typea_all (12 page)

     "I wish I did, but to tell the truth, it’s a little scary."

     "I'll go ask him. Maybe he wants to join us."

     Before I could do anything, Adam was out the door, headed for the Lincoln.  I really didn't know what to do. I could stay in there, hoping that it was just a mistake, but if the guy was really following me, I wasn't going to be intimidated.  I went out after Adam, who was standard directly in front of the Lincoln with his hands on his hips.

     "Adam, maybe you shouldn't stand in front of the car."

     That's when the driver saw me. He looked me right in the eye and revved the engine. The guy threw the Lincoln into drive and the car lurched. I had just enough time to grab Adam and pull him to the ground, when the car charged ahead and out of the lot.

     We were okay. My knee hurt a little, and Adam was dirty from lying on the lot, but he treated it like an adventure.

     "What happened?" I asked.

     "I came out and asked him why he was following my niece. He told me to get lost. So I was gonna just stand there until he told me.  Who was he?"

     It wasn't Reynolds or Bruno. It wasn't anyone else I knew.

     "I don't know Adam. I really don't know."

     That someone was following me really got my goat. I figured it had to have something to do with Reynolds, but I was hoping maybe it was just the hospital doing a routine sort of background check.  I didn't think too much of the hospital theory, though.  I was definitely going to send back those earrings, after I wore them just a little longer.

     I looked behind me all the way home, actually hoping to see the Lincoln behind me. It is better to know where your enemy is, than not know, and I had nothing to hide. I started thinking about all sorts of smart ways I could trap the guy. I've seen it done lots of times on television.  The hunter becomes the hunted, and all that. I didn't see any Lincoln on my way home, and each time I looked out the window once I got there, I saw no Lincoln on the street.

Chapter 11

     Sunday morning, the Lincoln was parked on Ventnor Avenue.

From what I could see, there was one person in the car, eating something. He didn't seem to be looking my way, so I hoped it was a different Lincoln, but after about three hours, the car was still there and I was pretty convinced it was there for me.

     I could approach by land or by car. If I walked up to the car, he would probably drive off again before I could talk to him. So I figured I had to somehow trap him in a location where he couldn't get out.  I finally thought of the best place, the China Outlet.

     On a nice Sunday down the shore, the most happening place is the China Outlet, a discount glass and kitchen place on Shore Road in Somers Point. They have two parking lots, but no on-street parking. One lot is right next to the place; the other is across the street.

The lot right next to the place gets full fast, but it has two exits. Couldn't trap anyone in there. The lot across the street has one exit. If I could get the Lincoln to pull in there I'd have him trapped.  I'd need a lot of luck for this, but I had plenty of confidence.

     I put on a fresh jogging outfit, did my hair and makeup, put on my pit bull earrings to match my mood, and then went into the garage. I opened the garage door, and very slowly backed out, giving the Lincoln plenty of time to see me on the move. I figured it would take him about a minute to put down his food, 30 seconds to wipe the crumbs off of his lap, 15 seconds to belch and wipe his lips with his sleeve, and another 30 seconds to take another gulp of coffee.

     He was facing the wrong direction, so he'd have to make a u-turn. I pulled out onto Ventnor Avenue, being careful not to look in his direction.  In my rearview mirror I saw him make the u-turn, so I slowed down just a little so he could catch up.

     He followed me down Ventnor Avenue, across the Longport Bridge, and over the causeway. I turned right onto Shore Road and drove slowly toward the China Outlet to scope things out.  I was in luck. There were only two spots left in the near lot, right next to each other, so I pulled in and took one of the spots. I figured the Lincoln wouldn't park right next to me because he'd be too easy to spot.

     The Lincoln drove past, and I started to worry that my great plan wasn't going to work. That was the last time I tried something from television.  I stood in the lot for a second, and then figured as long as I was there I might as well go shopping. Nothing like a bargain to cure depression.

     As I walked into the store, however, I saw the reflection of the Lincoln appear in the window, and I saw him turn into the other lot across the street and back into a parking spot. Got you, sucker.

     To make the trip worthwhile, I actually went shopping. I knew the Lincoln would wait, and I got some great bargains: a small electric grill for ten bucks, a funnel cake kit for five bucks, a set of four really nice water glasses for only two bucks, some odd kitchen utensils, and two boxes of these neat-looking cookies.  I also got two dozen cheap glasses at 25-cents each, which I put into a separate bag when I checked out.

     Now came the tricky part, aside from paying for all this stuff, that is. I waited just inside the doorway until I saw a woman with a loaded cart walk across the street and go into the lot. She took her time, but I prepared. I put one of my bags behind the counter and asked the clerk to watch it, and I pulled out one of the cheap glasses from the other bag.

     She unpacked her cart, pushed the cart over to the side, and then started up her car.  She backed out of the spot, and when she put her car into drive, I dashed across the street to be in front of the exit just as she was reaching it.  I slammed down the bag as hard as I could right in front of her, smashing glass all over the place, and I held my hand out for her to stop.

     She got out of the car and started saying something, which I didn't hear. By that time, I had raced past her car into the lot, and with all my might, threw that last glass right into the Lincoln's windshield. He had actually started to pull out of his spot, but the glass missile did its job.  The windshield cracked, he threw his hands up and slammed on his brakes so hard that his airbag went off. My working out with weights finally paid off.

     "I got you Bozo. Out of the car."

     "I can't move. I think my arm is broken," he yelled. It was hard to hear him through the airbag.

     "Who sent you? Why are you following me?"

     "You're nuts, you know that lady? Why did you have to go and do that?"

     "Why are you following me? Did Reynolds send you?"

     "Reynolds? No way. Jesus, my arm hurts."

     Meanwhile, the lady at the exit was still screaming, and some folks from the store came across the street to see what was happening.  One of them stopped traffic on Shore Road because of the glass. Traffic started to pile up, and I figured it would take no time at all until a Somers Point cop came by to see what was happening.

     "How about if we just wait here, then, until the police come."

     "Okay with me lady. I was just sitting in my car relaxing when you broke my windshield. Just try proving that I was following you."

     Then I thought about it. How would I prove that he was following me?  I'm the one who littered Shore Road with glass and stopped traffic on a Sunday morning. I'm the one who threw the glass at this guy's windshield. Why would anyone believe me, now that I thought about it.

     "Just tell whoever sent you that I want this to end," I yelled, and while everyone else was distracted with the broken glass and traffic, I retrieved my other bag from the store and drove out the rear exit of the other parking lot. No way was I leaving behind that funnel cake mix.

    
This whole thing was starting to get on my nerves, and I wondered if it was getting beyond my control. Maybe I needed help. Only thing was, I hated to get other people involved in my mess.  I know that Adam would jump to the chance to help, but I wasn't sure how much help he could actually be.

     I could ask Ryan. He would do anything for me, and if he knew the extent that these guys were bothering me, he'd want to take charge.  I don't think I was ready for that yet. Anyway, I wanted to make sure I had a problem before getting Ryan involved. If it turned out to be nothing, he'd chalk it off as one of my little adventures.

     There was always Officer Luke, but Reynolds seemed to be such a big guy around here, and I didn't know whose side the police would be on.  I trusted Luke, he just had a trusting face, but I was too new around here to know much about the politics.

     So I figured, sit it out just a little while and hope that it all goes away. I drove up to the Longport Point and sat in the car watching the waves crash up against the rocks, making fireworks of water in the air. The Point must be one of the most beautiful spots on the island, if not in the world. You can see the ocean and the bay, and even the Ferris wheel over in Ocean City. I just like to put my head back and close my eyes, listening to the sound of the waves and seagulls, smelling the fresh ocean breezes.

     When I got home, there was a message on my answering machine.

     "Hello Ms. Castle. You just met with my associate. His arm is broken, by the way. If you would be so kind to meet me in Ocean One, in the Food Court, at 3 PM, perhaps we can come to a mutual understanding." Everybody must have my number!

     No name. No description of what he looks like. No nothing.

     Ocean One is a mall right on a pier on the beach in Atlantic City. From a distance, the pier looks like an ocean liner, especially at night. It is a busy, public place that I figured is a rather safe location to meet a stranger. The mall has three floors. The first floor is all shops, with an arcade at the end. The second floor contains shops and a nice food court. The top floor is offices and restaurants.

     There are two great things that I love about the Atlantic City casinos – the parking and the buffets. 

     When the casinos first opened, parking was free. You could park all day for nothing, and gamble, shop, walk around, or sit on the beach.  A few years ago, most of the casinos started charging for parking, but only two bucks. A few were still free, so it was easy to drive into Atlantic City and park in the casino closest to the mall.

     Each of the casinos also has an all-you-can-eat buffet. The prices, and the quality and choices of food vary, but they are all worth eating at.  Off-season, you can usually find a two-for-one or discount coupon for at least one of the buffets in a local newspaper.  While I'm not a big eater, except for chocolate, I enjoy a good buffet every once in awhile, although I'd never go to one alone. Seems too depressing to be alone with just all of that food for company.

     At 2:15 I headed up to Atlantic City and pulled into the self-park garage of the Wild West Casino. I figured I'd be sitting down in the mall, so I put a cushion on my seat so it would be ready when I had to leave.  I then strolled around the casino floor for a few minutes. At 2:45 I walked across to Ocean One and went up to the food court on the second floor.

     The place wasn't real crowded so it was easy to look around. I didn't actually know how my caller would recognize me, or how he knew I would recognize him.  To begin with, I didn't see Reynolds, Bruno, a guy with a broken arm, or anyone else I recognized.  So I got a cola and sat down at a table facing the entrance to the food court, near an open window. I needed the ice in the cola and the open window to cool me down; I was starting to feel hot again.

     I saw a few kids, a couple of families, and a few homeless folks trying to make a cup of coffee last the whole day. A few tables were filled with casino workers, probably on their break.  You can always tell a casino working in Atlantic City. Who else would be wearing part of a tuxedo or a frilly top, with an oversized ID hanging around their neck?

     Just a few minutes after three, two serious looking guys walked in, got some Chinese food, and sat down. Neither of them had a neck, and from their looks, combined they probably didn't have one brain.  They were a possibility, but I didn't see them looking around or in my direction.  Then he walked in.  I knew immediately that was the guy I had to meet. Call it instinct, or intuition, or a sixth sense. Call it anything you want. I knew because he walked right up to me and sat down.

     "Thank you for coming, Ms. Castle."  Another no-neck, but this one didn't look stupid. He had clear penetrating eyes, was clean-shaven, and smelled of cologne. He was wearing dark dress pants and an open leather jacket. Under the jacket was a white shirt with the first two buttons open, and a lot of gold hanging down.

     "First of all," I said, "who exactly are you?"

     "My name is not important. I just have a few questions to ask."

     "I thought we were meeting so I could get some answers."

     "What do you have to do with Jason Reynolds?"

     "I have nothing to do with him. What's it to you?"

     "Please don't play games with me. You were seen meeting him at the hospital and going into his home. His pet Bruno delivered a gift to you."

     "It was only to take his blood for a lab test. That's what I do, I'm an ASCP."

     "A what?"

     "I am certified as a Medical Technologist with the American Society of Clinical Pathologists."

     "And I'm a TSBWHG."

     "What's that?"

     "A tough son-of-a-bitch who hates playing games."

     "I think you left out the P. It should have been TSBWHPG. You can leave out the 'of a' part because they're small words, but you can't leave out the P. The only way to leave out the P is if you mean tough son-of-a-bitch who hates games. It has the same meaning, but might be construed that you hate watching games as well as playing them. It's less active. Now ASCP is an..."

      "Okay, enough. I'm not that good with words. So tell me again, this time the truth, what are you doing for Reynolds?"