Lucy Allen Seabolt / Martin and /Rita
Jerome Morris the director of vocational education for the Cleveland school system
Bobbi James the radio personality
Amos Hardee deputy sheriff
Lori Moore deputy sheriff
Marcus hostage taker
Sara Thomas newspaper writer
Everett Martin the current leader of the Cleveland meetings of Freebird.
Mark and Happy Jones swingers.
Jethro Morris murder victim.
James Western the second murder victim.
Sarah the cousin who sold him he land.
Lori had lost some weight since I first saw her. Don’t get me wrong she was no Olive Oil, but she was pretty well balanced. Her breast were a little small but her butt was as well. She suddenly looked like a million other girls.
Well all except for her deputy’s uniform. In that she just looked like a bitch cop. I had spent four out of the last seven nights trapped in a car with a cop. Yeah she was a woman, and she was kind of cute, but it was going to be coming to an end soon. I just didn’t enjoy the machismo attitude even it was from a female.
I had given some thought to ending my involvement with the cops more than once since I started riding with her. I had finally made up my mind that night would be the last one. I was going back to sleeping all night. It would improve my outlook on life I was sure. Lori pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned building.
“This used to be an elementary school. Every once in a while I have to crack down on the squatters. Maybe someone in here knows your landscaper,” she suggested.
“If not you can have some fun rousting the bums,”I suggested.
“Maybe so,” she said as she slipped out of the car door. She was in creeper mode as she explored for an unlocked door. When we found one, we both slipped inside then we exploring the building.
The building might have housed 500 kids once upon a time. On the almost spring night there were two homeless men.
“How you doing guys. I’m John Allen with Freebird. You guys doing okay. Ya’ll need anything,” I asked.
The two of them mumbled something, but I didn’t get it. “Lori do you know what he said. I couldn’t quite understand it?” I asked.
“I don’t think they need anything,” she replied.
“Well guys I need something to be honest,” I said. “I need to know about the landscaper who may or may not be killing us old men. Tell us what you know and we will move on and let you be.
I turned to Lori to give them some privacy while they decided what to do.
“One of them looks a little like you. Does homelessness run in your family?” she asked. In the end they gave us the information.
The one called gramps said, “I told you mike that guy was up to no good,”
“How do I find him?” Lori asked.
“We seen him down by the railroad bridge. Him and that blacked out truck. It looks like something out of hell,”
“How old is he?” I asked.
“He is younger than you,” one of the old men said. “He might be in his late twenties or early thirties.”
“If we go down to that railroad bridge, are we going to find him?” Lori asked.
“He ain’t there all the time. Just for a few minutes once in a while,” he said.
“Okay,” she said. As we got back into the car.