Sunny Too
Chapter 9

Copyright© 2017 by Old Man with a Pen

You know I can’t keep calling you Doctor,” I said the somewhat older scholarly guy.

“Why not? It’s my title.”

“Are you going to call me, Your Excellency, Mister Ambassador Plenipotentiary?”

“Umh ... no.”

“Why not? It’s my title.” I whipped out my Diplomatic Passport and flashed it at him. I hoped he wouldn’t ask to see it.

This was going on while I had a million people ransacking Abby’s garage. Not that they were stealing anything ... per se ... but there were so many and I had no idea what she had in her cubbyholes. Anybody Could have walked off with the office safe and I wouldn’t know if she even had one.

We were interrupted.

He was flashy in a subdued sort of way ... connected or perhaps newly wealthy and didn’t know how to dress yet. I’m sure his shoes cost as much as my car. His suit was altered off the rack ... admittedly ... it was a good rack ... but it wasn’t bespoke. So the cut was just a little off ... and the color ... eww.

“I insist you sell me that car,” he said. He pointed at the Escort.

“Not for sale.”

“Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Well ... you’re neither Tidewater nor Cocaine ... I know all of those guys,” I said.

“I could buy and sell you,” he said.

“You have millions?”

“I don’t need millions for the likes of you,” he said.

“Get out of my garage,” I said.

“You can’t order me out ... this belongs to the racetrack.” A very smug look came over his face. “I am a stockholder.”

“Evidently, you’ve never read my lease,” I said. I fished out my phone and called Security. “Alan. I have an offensive trespasser I want removed from my garage.

“Yeah ... I can ... it’s in my lease.”

I disconnected.

“Security is on the way,” I said and turned my back on the idiot. He laid hands on me.

Serious mistake.

“Don’t turn your back on me,” he said. “I’m not through with you.”

He had a bodyguard ... fat lot of good that did. Instead of one perpetrator there were two ... and they were extremely easy for Security to remove.

Unconscious people can’t object.

The bodyguard was armed with a handgun that Mr. Pretentious had bought. The bodyguard was not in possession of a valid firearms license and an ex-felon to boot; and that brought in the New South Wales State Police. It’s not that hiring an ex-felon was illegal ... the state would love to see rehabilitation in action ... it was hiring an ex-felon and then arming him with a weapon that was the sour apple in a bunch of sweet grapes ... so to speak.

Mr. Pretentious had taken the “do you know who I am?” schtick just a trifle too far. Suddenly it didn’t matter who he was ... Australia and unlicensed handguns didn’t get along ... no ... not at all.

Mr. Pretentious was charged with assault and gun running ... well ... it was just one gun but they had to charge him with something.

The older scholarly guy was looking at me with wide eyes. “Porter,” he said, “Charles Porter. Pleased to meet you ... I think.”

“Great! Charlie?” I suggested. “No? Charles it is then. David or Dave works for me.”

We shook. My phone rang. It was Myndee. It seems they had gone as far as Abby could go and needed to ... as Abby put it, ‘Get the fuck out.”

My question to Myndee was, “Did she really use the ‘F’ word?”

“Yes, sir. She has been provoked beyond all possibility of recovery.”

“We’re on our way.”

The Mustang proved its worth and we negotiated through the crowds in fine fashion. Dr. Porter got out.

“Dr. Porter. It was a pleasure. I’d like to talk to you about flying ... just not right now.”

“Any time, Dave.”

Abby got in the backseat, Myndee was seated and strapped in and off we went.

“How did you do?” I asked.

“Myndee, please tell Daddy I don’t want to talk about it. Why are we going this way?”

We were headed back to the track. Alan let us through ... actually ... to put a plain face on it ... he saw us coming and waved us through. He was grinning as we went past.

“These are your mothers’ cars and this was her shop.”

“Myndee, please tell my father that I’m not done being mad at him ... and he’s spoiling it.”

“Sir...”

“I heard ... I heard. Thank you, Myndee.”

 
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