Chapter 8

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon and things were relatively quiet. When he entered, he had to stop for a while until his eyes had adapted to the much dimmer surroundings of the store. After a few seconds, he started strolling about, looking at the displays with helmets, facemasks and gloves. The girl behind the counter kept an eye on him, always on the lookout for the occasional shoplifter. It didn't happen very often but you could never tell ... well, that was not quite true; after a while, you could. They almost invariably had this nervous, anxious look about them, especially the younger ones. This guy wasn't like that.

After killing some time looking at the marker pistols, he finally strolled up to the counter. The girl looked up, as if she had just noticed he was there, and smiled at him. It was the first time he had seen her there. She looked to be about his age, twenty-four or twenty-five, tall, fit and very shapely. She was wearing a pair of skin-hugging jeans and a low-cut, sleeveless top that left very little to the imagination. Her skin was very dark, as if she spent most of her time in the sun and when she smiled, her entire face lit up with very white teeth and sparkling eyes.

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Yes, I'd like three jars of 2000 rounds of Rap4 paintballs, blue, and three 12 oz. cartridges of CO2 please."

"Very well. Will that be cash or charge?"

"Charge, please ... I have an account here."

"Yes, sir ... May I have your name and telephone number, please?"

"Michael Harrison, 555-2317."

She punched it up on the computer. "1575 Harbor, Manatee Bay ... That's a coincidence ... I still have family who live in Manatee Bay."

"Oh... ? I don't think I've ever noticed you there. What is your name?"

She handed him the receipt. "Would you sign this, please... ? Thank you. I'm thinking that the reason you don't recognize me is because I grew up in Willow Lane."

"Willow Lane... ? But that's in..."

"In the Barracuda Beach Resort, yes ... Your father never was very fond of us. Michael Harrison ... My name is Alicia Fernandez; I'm the deputy sheriff in Manatee Bay and you're under arrest for the illegal use of a weapon causing bodily harm."

I was just coming out of the Maison d'Or on my way back to the office and I happened to glance at the lane and the parking area. I stopped ... and stared ... Old cars are nothing new around here. Hell, I drive a '30s era pick-up myself but still ... this one was a beaut; a vintage turquoise 1956 4-door Oldsmobile 88 with vintage white walled balloon tires. You don't see those every day.

The car made its stately way up the lane and turned into the parking lot. Curious, I walked over. I got to the car just as the driver's door opened. I couldn't decide what surprised me more; the car itself or the person driving it, for out stepped ... or rather lurched, my old friend, Mayor Walrus ... er ... White.

I waited until he straightened up and stuck out my hand. "Hello, Bill ... Fancy seeing you here ... When did you get that classic car?"

"Hi, Paul. I got it about two months age; a friend of mine upstate was working on it till now to bring it up to snuff. I came to pick up my granddaughter. Her parents are out of town so she's staying with Alice and me for the week."

I glanced at my watch. "School won't be over for another hour." "I know ... I was hoping to talk to you. Do you want me to peel?" Usually Bill looked as if he knew something funny that you didn't. This time, he looked as if he knew something he'd rather not have known.

"Would you feel at ease doing so?"

"Not particularly..."

"Then let's go to the office ... I can overlook it there."

I led the way into the office and into the back room behind the service counter. Rose was doing the books.