Chapter 132: Al's Panties

Cheryl was coming home from work, when I left for Big Al's Pawn Shop. "Where are you off to," she asked as I passed her on the walk.

"I have to see a man about a bike." I replied.

"Are you going to buy another one?" she asked.

"No somebody stole mine this morning and I'm going to go discuss it with him," I said.

"Not without me you aren't," she said as she turned back toward the gate.

"No Cheryl, this could get messy and you are on parole," I tried to explain.

"I won't carry a gun and I won't shank him, but I might kick him in the balls. Let's go," she demanded.

"If I take you, then you have to do exactly as I say?" It was a question and she knew it.

"Alright exactly as you say, no questions, just do it. I know the drill, so let's go." She seemed excited. I didn't think that it was a very good sign, but I went along with it against my better judgment.

Gwen came out of the TV apartment as we were about to pass it. "Why don't we car pool?" she suggested. "You never know when you might need a video file."

"Girl power," Cheryl said with a smile. The smile she gave Gwen worried me as much as her wanting to come along in the first place.

"Sure why not," I knew that the necessity to keep the two of them safe would keep me from doing anything stupid. We decided to take the Cruiser. It had a bit more room than the rental car, which Mike and Gwen shared.

"Get your GPS thingie," I said. "We might need to do a few more errands one never knows these days," I admitted. The hood, as the cops called the area around the project, wasn't all that far from West End, were my converted motel was located. Not in miles, but in attitude it was a million miles away. West End was poor rednecks, but they all worked at something it seemed. Very few of the poor people in the projects had jobs. I didn't even want to know what most of them did for money. I just wanted to know that they kept it away from my part of town.

I followed the directions from the GPS lady. She knew what she was doing alright. She led me to the parking lot of Big Al's Pawn Shop without a single misstep. Big Als was a converted three bay 40's style service station alright. The bay doors had been switched to glass store front windows when the Korean family owned it. Big Al had those windows covered with security bars.

"Jesus this place looks like a mini prison," Cheryl said.

"Well in this case the bars are supposed to keep people out," I said. But you could be right maybe we should check for signs of white slavery while we are in there." I was being frivolous

"Couldn't hurt." Cheryl said... "She doesn't talk at all does she?" She meant Gwen.

"Just if she want's something from us. She is the chick that isn't really here. Do not look to her for help of any kind."

"Then it's like she really isnt here?" Cheryl asked.

"Yes, that's exactly what it's like." I agreed.

We left the car with Cheryl and I walking side by side and Gwen following while seeming to talk on her cell phone. I knew from my discussion with Mike earlier, that it was a pretty high tech camera not a phone at all.

I walked through the door and was confronted by a rather large white man with a bald head. Since he didn't smile, I didn't either.

"I need to see Big Al," I said to him. Somehow I figured him for the muscle, not the brains of the operation.

"I'm Big Al, and I know who you are Ms Stone. I have been expecting you," he said. When I saw who was speaking, I wanted to laugh my ass off. Big Al was under 4 feet tall. He was what we used to call a midget. Now, I think they are called little people. Can you say politically correct, hogwash.

"Then you probably have already worked out your story." I suggested.

"Why would I need a story?" he asked.

"One to keep me from calling the police," I suggested.

"Seems to me you are short on evidence of a crime. You did take your bike back after all." he said smiling one of those smart ass, catch me if you can jail house smiles.

"Okay, then we have nothing to discuss. I will be happy to call the cop de jour anytime. You might want to rethink the 'you are short on evidence' thing though. Since I have a video of the incident at your warehouse..."

The one where you stole the bike at gun point?" he asked.

"That would be the one, where your man explained that the bike came in only an hour before I arrived. Also the one where he explains the boss handles all that kind of thing." Okay it never happened like that, but I figured I might as well give it a try.

"So you have a gun in his belly and he tells you what you want to hear. I don't think that will do me any harm."

"I would be willing to bet that the local cops or the DA has a file on you. Probably the FBI as well. Interstate movement of stolen merchandise is a criminal offense. If they don't have a file, I bet I can get one started." I paused then added. "I bet I can also fill that file in a week. It's what I do remember?"

"Alright let's negotiate," he suggested.

"All I want to know is who placed the ordered for my bike," I demanded.

"His name won't mean a thing to you and I would like to keep him as a customer. How about I just explain the why, that will be more than enough I'm sure."

"So what do you want in return for this information, that may or may not be enough?" I asked.

"First of all we both forget this unfortunate incident," he suggested.

"I think, I can manage that," I replied. I didn't any any desire to get the cops involved.

"There is more, I want a pair of your panties. Ones you have worn."