Chapter 347

With Billy gone, I showered then dressed quickly. I rode the bike to Helen's. I'm sure the people in the cars that passed looked at me as if I were crazy. My body was a millisecond or so slower, because the fluids thickened inside my body. Otherwise it could have been seventy degrees as far as I was concerned.

Once inside Helen's I began talking to a couple of patrolmen seated at one of the picnic tables. I joined then because their conversation was about Sergeant Carrie Thompson. I had met her briefly, while I was dealing with Bristol Peace. It seemed as though she had been promoted to the Murder Squad. So that's why Blevins sent her to me, I thought. It was also because I was waiting for the other shoe to drop on the Bristol Peace episode.

The two street cops gave me the rundown on Thompson. She wasn't young, pretty or white so life had been tough for her during her ten years in law enforcement. Nonetheless she had made it all the way to the murder squad. That was a long way for any cop.

Now I know that a lot of people scream quota, when a person of a different race gets a promotion. In some cases I'm sure they are right, but according to the street cops Thompson was a good vice cop. Not only that She was the best of the applicant for the job, hands down. They had to agree with the move even if it seemed that they agreed grudgingly.

Of course it didn't matter whether they agreed or not. Thompson was installed and that was all there was to it. I wondered how that was going to work out for me. She could be a friend or a thorn in my side, only time would tell.

There were still no rumors of a dead body dragged from the river. Of course, I didn't ask, so there could have been and just not made it into the rumor mill. I was satisfied that there was nothing concerning me on the radar, so I went to the mall for my walk.

The dancer and I shared few words again that morning. I kept on good terms with her, since she knew I had been involved in more than one nefarious venture. Dancer might never have been a spy, but it would not have been from a lack of desire. Sometimes I thought Leon's history of involvement in the trade was the glue that held them together. She always seemed more than just willing to listen to the latest stories going around.

I managed to get away from her without a rehash of the night before's adventure. There was not much to rehash as far as I was concerned. That was my opinion and I'm sure it carried very little weight with Dancer.

The early start I had that day left me with a lot of time on my hands. I had no intention of getting involved with the housing development we had come to call The Mill Village Development. That name almost certainly would change before we hit the street to sell the houses.

Even in the thirty degree weather, I rode the bike around town looking for places to put my office. About a mile from downtown center, I saw another vacant lot. There had once been a frame service station on the lot. It had been closed for years. Finally the EPA took it over to have the leaking gas tanks removed.

The lot had gone through more than one set of hands since it's original owner had to surrender it to the EPA. On that morning it was again up for sale. Even though it was a service station lot, it had entrances on only one side. It was not unusual for old service stations to be in the middle of a block in the old days. The closest neighbor was a daycare on the right side. That might prove inconvenient, with the kinds of people who occasionally came looking for me. I put that lot out of my mind and continued to ride.

Even with the tour of the core town, I still arrived at the Downtown House an hour before Sylvia. While I drank coffee, listened to tunes, and charged my power cells, I sat on the sofa at the foot of my bed just looking out at the traffic ... It was proving to be a really good morning.

I saw Sylvia ride by the window on her scooter. A few minutes later I heard her enter the townhouse through the rear door. "I'm up here," I said.

"I'll be down here taking care of business. Why don't you come down and make some decisions for me?" she asked. It looked as though Sylvia didn't want to be alone in the bedroom with me. I had expected that to be the case.

When I made it downstairs, I was dressed in the chemise, with a black tee shirt over it and a V neck sweater as an outer layer. I was neither cold not hot, I just liked the look. If I forgot and wore it outside without a coat, I wouldn't get stared at too much. I also wore my signature off the rack slightly baggy jeans.

Sheryl was dressed in a white Bulky knit sweater over god only knew what kind of contraption to hold her beautiful boobs up. She also had begun to wear jeans to the office.

She wore designer boots, where as I wore an old combat style boot. I had found a source for the jungle green nylon canvas, and leather boots from the Vietnam era on line. They were clunky as hell, but I was strong enough to move around well in them. With my jeans pulled down over the tops, they just looking like leather boots that were no where near fashionable. I really didn't care.

"So do we need to talk about last night?" I asked.

"Not as long as you understand that won't be happening again," she said.

"That's up to you Sylvia, it always was. It has never been a condition of your employment or our friendship," I stated flatly. I did it so that there would be no ambiguity at all.

"Good, I always knew that something like that might happen, Now that it has, I know it's not what I want." She said in reply.

"Fair enough, then lets get to work." That's how the incident ended. I tried to get involved with the Mill Village, but she had it pretty much in hand.