Chapter 212

word count 1109

A loud boom woke Buzz from a dream, a bad dream about being chased by wild women who were looking for anything but love, screaming, crazed witches chasing him like bats out of hell. They were closing in when a noise jarred him awake. He rubbed his eyes and spied a pick up truck at the intersection. Mud-covered and ancient, it was the source of the clanging that broke his slumber.

He sat quietly, poised against the same wall where he'd started, warmed by the late afternoon sun heating the concrete sidewalk. Glancing at his watch revealed he'd snoozed for an hour. His mind lolled in slow motion while he tried to put his thoughts in order. He'd slugged Trudy and taken off. A crime committed and he was on the lam. The realization that they would be looking for him, and looking soon, hit him like a thunderbolt. He pictured squad cars with lights glaring.

I've got to get moving, he thought. Buzz was a cop and a damned good one, famous for jumping into the heads of perps, to know what they were thinking, what they would do next. Needless to say, he was equally as good jumping into the heads of cops and knowing what they would do, too. Hell, he trained most of them. He got up and stretched, then strolled down the street, peeking into alleys as he walked.

Quite a collection of human debris lined the skinny off shoots of Main St. Pausing to survey the bums in each strip, he walked past each but stopped at the third one. Taking long steps he approached a derelict who leaned against a dumpster, a wine bottle in his hand, Ripple, not surprisingly.

"Hey pal, how would you like $100 for your pants, shirt and jacket. I'll give you my clothes for yours." Buzz didn't sugar coat it, just an honest offer that was hard to refuse.

"You kiddin', buddy! A hunnert bucks? Sure!" The bum had his pants unzipped before the words got out of his mouth.

Buzz glanced around to make sure the coast was clear. The dark alley was private. He got out of his clothes and into the other fellow's, handing him a crisp hundred at the end. "If anyone asks you, you haven't seen me. Those are your clothes, always were. And that's that. Got it?"

"Sure, no problem. Thanks again, mister, although what you want with my old rags is beyond me."

"I like their 'lived-in' look." Buzz shot him a friendly wink. Making his way to the street, he pulled the filthy jacket's hood up and put on his shades. It was a good Ted Kaczynski look. Feeling his stubble, he mused he was off to a good start. Before he got to the main drag, he acquired a limp, and hunched over, moving slowly, stopping along the way to smear grime on his face and hands and mud onto his shoes. Now he just needed to find a boring place, in plain sight, to hang out...and be overlooked. He'd keep an eye on things. Once he was sure there were no longer any watches at the train station or airports, he could get out of town.

* * *
Trudy emerged from the cab dragging her feet. What a day! She and Buzz had gone to see their kids, and Elly ran away rather than meet with her, and then all hell broke loose. In pursuit of the boy, Buzz became enraged at her and smacked her good, leaving an angry bruise on her face as big as his fist. She didn't care. She loved him and knew damn well she had made him angry. It was her fault.

When she tried to tell that to the policemen when they took her statement, they tsked-tsked her remarks...which only made her madder. It was a good thing they let her go home when they did, or she might have hurt someone herself. She tipped the driver and made her way up the steps. If she was lucky, Buzz had come home and they could make up and get on with their lives. To hell with what the police said.

She entered the darkened living room to what she thought was an empty house. Algernon's voice coming from a far off corner made her jump.

"Trudy, dear! You're home."

She blinked, trying to adjust to the dimness of the room, searching for Algie in the dark. "Algie, hon!  Where the hell are ya and why are ya sitting in the dark?"

An audible sigh, then, "Oh, it's just to match my mood, dark and somber."

She found him in an armchair in the corner. Going over, she sat by him. "And why are ya 'dark and somber?'" Mocking his accent with the last few words, she gave him a smile hoping to cheer him.

"Well, brace yourself, Trudy. What I'm going to tell you may surprise you."

"The way my day has gone, I don't think anything would surprise me."

"Au contraire," stated Algie. He stopped short when he spied the bruise on her cheek. "Good Lord, Trudy! What happened to you?"

"Nuttin. Now tell me your news."

"Well, my dear. Winnie is upstairs with her paramour. She claims she's just using him to get information, but I'm beginning to doubt her."

As if on cue, the racket of vibrating bed springs echoed above their heads. Algie looked up. "That's the third time tonight," he said.

Trudy whistled in admiration, a long, breathy tweet. "So who is her squeeze?"

"The police commissioner, Peter Peterson." Algie replied, shaking his head sadly.

"That COP is in our house?" Trudy asked, her fist clenching. She saw red.

* * *

Jacob and Enos settled in the family's guest room making sure to stop and pray to thank God for their good fortune in finding such comfortable accommodations for the night. They had just settled into plush twin beds and flipped on the quaint, Victorian lamp on the bed table to read their Bibles, when a knock sounded on the door.

John and Lisa entered. Lisa balanced in her arms a tray of steaming mugs of cocoa and a generous plate of cookies. Alluring aromas filled the room with a cheerful warmth.

"I hope you don't mind the intrusion," John said. "But we have a proposition for you. He shot them an awkward smile. "How would you men like to stay in New Albany for a while?"