Chapter 5: A Trip to Washington, DC

The ringtone on Linda’s old flip-phone woke her from a sound sleep. Glancing at the time display on the phone, she saw it was already 9:15. She hoped that was an a.m. and not a p.m. time.

Answering the call, Linda said, “Hello, this is Linda.”

The voice on the phone said, “Good Morning, Linda. I’m calling from the credit union. Your debit card is here. You can pick it up anytime now.”

“Okay, thanks for calling,” mumbled Linda. The lady disconnected and Linda slumped back sleepily on her pillow. She yawned and decided to get up. Linda walked into her bathroom and went through her morning routine. Brush teeth, toilet, shower, dry hair. Today Linda added some makeup from the supplies she purchased the day before. Not much, don’t want to make things difficult for Ms. Mouse. Just enough so people didn’t run away screaming if they saw her approaching.

Downstairs Carla said, “You didn’t wake up in time for breakfast. I figured you must be very tired from all the work moving in yesterday. Did you sleep well, dear?”

“I slept just great. I feel like a new person this morning.”

“Breakfast is over, but here is a left-over biscuit and Mr. Coffee has a fresh pot ready.”

“Thanks, Carla.” Linda walked over and helped herself to a cup of coffee and added sugar and milk. She picked up a biscuit and wrapped it in a paper towel to take with her.

“Where are you off to, today?”

“I have some errands to run, some banking and I have to return the pickup truck this morning or they’ll charge me for another day.”

“Okay dear. You run along and drive carefully now. Lots of bad drivers out there on the roads. Not like it used to be,” Carla turned away, shaking her head about the good old days.

Linda went outside and hopped in the truck. First, I’d better go get my backpack at the train station she decided. Linda was so busy, she didn’t remember how long it was stashed in the locker. She drove to the train station parked the truck and walked inside. As she headed for the locker area, she was day-dreaming about just how rosy and bright her future looked now, compared to the day she moved into the Wilson Hotel. As she opened the locker Linda felt something hit her hard on the back of the head. She staggered and dropped to one knee.

A man reached into the open locker above her head and grabbed her backpack. Linda was still stunned. She watched the man turn and start to run away.

“Hey, punk!” yelled a bystander. “Stop right there!” The man grabbed the thief by the back of his shirt and yanked him down to the floor. A transit cop rushed over to help.

Linda groggily got to her feet.

The transit cop placed cuffs on the thief’s wrists and told Linda, “Stay right there, we’ll need a statement from you.”

She stood there rubbing the back of her head where a small lump was forming. The man who tackled the would-be thief walked up and asked Linda if she was okay.

“Thanks so much for stopping him,” Linda said with a big smile. “I have a few valuables in my backpack and losing them would have hurt.”

“You are very welcome, lady,” said the stranger. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“Yes, but I don’t see Mr. Anyone here, do you?”

Linda quickly scanned the man, looking for any health problems. She found a small tumor in his colon. Linda dissolved the tumor quickly and easily. At least she could repay her benefactor. Now he wouldn’t get colon cancer.

A transit cop walked up and took Linda’s statement. He also got the stranger’s statement.

Linda asked, “Will I have to testify?”

“Probably not,” said the cop. “We have everything on tape. He’ll cop a plea and be out in a week, two max.”

“Hardly seems fair.” Linda sighed. “He’ll just continue stealing from someone else. Next time the victim may not be as lucky as I was.”

“How’s the bump on the head? Need to see a doctor? We can call a taxi if you need a ride to the emergency room.”

“It’s a bit sore, but I’ll manage.”

Linda picked up her backpack settled it in place and walked out of the train station.

Hey Retribution, why didn’t you warn us about that guy?

You were day-dreaming and I can’t receive when our mind is all locked up in outer space.

Concentrate, added Ms. Mouse.

Yes, always have to concentrate, whispered Retribution.

At the credit union Linda walked up to an available teller. “Hi there. I need to pick up my new debit card, make a deposit to savings and checking, and I have an address now for ordering my checks.”

Linda gave the teller her information and identification and waited patiently for him to finish typing in the computer. “Where is Melody today?”

“She quit. Said she got a new job as a receptionist at some dental clinic close to her home.”

“Ahh, I see. Well good for her, then. The commute won’t be as bad.” Hopefully no dental clinic ghosts either, whispered Ms. Mouse.

Linda handed the teller the two grand from the backpack, and said, “Put half in savings and half in checking, please.” She got her deposit receipt, and left the credit union with her new debit card tucked safely away in her wallet.

Linda delivered the pickup back to U-Haul, then caught the trolley over to the Transit Center. From there, Linda rode the bus out to Prospect and home.

Arriving at her new abode Linda saw Janice and Kathy sitting in the living room.

“Oh good,” said Janice. “We were hoping you would be here about now.”

“What’s up?” asked Linda.

“Perfect day to introduce you to the wonderful game of golf,” added Kathy with a smirk.

“Got any plans?” asked Janice.

“No, I’m caught up now with all the stuff that had to be done today. Let me change into some clean shorts and a tank top, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Kathy drove the trio to the Cauthen Country Club in her well used Honda Civic. It was clean and sounded alright, with just a bit of normal wear and tear. Linda estimated it was about fifteen years old.

At the Country Club the girls walked around to the Golf Pro Shop, and helped Linda pick out rental clubs that seemed the right size for her. They added a bucket of fifty used golf balls.

Outside in the back Kathy said, “This is the driving range. People come here to practice with different clubs. It’s also a great place to learn how to swing a club, before you get out on the course and look foolish.”

“Like I did,” added Janice ruefully.

“Hitting the golf pro on seven was not your finest moment,” snickered Kathy.

“After you get some practice with the woods today, we’ll go over to the putting green and you can practice putting.”

“Well, I don’t know a lot about golf, but I think I have the basic idea. Hit the little white ball and watch it soar through the air. Then putt it into the hole in the ground,” Linda laughed.

“That’s pretty much all you need to do. Now watch me, and pay attention to how I swing the club. Technique is important. Keep your head down, and while looking at the ball, take a couple practice swings. Then ‘address‘ the ball. That means to line up and prepare to hit it. Notice how I hold the club with both hands over-lapping, and how I place my feet,” said Kathy.

“How far should I hit the ball?” asked Linda.

Janice added, “The distance you hit the ball with a club varies depending on a lot of factors: the clubs you’re using, the balls you’re using, the conditions under which you play (hard fairway or soft fairway? windy or calm? humid or dry? etcetera). Your gender and age, physical fitness, coordination and athleticism, your swing speed, how solidly you are connecting with the ball. All these things affect just how far you can hit.”

Kathy hit the ball with the driver, and it soared out close to one hundred and sixty yards.

“Nice shot, Kath,” cheered Janice.

“Okay now, Linda, you try a shot,” Kathy said and handed her the rented driver.

Linda took the driver from Kathy and placed the ball carefully on the tee. Wiggling her hips she tried copying the approach and stance of Kathy. After three practice swings Linda ‘addressed‘ the ball. That made her giggle and released some of the tension in her shoulders. Just relax she told herself. Linda swung hard and ... missed. She didn’t hit the ball at all. Looking over her shoulder she said, “That was just another practice swing.”

Kathy and Janice nodded. “Go ahead now, hit that ball a country mile,” encouraged Kathy.

Linda wiggled her hips again like Kathy did and brought the club down, almost connecting with the golf ball, then reared back and swung. She kept her head down and eyes on the ball until she heard a smack when the club head hit the golf ball and looked up. Linda unconsciously grabbed control of the little golf ball and pushed it out onto the driving range. It bounced down and rolled to a stop, near the three hundred yard marker.

“Jesus!” said Kathy

“What the hell?” Janice asked.

“Is something wrong?” asked Linda.

“Linda, you just hit the ball farther than most men on the pro tour can hit,” Kathy replied.

“Can you do that again?” asked Janice.

“How far should I be hitting the ball then?” asked Linda.

A man standing behind Janice and Kathy said, “Sugar, you just hit that damn little ball as far as you can and don’t worry nothing about no damn PGA golfers. ‘Scuse my language Ma’am. That was an incredible shot.”

Linda stepped up and placed another ball on the tee and hit it hard, again. The ball flew straight out on the range, flying for two hundred and seventy-five yards, give or take a few.

She looked around at her cheering section. “I didn’t hit that one quite as far.”

“Just keep on hitting ‘em, young lady. Jim, go get Fred Jackson. He needs to see this.”

Linda turned back to the tee and set another ball up to be hit. She continued hitting balls with the driver, one after the other, till Janice told her to change clubs. The shortest distance she managed was a ‘worm burner’ that tore along the ground, leaving a wake of bent grass in it’s path. A couple of her hits sliced, and a couple hooked. Most of them were solid hits straight down the driving range. The best she managed was hitting the sign at three hundred and ten yards. Most of her shots dropped in between two hundred thirty to two hundred eighty yards.

When Linda turned around to get the next club she found 26 people standing there watching her. Ms. Mouse cringed. Linda was not used to being the center of this much attention. Ever.

The audience watching her clapped, whistled and cheered.

“I think I need a break from this,” said Linda. Ms. Mouse nodded her head vigorously.

The man who originally complimented her said, “Linda? Janice told me your name is Linda Spencer. I’m the manager of the Cauthen Country Club. My name is Kevin Smith. This man beside me is Fred Jackson. He’s our resident golf pro.”

Fred shook Linda’s hand. “May I call you Linda?” He had a look of wonder on his face that Linda found oddly comforting.

Fred said, “Linda, can you come out to the club tomorrow? I would love to give you some pointers and see how you do with the other clubs.”

“I’m not yet sure of my schedule for tomorrow. Can I call and let you know, or maybe leave a message?”

“Sounds good. But I definitely want to get you back out here to practice some more. You have a lot of potential, young lady. Janice and Kathy know how to contact me,” stated the golf pro.

“Better than any golfer I’ve ever seen out here, male or female,” added Kevin Smith.

“Come with us, Linda. Let’s go practice some putting, then we need to get home,” said Kathy.

“She has a hot date tonight with a guy she met at the tournament yesterday,” giggled Janice.

Kathy punched her in the arm. “You were checking him out too. I just got to him first, that’s all.”

Linda said, “Which way do we go?”

Fred added, “You two take good care of Linda now! You hear me?”

Linda turned back, and said, “Nice to have met both of you.”

Kathy and Janice nodded their heads and ushered Linda down the path to the putting green.

“Now the hardest thing to understand when putting: the slope of the green changes as the ball rolls toward the hole, and that affects the direction of the ball,” said Kathy.

“Right, and most novices tend to hit the ball way too hard, or way too soft,” added Janice.

“Getting it just right is like sex. Not too hard and not too soft,” laughed Kathy.

Linda blushed and took the proffered putter and a ball from Janice’s hand.

“Okay now, let’s set up at different distances from the hole and see if your short game is as good as your long one,” said Janice.

Linda set the ball down about twenty-five feet from the hole and tapped the ball. Taking control, Linda guided the golf ball into the hole. She raised her putter in triumph and spun around to look at the girls. Kathy and Janice were both standing there with mouths hanging open.

“That was...”

“How?”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Do it again.”

“Yes. Please.”

Linda turned back to the putting green and for the next half hour practiced dropping the little white ball into the little round cup. This was easier than the driver. Here, she didn’t need to worry about picking up the flight of the golf ball to control it. She had control right from the beginning. In fact, she didn’t really need to hit the ball at all. She could just take control and drop it into the cup without ever hitting it. People would probably notice that.

Ms. Mouse nodded, and whispered, Please don’t do that.

Linda asked, “Is that enough for today?”

After returning the rented clubs, the girls left in Kathy’s Honda Civic. Stopping at Burger King they each ordered some fast food for supper. Then Kathy drove on home. Inside the house, the TV had the local news station on with Carla sitting in her recliner, watching. “Come in and sit down, there are some interesting developments today in Cauthen.”

The newscaster was talking about the dead body discovered in a back alley on 1st Street. “Last night the body of yet another alleged drug dealer was found in an alley. The impact point of the dead man’s head was over seven feet above the ground. Police are now beginning to speculate about the possibility of a vigilante or serial killer in our city. Citizens are cautioned to be aware of any extremely tall men over six feet, eight inches tall in the downtown area. If you see anyone matching this description, please call the crime-stoppers hot-line. There is a one thousand dollar reward now for information leading to the capture and conviction of ‘The Back Alley Killer.”

“When we return, Terri will have our local weather forecast.”

“Good thing we don’t have a pro football or basketball team here,” said Kathy.

“I’m going upstairs to eat and search the internet for a job,” said Linda.

“We’ve got to eat, then Kathy has to get ready for her date. I may go to the mall with some friends, trolling for guys,” added Janice.

Upstairs Linda let out a sigh and sank into her chair.

What a day! Linda whispered as she ate a french fry.

Mmmm french fries, whispered Ms. Mouse.

Okay ladies, we’ve a loose end to clear up, whispered Linda.

Which one? asked Ms. Mouse.

Jeff Hendricks, in Washington, answered Retribution.

Oh right! He needs to pay for his crimes too, Ms. Mouse replied.

With the short mental conversation over Linda opened up her laptop and began a search of hotels in downtown DC. She also looked up the Amtrak schedule. Linda decided on a mid-priced hotel. Using her laptop and new debit card she booked a room at the Carson Hotel. She remembered to call and leave a voice-mail for Mr. Jackson to let him know she would be traveling to Washington DC for a few days, and would contact him when she returned. Then she settled back to watch some mindless TV until bedtime.