, send texts, get on FaceBook and Twitter. I can watch TV and movies and oh, yeah,” she slightly waved it in the air, “I can make phone calls on it too!”
She then reached into her pocket and pulled something out. “Here,” she held it out for Trent to take, which he did. He looked down at a small wad of cash in his hand.
“Twinkie?” he asked. “What is this?”
“It’s my part of the rent.”
“No, Twinkie,” Jeff said, handing it back to her. “No! We can’t take this!”
“No, I insist,” she said, refusing to take it back. “I feel like a mooch, please take it.”
“Twinkie, you do so much for us, this is not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. And I’m also going to start looking for a job, a different one!” She looked at Jeff, “So I can pay the bill for this really cool phone.” She turned to Genghis and held the smartphone out to him. “What do yah think, Genghis? Pretty cool huh!” Genghis instinctively started to sniff the phone. Why? He wasn’t sure. Smells like plastic.
Chapter Forty-Six
Bollar left his meeting with Prodor Moffit feeling very uneasy. What was with all the interest in his next job, he thought as he drove back toward Old Town. Was Prodor planning on sending one of his cronies to try to get rid of him? Murray perhaps? Maybe even Taylor the Rodent? No, not him! He wouldn’t know which end of the gun to use.
Was Moffit going to make sure the local police were waiting for him? But why? He wasn’t a threat to Prodor. Not a threat to his warehouse operation and not a threat to his extra-curricular activities. Or was he?
He did see the Rodent opening a door leading to the basement in Moffit’s building and stupidly asked what was stored there. Moffit replied that he had some friends down there and would he like to have a look? Bollar had a very good idea what went on down there and thought it best not to know.
Colus Valda was out of the picture, but what of the others? He chose not to keep in contact with them, Valda was enough. But was Prodor systematically getting rid of the rest of the inmates that escaped with them? Was he the last? Maybe it was time to try to contact one of the others.
Bollar drove into Old Town and couldn’t help himself. He took a left turn onto Third Avenue to drive past the antique store. He slowed and looked through the large front window of the store, Fine Antiques On Third. It was very busy. He knew who was working at this particular time of day. A woman in her early forties by the name of Janice and a younger man, Michael. Their shift would end at 5 pm, and they would be replaced by the owner and another woman who would take over until closing. But this was the time he would hit the store. An older woman and younger man would be much easier to control. The store was on the corner of Third Avenue and Grant Street, and as he drove by he took a left on Grant to check the side of the building. As he passed, he saw no windows and only one back door.
Bollar continued down Grant, satisfied with his drive-by of the store, when he noticed someone. She was talking to a tall lanky black man on the opposite side of the street. She was familiar. Why? Where had he seen her before? Then he remembered. She was the girl who propositioned him that night when he was walking out of the park. It looked as if she was at it again. Then, to his amazement, he saw the white vehicle that the IPF agent drove. It was coming up the road toward him. Bollar didn’t panic, as he was fairly certain that the agent didn’t know what he was driving. He pulled to the curb so the agent could drive on by. But the agent didn’t, he too pulled to the curb not thirty feet from him on the other side of the road, which caused him much concern. Did the agent know the vehicle he was driving? Did the agent know what he looked like? Was the agent going to exit his vehicle and approach him? Try to arrest him? He reached for his A-56 Auto Loader and switched the safety off.
But then, the girl walked away from the man she was talking to, seemingly in a huff, and walked in the direction of the agent. She walked up to the vehicle and then she did something that utterly shocked Bollar – she opened the passenger door and got in! She didn’t proposition the driver, didn’t even seem to talk to him. She just climbed right in. She knows him!
Then the agent, the girl, and the humane canine pulled from the curb and slowly entered traffic. Bollar watched as they drove by him. He got a good look at the agent as he passed, while the agent in turn paid him no attention. So he didn’t know who he was. But then the canine turned, and at first Bollar thought the animal was looking right at him, but he quickly realized it was instead watching the man cross the street. Bollar thought about following the agent's vehicle, but knew that agent's were highly trained and would notice a tail no matter what precautions he took. But then an idea came to Bollar.
He eased his car forward along the curb about twenty feet and stopped. “Excuse me, Buddy?” He waited until the man he was calling turned in his direction. “Do you know that girl?” he asked Billy Bourbon. “The one you were just talking to?”
Billy walked up to the car and leaned his elbows on the open passenger-side window. “Yeah, I do. Why? You in need for a little companionship?”
“Well to be honest, friend, it’s not her I’m interested in.”
“Oh! I get where you coming from, friend.” Billy straightened up. “I have many wor
king for me.” He casually looked around, then leaned in again. “In fact, I have this nice strapping young man that I can set up for you. No problem a‘tall.”
Bollar understood the mistake immediately and rolled his eyes. Why were they so fixated on copulating so much? “Ah, no! That is not what I meant. I really only need some information.” Bollar held out a fifty dollar bill. “If you have the time?”
Billy gave him a big gold smile. “Time,” he said, as he reached in and took the bill, “I got, friend.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Are you crazy, I can get fired for that!” Norman Freeman said, as he straightened up a display of I-Phones, “I know we got a history, but I have a legit job now, Billy, and I’m not about to fuck that up.” He had been working at the Mobile Plus store for only six months.
“Oh, com’ on, Norm,” Billy Bourbon said. “It's only one address. No one will know, but you and me.” An I-phone slipped off its display as Norman ignored Billy. He replaced it and walked to the next display.
The day before, Bollar and Billy Bourbon were at Ray’s, sitting at the same table where Bollar had his last meeting with Colus Valda. He was explaining to Billy that he just needed him to keep tabs on this man that Jennifer knew. When he was coming to town, where he was going, where he lived. When Billy asked why, Bollar’s only response was that he was a business acquaintance. And for a nice incentive Bollar had given him four more fifty-dollar bills which stopped Billy’s questions.
Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the fifties. “Com’ on, Norm, It’s just one address.” He held out the bill for Norman to take. “Help out ol’ Billy. For ol’ times sake.”
Billy Bourbon exited the Mobile Plus store. As he was walking down Grant Street, he reached for the walkie-talkie that Bollar gave him. He thought it odd that Bollar didn’t have a cell phone and wanted to be reached on this little weird-looking thing. He pushed the button and said, “Hello, Mr. Bollar? You there?” He waited for a couple of seconds, listened to static, and then repeated, “Mr. Bollar? . . . Over.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Bourbon,” came the response.
“Yeah, I got Twinkie’s address, I’m gonna go over there now. If she’s hang'n around with this guy you know, he probably be by to see her or she’ll go to him. Either which way, I’m sure I can find out where he lives for you . . . over.”
Over what? Bollar thought to himself. “That will be fine. Just be careful if you follow him, don’t get spotted.”
“Oh, no worries, Mr. Bollar. I’ll get your info for you, so don’t you worry none. Over and out!”
Bollar put the IPF radio onto the passenger seat of his car and thought what was with the out and overs? This sure is a strange culture. He had turned on the Electronic Pulse Interrupter five minutes earlier as he approached Fine Antiques On Third. Parking his car around the corner one block over, he got out, his A-56 tucked under his coat, and started walking toward the antique shop.
Fine Antiques On Third had three customers. Michael was helping a young couple as they looked over several rings, while Janice talked with a woman about a 1920 curio cabinet. Janice was in the middle of showing the woman the original brass hardware on the cabinet when she heard someone enter the shop. She looked over toward the door and saw her daughter entering.
“Julie!” Janice said, pleasantly surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“Class got out early,” her nineteen-year-old daughter said. “So, I thought we could have lunch together.” She held up a bag from Jerry's Deli as she walked toward the backroom, “I got us a couple of salads. Take your time, I’ll set it up.” And she disappeared into the backroom.
The woman who Janice was talking to said, “Well, that was nice of her.”
Janice beamed, “Yes, she’s a sweetheart. I couldn’t have asked for better!”
The backroom wasn’t very big. There were shipping boxes and empty crates stacked along the back brick wall, and the shelves were filled with dusty odds and ends. Julie placed the bag on the small round table that had the morning newspaper on it, and pulled out two Styrofoam containers. She was reaching in for the dressing when she thought she heard an angry voice. The backroom's door was half-way open and she glanced into the showroom through the crack between the door’s hinges and door jamb. To her horror, she saw a man holding a big gun to the back of Michael’s head.
Julie's heart stopped as she turned from the door and huddled in the corner. My God! A robbery, she thought as she started to breathe heavily. She fumbled for her cell phone and punched in 9-1-1. She held the shaking phone to her ear, but didn’t hear the emergency operator, only a strange electronic noise. She angrily looked at her phone. What the hell? This had never happened before! She dropped the phone to the floor when she heard her mother say, “Stop pointing that at me! I’m trying to get it open!”
Julie started to cry and made her way to the back door, trying her best not to make any noise. She was hyperventilating while trying to enter the security code into the locking system to the backdoor. She got it wrong the first time and had to do it again. It opened with a loud click that made her jump. She quietly got out of the building. The bright sunlight made her squint as she ran as fast as she could across the street to the auto parts store where her boyfriend worked.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Jeff and Jennifer were down in the garage. Jennifer was in the driver's seat of the backed-in Thunderbird and Jeff the passenger's. “See how it makes everything shine!” She was saying as she applied another coat of cleaner to the dashboard. “It will also prevent it from cracking since you drive with the top down so much.”
“It also brings the color out.” Jeff was using his rag in a circular motion. “Thank you for showing me this, Twinkie.”
“No problem, Uncle Jeff!” she said. “After this, we’re vacuuming.”
Genghis ran down the backstairs and stood looking at them. He wasn’t sure how to get Jeff’s attention, so he produced a sharp bark which caused them both to look back.
Jennifer was puzzled. “I thought we closed that door.”
“Well, we must have left it open.” Jeff got out of the car and walked toward the stairs. “He must need some water. Twinkie, I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Okie dokie!” Jennifer said, as she started on the center console.
After climbing the stairs and entering the apartment, Jeff closed the hall door behind them, then asked as they walked into the living room, “What’s up?”
“I just intercepted a strange call coming from an auto parts store in Old Town to the emergency line at the Westberry Police Department.”
“Strange how?”
“Strange,” Genghis replied. “Because there was a large amount of electronic interference with the connection. I was only able to get a little of the conversation that the police got, a frantic voice and an address of a store that’s being robbed!”
“It’s Bollar!”
“No doubt in my mind!” Genghis said.
Jennifer was standing by the Thunderbird uncoiling the extension cord to the cheap vacuum cleaner that she had found in Jeff’s closet when she heard a clatter coming down the stairs. She spun around to see Genghis jumping onto the trunk of the Thunderbird, then over the backseat and landing in the passenger seat. Trent was quickly rounding the rear fender saying, “Twinkie, we’re sorry, but we just got a call, there’s a robbery in progress, we have to go!” He was running to get the garage door open.
Jennifer got there first. “I got it! I got it! Get in the car!” She swung the one-piece garage door open as Jeff started the Thunderbird with a roar. She stepped out of the way and shouted, “GO! GO!”
Jeff squealed the tires as he left the garage. They both heard her call to be careful! She walked to the edge of the drive and watched as they raced down the road and turned left onto the Seventh Avenue Bridge.
William “Billy Bourbon” Jamerson’s mouth dropped open when he saw the garage door swing open and the �
�59 Ford come shooting out. He was parked three houses down. An hour earlier he had driven by the house of the address he got from Norman. At first, he thought it was wrong. It was a nice enough house, but he didn’t think Jennifer could afford the rent. But as he drove by, he saw the apartment over the detached garage. That’s gotta be it! So, he sat and waited, and now he was watching Twinkie as she walked back to the garage and closed the door. “Oh,” he said to himself. “She's shackin' up with him!” He started to chuckle. “Oh! He's definitely a Sugar Daddy!”
He picked up the walkie-talkie and thought how he really needed to talk to the girlfriend about his share. Maybe he’d march himself up those stairs right now and just take it. In one way or the other. It was then that he saw an old lady in a wicker chair on the front porch of the house that the garage belonged to. She was looking right at him with beady, dark eyes. He involuntarily shivered and said out loud, “Maybe I'll just catch up with her the next time I see her in town.” He then keyed the radio, “Mr. Bollar? Are you there . . . over!”
Bollar didn’t hear the message from Billy because he left the radio in the car. He had already spent too much time in the antique store. The people in the store were being cooperative, but still, he was already three minutes over schedule. He was anxious to get the hell out.
“Okay, just put the rest in there,” he said to Janice, who had the pillow case he gave her. It was full and heavy, she was having trouble getting the tray of coins into it. He angrily took the case and tray from her. “Alright that’s enough, get on the ground with the rest.” She quickly did as she was told and lay on the floor, face down next to Michael and the three customers. “Alright!” Bollar said to them, “I’m leaving. I want to thank you all for your cooperation. You are to stay on the ground for ten minutes. If you get up and I see you, I’m going to shoot you in the eye. Do you all understand that?”
There were mutters of yes and nodding of heads. “Very good. Now start counting off the ten minutes.” There was silence, so he decided to help them along. “One thousand, one! One thousand, two!”
The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission Page 22
