A Mann's World

Chapter 11

Stepping Back

"Albert," Robert said with a fondness their new relationship didn't deserve.

"But you said!" Toby stuttered in protest as Robert held his arm back to keep the boy at bay.

"Next time, shorty. This one's mine. Take a hike."

"My name is Toby. Bastard!" was the hiss that came from Toby's lips, but Robert wasn't listening because Albert had his undivided attention. "Albert, shame on you. What are you doing out here cruising?"

"Bobby!" Albert's voice was filled with unexpected surprise. "Step into my chariot, won't you? Please, join me for a cup of coffee at my place. I found some exquisite beans you'll absolutely adore." The aire of the continent was thick in Albert's voice.

Toby knew he'd been suckered again and didn't listen to the conversation. It didn't pay to let anyone distract you. He could have scored a meal and more and now he was just the audience for another boy's success. He'd been pushed out of the way enough times to know when resistance was useless. He eased himself dejectedly back up on the wall, hoping the driver would pick him but knowing he wouldn't.

"Albert, there's a strangler loose. Why are you taking this kind of risk?"

"My friend, I am not above delivering a meal and a caress on occasion, but I assure you I can sort out the riffraff from the rose blossoms. I'm an exceptional judge of character. Please, won't you enter so we don't appear as common pick-up artists in the middle of where so much history has been written?"

"What told you this guy was okay, Albert?" Robert slid into the seat as he spoke. Albert leaned forward to look up so he could see the boy who was now back on the wall.

Taking this as one last opportunity to reverse his fortunes, Toby leaped down from his perch, rearranging his pants for effect. He walked, more strutted, hips thrust forward in an exaggerated attempt to get the attention he wanted. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets to further draw his trousers tight to accent the object he hoped would create some interest.

Robert watched the sexual walk and noticed the forlorn look on Toby's face and then the finger that told the story as the car started to move. Albert took it all in but he couldn't bring himself to ask Robert to let the boy ride along for fear he'd be viewed as just another old queen. And he desperately didn't want to be perceived that way by someone he liked.

"You see, he's of no danger. The boy only seeks to make contact with another of his species and poor Albert is powerless to say no. He is lovely, no? You do not know how difficult it is to leave this one at the curb," Albert said, driving away disappointed, with regret in his heart for the lonely looking lad.

"I know this one is of no danger but I worry that one you pick up will be. It isn't safe. I wish you wouldn't do it again until this guy has been caught."

"I'm flattered that you are concerned for my well-being. I don't do this often."

"I am concerned. You're a nice man and I don't want to see you hurt."

"Yes, and I've caught up on my reading. One must practice what one preaches, Bobby. Now I see your scars of war more clearly."

"The Post?"

"Yes. My maid collects them from the front stoop and saves them for me to peruse once I've returned after being away."

"Maid?"

"Certainly! You don't think I keep the house spotless myself, do you? It's especially clean after I've been away because I'm not there to be in the way."

"I never thought about it at all. I've never had a house or nice things."

"Well then you should come to mine more often. I believe in sharing."

"I'm straight, Albert."

"Yes, well, I haven't held that against you. Can I then ask you why you are taking time out to defend the honor of gay men at the most popular queer bar in town?"

"No!"

"I thought not."

"I know the piano player."

"Ah, Philip. He's a most charming chap."

"You know Phil?"

"Ah yes. After Howard died, he played at Leon's, an old haunt of mine from when I could still hold my own on the bar scene, Phil became the best man among the gay set. Howard died at his piano. Dedicated artist to the end."

"So you do know him?"

"Phil? Only by reputation and from a distance. When one only hears nice things said about someone, he must assume there is a ring of truth in what's said. Why, do you have any gossip I should know?"

"I don't gossip, Albert."

"I am finding it difficult to believe that I found you loitering on the street. I know times are hard but I've offered you gainful employment, my boy. Why have you sunk so low so quickly?"

"It's not what you think, Albert. I was not selling it."

Albert looked at Robert's face and questioned in his own mind what he had seen and where he had seen it. He didn’t doubt that it was true but it was very confusing, if only because Robert was a mystery.

"You know, had I not spent an evening in your pleasant company, I wouldn't believe you so easily, but I do. It is none of Albert’s business what your business is, although I do know I don't have a clue what that business might be. You certainly could curry favor with any number of gay establishments if you liked."

"I'm straight."

"I'm not and I don't go to gay clubs, so why shouldn't you go? And to answer your question and so you'll know, I'd have taken him for a meal. They're always hungry. I don't know if they eat from day to day. We would have chatted. He'd have told me something about himself and I'd tell him something about me. If I felt the least bit ill at ease he'd have been dropped off with a handshake and a smile and a fresh new ten dollar bill that I keep here in my shirt pocket for such eventualities. Had I not felt ill at ease, he'd have gone home with me and we'd have continued our chat over drinks and a hot Jacuzzi, or television, or whatever he so desired. Communication with someone you don't know is not all that complicated if you keep in mind that the other person is much like yourself except for background and current circumstances."

"It's still dangerous and I wish you wouldn't do it."

*****

"Who was the dude that got into that car?"

"What car?" Toby said, leaning on the open window of Bland's car.

"The young guy that was sitting here with you. What do you know about him?"

"Nothing," Toby said, liking being questioned even less than being robbed out of a trick.

The car lurched forward, forcing Toby out of the window as he watched it chase after the silver Mercedes.

*****

Robert and Albert were pleased to see each other in spite of the questionable circumstances that brought them together. Albert pointed the car into the driveway and the garage door closest to the staircase opened automatically. The Mercedes came to rest beside a classic Corvette. It looked as though it was right off the showroom floor.

It was Robert's color, black, and he jumped right out and walked around the sports car with reverence. "Remarkable condition. It has really been taken care of. I've always wanted one of these. They are a man's car!" He said.

"Yes, I'm led to believe that is so. I've not driven it myself. It's somewhat spirited for my taste."

"Let me get this straight, you have a Corvette in your garage and you haven’t driven it?"

"It's a long story, Bobby. If we spend more time together I may tell you some of the assorted details about my past, the Corvette being a remnant of one. For now it should remain a mystery."

"Hell of a remnant," he quipped as he followed Albert to the interior staircase.

"How fortuitous that we've met today. I've acquired some new artifacts that I think you might find interesting. In fact I thought of you the very moment they arrived. Allow me to show you."

Once they ‘d removed their shoes, Albert led him straight back to the room where he'd seen the breastplate, only this time they got to it from the opposite side of the house. Robert drew a picture of the house in his head and realized a single hallway connected three of the four sides. "This is also the room I use as my photographic studio. If I take pictures of a piece or a person, this is where I do it."

Robert stood in the middle of the room and more carefully examined the deeply grooved faces of the Indians whose pictures decorated the walls.

"Here Bobby, isn't this magnificent?" Albert turned from the table after unwrapping a package carefully before handing it to him. It was a shield that had been finely decorated and obviously belonged to someone of importance.

They both held it reverently but this was a different kind of reverence than Robert felt for the classic Corvette. This feeling of awe was connected to something he had never been allowed to be a part of even though it was part of him. The shield was a powerful symbol and he felt its history.

"It's a fine piece, Albert. I think only a Chief or a Shaman would carry it."

"Yes!" Albert agreed. "I thought the same thing. You've seen something like this at home?"

"Nothing as elaborate as this. Shields I've seen were used and saved because they belonged to someone from our history before it was taken from us."

"I'm having it researched and I should know more about its owner in a few days. I just thought that you would be the only one to appreciate it as I do."

"Yes. Yes, I do, Albert. It's beautiful. Thanks for sharing it with me. I can see why you wanted it," he said, handing the shield back to Albert. Even after the shield was out of his hands, its effect was not lost on a part of him that he couldn't keep at bay. His heart was now in the white man's world but his soul was Indian through and through, and he'd yet to face up to it.

Albert placed the piece back on the workbench. "Let's go to the kitchen and have that coffee I promised you." They continued down the corridor until it led them to the kitchen. By the time the coffee was brewed and poured, Robert's mouth was watering from the smell of the fresh ground beans that filled the room.

"See if you aren’t dazzled by the fragrance and flavor of this superior brew," Albert said as he sipped. It was everything he promised it would be and they sat at the table and talked until all the coffee in the pot was gone. Albert was excited by his purchases and spoke of the history of the pieces he had previously acquired.

Daylight had given way to dark without their help and Albert brought out some small photographs of the Plains tribes taken long ago. Both looked into each picture, creating personal conceptions of who the native peoples might be.

Robert found himself able to relax around Albert. The man was full of stories and experiences that were fascinating and he obviously delighted in telling them. Having always lived in a very narrow spectrum, and mostly inside of himself, the stories gave new meaning to his own limited experience. Albert's love for the Indian cultures expanded Robert’s own understanding about who he was. It left him feeling good about the Indian half he now rarely acknowledged.

"You've told me about everything but the Corvette."

"Hardly everything, dear Robert. The Corvette?"

"How is it you have a Corvette you've never driven?"

"This is not a story I tell easily. There was a young man, a beautiful young man. He had a brain like no other I've known. He wanted to be a surgeon and Albert helped to make it possible. When he became a doctor I gave him the Corvette to show him how proud I was. He did love that car."

"No doubt!" Robert said.

"His country called. He said it was his duty. He never returned and the car is now his memorial. I can neither drive it nor can I sell it. We are prisoners of our love you see, even when the love has gone."

"I'm sorry," Robert said as Albert faded almost completely inside himself. They sat in silence, the coffee gone and the house quiet. Albert finally collected the pictures and returned them to their place.

"I'm sorry I didn't let you pick him up."

"Pick whom up?"

"Toby. That was his name. If I hadn't been there you wouldn't be upset and he'd be keeping you company."

"But you don't even approve of a man my age picking up a boy his age. Why are you such a willing participant now?" There was a new accent. It certainly wasn't continental. It was neutral but very American and the first time Albert had spoken without his facade.

"I can see how upset you are about your friend. I just thought maybe being with Toby might help."

"Nothing can do anything about that pain. But at times I need someone to get me from one day to the next. That's when I go looking for company, unless I just happen by and someone is waiting for me."

"Waiting for you? They wait for you?" Robert questioned.

"Perhaps not waiting for me but it’ll do and I pretend. Some times life is about pretending. Pretending you're happy. Pretending you have a home and a family. Pretending you have a friend. Pretending you're going to eat tonight. The boys and I each pretend whatever it is that needs pretending at any given time. It's harmless if you don't think too much."

"Yes, but quite illegal, Albert."

"Yes, true. A lonely old man tempers the emptiness while giving a lad who has no place and no food a little of each, and if after we've eaten and laughed, we decided to share a bed, who is harmed? Certainly when I think I need to find a boy, lust takes me out, but once I've met him and addressed his needs, it's only my concern for him that matters, not me. Everything else that follows is by mutual agreement. I would never do harm to anyone."

"Yeah, but it can still get you into trouble. The harm is that you are violating a law."

"Yes, and is it the law that allows the waifs to haunt our streets, hungry, lost, in search of themselves or a human contact."

"They have options, Albert. They should be home. If they stayed home there would be less trouble for everyone and you wouldn't be tempted."

"What do you suppose makes them leave happy homes to live lives of misery in our gutters?"

"I don't know… they don't like being told what to do."

"Yes, the family must be right and they wrong. Even now I have cause to worry about the boy we left at the curb. Will he eat today or will he sleep tonight with his jagged belly tearing at his insides? If my concern was only for lust, Bobby, you'd be at the curb and he'd be here drinking my coffee. You might give that some thought before judging me so harshly. I just regret I can't offer more of them some comfort."

"You aren't that old Albert and I know you wouldn't harm anyone. I'm worried about you. I'm not judging you."

"You are that young, Bobby. The world is not perfect and if we don't reach out for one another in spite of the law, it's all quite pointless. The law has no heart or soul and it is never hungry or lonely. I'll stand by my efforts to help take care of the boys and I'll accept whatever comes out of it. The law will take care of itself."

"It's there to protect us."

"Yes.”

“You must stay for dinner so we can fix the rest of societies ills. I should be forced to eat a TV dinner if you don't. You wouldn't want to be responsible for such a thing, would you?"

"I've got things I should do."

"Of course, you have someone to meet. I should have known you only have so much time to dally with Albert."

"It's not because I wouldn't like to. I have stuff to do. I wish I did have more time. I’d gladly stay for dinner and more of that coffee. I am very glad we ran into each other. Seeing you was a pleasant surprise and I didn't want to pass up a chance to talk."

"What do we have to talk about, Bobby? I'm curious." Albert stopped his work in the kitchen and sat across from him, trying to see through the dark lenses to the boy's eyes.

"Not anything in particular. I mean, I liked our conversation before. I was glad to see you today. That’s all."

"You haven't called. I would make time for you. You won't even stay for dinner. Let go of whatever it is and just spend an evening dallying with an old man who is full of stories he hardly ever gets to tell. You never can tell what hidden secrets you might get Albert to confess."

"You're not that old, Albert. Why do you keep calling yourself old?"

"Today I am old. Tomorrow I'll be renewed. We are much alike, you and I. You are not so young tonight. We are both something, but appear to be something we are not." Albert got up to start preparations for dinner.

"How so?" Robert asked. "I appear to be me."

"That will require dinner, some wine, and a hot Jacuzzi to get my mind in the proper frame. I've selected this marvelous cut of beef that I'll braise and I’ll prepare a light béarnaise sauce. I shan’t burn my meat, not even for you, but you'll absolutely love it. I promise."

"I really shouldn't."

"Ah, but you shall. I can hear the resistance fading. Just mention beef to an All-American boy and he's all yours. I'll bake potatoes and you can bury yours in sour cream and butter. I won't even look or make any snide remarks about how you smother the natural flavor of things with common condiments."

"How did we get from potatoes to condoms?" Albert laughed and Robert liked seeing him happy. He would stay for dinner but he didn't know why. There would be another visit to the room that was filled with objects that reminded Robert of his past. It drew him back now. The resistance, which seemed so powerful on the first visit, was fading and being replaced with curiosity.

It was quite late when they leaned back in the Jacuzzi, Albert with his martinis and Robert with his Miller beer. "I should like to hear about the reservation."

"I'm white, Albert. My Indian half is dead."

"No. You have white blood in your veins, but you are as much

Indian as your father before you."

"He is full blood and I never fit. I'm better off not thinking about it."

"You never think about your father? About going back to see him?"

"He's never expressed any desire to see me."

"How would he know where you are? You said he didn't have a phone. Couldn't you at least make an effort?"

"No."

"You are a hard case. A person gets one shot and if you get displeased they're out, that it? It's a hard way to be Bobby. It's a long life and we need to cling desperately to those we love and who love us. There won't be many. I can guarantee you that."

"He sent me away."

"Did you ever ask him why?"

"No."

"Now that you're a man, don't you think it's time you asked?"

"No."

"I see you as a thoroughbred, headstrong and determined. But some times, even with someone pure bred, and there are damn few of those, he must learn to bend a little to survive. When you learn to bend, you'll be a better man for it."

Robert sat silent. He only knew how to go straight ahead. It's how he had made it this far. He did think about his father, but it always came back to exactly the same place. He wouldn't bend and he wasn't a thoroughbred. He was just a man doing the best he knew how to do.

"He broke horses?"

Robert reached into the bucket filled with ice to retrieve another beer. He rolled it across his face before he opened it. His temple was starting to throb again. He thought it might be the heat but he didn't care. It wasn't the deep relentless pain any longer and it would pass.

"Your father?"

"Yeah, that's how he earned a living mostly. He'd go out and bring in the mustangs and break them. White folks would come out to buy them. They knew a pony Pa broke wouldn't ever throw one of their kids."

"Pony? I thought you said horses."

"Mustangs are small and powerful, but they’re horses. We call them ponies. The elders didn't think much of the white folks coming there but Pa wouldn't go to them. Word gets out and they'd just show up for one or two or three. He'd tell them to come back in a week. He'd see what he could do."

"White folks?"

"Townspeople."

"You said you were white folks. Did the white people treat you white?"

"No. I was a breed. I wore long black hair. I looked good."

"I bet you did."

"I got beat for it more than once."

"Sounds like you took your beatings on both ends," Albert said. "So why were the white beatings easier to take than the ones the Indian boys gave you?"

"I was one of them, an Indian. They beat me any way. I can pass as white and I do pass. I'm just a guy getting along who prefers not to be beat if he can help it."

Albert looked at the bruise and the beer bottle that kept going to it. His companion looked weary and the beer had made his relaxing easier. "I know the lines of a thoroughbred when I see them. It doesn't matter which world you choose. You can be anything you decide."

"What makes you such an expert anyway?" Robert gazed across the pool at his inquisitor. The words were bittersweet and harsh even to him.

"I've told you who I am. I am a student of your people. I'm a photographer. I am a dealer in fine artifacts and antiquities. I know a bargain from a bust. I recognize character when I see it. I've made my fortune knowing what will be of value tomorrow."

"And I am an unemployed half breed. There is no noble Indian waiting to surface in my character, Albert. He is dead. It and he died at a bus stop in North Dakota."

"As you say," Albert saluted him with his glass and didn't want to annoy him any further.

"I watched my father break ponies for the white eyes until his bones broke and it didn't matter because we had to eat. I watched my father's shame from having a white son. I watched him drink until he couldn't stand and then I watched him fall down. I found him in more than one gutter when he hadn't come home to sleep. No nobility here.”

"The white men would laugh at him after they bought him enough booze but they didn't dare laugh at him sober. It was all a game to them. And so you see, there is no noble Indian here, no matter how badly you want to believe it."

"I know of that which you speak, Bobby," Albert said. He was reflecting back on his own childhood when he said it. It wasn't exactly as he had led people to believe it was. The door had been opened and while there were few people Albert told the truth about himself, he thought he would tell Bobby one day. He knew it takes one to know one and they shared more than the illusion they furnished for others.

"Give me a break," Bobby said in his all knowing demeanor. "How could a guy like you possibly know what it's like being stuck between two worlds? Only my mother was there for me and she died."

"Perhaps if you could walk a mile in my moccasins, you might see the similarities."

Robert put his beer down and waited, sensing there was even more to the man than he had suspected. He did want to know more about how Albert got where he was and so he did something quite unusual for him, he listened.

"Yes, I know about that which you speak. You see I was an outcast too. I liked pink shirts with frills and I played with dolls and girls, a double curse for a little boy. Later they'd curse me for not liking little girls in the right way. The way they liked them, as a receptacle for their libido."

"They marked me early, the religious and the pure of heart. Their children taunted me and beat me up. I was the queer boy and they were all sure of that. I was the sissy everyone hated," Albert brooded, sipping from his martini. "Made them feel so damn superior, picking on a helpless child.”

Robert listened more carefully once he realized that the continental aire had completely gone out of Albert's voice. His drawl was southern and it ran very deep. "Yeah, they marked me early, and when the smoke cleared, I outclassed them, out invested them, and was more than willing to let them know the difference. My revenge didn't come from hate. I was never built for hatred, but I was built for success. They tempered my steel so that no one could ever hurt me like that again. I suppose in some way they made me who I am.”

"When I come to town now, they can't do enough for me, and I let them do anything they want and I'm oh so gracious, but I don't give them a dime. Oh, we talk about it but my memory runs long.”

Robert smiled deep inside. There was something about Albert's revenge that tickled him. "All this refinery, this is the payback, huh?"

"Yes, I suppose it is. I try not to become too attached to things because I lived so many years not having much of anything."

"I can relate to that."

"One day, Bobby, you will do the same thing in your own way, after you find what it is that you are searching for. You will go back and all those thorns that pricked your side will have to look at what you've become. The great part is that they'll still be living with their tiny little minds, and when you get the opportunity, you'll kick sand in their faces. You will make them eat your dust. They'll smile and pretend they love it and hope a little of your success, or preferably some of your money, will rub off on them." Albert laughed boldly and drank freely. "Too much alcohol bares the soul."

"You've really succeeded."

"That's the nice thing about being well known. People call for me when Momma or Grandma kick the old bucket. Please come. Now! Can't wait to get their hands on the cash. Mercenary bastards. Not all of them, I guess, but too many for my taste. I should talk. I don't come cheap."

"You certainly come to earth when you drink, Albert."

Robert couldn't help but show his amusement. He enjoyed seeing Albert unwind. He was tempted to tell him the truth about himself, the rest of it, but he drank beer and listened instead.

Albert continued in the pleasant and unmistakable southern drawl, "I suppose I do. My family, really Sister and her husband, raised me. He was a textile factory worker. She was a seamstress. Never knew my old man at all. Mom died of TB when I was four and some. I didn't know her very well either," Albert tailed off and looked into his glass.

It was empty and so was the martini pitcher and he got up to refill it, bringing back more ice and beer for Robert's beer bucket. He eased himself back into the bubbling pool. He continued to look deeply into the glass after it was renewed.

"How did you do it? I can see you did. How'd you pick antiques? It would never cross my mind."

Albert settled back in the tub, setting the quickly emptied glass beside the pitcher. He watched the water ripple and the years melt away. He went somewhere he hadn't been in ages and he could see what he spoke of as clearly as if he was there.

"There was this guy that owned the antiques store. Anderson. Anderson, South Carolina. That's where I hail from. Heart of the fiber belt. His shop was just off Main Street, maybe a block. It had been there as long as I can remember. I walked by it all the time when I was little but I never paid it any mind.”

"When I was twelve, I was looking for work. You know, riding my bike, no shoes, nice clothes though. Sister always made nice clothes for me to wear. Man could she sew. Lord knows where I'd a been without her. Family is important, Bobby, especially in my case.”

"Anyway, this antiques store is the most fascinating place in the world to me by the time I'm twelve. Every day I am out looking for stairs to sweep or trash to move. Anything for a nickel or a dime. Never thought of asking in there but every other day I go in and look at all that history. The old fellow that runs the place keeps seeing me day after day, and he starts telling me the history of this piece or that piece. You know, just the thing to get a kid's imagination going. Man, did he know stuff and I was mesmerized. Of course he was a lonely old man and no one could afford antiques back then. It was the depression.”

“He tells me the difference between the junk in the window and on the shelves and the really valuable stuff in the back rooms. Hell, no one gave a shit in Anderson, South Carolina. I rarely even saw a customer, but the store had been there forever and it was absolute magic for me.”

“When I was fourteen, he up and hires me one day. To dust and move things he buys, that kind of thing. He continued to tell me what was quality and what was junk and what would be treasure one day. I was a lonely kid on the outs with everyone but Sister and Ray back then. He was a lonely old man and so we just passed the time together.”

“So, I clean the place up. I display things, different things, you know, change his windows once in a while. Business actually picked up while I was working for him. I know the history of every piece and I know what it's worth. Every once in a while I'd try to milk someone that was dumb as a post, and old Mr. Hampton, he'd appear up between the counters, clearing his throat, and then I'd say, but for you, I got this special price today, and he'd shuffle on back to his rocker. “

"That man knew everything that went on in his store. He told me once, ‘if you never cheat a man, he'll always be your customer’. He wasn't talking about antiques but I didn't know the difference then. I never thought of it as cheating. I was just trying to make him some money, but he had no interest in anything but antiques, and maybe me after a time.”

"I can remember polishing the silver and brass that's sat there for years. He didn't pay me much but I never did it for the money. He’d taught me about everything he knew by the time I graduated high school. I didn't have a clue what he had in mind for me, but he knew. Smart old fart. Paid for my college. Said I'd earned it and that I was lucky he stayed alive long enough to see that I got what was coming to me. I always thought that when you got what was coming to you, it came from a fist. Not that time.”

Albert grew silent, still gazing off in the distance and through the years. It took him some time to gather his thoughts and to continue. "Anyway, I go off to Atlanta to college. Every faggot's dream is to get out of those damn redneck towns and find someone else like them. Damn, I never knew there were so many men in the world. Like a bear in a bee hive," Albert laughed as he thought back. "…And I ate all the honey I could get my hands on and I am never going back to Anderson, fucking, South Carolina."

"Sister wrote me. She said, “thought you'd want to know, old man Hampton died. They found him in his shop. He'd been dead a week and they wasted no time getting him in the ground.”

"I never gave him much thought or went back to that shop, even once, but when I read this, I cry. Lord knows why. Guess the old boy was the only friend I ever had as a kid. He never once asked me if I liked boys or football or getting drunk and raising hell. I was just fine to him no matter what way I was.”

"I don't know why it was so painful then. I haven’t thought much about it. Anyway, I cried, and went on about my business, feeling bad because he’d so enriched my life and I was too busy enjoying it to go back to see him.”

"Month later, I get another letter from Sister. ‘Old man Hampton left everything he owned to you. You better come home and sort through it. I wouldn't know where to begin, so don't ask. It's time for you to come home.’ And I went back.”

"Hell, I didn't know what I had. I knew the stuff I knew and it would have been worth a nice piece of change compared to anything we ever had, but I didn't know about the other. I wanted to tell her to put a for sale sign on it and sell lock, stock, and barrel to the first guy that takes out his checkbook.”

"Then I got to thinking it over, and I thought that the old boy had been kind enough to leave it to me, and I should go see what the hell it is I've got, and I return home to Anderson for the first time in over three years.”

"There I was in Atlanta, right where I wanted to be, and I go back to the town whose taunts are still so vivid in my mind. I start taking inventory. I separate the good stuff from the junk and classify everything. I'm a business major, so it's just routine.”

"I go into the basement, and in back of where he slept on a cot with a green wool army blanket, there's a room with a big old lock on it. I can't find the keys and finally I get a crow bar and bust in the door.”

"Lord have mercy! Couldn't believe my eyes. It was the really good stuff. It was the motherload. I remembered him telling me back when it all started that Massachusetts was where you got top dollar for the finer jewels, silver, random stones, and such as that, and I loaded the car up and headed north to find out what kind of horse traders the Yankees were.”

"Thirty thousand dollars in gold and jewelry. I sold the first lot to one dealer after he looked over it for five minutes and gave me a price. I was too dumbstruck to bargain. Hell, he might have changed his mind. I had ten trunk loads of stuff just like that first trunk load. I'm sure they were robbing me blind but it was silver, gold, jewelry, I couldn't begin to know the value. It was just the road out of the South then and it was more money than I ever dreamed of. I don't even know if Mr. Hampton had any idea what he was worth. I don't think he cared. He was a collector and a dealer and that was all. He lived in his store and he died there.

"I gave Sister the store to do her sewing. I gave her ten thousand after paying off their house, and I was off to find my fortune. As you can see, I found it, but I'd nearly gone through all the money by the time I was making any of my own. Kids shouldn't have too much money when they start out, they waste it. But I had a hell of a good time while I was doing it. I got a reputation as an honest broker, and business started coming my way.”

"Then everything I touched turned to gold. I put money in stocks after my best year and the market leaped almost over night. I took it out and bought property and its value doubled in a year. There wasn't anything I could do to lose money. I'm more cautious now but I live good and enjoy my life for the most part. I'm not going the way of Mr. Hampton. He'd probably say I sold out."

Albert grew silent and sipped slowly, thoughtfully. All pretense had gone. He'd told the entire truth as he knew it to be for once. He didn't know why he picked Bobby to be the recipient of this information. He did think it could aid him in the journey he was taking, as an old man had once aided him, but he wasn't sure that was the reason.

"So you see, it never hurts to be kind to old men. You just don't know what is around the next corner in life. I can honestly say, if it hadn't been for that old man, I'd be a hayseed, working in a textile plant between Anderson and Greenville, South Carolina, or maybe even dead by this time. I would have stayed the sissy boy because that's what the people there made me." The southern drawl was heavy and slow.

"Sorry if I bored you. I was making a point, I'm sure. I'm just not sure what the point might be." He held up his glass. "Too many of these, but there must be a point in there some where if you care to sort through it."

"You didn't bore me. That was a terrific story. I would never have figured you for a hillbilly." Robert smiled across the pool.

"Well, not far from the hills. You see, a few drinks, and you can get anything from me. I don't tell that story to everyone, hell, I don't tell it to anyone any more. No one cares." Albert laughed loudly. “Most of my friends just know I came up in antiques. It's all they need to know."

"Why tell me, Albert?" Robert was particularly curious.

"Why? Why? Why do the birds keep on singing. Why do the waves come to shore? I don't know why. It was just something I wanted you to know."

"Of course I feel like a total dope now."

"The story wasn't about you, Bobby. It was for you. Maybe that's the point I was trying to make. Look at me now and look where I came from? It's nice to trust someone enough to level with them. It's not like anyone really cares what happened thirty years ago. It's not so much about how one acquires his wealth as it is that he has."

"I suppose."

"Talking is such hard work and you've worn me out. You may reside in my guest room for the night. You've had too many of those for it to be safe for you to pilot your auto. I make a hellacious omelet. There's a lock on the door, so it is risk free. You may finish your soak but I'll show you the room first, and then I must recline these ancient bones until morn."

*****

Bland laid out his plan as Pollard listened. "You're going to take me home at lunch time and I'm going to catch a nap. When you're ready to call it a day give me a call. I'll drive over to your place and get the car so I can stay out tonight. I think we'll do better if we stretch our hours this way."

"You notice he never hits on the nights we've been staked out together," Pollard said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know it's supposed to mean anything. I was looking at the dates when these guys were murdered and the dates we staked places out at night. He never struck once during our stakeout. He's lucky."

"Luck runs out. If we keep at it we'll nail him. They always make a mistake somewheres along the line."

"Yeah, they always do. It's just one of those odd facts I collect. Here's another one for you. I was cross checking addresses and phone numbers last night. The place where that guy's car is registered?"

"Mann?"

"Yeah, that one. There's also a car registered to a Michael Connell at the same address, which is interesting in itself."

"Michael Connell?" Bland said.

"Yeah, Brown's main man. The guy he gave a desk job to when they was aiming on retiring him… After that big shooting last year?"

"I know Mike Connell. You sure it's the same Mike Connell? This is getting more strange as we go along," Bland said, mostly for his own consideration. "You're telling me that the kid I hit and Brown's right hand man are linked?" Jim Bland found himself searching for angles to explain these particular facts.

"I don't know, Jimmy. I don't imagine. What kind of a coincidence would that be? A guy you rough up has a car registered at the same address as the aide of the man that runs our taskforce? Even Ripley wouldn't believe that one."

"Yeah, Ripley and James Foster Bland. Check it out anyway," Bland said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he thought about the new information. "I still want to have a face to face with that guy. I don't want him coming back on me by mistake. He doesn't want to make that mistake."

"He hasn't said anything yet. Why ask for trouble? Leave well enough alone for Pete sake. I'm still looking for where he moved. He could have left town, you know."

"Just find out if there are any more links between those two. I want to know where I stand on this deal. You don't leave loose ends, Pollard. You leave nothing to chance. How many times I got to tell you that? Mike Connell? That could explain a lot of things."

"I don't know. There's only so much time in any given day. I'll run another check on the apartment, phone, registrations and like that. It's a waste of time, you ask me. This guy isn't coming forward. Fags don't come forward. They know you don't want to get on the wrong side of the law."

"They're already on the wrong side of the law. I want something on this one just in case he decides he wants trouble."

"There is nothing, Jimmy. He's clean. It's almost like he never existed before you hit him. Just an address and a car."

"We might need to get creative. There's always something if you look hard enough. So keep looking."

"I'll look… I'll look."

"With me going out evenings it'll extend our surveillance time. It's not like I got a life otherwise. I'll be leaving my car at your house from now on and then I'll leave the unit for you when I'm done and you can pick me up at my place at noon and I'll pick up the unit in the evening. I want to follow some leads I'm working on."

"Whatever you say."

Bland knew where to find Robert and he was building information about his habits but knowing what he knew already, and then having Mike Connell added to the mix, only made him more curious about Robert Mann.

*****

"This is great and I don't even like mushrooms," Robert said, digging into his food.

"Ah, yes, the cheese makes it an experience one shan’t soon forget."

"You know, you told me about everything else last night, except for the Indian thing."

"Oh my word, you are wicked, Bobby. I really shouldn't be telling you that. One does have one's pride." The voice was rich with a continental aire and Robert was sure the southern drawl came out only late at night and well lubricated with alcohol.

"It can't be much further out there than what you've already told me. Come on. Give. Why all the interest in Indians?"

"My first lover was a Black Foot Indian. We may stress the black. He was the most magnificent creature I have ever been with and the word ‘no’ never entered his vocabulary. He was a true adventurer."

"The homosexual is highly regarded in some tribes," Robert said, thinking back to his youth. "We didn't have any but I remember hearing about it. It's not a big deal to Indians. It just is."

"Believe me, it's a big deal when you are dealing with Randolph Dark Horse of Idaho and Eastern Oregon. He covered a lot of ground. Oh, mercy, did he."

"It was only once I came here that everyone was calling everyone else queer and fag. I never really heard the words back home. Maybe in town. I was just referred to as the breed. That's about the biggest insult at home."

"One must choose up sides here. Would you please stick your head out the front door and get me the paper, while I finish with my omelet?"

Chapter 12

Rampage

Robert liked the feel of the plush carpet under his socks. He got a static charge when he touched the door handle. He laughed before getting somewhat of a different kind of charge when he reached for the paper and it fell open to reveal a picture on the front page, and this time it wasn't his.

He stood in the kitchen door still staring, disbelieving. "What in the world?" Albert asked, looking up at Robert's face as he stood paralyzed by the news. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay, Bobby?"

Robert placed the paper down in front of him so Albert could see the picture. He was searching back inside his head for some rational explanation that could explain the face on the front page.

"Andrew Parkson. He was an attorney. Thirty-seven. They found him over behind the bars in Southeast," Albert read. "His murder has definitely been tied to the DC Strangler.”

“They've got to catch this guy."

"Albert, I had a beer with him the night he was killed. At Plus 1," Robert said. "Look, I've got to get out of here. I've enjoyed the company but there's something I've got to do."

"You going to be all right? You look terrible. Why don't you sit down and have a cup of coffee before you go."

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll call you. I've really got to go."

"Bobby, can you do me a favor? I hate to ask, but I must."

"I'll try."

"That boy yesterday. I feel badly about what we did. Here's ten dollars. If you see him give this to him. Please say you will. I'll rest easier if you do."

"You are something, Albert. If I see him I'll give him the money. I'll call you."

"Make sure you do. I enjoy your company. Be careful, Bobby," Albert implored, not knowing why he had the urge to warn his friend.

Robert pulled to the curb by the line of phones next to the Little Tavern. He quickly dialed the number he had in his head. "Yeah, Mike? Mann."

"You okay? What's up? You haven't had time to give it much thought."

"No, I wanted to know if there was anything new. I saw the front of the Post."

"No. They identified the guy from fingerprints. He's an attorney."

"Yeah, I know," Robert said, looking at the card he had retrieved from his dashboard.

"How did you know that?"

"Ah, I read the Post. I told you."

For some reason Robert decided it wasn't a good idea to tell Mike Connell that he had met the victim in the Plus 1 the night he was killed. He was a cop that was in the middle of an undercover investigation and there were things he wouldn't discuss until he knew what they meant. He was the one on the street and it was up to him to decide what was best.

"Well, just keep a low profile. I've got to get some things together for Brown, so if there isn't any more business, I'll get back to work."

"Yeah, get back to work. I wanted to check in," Robert said before disconnecting the call.

Mike looked at the phone and hung it up. He shook his head and started to wonder what that was about, and then he remembered the papers he had to collect and went to it.

Robert took out his address book and turned it to Phil Sharper's number. He dialed and listened to the phone ring.

"Hello!"

"Phil. Bobby."

"God, what time is it?"

"It's, ah, eight-thirty."

"It can't be eight-thirty. It's still daylight."

"There are two eight-thirties, Phil."

"Impossible! I'd have noticed a thing like that."

"Yeah, but I've got to talk to you."

"Honey, mother can't talk this time of day. I can't even find my mouth. Is something wrong?" Phil's voice took on a degree of alarm.

"No. No. They identified number eight. I knew him."

"Bobby, I've known all of them."

"I had a beer with him the night he was killed." Robert could hear Phil getting out of bed.

"Where?"

"Plus 1. After I left you in fact."

"No! Where do you want to meet?"

"Oh, Hubbard House is okay. I've got to change."

"Can you give me an hour. Mother's got to adjust to waking up in the middle of the night."

"It's the middle of the day."

"You have it your way and I'll have it mine. I'll meet you at ten."

Robert waited for the dial tone and then hung up the receiver. He got in his car and headed for home. When he got to the front door, he stopped short and looked at the black exposed latch. The door was slightly ajar. He reached for where he knew his service revolver should be in a situation like this, only he hadn't been carrying it because he was ordered not to. He felt a bit naked as he pushed the door open carefully.

It was obvious that some one had been in there. The television he had bought was on its side. The cushions were off the couch and the things in his closet were out on the floor, including the clothes he intended to wear. The kitchen drawers were all open and the contents had been spilled onto the floor.

Robert went to the hall closet and opened the door, pulling out all the shoes and the empty boxes. In the farthest corner he pulled out a shoe box and opened it. There were papers on top of a black sock and in the sock was his black service revolver. It hadn't been touched. He held it and wanted to carry it but there were the orders. He reluctantly placed it back into the sock and placed the sock back on his identification and badge, putting the sundry papers back in place on top.

Someone had turned everything upside down and they hadn't touched the only thing of value in the apartment? He unzipped the clothes bag and behind the flannel shirts and sports jacket was the dress uniform and the work uniforms he'd had at the academy. They too seemed almost too pristine. He took a few minutes to think about it before closing the closet door. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. He wandered around checking through the wreckage to see what he could see and when he checked his watch it was nine forty-five.

He walked down to the Hubbard House, sitting in the back, figuring Phil would be late. Fran stood in front of him tapping her pencil on her pad and cracking her gum.

"Coffee?"

"Can't we at least be friends?" Robert asked.

"We were a hell of a lot more than friendly."

"Exactly. Why are you acting like this? We were doing fine."

"I don't like liars. That's all. If I want to hang around with a liar, I'll just go back to my boy friend."

"Fran, I haven't lied."

"Yeah, well, all the evidence says you are guilty."

"The evidence is wrong. Please come over after work."

"I get off early today."

"Great! I'm just meeting Phil and I don't have anything else."

"I don't know. A girl should play hard to get, Bobby."

"I'll play hard if you'll get over to my apartment this afternoon."

She smiled coyly and winked in a warm way. Her hostility had definitely faded by the time Phil arrived. He kissed her cheek right away. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said apologetically, and then he leaned to give Robert a quick peck on the cheek. It surprised all three of them.

"Coffee and the usual."

"I already ate," Robert said through the blush.

"Heavens. Why are we meeting here then?"

"Well, we always meet here.’’

"Ah, and you also thought Franny. I see. Go girl. I'm hungry. If I've got to be up in the middle of the night I need nourishment, my dear." Phil primped his perfect hair and smiled across the table. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm not sure what to say. My apartment was broken into last night. This is getting more and more bizarre."

"And where were you while it was getting broken into?"

"I don't want to go into that."

"So, you've been slumming at the Plus 1. I hear it's not a very safe bar."

"You telling me? Did you know him?"

"I looked at the Post before I left. No, this one I didn't know, but between the two of us, we are batting a thousand."

"How lucky."

"Bobby, why not stay at my place for a few days. We'd both feel safer."

"Let me think about it. I don't think they stole anything. Wasn't much to steal. Mostly junk."

"They didn't take anything?"

"Nothing I can find, or can't find, in this case. No, they made a mess and the few things of value are still there."

"What self respecting break-in artist, breaks in and takes nothing?"

"The kind that broke into my place and saw there wasn't anything."

"So, why the meeting? What can I do if not offer you a roof over your head in your hour of need?"

"I'm not sure. I just wanted to see a friendly face and see what you thought."

"I think there's a madman stalking the streets and no self respecting girl is safe while he's out there."

"His victims are all men, Phil."

"In a manner of speaking. It's all about perspective."

Fran brought back Phil's food and stood with her leg pressed against Robert's as she chatted. He was ready to suggest they look over the storage area or closet, but he kept himself under control, while Phil pretended he couldn't see their proximity.

"Well, mother should go back and get some more sleep. It will be a long night tonight, but now that I'm up and it's still early, I have a friend who is sick I'd like to visit. Could I get you to drop me at his house?"

"Sure. I can do that. I'm starting to get hungry after watching you eat."

"Honey, what you're hungry for, you're not going to find on the menu," Phil said.

Robert drove Phil to a house just off “P” Street then decided that the Little Tavern would be his next stop. There was always a place to park in the empty space in front by the fire hydrant. He was cop and could get Mike to fix any ticket. He would get a bag of burgers and go eat while checking out the ‘meat rack’, although he thought it would be too early for such activities.

He saw people inside the Little Tavern as he headed for the door. He looked up and down the street hoping not to see one of DC's finest. He didn't, so he ducked inside to make a quick purchase.

There was a steaming cup of coffee and two sandwiches being slid up on the counter in front of a skinny short kid in a buckskin shirt. He was blowing into his hands and acting like he was freezing to death as he reached for the coffee and held it against his shirt for the warmth before cautiously putting the cup up to his lips.

"Hey, what's happening?"

"You stay away from me, you creep. You lied to me. You bastard. That was my car."

"Calm down! Calm down!"

"One buck forty," rumbled the big counter attendant, reaching toward the boy who sat down on one of the green stools after searching his pockets.

"I may not have it all…." Toby said, pulling out a wadded up buck that was quickly seized and then some pennies and nickels as one of the sandwiches was snatched out of the boy's reach. "Wait a minute. I got some more. Don't take it back."

"I'll pay for it. Give him the dollar back," Robert said, moving toward the stool next to Toby. "Give me a cup of coffee. Cream and sugar and half a dozen burgers."

"Pay me first before I get anything else. I want to see the green."

"I said I'd pay for it. Coffee. Cream and sugar and don't treat me or my friend like we're thieves."

The man backed down and reached for a cup as Robert took out his wallet and threw a five-dollar bill on the counter. The man turned his back and finished what he was doing.

"I don't come that cheap," Toby growled, sipping from the hot coffee cup and partially turning his back on Robert. "I ain't forgot what you done to me."

"I told you I'm straight."

"Yeah, straight guys want it too and I'm the virgin Mary."

"What you ought to say is, thank you, and I've got something I was asked to give you, but if you're going to be an asshole, I'll just keep it for myself."

"Yeah, what?" Toby asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Thank you." Robert reminded him.

"Thank you, what?"

"Where'd you sleep last night?"

"What's it to you?"

"One coffee, six burgers, three sixty all together," the man interrupted.

"Give him what he wants," Robert ordered.

"You want anything else?"

"Two more of these," Toby said, indicating the sandwiches. "More coffee." He eyeballed Robert closely as he ordered.

"Refills free."

"What do you want?" Toby asked as he ate.

"I recall asking you a question. I want the answer."

"At the church. In the doorway. Why'd you do that. I liked you."

"He was my friend. I hadn't seen him in a while. It's not like you think. He wanted to pick you up."

"You don't know what I think… He did?"

"You think me and him were doing some kind of deal. We're just friends. He did."

"Did what?"

"Did want to… I don't know… whatever you guys do. He gave me something to give to you because he felt bad about us leaving you. And I got a job for you if you're interested?"

"Better’n hanging out here all day."

"You ain't hangin' here kid. Eat up and take a hike."

"Hey, how about treating us like customers," Robert snapped. "And we weren't talking to you."

"He ain't hangin' here! I don't care who you was talking to."

"Where's your coat, kid?"

"I told you, I'm not a kid. Don't got one."

"What kind of businessman are you? You can't afford a coat? You're knocking 'em dead kid."

"I was sick. Couldn't work and then I smelled like this and who's gonna go for that? That guy yesterday was good for some food. You fucked me out of it. I don't forget shit like that."

"Where'd you get the money?"

"Bummed it on the corner. I had the change."

"You eat last night?"

"You writing a book. Look, you got something for me or is this just twenty questions?" Toby had turned to face Robert. He still liked looking at him even if it did piss him off when he did it.

"My pad was broken into. I'm thinking if I had someone to hang around there, it wouldn't happen again, you know. It's not much but it's warm and there's food."

"What'd he give you to give me?" Toby asked.

"I'm offering you honest work, kid."

"Yeah, honest all right." His glance told the tale. "I don't know if I'm talking to you."

"I'll just keep the ten dollars. Hell, I bought you lunch."

"Breakfast. You got ten bucks for me?"

"I don't know if I'm going to give it to you. Albert's a nice old dude and you're not nice and you need a shower."

"Yeah, where's the bread?"

"You forget? You ain't talkin' to me."

"Yeah, well, ten bucks'll buy you all the conversation you want, but I ain't forgettin’ what you done. Where do you live?"

"Oh, we're not sure if the location of my apartment is up to your standards?"

"Shut up. We going or we sitting here all day?"

"Nobody ain't sittin' here all day. We don't allow no loitering. You eat up and move."

"Jesus, the hospitality," Robert said. "I'm taking your tip with me. You failed to earn a tip, my man. Come on, kid, let's split."

"I ain't yur fuckin' kid."

*****

Robert checked the door handle and it was firmly locked. He used the key and threw the door open, standing back to look in before they entered.

"Who does your decorating, dude? Man, hows about inviting me to your next party?" Toby said as he followed Robert into the shambles.

"Very funny, squirt. I told you someone broke in."

"I bet they couldn't wait to break out and don't call me that. My name is Toby."

"Okay, kid," Robert mussed up his hair and that made Toby smile.

Toby was suddenly quite warm. He was grateful that he'd have a warm place to stay for maybe a night or two. It beat the hell out of where he had been sleeping. He placed the cushions back on the couch, switching them around until they fit. He sat down and watched Robert go through the wreckage again.

"I'll do that if I'm staying. What are you paying me for this service I'm providing?" The words were full of doubt because having a roof over his head and food in his belly usually came at a cost. He wasn't about to screw this up if he could help it.

"I don't know. I haven't gotten that far. I saw you and it seemed like the solution to a problem. You need a place and I need a guy to watch my place. How much?"

"You're going to feed me?"

"Sure. Room and board comes with the job."

"Five bucks a week."

"What? I'll pay you more than that. Kid you're underselling yourself."

"Yeah, well, I froze my ass off last night. Five bucks a week and I'll clean up the mess, but not if it gets like this very often. That way it's worth it for both of us. You don't cheat a guy and just maybe he won't cheat you," Toby rationalized his way of thinking to his new boss.

"Yeah, that's true. I'll get you a coat."

"Cool," Toby said, rearranging the pillows on the couch again.

"Why aren't you at home?"

"I got no home," Toby said, looking like the whipped puppy Judy had told him about.

"Why did you leave?"

"Me? I dunno know. My old man, he's got these big old hands, ya see. Like fuckin’ ham hocks, ya know. Man, you get hit enough with those, ya figure it's time to move on, ya know. I figured that way."

"Where'd you live?"

Toby didn't answer. He figured if Robert didn’t remember, he wasn’t going to remind him. That was information that could get him sent back to where he came from. "Why you doing this? I ain't nothing to you."

"I want someone looking out for my stuff. I told you."

"Yeah, I see your stuff."

"You want to take a shower? There's towels in the bathroom. There ought to be a clean one."

"I guess I get to do laundry too," Toby said.

"I never said that."

"If I want a clean towel that is."

"I'm not domestic," Robert said. "Forgive me for not having things ready for you."

"Lighten up. I ain't complaining. I'll take care of stuff. Where's the bathroom? I'll have to shower if you don't want my smell getting to you."

"How were you planning to handle Albert if you smell that bad?"

"Those old birds always have a place. Shower is the first order of business. It's not a problem. I just hadn't been lucky enough to catch one."

"He isn't an old bird."

"Oh, you know what I mean. You always going to be uptight? Let me know so's I can get used to it."

Toby came back in only his underwear. He was thinner than Robert thought. If I got to use a couple of those towels while I wash my stuff, that okay?"

"You can't wash buckskin."

"Yeah, well I can't wear it after I get clean. It smells worse’n me."

"We'll work something out. Go on and shower."

"You ain't aimin' on showering with me? Some of them like that."

"No, Toby. I ain't aiming on that."

"It's all right. I don't mind that so much."

"I do, Toby. I didn't pick you up for that."

Toby came out wearing a towel that almost reached the floor and he had a smaller one wrapped around his head. Robert was amused but he did his best not to show it. He went in to shower and was surprised to find the bathroom cleaner than it had been when he moved in. He took his time in the shower and felt more comfortable having someone in the apartment, even someone he didn't know. It was a solution to one of his problems and he felt good about himself and the fact he was getting a kid off the street at a time when the street was deadly.

He played back the conversation he’d had with Andrew Parkson. He leaned on the tile with his arm over his head while the warm water eased his sore muscles and the time simply slipped away.

When he walked out of the bathroom, the television was blaring and had been put back up on its stand. The antenna that had never extended was now wrapped in tin foil and reached out into the room like two grotesque feelers. Toby was standing on one leg at the sink washing dishes. The room had been picked up and cleaned.

"Hey, dude. What are you doing?"

"I didn't hurt anything," Toby was apprehensive. He turned around to see Robert also clad only in a towel. His eyes immediately went to the muscular chest and thick arms.

"You need dish soap. I fixed the TV. The glass is cracked but you can hardly see it on account it's a cheapo black and white job."

"Sorry if it isn't up to your standards."

Toby raced over and made the feelers flail aimlessly. "See I fixed it. The picture is pretty good."

The knock on the door startled both of them. Toby ran for it and swung it open. Fran looked at the boy and his towel and then at Robert and his towel and Robert looked back at her.

"Fran!"

"I knew I shouldn't get mixed up with you again. You can't even keep us separated. Goodbye. Lester is easier to deal with than you are. I'm going back to him. I don't need this."

Robert leaped to stop Fran but she was out the door of the apartment building before he could intercept her. He dashed into the hallway as the towel started to give way. He caught it just in time to prevent over exposure but a shrill scream from up the stairs forced him to retreat back inside in time to see Fran rushing past the window on her way back towards the Circle.

"Shit!" Robert said.

"She your lady?"

"She was a lady, one I'd done quite well with. It never stops."

"What?"

"I've been having a bit of bad luck," Robert sighed, flopping over the arm and down on to the couch.

"I'm here. How bad could it be?" Toby smiled his biggest smile, sensing it wasn't nearly big enough.

"Shut up."

"Yes, sir."

At that moment the police radio crackled as Detective Pollard entered Dupont Circle from “P” Street after a visit to taskforce headquarters.

"Naked man in the yard at 19th Street."

"Hold the unit. I'm there. I'll call if it requires one of your guys."

"10/4. Stand down on the call. Unit on the scene," the voice crackled and Pollard jotted down the address.

Brown had just stressed innovation to him and the fact the killer was only going to be caught if he made a mistake. Pollard doubted this was that kind of mistake but it would look good on his log. He took the steps two at a time and the woman had the door open before he could knock.

The naked guy in the yard turned out to be a guy in a towel at his front door. He assured the woman that he'd speak to the man to make sure there would be no reoccurrence of the incident. She merely scowled at this solution and Pollard thought the scowl wasn't personal, just a permanent feature of her personality. He went through the motions because he knew she'd wait until he knocked on the door.

Robert pushed Toby out of the way to yank open the door, expecting to see a repentant Fran. He came face to face with Detective Pollard.

"Oh, I thought you were someone else. Just took a shower," he said, hitching the towel tight at his waist. I was expecting someone."

"No, ah,…" Pollard said, looking past Robert at Toby who was also hitching up his towel as he stood up to see who it was. "I got the wrong apartment. Sorry. I do the same thing every time I come here."

Robert closed the door and leaned his back against it.

"What's up doc?" Toby asked.

"I don't know. I've seen that guy somewhere before and I don't know where."

Pollard checked the tags on the Pontiac convertible and matched them up with what was written on the paper he had in the car. He had recognized Robert Mann and the bruises. The tags confirmed it. He had found something that was going to please his partner and that pleased him.

*****

"Ain't you the cat what ate the canary," Bland said, seeing Pollard's smile when he approached. "You been smoking wacky weed again?"

"I got what you wanted."

"What did I want?"

"I found your boy, Mann. Incredibly good police work if you ask me." He handed Bland the small piece of paper he'd copied from his clipboard notes.

Bland shoved the paper into his shirt pocket without so much as glancing at it. Pollard viewed this as strange even before Bland spoke.

"Good work. I'm not so worried about him today. I've got some fellows who are going to have a talk with him. Make sure he understands how delicate his circumstances are. I think we're fine on that score for the time being but I'll hold onto this just in case."

"You think that's smart? He hasn't caused any trouble, Jimmy."

"Just a little insurance. Nothing like insurance. I don't leave things to chance. Who knows what goes through faggot’s heads?"

"His car is a…."

"1962 Pontiac convertible," Bland interrupted. "I got all that."

"When? I never said what it was, Jimmy. How'd you know that?"

"I don't cruise the streets all night for nothing partner. Good work though. I like keeping you on your toes."

"There's more. You'll really like this. He had some little boy in the apartment with him. They were both in a state of undress, if you catch my drift. I'd think that would be of interest should he become a problem. I'm sure the little boy was too young."

"Interesting! I'll keep that in mind as well. Big strapping guy like him. Go figure. You can never tell these days."

"Okay boss. Whatever you say," Pollard said, easing away from the car window. "You okay, Jimmy? You've been acting funny. I'm worried about you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bland asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Nothing. Just thinking too much. You just look like you aren't getting enough sleep. I'll see you some time tomorrow."

"Yeah, a.m. I won't be late tonight. Everything is under control."

Pollard stood and watched the green sedan until it had faded in the distance. He emptied the beer can and tossed it down at the curb and walked back to the house. It was time for a partner change, he thought. There was something very strange going on with Bland. He was sure it had something to do with his separation from his wife but whatever it was, he wasn't paid enough to deal with it. He'd do his best not to get on his partner's bad side until he could arrange for a transfer.

It was the following morning when the front door shook because of the ferocity of the knock. When Robert forced himself out of bed, he found Phil and Fran looking fierce.

"What's up now?" Toby said, looking up over the back of the couch.

"Go back to sleep."

"Can we come in?" Phil said leaving no doubt that they were coming in.

"Let me get dressed and we'll go for coffee. It's early enough we can all use some. Fran, where did you go yesterday. He's only watching my apartment. It's not what you think."

"I'm with Phil," Fran said. "I’m just showing him where you live. I’m going to work. I'll see you Philip. Don't sit in my area if you're with him."

"Okay, Fran.” Phil kept the door from slamming behind her. “Well, you've managed to piss her off. I asked you not to toy with her."

"Phil! I never. I'm trying to get something going, not stop it."

"Yeah, well, perhaps you should make up your mind which team you're on. A woman can't be treated like that. I've always thought it was a shabby thing for them to do, gay men messing up the lives of women who love them, never knowing who they really are. That's lying and I don't like liars. Just do me a favor and leave her alone. She's gone back to that idiot Lester because of you."

"What's going on? This has to be early for you. It's early for me."

"Not in front of the children," Phil said, looking at the fold-away bed and Toby, who was once again dead to the world. "Great watchdog you got. Doesn't even bark. I'll meet you for coffee at the corner once you get dressed."

Phil waited outside and smoked until Robert arrived. After getting a table one of the sleepy waitresses wandered over and took the order for coffee. She yawned, put her pencil back in her hair, and staggered off.

"What is it?"

"I should ask you that. The house you took me to yesterday."

"Yeah, off “P”. Street. So!"

"My friend’s body was found early this morning by his roommate. I've just spent two hours with the cops."

"That’s tough Phil. They sure it's the Strangler?"

"It sounds like they think that. His roommate called because he knew I had been there. The cops wanted to know when and why, that kind of thing."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You took me there yesterday. Could anyone have followed us? I don't know what's going on."

"I don't know. It's possible."

"Don't you think it's odd?"

"What's odd?"

"You had a beer with number eight and I visited with number nine. Someone could have been following you."

"No more likely than he was following you.”

“Maybe we should go to the police with this? Tell them all these little coincidences."

"You really think they care? There is no great rush to solve this crime if you haven't noticed. I don't think going to the police with this kind of thing will do anything but cause us trouble."

"I know why you feel that way but what can we do alone? Only one cop hit you. You can't blame the entire police force. They aren't all that way."

"I think we need to calm down and think about it. We can deal with this and if we need to go to the police with it, I'll go with you. I say we're just dealing with a lot of coincidence in a small community inside of a big city."

"They asked me a lot of questions. I didn't tell them anything I wasn't sure of. I really wasn't in the mood to talk but I knew I wanted to talk to you."

"They're going through the motions and covering their butts. Look who is dying? I don't have a feeling there's a big rush to solve this."

"Yeah but we grow on you if you give us a chance."

"What's that mean?"

"You acted like you might leap out of your skin any time a gay guy came near you those first couple of days. You don't make a very convincing gay guy. Fran says you're quite the handful."

"We back to that again?"

"The last few days I've had cause to rethink a lot of things. I'm still not sure someone wasn't following you and I'm not sure where you figure into all this. The only thing that has really thrown me off is the cops belting you out behind the club. I was almost positive I smelled pork every time you came around until then."

"You see, you aren't always right."

"I wouldn't have changed my mind about that if he hadn't done such a number on you. That guy hates queers, hon. Even queers who don't like other queers. Then there's the picture and the idea that that animal knows who you are."

"…And you're not a public figure who had his picture in the paper recently? I recall seeing a big picture of you."

"Meaning he might not have been following you, he might have been following me?"

"We don't know if he followed either of us. It's all speculation. That's my point. We don't know. I talked to a guy in a bar and guys in bars are getting killed. The guy I talked to is killed. You play piano in a bar and you see guys and the guys you see are killed. The gay bars seem to figure into the picture more than my picture or your picture figures into this picture."

"That makes sense. I'm really shaky. I guess I'm not thinking straight. When I came over to your place I was sure there was a connection and now I'm not sure of anything but it's late and I'm tired and I've got to play tonight and mother needs her beauty sleep."

"Have you had any sleep at all?"

"Is that some kind of an offer, big boy." Phil's May West was flawless.

"Get real, Phil. A guy never sleeps with his mother."

"Oh, very funny, you're going to use my words against me now, are we?"

"You keep calling yourself mother. A guy can't forget a thing like that."

"That little boy? He growing on you Bobby?"

"He was on the street. I figure he can look out for my stuff. No one will bust in if they hear someone inside."

"The big tough guy has a heart. Cute kid."

"I wouldn't know," Robert said.

"Yeah, that's what they all say. Didn't he come with any clothes?"

"Had to wash what he had on. I gave him one of my T-shirts to cover himself with but it hung down below his knees. I guess he took it off."

"Bobby, you don't have to explain things to me. I'm fine with it."

"Fine with what?"

"Are we having a guilty conscience?"

"I've got nothing to feel guilty about."

"I know, Bobby, but as skinny as he is you need to get some food in that place for him."

"Says he's been sick. Slept in the doorway of a church the night before."

"Wouldn't they let him in? What are they thinking? It's freezing out."

"I don't know. With this creep roaming around I wasn't going to leave him out there. I know what it's like being alone."

"I didn't say anything," Phil said, as Robert gave him a long look.

"I see the look on your face. You're thinking something nasty."

"No, more like I'm thinking what a nice man you are below that hard bitten exterior you project." Phil patted the back of his hand.

"I am what I am."

"Yeah, but it's a lovely package and if you ever get lonely again, you give me a call."

"Phil!"

"Yeah, I know, I need some sleep. Call Mike and run this past him. He'd know what to do."

"Yeah."

"I'm going to hop a cab. It's just late enough they should be everywhere."

Phil pushed himself out of his chair and dropped two dollars on the table. He patted Robert's shoulder as he passed, putting on his coat to weatherproof himself against the cold shock he knew he was about to get.

Robert knew what he should do and he knew if he didn't do it he was asking for trouble. But in spite of Phil’s comments, and trust in Mike and Commander Brown at the command level, he no longer felt he could trust the police on the streets. He knew he was close but he didn't have any idea how close he was to disaster and everyone around him being swept up in the undertow. Once you are in the undertow, the harder you struggle, the faster you go under. The secret to escaping an undertow is going with it and letting it take you where it wants and that's when it releases you.

By accident Robert would go with the undertow because he knew no better and didn't have a clue what he was doing. The one thing he had to depend on was instinct and it was all he had because the Stalker was now toying with him and he too smelled pork every time Robert was in his sights.

*****

"Commander Brown?"

"Yeah, Mike."

"We need to talk."

"Whenever we need to talk, I get me a bad case of indigestion."

"You haven't eaten yet, sir."

"Yeah, and that's even worse. Bring that big bottle of antacid with you if you're coming back here."

Commander Brown's eyes never left Connell as he sat across from him. They stared at each other.

"Two in a little more than twenty four hours."

"I can count. You came back here to tell me that?"

"No, sir."

"Give it to me, Mike. What's the hitch."

"No, sir. That Post reporter, she still wants an interview."

"Tell her to check with me right after hell freezes over. I haven't got time for this crap."

"Do you think that's wise, sir?"

"I don't handle public relations. That's someone else's job. I read that somewhere. What am I going to tell her? Well, we just don't have a damn thing to go on account he don't leave no clues and if he did our detectives probably wouldn't pick them up. Check back in a few weeks after the bodies pile up for awhile and maybe we'll have something."

"She wants your slant on the case. You can maybe turn the heat down a notch if you give her an interview and charm her undies off. Tell her we're getting close and you love her perfume."

"Lie? Connell, I am a Commander on the DC Police Force, how dare you suggest such a thing. Give me a list of your best lies, get me as much time as you can and warn me when she arrives. It would help if she's beautiful, intelligent, and witty."

"Yes, sir, I'll ask your wife just what you like in reporters."

"Why did I think I needed an aide? I can get my ass in trouble by myself."

"What else is on your mind? Give it to me, Mike, while I'm still in a good mood. You didn't come back here just to talk about the reporter.

"Mann," Connell said as he sat on the edge of the chair.

"Oh shit! I told you this was a bad idea. Didn't I tell you that?"

"You can put it on me, Commander. It was my idea. I've handled it. I'll say you didn't know what I was up to."

"Right! Give me the rest of it, Connell. Quit pussy footing around."

"Mann was with number eight at Plus 1 the night he died."

"Parkson?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mann?"

"Yes, sir. Three people said it was the guy on the front of the Post. That's Mann. The contact I put him in touch with, the piano player, was with number nine yesterday. A few hours before he was killed last night."

"Go on."

"Mann drove him there."

"How do you know that?"

"I just got off the phone with the guy. He's in the preliminary report on nine. When I came across Phil's name I called. I wasn't going to tell you until Mann's name came up."

"What's Mann say about all this?"

"I don't know."

"Shouldn't we know that just in case we want to keep our jobs?"

"I haven't been able to get a hold of him. His phone's out of order. I can't go to the apartment without blowing his cover now that he's world famous."

“He's a damn rookie. Certainly he can't be that good at undercover work in only a few weeks. Get his ass in here and get him off this turkey. I never want to see or hear from him again. Reassign him, bury him, just get him out of my hair. We're going to look bad no matter what he does and right now, I don't want him doing a damn thing."

"It's more complicated than that or I would have done it. The way I see it is he's close to this guy. Don't ask me how. but somehow it's starting to look like Mann is involved."

"Give me a break, Mike. All the victims have been close to this guy. We certainly haven't been close to him and you think Mann has? He's no more involved than we are and we certainly haven't been involved in catching this maniac." Commander Brown's big fist impacted on the thick green ink blotter. The pencil erupted from his big hand and flew half way to Connell, landing at his feet as they both followed its trajectory until touchdown.

"I know that and you know that, but if you look at the information as it stands, Robert Mann could have been involved in seven to nine. He can't be absolutely eliminated in seven and he's directly linked to eight and nine. We have eyewitnesses that corroborate this. A jury and an ambitious prosecutor might find that compelling and an easy out for the DA."

"I find it compelling. I find it damn scary. I find losing my job even more scary. He's close to the guy and he doesn't have a clue and I'm supposed to sit here and hold my breath until you tell me how it all comes out? I don't think so. Get rid of him before Mr. Strangler does it for us. That's all I need."

"I'd say they're rubbing shoulders right this second. Think about it, Commander. We can put him with eight and close to nine."

"That damn picture did us in. I'd like to rip Bland's balls off. We're going to get his badge when this is over."

"Yes, sir, and we might end up owing the break in the case to that picture."

"The way I see it, the whole damn investigation depends on a boy who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground, unless some accident puts the killer in our hands by mistake. I'm not thrilled about this, Connell."

"Yes, sir… I mean, no, sir."

"Somehow he's rattled this guy's cage. It's just too obvious to be coincidence. I find it damn interesting." Brown began to tap the pencil on his desk after Connell laid it back next to his hand. "Goddamn it, Connell, what did I tell you about this thing blowing up in our faces? I had him in here and I could have gotten him out of our hair and I left him out there."

"Yes, sir."

"So you're saying it's all my fault?"

"No, sir."

"Well it is. I knew in my gut what I should do. I wanted this to work out as much as you did. We took a shot and we've been out maneuvered."

"What do you want me to do? I'll take the hit. Resign so it doesn't reach you."

"Mike, it's reached me. We're in this together. Let me think about our options. Some times when you're dealt a lousy hand, you don't fold, you play it out, hoping the cards fall your way."

"Mann?"

"What's he doing?"

"He knows something he isn't giving up."

"Jesus, I don't want to know this. What?"

"His attitude has changed. He needs to stay out there for some reason he didn't have before. He sees me as an obstacle is my opinion. I haven't cut him much slack. I was trying to keep him from going out on his own, but I think he's done it anyway."

"He thinks we're going to yank him back? I got that impression when he was in here but I wasn't sure about it. He hadn’t back peddled on me before and he was back peddling then. Something is going on we don't know about. I browbeat the kid into taking this case. He didn't want to be out there with a bunch a queers. Sorry… with our gay citizenry."

"What do I do?"

"That church you go to?"

"St. Jerome’s."

"Go there and light some candles and pray."

"Yes, sir."

"In the mean time I'll give it some thought and see what I come up with. If you talk to him, wing it. Don't excite him but let him know we are depending on him. Maybe we can get him back on track. Our track. We've got to play this hand now. This Strangler isn't going to quit until we stop him and something has fired him up these past few days.”

"Mann could end up on the guy's list. He could end up dead."

"We'll just hope we catch him first. It's all we got. Let Mann know the risk and we'll play this hand. You let him know he is on the team. Maybe he'll be more forthright and let us in on what he knows that way. We need to know what he knows, Mike. Make it happen. Now get out of here so I can get my work done."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, go on."

Connell reached for the handle of the door as he rolled out of the chair in that direction. He was half way out the door when he was stopped.

"Mike?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where did we loose control of him?"

"You want to know what I really think? He didn't care. Now he does."

"Why the change?"

"I’m not sure, sir. Something has changed in him. Something about him we didn't count on."

"What's that?"

"Character. I think that smack from Bland might have wised him up some about the lay of the land."

"You like this kid?"

"Yeah, I think he's okay. A little head strong."

"Ain't we all. Go on, Connell."

Commander Brown leaned back in his chair and tapped the pencil against his glasses as he considered the situation. Changing the game plan when you have a man who is as close to the killer as Mann seemed to be didn't make a whole lot of sense. It wasn’t the way he'd choose to solve a murder case but some times you had to go with what you had and how often did you get as many choices as you would like?

Chapter 13

Everyone Wants Something

Phil let the phone ring twice before his hand fell on top of it and dragged it off the cradle.

"Yes."

"Phil?"

"Yes, didn't we just talk a minute ago."

"A little while ago. I’m trying to do damage control, and I need your assistance."

"Can't it wait?"

"I'm afraid not. It's important."

"Is this official police business, Michael?"

"It's more like an official favor for an old friend."

"You're too young to be an old anything and your last favor has mother wondering about the high cost of friendship."

"Mann…." There was a long pause.

"Yes, I haven't gone anywhere. What about Bobby? He in more trouble."

"He's working for me."

"Tell mother something she hasn't figured out on her own. Maybe I should apply for a job over there?"

"We stuck our necks out and assigned him right out of the academy because no one would know him. Actually Brown and I are the only ones who do know."

"And me. Sounds more like your idea."

"That's the trouble. I got the Commander to go along with me and now he's looking at the possible fallout if this goes wrong. I'm thinking we're losing control of him. He's starting to believe he's a cop and while that might not be a bad thing by itself, he thinks he knows what he's doing."

"A lot of that going around. What do you want me to do?"

"I need to know what he's up to. You see more of him than anyone else. We think he's close to this guy but he seems reluctant to say what he knows. At first I left him alone for the most part, thinking he'd adjust to the gay scene better if we weren't meeting all the time, but now he's distancing himself. Pulling him out is my only other option. I’d pull him out to protect the Commander but he’s too important to us where he is." Connell's monotone voice couldn't hide the concern in it. The lack of emotion gave his words authenticity. Not that Phil needed convincing.

"I don't think he believes the police are giving it their best effort."

"I might have given him that idea myself, that the investigation wasn't being taken as seriously as it should. I told him that’s why he was out there. He was like a puppy back then. I could train him to pee on the paper and to come when I called him. Now I don't know where he's peeing."

"Puppies grow up, Michael. He's putting two and two together and coming up with illusive three. You put him out here to do a job and you've got to admit he's attracted a lot of attention."

"Maybe too much. I didn't want him in the middle of the investigation. I wanted eyes and ears on the street inside the gay community."

"The guy isn't wearing a sign saying, Strangler. Everything happens for a reason. Let it happen and it will."

"I don't like the idea."

"He's refreshingly naïve. He puts me in mind of some of the gay boys that come here straight off the farm. They look like a deer in the headlights but they're tired of being alone and hearing they're going to hell."

"He's not gay. He's a cop and I need him to communicate with me. If he is close to this guy we need to know. My conscience is starting to bother me. I got this ball rolling."

"Maybe you’re too impatient. Did he tell you that the crowd at the Frat House gave him a standing ovation after he took the hit for them?"

"No, he wouldn't give up anything like that. I can't read him. There was resistance and anger for awhile, then he was passive, and now he's evasive. That's where we are and that's what scares me."

"He might see the cops as an obstacle you know. Like we see them, not always on our side. He's looking at his fellow officers from the street and I don't think he likes the view."

"Well thanks a lot for the vote of confidence. I'm a cop too, you know."

"So what do I do, Michael? I don't know what you want. Bobby isn't a guy you can force into anything. He's not going to let me get too close. Our friendship is tentative at best."

"Tell him you're scared after what's gone down. Ask him to hang around. Maybe the cop in him will kick in. Then see what he has to say.”

"It's very difficult for me to think on an hour and a half of sleep. Let me get a few hours more and I'll give it some thought and see what I can do.”

"I'd be grateful. Phil, he's been close to him, the killer. This could be dangerous for you as well. You should think about that before you take this on."

"How can I not think about it? If it helps nail this guy I'll do whatever. It's personal now. He's murdered one of my friends. I don't have that many friends, Michael."

“Get some sleep and let me know what you come up with.”

*****

Robert had finished his coffee and gone to Henry's for breakfast. He looked at the faces of the men in their three piece suits and with their briefcases. He didn't have any feeling that one of them might be his man. He drove deeper into Southeast and stopped at the spot where number eight had been found.

The day was beyond chilly even with the sun shining. A dust cloud blew from between two buildings as he stood up out of the car. The killer had been here and not long ago. And that’s why Robert was here now.

There were abandoned buildings scattered around and even during the middle of the day there was little traffic and few vantages where anyone would have an unobstructed view of the space, but of course Andrew Parkson would have been there late at night with his killer. No one would have been around.

He listened to the traffic a few hundred feet away rushing down South Capitol Street toward the Anacostia River. A taxicab deposited a woman at a nearby corner. She walked directly into one of the occupied buildings.

People came and went on an irregular basis. The yellow crime scene tape whipped in the cold wind between the few trees to which it had been secured. He knew this marked the spot where the body had been found. He felt obligated to see the place where Andrew Parkson had taken his last breath. He needed to see it.

When he was somewhere near the middle of where the tape had been strung, his hand went to his temple. It had been getting better. The headaches were mild and infrequent now, but suddenly it throbbed. He rubbed the corner of his eye where the sharp pain settled.

He squatted to look around the empty field, resting his hand on the dirt for balance as he surveyed the scene. How did he get them to go with him? The question became more puzzling as the body count rose. Was it merely the offer of quick satisfaction?

He watched a small stubby island of long ago dead grass blowing in the otherwise sea of dirt. His mind drifted back to North Dakota and many such islands that dotted the prairie. He saw his father on horseback and for the first time in six years the specter of home haunted him.

It was a desolate spot between buildings. He remembered Andrew Parkson's pick-up line as he surveyed the scene from yet another vantage point. Removing the man's card from his pocket, he examined it. There was no clue in the salutation. Why hadn't he talked to Andrew Parkson? Why hadn't he asked him questions, asked him where he was going, where he had been? Why did he go with this guy?

Then Robert considered what he knew about the killer and it wasn’t much. What motivated him? Was he like a wild animal taking prey or was it some selection process? He seemed able to roam as he pleased. Where did the hatred come from? Robert stood, there were no answers here in this bare and open space.

It was mid-afternoon when he got to the apartment door. He turned the handle and let himself in without using his key. "Don't leave the damn door unlocked," he bellowed as he charged in.

"I'm sorry!" Toby said, tensing. He was standing on one leg in front of the sink doing dishes. A towel was wrapped around him with another wrapped around his head, hiding all of his long blond hair.

"You take another shower? You must be the cleanest kid on the block."

"I ain't been clean in so long I couldn't help it," he apologized, still leaning against the sink in a defensive posture. "I won't if you say don't. I'm sorry. I just…."

"Quit saying you're sorry, for Pete sake."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I don't want to piss you off. I didn't mean anything by it." The fear in the boy's voice made Robert feel a bit like a bully. The kid seemed nothing short of frantic and Robert recognized the symptoms of confusion and insecurity that came from wanting to hold onto something and not knowing how.

"It's cool, kid. I'm sorry too. I'm having a bad week is all. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"How bad could it be? I'm here to do anything you like." Toby brightened. A warm smile replaced the fearful look as he soaped up a pan in the mounds of suds that had been created in the kitchen sink.

"What are you washing. I've never used pots and pans. I mostly eat take out. What's that smell?"

"Oh, I went down to the store and got some stuff. I'm making you a spaghetti casserole for dinner, or lunch if you want it now. It'll be ready in about twenty minutes. It's even better heated up later on when the seasonings all work their way through it. That's why I like it."

Robert looked around and his initial irritation was transformed. The bed had been folded back into the couch and all the cushions were arranged with the rips down and the best sides up. The shambles that had taken over shortly after he moved in had been replaced with order and tidiness. "You spend all day cleaning up?"

"I went shopping and took a shower, but except for that, yeah. It didn't look like it had been cleaned in a while. I didn't mean…."

"Hey, kid, cool it with the sorry bit. I'm not going to bite you. It was such a mess is all, okay. I confess I'm not going to be named housewife of the month. It looks good. It looks great. It even smells better."

"Yeah, well, I'll tell you a secret if you want. If you put the garbage out once or twice a week, it helps keep down the smell and my name is Toby in case you forgot."

"I know, Toby. I'm not used to having anyone around," Robert said, moving closer to the boy. "You are a real find. I'm glad I brought you home."

"Just tell me what you want and I'll do it. I don't need much if I got a warm place to sleep and some food." The words were a plea but they came with a sudden move and ended in a hug. Toby buried his face against Robert's chest. The hug was a tight one but there was an uncertain shiver that came from the boy.

Robert's hands and arms became obstacles. He couldn't return the hug. He did manage to pat Toby's head as the boy broke the hold, stepping back fast. "I don't get to be close to anyone very often. I don't mean anything by it," Toby said, with his back up against the sink as Robert studied him.

"Me either and I'm not a big hugger," Robert explained, defending his position.

"Whenever I'm close to someone and like them, it's hard for me not to want to hold on. I think I'm always expecting to be thrown out. That happens a lot. People think they want you when they first see you and than they figure out that they don't once they been with you.” They were both silent for a few moments, then

Toby’s thoughts returned to his day’s activities. "Oh yeah, I went to the drug store and got some thread. I sewed up the cuts in your furniture as best I could. I flipped over the cushions cause you can’t really fix them too good. I used the bags you had in the kitchen to get rid of the trash. I hope I didn't screw up," Toby said, watching Robert for any sign of approval.

"No kid, you did just fine. Damn, I didn't expect you to clean up. I know it was a mess." Robert looked around the transformed apartment and appreciated the change.

"Yeah, well, I ain't no slob. Somebody trusts me to stay at their pad and I try to do my part if I can."

"Kid, quit jumping. You did fine. I appreciate you helping out. I didn't expect it. I’m a little surprised. I thought you were...."

"A hustler? Low life? I got some pride and I ain't a criminal because I’m on the street, you know. I do what I got to do so’s I don't starve. Your stuff is safe with me. I'll keep an eye on it for you and I won't take anything. I got one question for you though."

"Yeah, you've earned a question."

"You a cop or something? I saw those uniforms… when I was cleaning up. I mean it ain't none of my business who you are but I saw them and I was wondering why you had them."

"I was working to be a cop but right now I'm not sure what I am. It's not what I thought."

"You was a cop? Sure enough? Those uniforms are the real McCoy, dude? Far out."

"Sure enough. The real McCoy."

"I wanted to be a cop when I was a kid."

"You are a kid, kid."

"Kids ain't seen what I seen and they ain't done what I done. I thought cops was cool until I got busted a few times. They messed me up good back home. I didn't think much about it after that," Toby's voice tapered off as he remembered where he had been.

"The mark on my face,” Robert touched it. “A cop did that. Messed me up too."

"Honest Injun? He didn't like you much, huh?"

"You could say that." Robert laughed at the words. Yeah, he thought, a real honest Injun. What a joke.

"He trying to get your brain to come out your other ear?"

"Never thought of it that way. I suppose it wouldn't bother him none if he did. He wanted me to stop doing what I was doing and I didn't stop quick enough to suit him."

"That's why you ain't so keen on cops anymore?"

"You can say it opened my eyes some. He mistook me for a gay guy."

"Pigs get mean some times. I seen them nail a dude once, I heard the bones in his head crack they hit him so hard. He wasn't doing nothin' but hustling. That's when I left New York. I was scared… more scared after that. Those are bad cops and if they knew I saw what they done… I'd be dead." Toby shook his head and there was fear in his eyes as he leaned on the sink.

"Cops are like people, Toby, good ones and bad ones. You can't judge everyone by one incident."

"Was you a good one? Bet you was! What happened anyway?"

"Person, or cop?"

"Cop. I seen ya’s a groovy dude. Was ya a good cop is what I'm asking? I know ya was."

"I don't know. I don't think I was ever a real cop to them. Just hung out to dry when I came down the pike 'cause I was convenient. Now things are so complicated I don't know what I am any more."

"You'd a been a good one. Maybe it'll work out." Toby had already made up his mind. He got scared when Robert raised his voice but he felt good being around him. And in spite of that fear he also felt safer.

"I can't talk about it right now. It didn't work out the way I thought it would. I'll explain it to you sometime. Getting hit changed my mind about a lot of stuff. Maybe he knocked some sense into me."

"That's cool. I don't want to know nothin' you don't want me to know. You ever want to talk about it though, I'm right here." Toby looked over at Robert with wide eyes and admiration before going over to the stove and popping the oven door open. While he was removing the casserole, the towel came loose and unwrapped from around his waist, falling to the floor. "Damn it," burst from his lips. "I can't do anything right. I'm a screw up."

Robert moved to pick up the towel while Toby was trying to find a clear place to set down the bubbling dish. Robert wrapped the towel around his waist so that it covered him back up. He tucked it in at one side. It held fine. "There you go kid. Can't let you walk around with it all hanging out now can we?"

Toby's face had gone crimson as the flash of anger passed, leaving him feeling guilty for his outburst. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it. We all get caught short sometimes."

"Yeah, but I’m trying to make a good impression so’s you don't think I'm some kind a dirt bag. You know what I been doin' and all," Toby explained to the soapy water.

"We all have to do things to get along. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. You were dealt a tough hand and you've done the best you can with it. Don't punish yourself any more than you got to. You've been punished enough."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Cool."

"It's what my pappy would say. If you know you can do better, do better, and until you can do better, do the best you can."

"He sounds cool, like you."

"I don't think he is much like me. I haven't seen him in a long time."

"Maybe I'll get to know him one day," Toby said, feeling better as he watched Robert's reaction.

"Maybe I will too. We didn't like each other much. I mean I loved him but he never cared much for me."

"He ever belt you around?"
"My father? No, he never hit me. He had this look, you know. It could freeze you dead in your tracks. Me anyway. That was all it took if I was screwing up and I was always screwing something up," Robert remembered for Toby. "You knew when he was pissed all right. It's funny, I was thinking about him today and now you ask about him. You’re the second person and I hadn’t thought about him in years. Weird huh?"

"Where is your dad?"

"Back in North Dakota."

"That's a long way."

"You can say that again." Robert instinctively found himself doing something for Toby that his mother had done for him a thousand times, he took the towel that was starting to unravel from the boy's head and began to dry his hair.

Toby stood very still, thinking Robert must like him to be doing that. He felt safe under the strong hands and he hadn't felt safe in a long time.

"Thanks," Toby said, taking the towel.

"You've earned your keep."

"Far out. I aim to please."

"How long you been on the street?" Robert asked, suddenly struck by the vulnerability of his young ward.

"A couple a years I guess. You lose track of time."

"It must be tough for someone your size?"

"Size ain't everything, you know," Toby said with a crooked smile.

"That's what guys say who have it."

"You learn how to stay on the right side of things when you're my size. Most big guys only want to kick your ass at first. After that they get other ideas and you're safe mostly. I stay away from the mean ones and stick close to the ones what like me. It's not so bad if you pay attention. I only get hurt when I don't."

"Where'd you get the money to buy the food and the other stuff?"

"That ten bucks from the old dude you stole from me."

"Oh, yeah, Albert. You sure you can cook, kid?"

"You better hope so." The spaghetti was steaming in a glass dish Robert hadn't seen before and the cheese and tomato sauce were thick on top."

Robert stuck his finger in the cheese and licked it. "Hey! You got to wait. Sit at the table. Here you can put the bread out and sit down. Be careful. It's hot."

Robert carried the garlic bread to the table and took a cherry tomato from the salad by his plate, popping it into his mouth. Toby carefully brought over the casserole with the one pot holder he found and a towel. He dished up a big gob for Robert and then sat down to watch his face as he dug in.

Robert was surprised that it was not simply eatable but quite tasty. It reminded him of lasagna, which he loved, and got seldom after his mother died.

"Look, I want you to remember when I’m not here you need to keep the door locked.”

“I went out ya know and when I came back in I just forgot.”

“I'll leave the key and you can get one made. I'll leave you some money. I don't want you spending yours."

"I don't mind if it's for us."

"There is no us, kid. You work for me is all."

"Yes, sir. I know," Toby said, but his wide-open eyes and the sound of his voice told another story that Robert could see and do nothing about.

"Just don't get any ideas. I don't mind having you around but it ain't permanent. I can't take you on to raise. I can't even take care of myself."

"That's cool. Whatever you say. I'll do laundry if you want? I hung everything in the closet but I could smell some of it needed washing."

"Sure, I don't have any change on me. There's a place next to the market. Check about getting the buckskin done proper. You don't want to ruin it. That's a fine shirt."

"Okay! I can get change and the key made at the grocery. That's no problem."

"Keep the door locked."

"Yes, sir. Do you like it?" Toby continued to watch him carefully.

"Do I like it? Does a bear shit in the woods? Give me some more of that crap before it cools down. You can cook kid. Where'd you learn all this stuff."

"It ain't crap. It's a spaghetti casserole." Dishing up two more heaping spoons full, Toby smiled as he dug in, not looking up except to grab more garlic bread.

"When's the last time you were home?" He asked between bites.

"When I was your age."

"That's a long time ago."

Robert looked at Toby carefully before saying, "Not that long ago."

"Why'd you leave?"

"Mother died. He didn't want me."

Toby's eyes widened and he had a sudden feeling of comradeship with his benefactor. He figured nothing was the best thing to say about that.

"I use to screw up. My old man hided me."

Robert had seen Toby's back. He'd figured out where the scars had come from without asking. Hearing the words made him feel queasy. He hated adults who mistreated their kids. "I wasn't like the other kids. Couldn't do anything right. The old man was always staring at me, shaking his head."

"Really?

“Look kid, nobody has the right to beat you like that. Not your old man, not anyone, never, you hear? You did what you had to do. You did the right thing."

"Did you?"

"I didn't get a vote, kid. My old man got the only vote."

"You get the guy what done that to your face?"

Robert looked up from his plate. No, he hadn't done anything. Yes, it had been a cop and everyday it seemed to become more complicated, but that didn’t change how he felt about it. He'd always fought back as a kid and this was the first time he hadn’t. It was unacceptable. “Not yet,” he replied.

He cleaned the plate with another slice of garlic bread. He would give up any hopes he had of ever becoming a cop to kick the guy's ass who had beat him down. There was an anger he didn't like and didn't know how to control.

"You coming home tonight?"

"You going to be all right if I don't?"

"Sure. I'm fine. I got heat, a TV, and food. I'm in heaven, dude." Toby was low key and waited on Robert at every opportunity. They watched cartoons after Toby did the dishes. They laughed, sipped Coke and made small talk as the afternoon blended into evening.

They ate sandwiches made from the remainder of the loaf of Italian bread and the fresh salami Toby had the man cut off the roll at the market. Toby thought about the guy who watched him as he waited for the salami. He didn't remember where he'd seen him before at first, but he knew he had seen him somewhere, and then when he looked back after coming out of the market and saw the man watching him, he remembered the guy in the green car who asked about Bobby. He would have told Bobby, but he wasn't sure he should bring it up. It didn't seem that important, running into the same guy twice in the same area, but it had made him feel uneasy both times. He just wasn't sure he wasn't making a mountain out of a molehill.

There was more Coke and easy small talk that went with Gilligan's Island, and the argument over who was hottest, Marianne or Ginger? Robert showered and changed into his going out clothes as Toby sat in the corner of the couch, being careful to stay out of the way. He wished Robert was staying there with him but he understood he was but a temporary fixture and the man had his own life.

"You look nice," Toby said in a quiet reassuring voice.

"Thanks, squirt. It takes work."

"Do you forget my name or do you just call me those things to piss me off."

"I don't usually let anyone hang around me, kid. You might cut me some slack and be thankful I say anything."

Toby didn't answer while doing his best to become part of the scenery but he watched every move Robert made. Being aware of how easy it was to talk your way out of a good thing, he was determined not to make that mistake if he could help it.

As Robert walked out he picked the key back up telling Toby they would get one made in the morning.

Chapter 14

Reaching Out To Touch Someone

Only after Robert was out the door, did he think about calling Mike. The phone in the apartment hadn’t been working since the break in and he hadn't reported it to anyone. That didn't bother him half as much as forgetting to call in. He thought he should have done it on his way home to the apartment but events had started to overwhelm him.

There were two things troubling Robert Mann. One was distinct and certain, whatever he had in mind when he decided to become a cop, this wasn't it. At the same time guys like Albert, Phil, and Toby deserved safe streets to walk down and he wanted to make sure they had them.

He had talked to Mike yesterday and as usual Mike seemed angry with him about something. Maybe it was better if he didn't call in. There was nothing new he wanted to report anyway. He'd go ahead and make his rounds and call him in the morning.

It was a dark night and he wore the black coat that he liked but Phil hated. He decided to return to Southeast. He got a beer in Johnny's where now even the drag queen's squeals didn't bother him, but when one put her/his arm around him that did. Examining his beer, he smiled to himself and shook his head while thinking, what a job. He then pushed the beer aside and left. He walked the blocks around the bars, nodding to passersby while having no sense that he was close to the man he most wanted to find.

He stopped for a second beer in Joanna's before heading for the Georgetown Grill and a friendly face. Judy was in fast forward, dashing from table to table, retrieving and delivering drinks in some order only she could keep straight. The Grill was always full of laughter and friendly conversation. It reminded Robert of a corner bar in any town USA. There was a feeling of community and warmth inside the small club.

Judy was all smiles and managed to kiss his cheek as he worked his way up to the bar for one of the dark drafts that tasted so good to him. "Love the look," Judy whispered in his ear. "Black is your color, handsome." She was gone in a flash, halfway across the room, the tray hoisted over her head holding a dozen drinks or more as she slipped through the sea of humanity. Her voice could be heard above the rest as she chided, joked, and laughed her happy laughter.

"Don't you ever slow down?" Robert asked her as she washed glasses two feet in front of him.

"Kids don't get through college by resting. I can rest later."

"Your kids are lucky to have a mother like you," Bobby said, looking at Judy with admiration.

"Well, thank you very much and I predict whoever gets their hands on you has a prize on their hands, you lovely hunk of man."

"I kind of doubt it," Robert sighed.

"No doubt about it," Judy yelled as an abrupt roar went up from the packed bar. "If I was ten years younger you'd be on the top of my Christmas list, sweetie."

She raced off after filling beer glasses and collecting the mixed drinks the bartender had left on the corner of the bar.

Robert watched as the petite friendly beauty once more mingled with her minions. They all seemed delighted to be around her. Robert wished he could be around her more, even though he suspected she might be twice his age.

People yelled and shouted and laughed as Robert eased himself toward the front door. It flung open and another group of guys spilled in off the street as he stepped down onto the graying sidewalk. He pulled up his collar when a gust of wind ran down his neck.

The wall was on his mind as he walked. There was something about that wall

that gave him the sense that it would figure in solving the case. He'd forgotten about the cold by the time he turned right at the first corner and walked away from Wisconsin Avenue and the hustle and bustle of a major downtown artery. Immediately he was in a residential area.

Two men came toward him as he neared the wall. One looked back but Robert ignored the suggestion he made and kept walking. There were now three boys sitting on the wall, watching for the next car. They all leaned back and hid something between them as Robert approached. It looked a little like a brown paper bag and he suspected someone had bought them booze.

He stopped, leaping up and turning in mid-air as he sat himself beside them having no feeling that there was any danger near. "What's happening?"

"Not much," the guy furthest from him said, leaning up to take a glance at the new arrival.

“I’ m Cory. You looking for a date?" The same guy asked, leaning further forward to get a longer look.

"I really didn't give it any thought. I'm just resting my legs. What are you doing?"

They all three found this funny and exchanged laughter among themselves. "You new? A little old for this, huh?" Cory spoke around the other two, leaning to look at Robert some more.

"Yeah, something like that."

"I've seen you somewheres before," Cory added as he squinted to compensate for the too little light.

"I look like a lot of people," Robert said.

"I wish more people looked like you. Take off those glasses for a second. I seen you before."

"Nah, the light hurts my eyes."

Once again the three laughed at one another and found Robert's words amusing. The other two boys took quick looks but weren't as impressed.

"Seen anyone interesting? Anyone scary?" Robert asked, figuring there was no future in wasting time here.

"A couple a narcs is the scariest thing I seen," Cory replied, leaning back on both of his hands.

"Cool," Robert said, slipping back down onto the pavement. "Time to split. Nice talking to you."

"You sure you don't want a date?" Cory asked. "I'd pay you!"

"Sorry. Not tonight."

Turning the corner, he left the boys behind. He checked the church on the right for a spot where Toby might have slept.

The wall slowly declined as he walked away from the hustlers and the big red church came closer to the street. He felt no particular danger or presence that worried him. He had checked for cars on his way to Georgetown after leaving Southeast, but even with the feeling that someone was following him, he'd seen nothing suspicious and now he felt no apprehension at all.

It was odd because he had stopped listening to his inner voices shortly after arriving in Springfield. In the immense high school with over a thousand students, the voices had become a din that he had trouble silencing. At home he used the voices for guidance and even as company after his mother had died, but in and around so many people, it merely added another element he had to deal with and so he finally shut down that avenue to his other life.

Now they were back. Not nearly as strong as before and mostly offering warnings when Robert felt himself on uncertain ground. They had returned after the fight behind the bar at the Fraternity House. He wrote it off to his being overly cautious in a new situation but he knew the source and hadn't resisted their emergence too strenuously because this was new territory.

The sudden motion, first from the left and then from the alcove on the right, came with no warning. He would later talk to the voices, asking them, where the hell were you when I needed you? But just then there was only time to react with all the skills he'd gained in school and at the police academy, but mostly it was the instinct his father had constantly chided him to use.

Within a second he knew the man on his left would reach him first. He struck out in that direction making solid contact. Feeling the second attacker close to his right arm, he jammed his elbow into the man’s stomach, dropping him to his knees. Robert leaned back to kick number one in the midsection as he once more came at him. Number two grabbed onto his flowing black trenchcoat, perhaps to steady himself and perhaps to restrain him, but it didn't matter, Robert came out of his coat as the side of his foot connected with the kneeling man’s head.

He'd felt the burning at the side of his face as he carried the attack back around to number one, finishing him off with another blow to the belly. Robert recognized a sap when it fell from the first attacker's hand. He bellowed something as he went down hard, making the sound of a quickly emptying balloon. The only sounds, after that, were the soft moans of the two men who Robert had dispatched without much strain.

What the hell was that about, Robert wondered, still trying to get his wits about himself and now feeling wobbly? His glasses had broken and all that was left was one black arm that he brushed off his cheek. A sharp pain radiated from his jaw.

"Hey, dude, you better split before they call their buddies. Them's cops."

"What?" Robert said, unable to reconcile the contradiction.

"Those two hassled us a half hour ago. Ran us off the wall. We thought they left. They usually don't come back after flexing their muscles for us. Come on, we'll show you a place where you can lay low. Business is closed for tonight that's for sure."

Robert was confused. Cops? That was crazy. Why would cops be on his case again? He wasn't doing anything but walking down the street. It made no sense but getting out of there made plenty.

He tried to remember the sound that one of them made just before all hell broke loose. Was it, hey man, or had it been, hey Mann? He tried to play the sound back in his head but things had happened too fast and he couldn't be sure. He was only defending himself. There was a killer loose and you didn't charge at people without identifying yourself, even if they were cops.

The three boys ran ahead of him in the middle of the street, laughing loudly into the now silent night, describing the fight to one another as they went. They giggled and repeated the sounds they had heard and then they repeated it all over again with louder laughs.

"That one went OOOOOOOoosh."

The boys all laughed and skipped delightedly until they could go no further without entering the woods that bordered Rock Creek Parkway. They ducked in between two houses just short of the trees, moving a large four by eight sheet of plywood that gave them access to the house. They scooted down into the basement indicating for Robert to follow.

The hiss of the fuel announced the light of a Coleman lantern that gave a warm glow to the room. There were cushions spread around for seating with crates for tables. There were blankets spread out on the floor.

"Man, you sure put a hurtin' on them dudes. Where'd you learn to fight like that? That's Matt and Ben," Cory introduced the other two. "Did they do that to your face? They got their licks in huh?"

"Nah, that was last week’s fight. That got me a good one on my jaw though."

"You a wanted man or what? What did they want with you?"

"Got me. I wasn't doing anything. Just taking a walk."

"I ain't never seen no one take on two pigs before. They know to bring reinforcements next time. You a bad mother."

"Just minding my own business," Robert said as he worked his jaw.

"Yeah! Right! You can stay here with us if you want. I wouldn't go out there tonight. Them dudes got lots of buddies. They catch your ass, you're dead meat."

"You sure they were cops?"

"Man, they drove up in a big black car. They went around the block and disappeared until you showed up. It's like they was expecting you. You sure you ain't done something weird."

"How do you know they were cops?" Robert asked. "Just cause they said so?"

"I know pigs when I see 'em. It's the smell…. and I saw the badge on one of their belts. You should check before you start swinging. They'll be looking for you for sure. It's safe here. No one knows about it but us. They just boarded it up last week."

Cory's hand slipped down onto the inside of Robert's thigh as he examined the latest marks on his face. The hand became dislodged when Robert stood.

"Look, I appreciate the hospitality. I'm suddenly feeling trapped down here. Nothing personal. I just need some fresh air."

"No problem. No one ain't going to bother you if you say not," Cory assured him. "You shouldn't go back out there. Cops are mean bastards."

"Yeah, I know, but I just feel like moving on."

"Be careful. Those guys catch up with you and I wouldn't want to be in your shoes. Man you sure as hell took care of them. I wish I could fight that good. You're bad even when you're good, dude," Cory said with admiration.

"OOOOOOOshhhhh!" Matt said as the other two boys rolled around the floor, grabbing their sides as the laughter started all over again.

The sounds died away after Robert pulled himself back out of the basement. He clutched his side where another sharp pain originated. Had he been hit there? He had no memory of it. He never remembered anything about a fight after he was in one, only having the word of the witnesses to go on. Everything just went black after the first punch was thrown.

He moved through the trees and ran across Rock Creek Parkway, checking to make sure the “P” Street bridge was just to his left where he calculated it would be. Entering the woods on the far side of the parkway, he started up the hill using the trees for assistance.

He had it in his mind to come out near “P” Street, walk briskly but not run, until he reached the Circle. He'd jog across it, making sure no one was tailing him, and only then he'd head for 19th Street and the safety of home. He would return for his car in the morning. He didn't want to risk crossing paths with the two guys that jumped him tonight.

Dead leaves crunched and twigs snapped under his feet, as he pulled himself up the steepest slope on the hill. The moon was high enough and bright enough so that he could see the field above him. With the most difficult part of the climb behind him, he focused on where he would come out on to the field. A sudden pain interrupted his momentum.

Grabbing onto a tree with one hand and his right temple with the other, he swayed, almost falling. He was paralyzed; couldn't move, couldn’t breathe, disoriented. The pain passed through his eye and went out the back of his brain. It was only after it had faded that he remembered where he was and what he was doing.

He didn't consider finishing his climb right away. He stood, letting his breathing return to normal. Looking around, he felt danger close to him and a sense of fear. He listened to the empty night before looking back up toward the field. He wasn't certain where the sense of fear was coming from. It wasn’t his fear.

He knew that no one could follow him in the woods at night. He'd hear them making the same sounds that he made. Except for the occasional car on the parkway below, there was only silence and the sound of his heavy breathing.

Once more he forced his attention back to the hill as his hand examined the side of his face for some clue to why the pain picked that time to kick up again. He took a few careful steps and then finished the climb.

He looked back at the woods when he reached the field above, and felt the evil was close, but he knew there was no one there, nothing human anyway. He thought about the pain. This was twice in one day. It had been only an occasional annoyance until that morning. Maybe it was the latest fight and the stress of being on the run. But there had been no stress this morning.

He walked the fifty paces to “P” Street swiftly and turned right toward the Circle, making sure to slow his steps to avoid suspicion. He passed the college housing and noticed that no one was on the street, although cars passed him. He didn't wait for the light when he dashed across.

He passed the empty alley that led back to the Frat House before working his way up to the Circle, jogging across it and up 19th Street without being as careful as he wanted. He stopped at the gate to take one last look up and down the block before going into the apartment.

Once inside he leaned back on the door, feeling both shaken and relieved. Yet again he'd crossed paths with the cops and once again the meeting had gone badly. While he felt too close to evil for comfort, he was no longer certain what direction it was coming from or why people were trying to hurt him. It made no sense.

Toby didn't stir when Robert slipped into bed, but earlier he had heard each sound that broke into the safety of the apartment. Once he fell asleep he was dead to the world and it took quite a disturbance to rouse him.

Robert found himself listening carefully each time a car moved up the block past the apartment. It had rained and the water sizzled on the tires but no one stopped near the building and he finally drifted off. An abrupt awakening didn't amuse him at all.

"What the…. Get off me," Robert moaned swatting Toby back away from his side. "What are you doing?"

Toby wasn't deterred and moved right back up to the unhappy man. Robert felt something very cold being forced against the side of his face. Toby was holding the ice in place, leaning back away just in case the angry arm came back at him with more force the next time.

"Get off me. What are you doing?"

"That eye is going to close if you don't take care of it. You only got the other one half open as is. Just leave it on for a few minutes. It'll help keep the swelling down."

"You got up to do this?" Robert complained, looking to see daylight behind the closed blinds.

"It's almost noon. I been up. Your breakfast was getting cold so’s I ate it for you. Then I came over to see if you was alive because you haven't made a sound. That's when I saw your face. Ouch!"

"Oh."

"You need a body guard or something, you know. You're a mess."

"You haven't seen the other guy," Robert said.

"I seen you. I don't need to see no one else. Someone out to get you or what?"

"Looks that way. I can hold the ice. Does it look bad?"

"Don't look good. The ice will help but it's already black and blue and it swoll up on you. You should of woke me up and I'd a iced it last night."

"I was too tired. Thanks."

"No problem. Good thing I was here, huh?"

"Yeah," Robert said, mussing Toby’s hair. He worked his jaw to make sure it was still in operation.

"Will you quit with the hair already. That ain't cool. It's hard enough to keep it neat."

"Yeah, how about that breakfast you ate? Anymore where that came from? I'm starved."

"Cool. I can dig it. Eggs, bacon, potatoes, coffee, and toast?"

"Yeah, that sounds fine with me."

After eating, Robert showered and shaved and considered going down to the Hubbard House to try to explain things to Fran but decided that wasn't a good idea. He figured he would let things cool off for a few days.

Robert hailed a cab and picked up his car. There wasn't any sign that it had been tampered with. He drove past Albert's on the way home and wanted to stop for some of that incredible coffee but decided he would call later to say hello and to explain how busy things were.

That evening Robert decided to meet with Phil at the Frat House to see how he was holding up. He was considering coming out to Phil as a cop so that he might intercede for him with Fran, thinking it could make a difference if she knew the truth. He no longer had the feeling that keeping it from Phil was all that big a deal.

It took two hours and two breaks for Robert and Phil to end up outside in the alley. He made up his mind that this was his chance to come clean. Just as he opened his mouth, three guys came roaming past the alley.

"Hi Bobby. You look nice tonight," one man said and the other's giggled as they all ran into one another trying to get into the door as Robert watched.

"You sure are popular."

"Don't remind me," Robert said, trying to stop blushing.

"They don't have many heroes."

"I'm no hero."

"You and I know that but those poor boobs don't."

"Look, I didn't come out here to argue."

"I can believe that. Looks like you lost the last few."

"Phil, I'm a cop." Robert took a deep breath and dove into his prepared speech. He'd done it now and he wasn't sorry. The sound of the word didn't make him feel as proud as he once imagined it would. "Look, Phil, I'm straight. I'm not gay."

"News flash! Tell me something I don't know. Well, that explains everything but that little boy at your place, but lots of straight guys keep little boys around just in case."

"It's not what you think. I couldn't just leave him on the street. It's dangerous out there. I owed him."

“Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?"

"Phil," Robert leaned on his arm up against the building as he faced him. "I don't want anything."

"We all want something," Phil said. "You're not telling me this just to make mother the best informed piano player at the Frat House. What do you want and where did you get the new marks on your face? I thought it was healing. You've got them on both sides now Bobby!"

"My face is no big deal. I was jumped."

"Again? Not the cops again?”

“I’m not sure who it was. Could be.”

“Look, I'm not talking to Fran for you if that's what this true confession is all about. She's been jerked around enough. You've got a lot of nerve thinking you can waltz up here and get me to be your dating service. What do you think I am?"

"Phil, what do I have to do? What do you want?"

"What I really want is for you to stay up at my place. I've already had a key made. The bedroom door has a lock on it, but you didn't use it the first night you stayed up there, so you know your perfectly safe. I'd prefer not to be alone right now. For that I might consider speaking with Fran on your behalf. She's convinced you're a jerk and I don't know yet how to convince her otherwise."

"I didn't do anything. She jumped to conclusions."

"Yeah, that's what they all say. She knows a turkey when she sees one."

"Phil, it could be dangerous having me hang around. I'm not sure you weren’t right about me being followed the other day."

"So!"

"That doesn't scare you?"

"It scares the hell out of me. I'm so scared I might pee my panties but I won't stop living. While we're at it, I want to make sure you understand me."

"This ought to be good."

"Stay away from Fran until this is over and I'll talk to her. If it's dangerous enough you're warning me, she doesn't need to be involved. Use your big head instead of the little one for a change."

"I like Fran a lot!"

"Good, then we agree. Here's the key to my place. You know the bedroom. Get rid of that little boy before he gets hurt! You should know better. I don't care what you owe him."

"He doesn't have any place to go. I can't just dump him. Everyone dumps him. I feel sorry for him. He's a good guy. He only needs a break."

"Okay, I'll find someone to take him off your hands. That shouldn't be hard."

"Yeah, look, I'm not going back inside with you. I think I'll roam over to Southeast. See if anything's happening over there. I've had enough adoration for one night."

"You better make the most of it while you can. It doesn't last long."

"I hope." Robert started walking down the alley toward “P” Street and Phil yelled after him, "You coming in tonight, dear. I'll leave a light on for you."

"Ohhhhh!" Came a catcall from the alley opening. "You go Phil. Nice catch. Night Bobbeeee."

"Maybe," Robert said, shoving his hands into his pockets, trying to get away before anyone else recognized him.

Robert didn't feel anything when he walked by the Plus 1. He thought about going into one of the bars but ended up walking the streets. It was cold and damp and had spit rain again. He missed his black trenchcoat and had no feeling that he was at all close to the Strangler or anything else. He finally gave up and headed toward Phil's.

Just after 2 a.m. Robert was letting himself in. Phil was sitting reading in his easy chair with a pink robe and the bunny rabbit slippers. Reading glasses rested down on his nose as a cup of tea steamed at his elbow. "Rough night?" Phil said, as he looked up over top of his glasses at the bruised face.

"Just more of the same. Everything is so bizarre in some of those places, I think the Strangler would fit in smoothly. Who would be able to recognize him if he wasn't wearing a sign?" Phil found the thought uncomfortable and smiled politely before going back to his reading.

"There's a pot of tea on the stove. Fresh brewed."

"No thanks. I think I'll hit the hay."

He moved down the hall and turned into the room he only slightly remembered.

*****

The DC Strangler knew where Robert Mann lived. He'd been inside his apartment. He’d found out his secret. It was like the rabbit following the fox that thought he was chasing the rabbit. He was doing God's work and in his infinite wisdom God had led him to Officer Robert Mann's apartment so he wasn't killed by mistake. Now Officer Mann led him to people deserving of his special attention.

The hand of the Lord had been on him as he stifled the life out of the unclean. He had gotten special pleasure squeezing the life out of the pervert that meant to seduced the young police officer. That pervert would seduce no other. Then there was the piano player that guided Mann through the night. He'd watched Robert drop him off and was sure he had found his nest of filth. But it wasn't him, it was another like him that he had taken last.

The mistake had slowed his momentum. He had been shocked when the story identified the dead man. How could he have been wrong? But then he realized that God didn't always consult him before setting the wheels of judgment in motion. That pervert had died because it was his time to die. He'd only done the Lord's will in the Lord’ time. The piano player’s time would come soon.

He'd been careful to follow the piano player to his apartment the very next night. He'd keep his eye on him until he felt the time was right to start anew. He'd know when. He'd watch and wait.

While he wouldn't hesitate killing anyone who got in his way, he hadn't been chosen to kill innocents. But how many were truly innocent after all? He knew God would protect anyone deserving of protection while keeping him on the path of righteousness. He knew he was being protected because he got no feeling that the police suspected just how close he was.

Robert Mann was in no danger as long as he stayed out of the way. Mann had become a pawn to help him complete his task. God's wrath was meant for the sons of Sodom. He'd watched him bring home the boy who was yet another tempter that might seduce Mann to the side of evil. He thought of how easy it could be to slip into the apartment, but the time wasn't right. He'd watch and wait and strike when the way was clear.

Sitting in front of the green apartment building gave him a feeling that everything was under control. He did find it difficult not to go inside again but it wasn't time to exorcise someone that close to Mann. Maybe that's why the piano player was still alive and another sodomite died in his place. It was a special kind of judgment that had been prepared for them, he thought, laughing openly and loudly. Passersby moved along the sidewalk a few feet away. They had no clue of the power of the man who sat in the car. For he was the destroyer, the taker of lives, the right hand of God, and he knew it was good.

The engine of the green sedan came to life. The car slowly eased away from the curb and up 19th street.

*****

Robert slept on the green satin sheets for the second time but had no memory at all of the first night he'd spent at Phil's. The room was all done in shades of green, even the walls were evergreen and for some reason he saw Commander Brown. He better call in before he left Phil's. He'd leave out the sordid details and not bother to speak about his latest clash with his brothers in blue.

The excellent lighting in the bathroom gave him an opportunity to examine the bruises more carefully. He thought there was likely to be a mark from the corner of the eyebrow to where it disappeared in the scalp where the baton had connected. It was still a little sore to the touch but the persistent headaches and throbbing had mostly disappeared. The new mark was more dense and he worked his jaw to make sure it hadn't gotten worse. The bruise wasn't nearly as serious but it had turned such a deep blue that it looked black and the swelling was apparent.

Phil was sitting at the dinning room table, feet propped up on another chair, pink robe, and pink slippers in place. There was a colorful scarf wrapped around his head and two pink hair clips held some protruding hair. He had the paper opened and didn't look up from it. "I put a cup out for you. Coffee's in the percolator."

Robert reached for the extra cup. There was a pink pig standing on it’s hind legs holding a cup like the cup Robert held. It was clad in a white collar and red tie with a derby hat on it’s head. There was a chuckle from Robert and a head shake, "You pick this out especially for me?"

"Yeah, thought you'd enjoy it."

"Thanks."

Robert carefully prepared his coffee with the cream and sugar that was placed beside the pot. He turned to sit at the table and Mike Connell had appeared from somewhere. Shaking his head, he wondered if he was still asleep.

"You stay last night too?" Robert said, after processing the fact that he was really there. "Why am I too dense to see a set up? Thanks Philip, I have a long memory."

"Inexperience," Connell said bluntly. "The most dangerous man in the world is one who thinks he knows what he's doing and doesn't have a clue."

"Where were you hiding?" Robert said to his coffee before placing the spoon beside the cup and taking a seat at the far end of the table so both Phil and Mike were in front of him.

"You walked right past me. See what I mean. Inexperience. What if I had been him?" Connell's words came with a bite.

Robert looked into the dark living room. The only light flooded out of the dining room. The drapes were pulled tight and little other light got into the room. The easy chair was turned and facing the dining room and Robert suspected he had walked within a foot of Connell, never seeing him. For some reason the knowledge wasn't at all comforting.

"Phil." Connell said.

"Don't you think I've earned a right to know what the hell is going on."

"Phil." Connell said again, stepping aside so Phil had room to exit.

Connell took his time preparing his coffee. He wore a long black raincoat that covered all but the shiny black shoes and the final twelve inches of his blue trousers. He sat at the opposite end of the table and they both drank the coffee.

"I see you evened out your face. Two black eyes are better than one, I suppose. You don't look like the same guy."

"Courtesy of the local police department," Robert said, failing to hold onto the information.

"Come on."

"They jumped me on the ‘meat rack’ in Georgetown. There were some hustlers who saw it. They said the cops had just hassled them just before they came after me."

"Yeah, well that explains the warrant for your arrest. I guess I only need to look at who swore it out to find the culprits. It seemed so simple."

"They swore a warrant on me?"

"Cops tend to take it personal when someone kicks shit out of them. Their story is they approached you to question you about what you were doing there. You attacked them."

"Get real. They never identified themselves. They came at me."

"It is real. Brown'll take care of it when I figure out how to tell him," Connell said, stirring and stirring his coffee as he watched the swirling brown liquid.

"Will he take care of them?" Mann asked.

"Don't get all bent out of shape. We've got to be careful. They don't know you're on the same payroll as they are. I don't know he's going to let that out right now. We're standing on some pretty shaky ground here and I'm responsible for whatever happens, but Commander Brown is going to take the heat."

"And I'm all you got."

"Why didn't you tell me about number eight? Don't you think that might have been a good piece of information for me to have? And number nine, you know what that means?"

"Not now. I thought I knew what it meant. I figured he knows who I am because of the paper. I'm a fucking target and you've led me up here to Phil's. You think of that?"

"Everyone knows who you are.”

"That wasn't my doing. You cops arranged that."

"Number nine might not quite see it that way," Connell said, stirring and watching Mann. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us? That’s why I am here. We had to talk and I wasn't sure you were going to call."

"I never gave it that much thought, except I knew he was close. I could almost feel him that day. But feelings didn’t seem to be what you wanted to hear. You said call if I had something.”

“That is my fault and I was wrong. I should have listened to you. Now Brown wants you off the case."

"What do you want? You know I'm close to this guy."

"No, he's close to you. There is a difference. He knows who you are." Connell sipped his coffee while he looked at a more self-assured Mann. The street was seasoning him but Connell knew the dangers.

"I want you to be careful. If he is following you, you let me handle that. You go about your business, circulate, act like you don't have clue. Don't make it too easy on the guy and keep your eyes open for a face, a car, something that keeps turning up. That's where he'll make his mistake.”

"I don't want you setting yourself up as a target. As tempting as that might be, I don't think that's a good idea. He's been close to you and he'll get close again. Don't push him. If you're tempted to do that, remember, you walked past my elbow and never knew I was there. If I had been him…. Don't go off on your own."

"He's been in my apartment."

"What?" Connell leaned forward and listened carefully. The expression on his face revealed his alarm.

"My apartment was broken into a couple of days ago. Nothing was taken."

"Is anything there?"

"Yeah! Everything I got's there."

Connell stared at the wall and leaned back in the chair, easing his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle as he pondered the news.

"So he knows? That's the piece that was missing."

"I'm sure of it. I couldn't prove it in a court of law but the only things that looked as though they weren’t touched were the box where I keep my police ID and my service revolver, the one you don’t want me carrying, and the clothes bag I brought from the academy. It was too obvious. He's either very confident or he wanted me to know. I think he wanted me to know."

"Or both. We should have taken precautions. This is something I hadn't figured on," Connell said, considering the next move. "This guy is good."

"Who'd know my picture would be plastered all over the papers? Why would he come in and not take anything? He was snooping. Have any of the victims been burglarized first? I might should know that."

"Good thinking. I'll get on it."

"I don't like being watched. I led him right to nine and that pisses me off."

"Gives him power. He's in control. I'll check on the burglary angle. I'd bet this guy's too careful to do anything predictable. You were a special case he was drawn to and that's what got him into your apartment. He wanted to get close to you before he killed you.”

"That's still pretty bold no matter the reason," Robert thought out loud.

"He wants to prove he's smarter than we are. Believe me he wasn't expecting to find out you were a cop. I better put someone on your apartment. If he's coming back there we might get lucky."

"Cops? You're going to put cops on me?"

"You are a cop, Mann. You don't judge other cops. What else can I do? Want me to get you a couple of hippies? The guy is a cold blooded killer. He's not done with you. He's like a cat with a mouse. You’re fun to play with, except now he knows."

"Hippies might not be so prone to jumping me for no reason. I don't want cops anywhere near me. I don’t trust them and I'll disappear if I see one."

"I'm a cop."

"You hear me? No cops! I've got a feel for this guy. I know when he's around and I know when he isn't. Besides, you put cops on me and he'll know. No cops and I'll do whatever you want."

Connell felt a chill run through him. He didn't trust Mann's judgment and Mann no longer trusted the only protection he could provide for him. Connell could order Mann out but he knew he wouldn't and he wasn't sure Mann would listen if he did. He’d heard stories of cops going undercover and never getting back from the role they were required to play.

"You're a sitting duck, Mann. He knows where you live.” Connell looked at Mann as he spoke and knew, if Mann looked in his rearview mirror and thought he saw a cop, he'd no longer trust him either. There was no easy answer and he wasn't ready to give up on the idea of keeping Mann undercover. Mann had been close to the Strangler and Connell had no doubt he would be close again. The trick would be to keep him alive long enough so they could catch the guy.

"No cops. You pull me off this thing if you think you need to put cops on me. I don't know who I can trust."

"This guy can decide you’re next at any time, Mann," Connell sipped before and after he spoke, watching Robert carefully, trying to read him.

"I'll take my chances with the queers and the killer. At least I know where they stand. The guy could have gotten me instead of Andrew Parkson. He didn't for a reason. He was obviously there. I'm betting he doesn't want me but he wants me to feel he's there, especially now that he knows."

"Parkson was before the break-in?"

"Yeah. Before."

"He's toying with you all right. You're famous. That picture got his attention. It took him away from his game plan. I hate to say it, but you're now the wildcard in all this."

"He didn't figure me for a cop."

"Yeah, he was trying to unnerve the local hero when he picked up that little tidbit. I wonder what went through his mind."

"He's killing gay guys. I'm not gay. I think he's figured that out."

"It could be that simple, Mann, but why just gay guys? He can't be sure. There's only one way to know for sure. Most of my friends are married or have been. Why not a cop now and again if you're a killer?" Connell thought aloud as he looked for clues inside of clues. "What if a cop gets too close? Would he kill him or ask him about his sexuality first?"

"Let's hope he doesn't change his MO."

"Yeah, we'd be mightily embarrassed should you wake up dead one morning."

"Thanks a lot. I'd be a whole lot more than embarrassed but I think I can handle this guy."

"That's what worries me. Get out of that apartment. That's a setup for this asshole."

"I've got somebody watching it for me."

"Jesus, Mann, get that somebody out of there too. Don't you understand? He wants to show you he's smarter than you are and I see nothing that convinces me he isn't right. No one is safe there. He'd take pleasure in killing someone that close to you. It would prove how skilled he is and how inept we are."

"I don't think he'll be back. That would really be dumb. He'll expect some kind of surveillance."

"I'll play along with you for the time being but you've got to play along with me. I'll leave Brown out of the loop on some of this stuff. You keep me advised. Don't make me come looking for you again. We're on the same team." Connell took a long look at his subordinate between sips of coffee. He knew he should drop Robert Mann. It was becoming too risky but he wanted his plan to work, not just for his own sake but for the Commander.

"You've done a good job in spite of yourself. I see a real change in your attitude. You're becoming more professional. I wasn't sure a rookie could cut it, but you’re an important part of the investigation now. We're depending on you. We're only going to get this guy when he makes a mistake. You're going to be in the best position to catch him when he does."

"Exactly. The rest of your cops don't care as far as I can tell."

"It's true. Cops might not respond as quickly as we might like under certain circumstances. They are human and they've been programmed in a certain way. The last generation of cops was brought up thinking it was fine sport to beat the shit out of gay men. Teach them a little lesson. Give them an incentive to change their ways. What are cops for anyway?"

"That's strange coming from you. You don't seem the least bit outraged that they beat up men for no other reason than they don't like them. They're cops!"

"It hasn't been that long ago, it was a crime being homosexual. There was a certain logic involved when they were busting their heads. It was an object lesson of sorts. Instead of arresting them and ruining them by making their perversion public, they hurt them to make them understand. It was all quite honorable… unless you were the guy getting your head busted. Then it might seem a bit harsh."

"That still sounds strange coming from you."

"I'm still a cop. I still see what cops see."

"You can't justify beating people up for being in a gay bar," Robert said, absently feeling the side of his face as he was speaking. "Sometimes they're wrong when they think everyone in a gay bar is gay."

“I never said I condone it. I said, I understood the logic behind it. I understand how it got that way.”

“Well I’ve done it without any help from the cops so far.”

“You just can't afford to go it alone on this. If you want to end up a cop you've got to play ball. I'll take care of your latest misadventure and get the warrant purged. Brown has to know about that one. There's no way I can get it done myself without setting off the bells and whistles of the bureaucracy. He’ll yell a lot and threaten some punishment worse than death, but I'll keep him on board if I can."

"I didn't do anything. They came at me. I didn't know they were cops until the damage was done. I'm not sorry I defended myself. They'd have gladly stomped me into the ground. I'm about sick of being their whipping boy. I'm not standing there and letting them beat up on me."

"Yeah, well, when you're reassigned, maybe you'll get to explain that to them if you end up in their precinct house, huh? They say it happened different than what you say. There are two of them. You see the problem."

"Yeah, well I got witnesses that saw it."

"High class citizens no doubt. Willing to come to the aid of the downtrodden. You've got a lot to learn, Mann. You don't know what you're up against. People believe cops because they're cops."

"I'm a cop."

"Yeah, there is that. How did I get myself into this mess?"

"You want to solve this case and you know the cops assigned to it could give a shit less. I'll do the job and they won't. That's why.”

"What Bland did to you was wrong and he'll be dealt with at an appropriate time. We'll send the strongest possible message about gay bashing. The other two might be a bit more problematic."

"Not on my account you won't! Not those other cops either. You're not putting it on me."

"It has nothing to do with you. It has to do with their actions and the consequences. Those other cops will see the error of their ways after Brown is done with them. You came out a lot better than either of them."

"I won't go against another cop if they don't force me. No way."

"Once we've caught this guy, the city will need to heal. The gay community will be watching us. If they're ever going to trust the police we've got to give them something to show our good faith."

"Don't ask me to be a part of it."

"Where'd you learn to fight like that? Those guys were a mess once you got done with them."

"I had to fight every day when I was a kid. Something about my skin totally pissed people off."

"In North Dakota?"

"Yeah, on the res. Funny thing was, I ended up in the public school because I couldn't get along in the Indian School. Then I had to fight with them because of my hair. It was coal black and went halfway down my back."

"Why not cut it?"

"I was Arikara. I wasn't bowing down to no white boys."

"Now?"

"I don't know what I am anymore. I think I know and then…."

Connell uncrossed his legs and stood up, looking quite tall and looming in the black coat. "That's out of both of our hands. We’ve got to catch this guy and you be whatever it is you’ve got to be to do it."

"I can feel him, you know."

"That's all you have?"

"Yeah, that's all right now. I feel him sometimes. I get a feeling he's watching. I can't explain it but something always happens. I don't understand it yet."

"Don't be giving me no Voodoo shit from your redskin ancestors. We're cops, not Shamen."

"It's not Voodoo." Mann was surprised by the word. He was getting better at playing the game but there were still things that confused him. He didn't want anyone else to die on his watch and he was sure he was in the best possible position to stop the killer.

Connell felt the same way even with Mann's lack of experience and his independent attitude. Things had played out better than he could have hoped but it was a lot more dangerous for his rookie than he had anticipated.

"We've got to reconsider everything. First, the gun and the ID in that shoe box. Start carrying them on you. I think we're both on the same track. I want you to keep me advised but lay low a few days, stay off the street until I can clear this warrant thing up.”

"I'm all ears. Tell me what you want. I'll do my best to give it to you."

"Next, clear out of here and stay away from Phil. Clear out of your apartment if you won't let me protect you there.

"Got it."

"Is there a place where you can go that no one knows about? I don't have to know where it is. A place where you can lay low? Give it three days and I'll tell you if you can come out or not or if I need more time on the warrant."

"Let me think about it. There is one place no one knows about but me."

"Good! I feel better. Here's some extra cash. Here's a card with my home phone number and address. You use it if anything goes wrong. I wouldn't advise you to use Brown's number unless you have a death wish. I'm all that's keeping you out here right now and we need to work together. He believes in both of us but Lord knows why. I think we owe him our best shot but I don't want him involved in these decisions. This is all on my dime, Mann. I want to keep him in the clear if I can."

"Got it."

"It will shake the Strangler up when you move. Do it in a way that he can’t follow. Drive up a few streets and down a few alleys. Don't park the car in front of where you're staying."

"Give me some credit. I'll ditch the car. I've got my own out in Virginia. No reason I can't drive that."

"Something nice and plain that will blend in so it isn't easy for him to spot you, I hope. They call it undercover for a reason."

"Yeah, I know."

"Good idea. Keep my card on you in case you get into trouble again. You seem to have a natural attraction to trouble. Be careful and stay in touch. Only use Phil to contact me if there is no other way. I'd like to keep him out of it until we get this guy."

"Got it," Mann said, picking up the large roll of bills as Connell disappeared into the living room and out the front door, neither man being sure he was being told everything the other one knew.

"Can I come out of the closet?" Phil asked from the hall.

"I don't think that's been an issue for you for some time."

"Yes, a lot of the boys tell me that," and May West was back in his voice. "So, I've used up all my credibility with the strong silent one?"

"You could have told me it was a setup, Phil. I don't like being blind sided."

"Yes, but would you have hung around if I had? I was asked not to tell."

"Yeah, well, I appreciate the bed. It's more comfortable than mine."

"That fold away job or do you have one stashed away somewhere else in that expansive apartment?"

"The police don't rent expensive apartments. I'm sure they picked the couch up along side the curb somewhere in Southeast after an eviction. The springs in that thing are deadly."

"Bobby, be careful. Don't do anything foolish. You've got a key. I'm not so scared I wouldn't help you if you need it. Don't listen to Mike. He thinks he can protect all of us. You come here if anything happens."

"You've been watching too many movies. I'm not doing anything foolish, but thanks for worrying about me. I'll be fine."

*****

Mike Connell had shed his black raincoat before going up to the office. He was surprised to see Detective Pollard seated near his desk. "I just talked to Bland. He said you had a doctor's appointment. You get lost?"

"Don't start. I need to talk to Brown."

"Well, the commander is a little busy. I clear his meetings and you aren't on his schedule. Perhaps if you care to level with me, and explain why you're lying to your partner, maybe I can work you in."

"It's Bland. I want another partner. I don't care if it means I'm off this deal. I don't care what it means. I'm tired of tiptoeing around him. Since his wife left him he's worse, and I'm becoming a basket case trying to stay out of his way. I'm tired of baby-sitting your bad boy."

"So what did he do to deserve this? I just talked to him two hours ago and he was as happy as a clam."

"Yeah, he's like the eye of the hurricane. The guy is crazy and I'm not crazy enough to want to deal with him. I let him have his way but I'm getting tired of it. I want off. I want another partner."

"He had some ideas about getting another car so you two could split up for even more of each day. I gave him my okay. Maybe if you go along with that, it'll work for you and we don't have to do a lot of paperwork."

"You're telling me I can't see Brown?"

"Commander. Pollard is out here. Has a problem only you can solve."

"I've got a schedule. He know anything about schedules and phones? He's got two minutes and it better be worth my goddamn time."

Connell stuck his hand out, palm up, to indicate Pollard should make the journey down the hall, but after hearing the tone of Brown's voice, he suddenly wasn't so sure he wanted to go.

"In." Brown was sitting at the desk looking over the top of his glasses at the new arrival as he came in the door. I’d ask you to take a seat but you aren’t going to be here long enough to sit down."

Pollard stiffened to attention in front of his boss.

"Cat got your tongue or you just come here to memorize what my black ass looks like? The clock is ticking. You got a minute left."

"No, sir. I came about Bland."

"Don't even! He's already on my shit list. That where you're aiming to go, son. You really want to go there?" Brown's attention was all on Pollard now.

"He's nuts. I can't deal with him anymore. I like my job and I can't do it while trying to stay out of his way. I want another partner or a reassignment, Commander. That's it."

"Oh! That's it?" Brown watched the cop in front of him squirm under his gaze as he thought about his words. "Keep an eye on him for me. He's not my favorite cop right now. I'm aware of the situation and I'll consider your request. I'm just too busy to do anything right this minute. Can you stand it for a few more days? Isn't he asking for another car so you two can be on your own most of the time anyway."

"It's the first I heard of it. I mean Connell just now said it."

"He didn't run it by you?"

"He doesn't run anything by me. I don't have a clue what he does all those hours he's out there by himself at night."

"How many hours?"

"I don't know. Thirty to fifty miles a night doing something. I figure he's working eighteen hours a day. He looks like shit."

"He's only signing for ten."

"I know he's obsessed with that Mann kid from the Post. The one he belted. I think Bland could hurt him if he thought Mann might damage his career. I had no part of that."

Brown stared at him in silence while he thought. "You just come up with that off the top of your head or do you know something I should know?"

"Up until a few days ago he was worried to death Mann would come forward and file charges against him. I told him gay guys didn't come forward, ever, against cops. He asked me to find out where he lived and then he says he's got some guys that are going to talk to him and I shouldn't worry so much. The guy isn't right in the head, Commander. I don't want him ruining my career. I ain't no great shakes but I try to be a good cop."

"Okay. Keep your ears open and stick with it while I look at alternatives. I hear what you're saying but you can do us more good by keeping an eye on him. Whatever he does won't reflect on you. I'll see to it. I've got your back from now on."

"Yes, sir. That's all I ask. I don't want to be held responsible if he does something crazy, and he will do something crazy sooner or later."

"You got it, now get out of here and let me get back to work." Pollard was on his way out when Commander Brown got on the intercom. "Connell, what's Bland up to?"

"I don't know. Pollard says he's up to no good."

"He told me he's obsessed with Mann. What's Mann doing?"

"I guess we need to talk. I've got him on the move and he's going to lie low a few days. Something’s come up that makes that advisable."

"How much are you not telling me, Connell, and how long before my ignorance comes back to bite me?"

"Nothing you want to know, sir. Not until I can get things back under control."

"Under control? Meaning things are beyond your control? Why am I feeling someone's hot breath on my ass all of a sudden?"

"You had burritos for dinner last night?"

"Very funny, Connell. Don't get too far out ahead of me. Carry on!"

"Yes, sir," Connell said, thinking as he let his finger up off the intercom. Robert Mann was out of reach, for how long he wasn't sure. He suddenly felt uneasy about telling him to lie low without knowing where he was doing it.

Chapter 15

Lying Low

It took ten minutes for Robert to be parking in front of the green apartment building. "Hey, squirt, get up," Robert said, shaking Toby's arm.

"What? I was scared last night. I couldn't go to sleep. I kept thinking someone was coming in here."

"You left the door unlocked idiot."

"I did. Oh!"

"Get dressed. We're clearing outa here."

"I was just getting used to it. You ditching me? This is where they always ditch me." Toby pulled on his pants while watching Robert, hoping this wasn't like all the other times.

Toby’s words worked and what Robert had in mind for Toby changed.

He'd known rejection and he wouldn't reject this boy. "Key words in the sentence were, we are. That's a plural as opposed to you, who would be a singular." And now Robert had to come up with a plan for both him and Toby, a plan that would leave the boy in safe hands and him free to roam, while not putting anyone else at risk.

"Cool! I can dig it." Toby was all smiles and when he stood he threw his arms around Robert's body and hugged him. "I missed you. It got cold without you last night."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a heater. Come grab the clothes bag. I got to get a couple of things from the closet. Get all your stuff together."

"I got all my stuff on 'cept my buckskin. There's food. We shouldn't be wasting good food. All those starving people in China and all."

"Don't worry about it. We'll get more food. Those starving people in China are going to have to take care of themselves for a little while longer."

Once they were in the car, Robert rolled down his window, feeling his hip for the bulge and the comfort he took from his gun. It made him smile and it made him feel more like a cop. He wondered if he would have pulled the gun when the two guys came at him if he'd had it on his hip that night?

He drove to the end of the block and turned right, not checking his mirror, giving no indication that he thought he might be followed. He'd explain it to Toby after he ditched the car.

He wasn't sure of the plan yet but he'd call Albert and ask him for a favor. Toby would be safe there and it was a place he could return to without risk to anyone else. He'd be more alert to the possibilities to make sure he wasn’t followed.

*****

The green sedan stayed a block and some back. He was an artist when it came to tailing another car. It was his stock and trade and only after circumnavigating Thomas Circle did their direction change and his expertise come into question, although he didn't know it.

"That guy's following us," Toby stated after making a third check over his shoulder.

"What guy?"

"Green four door sedan. Two cars back in the right lane. He just came off the circle. He turned in behind us after you made the first right."

"You sure?" Robert asked, watching the mirror.

"Yeah! I'm sure. He stopped the day you stole that trick from me. Wanted to know who you was."

"What did you tell him?"

"I didn't know nothin'. Bobby's all I knew but I wasn't going to tell him."

"Was he a cop? Don't make anything up. Do you think he might have been a cop?"

"I didn't ask that either. I'd say he was."

"It's the same guy though?"

"I wouldn't a told you if it wasn't. I saw his face when he turned into the circle behind us. He's staying a block back. It's the same guy though. I'm ain’t lyin’. It's the guy. He was in the market the day I went to buy food. He watched me."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was afraid you'd think I was a nut case. I didn't want to talk myself out of a place to stay."

Robert Mann checked the mirror for the green sedan. It was in the next lane over and staying behind a black car, but he'd seen that sedan before. He could stop and try to force the guy out of his car but it wasn't illegal to drive down a street with a lot of other cars. Robert needed to use his head. If he played it right he might be able to get the tag number, but the guy would be too smart to get that close unless he could be surprised.

He doubled back to make sure, formulating a plan as he went. First he needed to get Toby out of the car. Robert slowed down and pulled over to the curb. The green sedan never came passed, but the black car he'd been tailgating did. The green car had just disappeared.

"What’re you doin’?" Toby asked.

"Thinking."

"We can't like move, while we think? He's still back there somewheres. I mean, the first two times might could have been by accident, but not with him followin’ us."

Robert smacked Toby's head playfully and then mussed up his too long hair for good measure.

"Ah, man, you know how hard this is to comb?"

"We'll get you a flattop and you won't have to worry about it."

"Not even funny. You ain't messin' with my hair, dude. Am I really going with you? Don't lie to me, okay. I can take the truth."

"Really! You've earned your keep spotting that guy. I wouldn't have known he was back there otherwise."

"Groovy. I can dig it. We gonna to sit here all day?"

Robert looked in the mirror before blending back into traffic. He turned at the first corner and then turned back in the direction he had just come from. He knew what he would see when he looked in the mirror, but he resisted the urge to verify his suspicion. Before he made the third turn the green sedan was once again behind him, one block back and behind another car, keeping his distance, always leaving himself an out in case Robert stopped again. They turned onto 11th Street and jockeyed over to 12th as Robert thought.

"You're very good," Robert murmured, glancing back through the rear window at the car that always kept it’s distance. "Toby, I'm going to let you out in front of a red DGS Store. Walk straight through to the back entrance and go over to the Chastleton Apartments on 10th. Wait there in the lobby for me. I'm going to ditch the car and this asshole behind us."

"Cool. 10th Street. Chastleton. What's it look like?"

"It's the biggest building on the block. Big apartment house. If anyone hassles you tell them you're waiting for Phil Sharper… Phil Sharper. Remember that. If anything happens to me ring his apartment and tell him I told you to wait for me there."

"Phil Sharper. Got it. Chastleton."

"Take this box with you and don't set it down."

Toby looked at the box and looked at Robert's face carefully.

"The rod ain't in here is it? I don't like guns."

"You went through my stuff?"

"I ain't no fool. I want to know about a guy I'm stayin’ with. There's some nut killin’ guys out here. I didn't take nothin'. I just looked."

"I've got the gun and my ID. You do what I told you." Once again Robert realized how foolish he'd been and how dangerous being foolish could be. Toby knowing what he knew, wasn't a big problem, but how much did the Strangler know? That was the sixty-four thousand-dollar question to which he wasn’t likely to get any answers. The other questions that came to mind, who is the guy following us and why is he following?

He took one more quick glance to make sure the green sedan was still there before pulling up to the storefront.

Toby opened the door as soon as the car stopped, sliding out casually with the box tucked under his arm. He didn't look around but went straight into the DGS store, through it and out the back door.

Robert glanced up into his mirror and observed the green sedan pulling over to the curb on the previous block. Some hefty oak trees furnished enough shade to almost hide it. Robert didn't bother with the mirror when he moved up two more blocks to the front of the dry cleaners. He turned off the engine, grabbed the clothes bag, and without looking to see if the green sedan was watching, disappeared into the business.

The green sedan pulled over a block away in time to see Robert walking toward the storefront. Jim Bland left his engine running, removing a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lighting it as he waited. It only took a few minutes for him to suspect something was amiss.

"Let's get a closer look. We can always go around the block if it becomes necessary," Bland thought, tossing the cigarette out of the window. He eased the green sedan forward until he could see the sign on the dry cleaners. He parked behind another car and waited, becoming more sure as the minutes passed, that something was wrong with this picture. Lighting another cigarette, he tapped the steering wheel with his fingers, watching the street behind him just in case Mann was smarter than he thought.

Toby had gone up the alley and made the first right turn to walk the distance over to 10th street. He did look around now, conscious of the fact he was alone. He tried to remember all of Robert's words as he waited for the light to change on 11th

Robert whistled while he waited for service. He casually dropped the clothing bag on the counter as the old Chinese man appeared from the back. "I want to store these once they've been cleaned. Keep them in the clothes bag if you don't mind. Here's twenty for a deposit. We square?"

"We square," the happy Chinese man said, giving Robert a receipt that matched the one he put on the bag.

"I need to go over to 10th Street. Do you have a back door I can use?"

"You come. Follow me." The small man looked back at Robert to make sure he was following. They went through a series of aisles filled with clothes and then through a storage area before he opened the back door with a key he had on a chain. Robert stepped out into the bright light of the alley behind the cleaners.

As the door closed behind him, he touched his gun and looked up the alley toward where he knew the green sedan was waiting. It was his chance to get a look at the face and maybe the tag. Toby wasn't sure it was a cop and that left only one other possibility . It was too tempting for him to pass up on and he started to jog back up the alley in the direction he came from.

There was a sudden jagged pain at the corner of his eye. It blinded him and stopped him dead. His knees buckled and he had trouble getting his breath. He grabbed onto a fence that separated a house from the alley. He swung there like an old gate, thinking he might go down, but determined not to fall. The fierce pain gradually subsided as he hung on to the fence. Each time he thought the headaches were passing, he had one like this and wasn't so sure.

Robert regained his composure and stood, rubbing his temple. He walked to the cross street where he'd seen the green sedan pull over, but it wasn't there now. He had no idea how long he'd been in the alley. He turned toward 10th Street hoping Toby wouldn't be alarmed.

He stopped twice when he thought his head might start throbbing again. He checked to make sure he wasn't being followed but had no feeling that he was. He was comforted when he caught site of the Chastleton.

As he approached the front door, Toby came rushing out, throwing his arms around Robert. "I thought you ditched me. Where have you been?"

"It hasn't been that long," Robert said, not sure.

"It was an hour. I didn't want to go to no one's apartment. I want to stay with you."

Robert ran out to hail a passing Capitol Cab. They drove away from Phil's and any idea Robert might of had of leaving Toby there. The cab dropped them on 11th Street just beyond the bus stops. Robert looked around before taking Toby into the restaurant.

Chapter 16

Home Fires

"Hey, Albert.” Robert shouted over the noise in the restaurant.

"Ah, Bobby, I think the universe must be in total harmony today. I was only just a moment ago thinking of you. I have acquired another piece I want you to see. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"Yes, well, how would you like a visit? I hate dropping in uninvited but I need a favor."

"Splendid. I shall get something special from the freezer for us to sup upon, and coffee, I shall brew fresh ground coffee for your drinking pleasure."

"I've got someone with me and we'll need a ride."

"My word. It goes without saying that anyone with you is welcome in my humble abode. Bring him on as they say. And where does Albert find you?"

"I'm over on 11th Street in a restaurant just above where the buses stop. It's the next corner up from Pennsylvania Avenue."

"Ah yes, if Albert passes by, can you come out to the car so he doesn't need to look for parking?"

"We'll be watching for your Mercedes."

"And I shall be looking for and forward to your handsome face."

"Albert!"

The silver Mercedes pulled to the curb and Robert looked up and down the street carefully before he held the door open for Toby and followed him in.

"Albert is sensing a bit of intrigue. I'm thrilled. What are we escaping from and haven't I seen this handsome young fellow somewhere before?"

"Someone might be following me. I don't want to take any chances. Go around the block so I can watch behind us."

"We shall pull into my garage and let down the door before we disperse from the vehicle and deny anyone a view of what we are up to. You are safe with me. The house is protected with an alarm."

"This is the guy that sent you the ten bucks," Robert said to Toby, checking both in front of and behind the car as it eased through the heavy lunch traffic. There were many green sedans but not the one Robert was looking for, and he finally relaxed once he was sure he'd ditched the man who had been following them.

"Albert, this is Toby. Toby, Albert. He's with me for the time being, Albert. We need a place to lay low for a few days."

"Your conditions are understood and accepted, dear boy. Any friend of Bobby’s is a friend of mine, Tobias," Albert said, extending his hand for Toby to shake once they stopped at a light. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance."

"What in hell is a Tobias?" Toby distorted his face as if he'd just had some bad medicine.

“Tobias is the literary name for someone who is called Toby."

"Well, if you ain't noticed, I ain't much of a literary, whatever that is. Just plain Toby'll do fine, thank you."

"As you wish. Toby it is," Albert said with sunshine in his voice.

"What is it that you require, Bobby? Do explain how I can be of service."

"I need a place for two for a few days. We'll take up little room and stay out of the way. You can do the pictures you mentioned while I’m there as payment. That's about it," Robert said.

"Bobby, Albert cannot accept those terms. You shall stay in my home as my guest, because you are a friend to whom I wish to extend my hospitality. You are not required to make payment. I wouldn't hear of it."

"I've thought about it, Albert. It sounds interesting. I want to do it. I really don't mind. I've been thinking more about my Indian side lately."

"Indian? You're an Indian?" Toby asked. "I wondered about your fascination with my hair."

"Part."

"You're white. I mean really white! You ain't Indian."

"I shall pay you for your services. The pictures will be valuable to me and to anyone who appreciates art, and therefore, I can't accept your services without reimbursement."

"Somehow I feel like I'm getting the better of this deal. We don't know each other all that well and you don't know Toby at all. I feel awkward taking money from you while you're letting me stay in your house."

"What is it I need to know? You've been in my home and treated me with respect and kindness. What do friends do? Bobby, I'll enjoy your company. Your being in the house will make it easier to do the photography. I think it offers us both equal advantages. You aren't taking anything. I'm offering you an opportunity that few could appreciate."

"OK, I won’t complain."

"Tobias is with you, and now my trusted friend as well," Albert said, looking at Toby.

“I'm Toby,” Toby said. "Why doesn't anyone remember my name? He calls me kid."

"Hush up, kid," Robert said, mussing up Toby's hair.

"Oh, geeze! Cut that out." Toby did his best to get his hair back in order.

“Does your need of lodging have anything to do with the deterioration of your face? It has been worked up once more?"

"It’s worked over, Albert. I need to lie low. I've some unfinished business but I can't finish it for a few days. After that I'll be able to tell you more, but I can't right now."

"No more explanation necessary. We shall immediately go on the limb at my pad."

“I think that would be go on the lam, Albert.”

“Of course it is, and that’s exactly what we shall do, go on the lamb. I must go shopping to make your stay more enjoyable for all of us. You must give me a list of the delicacies that you most enjoy and Albert shall pamper you.” Albert was excited as he made plans for his guests.

“This guy for real?” Toby asked, looking from Albert to Robert.

“Absolutely,” Robert said. "He's for real."

"I like those little oysters that come in the small bottles, and sardines. I love sardines." Robert smacked the back of Toby's head as he mentioned things he liked and never got. "Well I do!"

"My word. I was under the impression they came in a shell. How clever of them to have found a way to grow in a bottle." Toby cocked his head to one side to watch Albert speak, not completely sure of what he was saying.

*****

As the minutes passed, Detective James Bland’s suspicions become a certainty. Something was wrong. He sat watching Robert's car for as long as he could endure it. He’d been had. He knew what had happened even before verifying it.

He reluctantly retraced Robert’s path, knowing what he was going to find. "There was a guy that came in here with a clothing bag. He never came out. Where'd he go?"

The Chinese man spoke in some ancient dialect that even he didn't entirely understand, putting his hand on the fresh twenty dollar bill in his pocket, his loyalty was to his customer, and that lasted until Bland flashed his badge.

"Oh, no, me do nothing wrong. He go out back way. Me show you. Me show you."

"Hold your horse old man. What's out there?"

"Alley all. Trash can all. Nothing in alley. Me do nothing wrong. He ask."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. What did he say?"

"Dry clean please. You got backdoor? That all. Dry clean. You got back door, is all." The Chinese man didn't like being questioned and he didn't like Bland. He remembered the young man asking about 10th Street but he saw no reason to say anything he didn't have to say. The badge only got the cop what it took to get rid of him, and not everything the old man knew.

"Jesus, why don't you Japs learn English?" Bland complained as he left. "You come here and don't even bother learning to speak English. Ain't right all them foreigners coming over here taking our jobs."

By the time he got back in the car he was enraged that Mann had given him the slip. Banging the steering wheel repeatedly with both of his hands, he finally let the rage escape. Several people walking by gave a lot of room to the car and especially the man inside, but Bland neither considered them nor the madness that came upon him at times like these. He would figure out the puzzle and be back on Robert Mann before he could turn around.

Pollard was sitting on the curb when Bland rolled to a stop in front of his house. "Why are you out here? You get thrown out?"

"Waiting for you. You said you'd be here shortly after noon."

"I never said a time. I figured you were smart enough to wait in the house. I got tied up on something. Don't start get difficult with me. I ain't in the mood. I thought you had a doctor's appointment?"

"Yeah, well, it didn't take as long as I thought." Pollard fastened his seat belt but he didn't want to look at Bland. He felt bad about stabbing his partner in the back. It's something you didn't do but he saw no other option, except go down with Bland, and he needed the job.

"Always takes longer when I go. Damn foreigners don't know which end is up."

"What are you talking about? My doctor's American."

"I'm getting another car for you," Bland said, changing the subject. "We'll both be on the street at the same time. We can cover a lot more ground that way. We'll ride together in the afternoons to compare notes."

"Brown okay'd that?" Pollard played along still unable to look at Bland but taking glances of his stoic partner.

"I just told you what we're doing. You think I come up with this shit on my own? I'm still on the same police force as you. Sure, he knows. I cleared it with his aide. He liked it. He's a Teddy bear once you get his attention."

"You did talk to Brown? Or Connell? Who are you talking about." Pollard showed his impatience as Bland drove calmly, one wrist draped over the top of the steering wheel as he tried to figure out what was eating at his partner.

"You ask too many questions and you don't listen. I'll keep this car. You can pick one out from the yard."

"Yeah," Pollard said, not sure of Bland's frame of mind yet and not wanting to test him. "You went through Connell, didn't you?"

"Yeah, why try to move a mountain when you can walk around it? Brown's not too hospitable since the Post deal. I don't know why he's so worked up over some fag."

"I can't imagine why. The man's job is only on the line and his cops are beating up potential victims. Great PR you ask me. You do anything about Mann?"

"That's taken care of. You can forget about him."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Jimmy. You make me nervous sometimes."

"I always know what I'm doing." Bland gave his partner a hard look. He went back to the road with his eyes but not with his thoughts. He usually had everyone against him and he'd gone through nine partners in fifteen years because of it. It had never bothered him once when they started turning against him. He knew what to do and when to do it and until that failed him he'd keep doing it. His partners were mostly a handicap anyway and none of them were ever out in front of him.

*****

"Commander, I've got Evans and Thompson out here."

"Evans and Thompson. Aren't they from robbery."

"Yes, sir. They had a little run in with Robert Mann. They've sworn a warrant for his arrest. They've got an APB out on him. I figured you would like to speak with them about it."

"Yes indeed. Send them right on back."

"What's up with this, Connell? It's not bad enough we get jumped. You boys have nothing better to do than add insult to injury?"

"I think the commander is waiting."

The two cops left the front area in a huff, unable to fathom why they'd been called in to speak with Brown. In another minute they were standing in the doorway of the dank office.

Commander Brown carefully looked them over as he eased himself back in his chair. "What the hell happened to you two?"

Evans had his right arm in a sling, his left eye was black and his lip was fat. Thompson had two black eyes and a bruise the size of a fist on one jaw.

"We were jumped over in Georgetown."

"Robert Mann. Just what were you doing near Robert Mann? Haven't we caused that boy enough grief?"

"He was on the block where the queers meet to do their funny stuff."

"Funny stuff? You're speaking about some of our gay citizens?" Evans didn't have an answer for that one. Thompson stood silent and Brown became concerned he might not be able to speak.

"Nasty looking jaw, Thompson. One gay boy did that to you two? And he was doing funny stuff or what when this altercation took place?"

"He jumped us." Thompson offered as Evans looked at him.

"He surrounded you?"

"He caught us off guard," Evans offered.

"I'm not getting this picture. You were there and you approached him because he was on a block where gay men do funny stuff? How did he get the best of you?"

"He surprised us."

"Me too," Brown said, smiling from ear to ear at the thought of Mann kicking their asses. "You know what? I'm smelling Jim Bland all over this deal." Brown was remembering what Pollard had told him just a few hours before. "Now, the fact he's tried to scramble this kid's brains could explain Mann's reluctance to interact with the police. The question then becomes, how is it that Bland's former partner, Evans, ends up on the other end of the same kind of deal with the same character? What are the odds? Perhaps you can enlighten me? And, oh yes, keep in mind that if I catch either of you in a lie, say there's a witness or two that don't back you to the max, I'm going to have me two shiny badges right here on my desk. You getting the picture?"

Evans and Thompson looked at each other and then came clean. They agreed with Commander Brown to make sure that all signs of the warrant on Robert Mann were purged from the system. Or, in the event of his arrest they would face charges for false arrest and assault.

Commander Brown led them to believe he would talk to Mann and ask him not to pursue either of them if they signed statements describing Jim Bland's role in the incident. They were also warned not to alert Bland or their badges would be gone. The meeting broke up. The two detectives knew what they had to do to keep their badges.

******

Albert raised the garage door as he approached the house. The Corvette had been moved over close to the staircase and he parked the Mercedes in the spot furthest away.

"You drove the Vette?"

"Heavens no. The boy came who drives it for me. I was out when he returned and he took that space."

"Any time you want, I'll drive it for you," Robert said with admiration in his voice for the car.

"Well, perhaps while you are here, you shall. It isn't driven enough. Fine tuned machines require TLC."
Soon Albert was moving around the kitchen and preparing coffee. He put fresh baked sweet rolls down in front of Toby, who immediately ate one.

"This is the lad from the wall, is it not? The day I spirited you off in his stead?"

"One and the same, Albert."

"Quite a charming lad he is. If I didn't enjoy your company so much, Bobby, I'd think I made a mistake."

"Let's get one thing straight, Albert, while Toby's with me, he's out of business. I'm trying to help him while this asshole's out there killing people."

"I thought I was helpin’ you? Don't I get a say in this matter?" exclaimed Toby.

"It is understood and accepted, Bobby. The temptations of the flesh are always the most difficult to subdue, but I shall set aside the more prurient side of my nature, even in the presence of one as fair as he. Let it be written. Let it be done. Your coffee, sir. The rolls with the pecans are exquisite with this particular brew."

"He always talk like this?"

"No, actually Albert has a rather earthy side if you get him looped."

"I'll be lookin’ forward to that. He doesn't speak English does he? You got any milk?"

"Ah yes, the milkman came only this morning."

"You had something you wanted to show me?" Robert spoke as he ate

his roll. The kitchen smelled of fresh brewed coffee and fresh bakery goods. The sun was just then shining in through the kitchen windows and the floor creaked slightly under Albert's feet as he served his guests.

“After coffee.” A few minutes later he led them around the back of the house and into the Native American Room.

Toby was amazed at the things in the house. His mouth dropped open and stayed that way as he stopped to examine pictures on the wall along the way, then rushed to catch up. Once in the room he went from picture frame to picture frame to look at the scenes they portrayed. Albert went over to his work bench and carefully lifted a warrior chief's headdress.

"Here, Bobby, look at this. A friend found it in Oklahoma. We're researching it. It's incredible, is it not."

Albert couldn't hide his rapture. He held the headdress as though he was afraid he might disturb its magnificence. He then held it up as though he expected Robert to walk under it so he could position it on his head.

"I couldn't. It's meant for a chief. Someone of stature. It would be wrong for me to think I was worthy of wearing it."

"It's a relic. No one is worthy of it but we are about preserving it. To preserve it we must present it. By presenting it perhaps we can find enough friends to get it back to its rightful owner. That's all I have in mind, Bobby. While I treasure these items more than anything I own, they aren't mine and never could be, they belong to a culture that is still alive out there somewhere. I could serve no greater purpose than to restore this and these other items to where they came from. I don't buy them to own them. I only wish to preserve them."

"He for real?" Toby asked, staring into a pencil sketch of a Plains Indian riding his pony off into the bleak looking prairie. "What’s he?"

"Comanche brave. It's written in the corner with the name of the artist."

"You say these guys are still out there somewhere?"

"Not like that, but yes, the Comanche are in Oklahoma today."

"My grandma was part Cherokee. What's that make me?"

"You're an Indian," Albert said. "I am in the presence of warriors and I a poor redneck child of the south."

"He serious? I'm Indian? Like you?"

"I'd say."

Toby threw his arms around Robert's waist and hugged him.

"Hey!"

"Yeah, I know. Cut it out."

"I detect a bit of affection in this friendship of circumstance."

"We been looking out for each other. He needs a hug every now and then. He just don't know it," Toby said, admiring Robert as he spoke.

"So you intend to return these to the Nations?"

"Not yet. I'm not ready to part with them quite yet. Now I can photograph them with someone of equal magnificence and perhaps after that, yes."

"He talking about you?" Toby asked.

"He'll never admit it, but he's perfect to show them off. We'll add a bit of color to his skin in some of the pictures and he'll be perfect. Why the change of heart, Bobby? I couldn't talk you into it before. You aren't doing this just to assure your lodging in my home?"

"No, Albert. I told you I have been thinking about it. Now that I know your intentions, I wouldn't mind being part of that journey. I think these belong to the people who owned them. They were probably stolen or sold for nickels and dimes so someone could eat."

"Have you thought of your father, Bobby?"

"Yes, in fact I have. Probably because of our conversation. I think you're right about me giving him a chance. He is my father. I might call him when I've… later on."

"I've been very bad, Bobby. You are going to be angry with Albert."

"Not a chance. You're one of my favorite people."

"No, Albert has overstepped the boundaries of our friendship. I too had cause to think of your father on several occasions. It troubled me deeply, what you described, how you broke with your past so entirely. I had to do something for my own peace of mind. I hope you'll forgive me for my impertinence. I can do nothing but throw myself on your mercy."

"He will speak English again soon, right? Where's this dude from?"

Toby's eyes examined Robert as he spoke. Robert's expression never changed but he watched Albert carefully, trying to figure out the riddle he'd revealed. "Albert, just come out with it. We're all friends here."

"I have a friend. More a researcher and confidant who scours hill and dale for relics of a Native past. He's from Sioux Falls. I mentioned your father and asked that he look him up if he got in your old neighborhood. Actually, I asked for more than that. I told him your father's name and asked him to see if he was all right or if he needed anything."

“And…”

“I took the liberty and called him.”

"You've spoken to him?"

"Last week in fact. He's living with a Brenda Tall Elk. He was quite concerned for you. He so appreciated knowing how well you turned out."

"You talked to my father?"

Albert looked down and felt the shame he thought was due. There was no excuse for doing such a thing but at times you didn't need an excuse to do what you thought was right and he had done that at the possible expense of a friendship.

"How is he?”

"He'd have me say he's fine. In fact I assured him I would not mention the broken hip or his dependence on Ms. Tall Elk. He is doing better and walking on his own."

"That's his sister. He's living with her? He can't walk?"

"Yes, her husband expired shortly after your father's injury. She brought him to her home to nurse him because he couldn't take care of himself. He seems happy but he misses you."

"He doesn't miss me. He just needs me," Robert said.

"No, I know what I hear in a voice. He misses you. Your story doesn't exactly match up with the facts. I'm more objective than you, and while you have every right to be angry with your father, he did what he did for you, not for him, not because he didn't love you. He knew you didn't fit. You were always fighting. He wanted you to get the best education. Your uncle agreed to see that you had a chance."

"Albert, how do you know all this? How come he never bothered to tell me? I'm his son."

"Ah, it's the same problem fathers and sons have been having since the dawn of time. He didn't know how to talk to you. He knew what was right and that's what he did. He can't read or write so he couldn't write you. He didn't have a phone so he couldn't call."

"You talked to my father? He can't read or write? Of course he can. Everyone can."

"I've talked to him several times in fact. Ms. Tall Elk has a phone. She said she'd never seen him happy since he's been there until he talked to me and found out about you. You're not the only one that's hurting over the decision he made for you. You might consider that before judging him so harshly and yes, he does need you, in my opinion, but he'd be the last to tell you. He wouldn't want you to do anything for him."

"Did he ask to speak to me."

"I'm sure he was hoping you'd speak to him. He's aware of the anger. He told me about the hair you left in the middle of the floor. It was a hard thing for him to do, Bobby. He lost his wife and he gave up his son. You might try to see it from his point of view. Your skin was the wrong color for the reservation but the right color for a good education in another place. That's what he wanted for you. One you didn't have to fight for."

"You talked to my father?" It changed everything but he wasn't sure how.

"I wouldn't talk to mine if you paid me." Toby spoke to Albert while Robert considered the information.

"Now, Albert hopes you can forgive him. I thought it best you know the truth. Even if the truth has made you angry with me."

"No, I'm not angry with you. I know you meant well. I can't picture my father depending on anyone."

"He's sixty years old. You can't break horses forever, although he thought he could."

"I didn’t know he was that old."

"I think there are a lot of things you don't know. I will talk to him at the end of the week. If you are here I suggest you speak with him. I won't say any more about it. I like your father and I like his son. You both seem like very good men."

"I don't know Albert… I don't know."

"Here, look at these leggings,” Albert shifted the conversation. “Feel the rawhide. I can't guess how old they are, but they're so soft. I was thinking the shield, these, and the headdress. It would make a great picture. But we'll start with something simple. A brave’s breech cloth and simple decorations to show you off. We'll add some color to your skin and other items I know you'll like as much as I do. This is going to be something special, Bobby."

Robert's mind was no longer in the room or on the items Albert spoke about. He tried to picture his father’s face but it was difficult. He had no difficulty seeing him bucked off a horse and landing wrong and breaking yet another bone. He saw the leather skin, the dark deep eyes that so often penetrated him, and the lines that had always marked his face.

Robert’s anger was no longer something he could get his arms around. He was sure he had every right to be angry but he'd spent a large part of his life being angry. As he thought about his father being seriously injured, he didn’t want to be angry at him any more.

Robert spent much of the day with Albert. He sat for some photographs while Toby hung on the door jam, watching Albert's preparations. There was lamb and roasted potatoes for dinner and cheese cake for dessert. The three men got along like old friends and sitting in the Jacuzzi after a long day, Albert once again let down his guard as the twelve year old French wine took hold.

"You sound like you're from down home," Toby said, sipping his Dr. Pepper and listening to the drawl in the man's voice.

"It's difficult to remember my roots. I rarely think about my humble beginnings. I long ago jettisoned the southern accent for the sake of business and now I forget it's in there unless I'm with people like you."

"Hicks?" Toby asked.

"No, I was thinking more on the order of friends. People I trust."

"Cool! I can dig it. Do your own thing, dude."

"I talked to Ms. Tall Elk while you showered this evening. Your father will call me Friday. I told him you might be here. I did not say you would be here. I won't interfere any further but he said he needed to talk to you."

Robert listened but he made no reply. He wasn't sure what he would say to his father after all these years but he'd think of something.

Albert was busy in the kitchen when the smell of coffee woke Robert from a sound sleep. He got dressed quietly and slipped out of the room.

"Is something troubling you, Robert? I suspected trouble before I spoke to you about your father. Now I'm not sure if that's the problem or if it is something else."

"I met Andrew Parkson the night he was killed."

"The eighth victim of this killer?"

"Yes! I met him in a bar over in Southeast."

"I won't ask what you were doing in such a place. I'm sure you had your reasons. I suppose a lot of people have known the victims. I shouldn't let it bother me too much."

"I'm a cop, Albert. I'm working undercover trying to find leads to the killer."

"That does explain things."

"Most of my troubles have come from other cops."

"Your face? Because of being undercover you are around gay men?"

"Exactly! There's a warrant out for my arrest. I got jumped a couple of nights ago and I'm afraid they came off a bit worse than I did."

"So, what does an undercover cop who is being abused by other cops do when there is a warrant for his arrest?"

"I'm doing it Albert. Tomorrow I'll call in to make sure the route is clear and then I go back to work. Until then I'm at your service."

"Your father said you wanted to be a policeman."

"He remembered that?"

"He asked if you had become a deputy yet. I assumed that's what they're called on the reservation. I told him I didn't know what you did."

"Now you know. When I clear out of here, I want to leave Toby with you. He's a good kid. He needs a safe place. If you can't I understand, but I trust you and I don't want him hurt."

"I understand the affection you have for the boy."

"He reminds me of myself. He makes me laugh. He's a cool kid."

"So, that's what this is about? You're going to dump me. You said you wasn't going to dump me," Toby burst out, standing in the doorway.

"I've got to go back to work. It could be dangerous."

"I don't care. I want to be with you. I'll take care of you. I've taken care of you haven't I?"

"It's got nothing to do with that, Toby. It's not safe being around me. I'm looking for a killer. I don't want you around me while I'm working."

"You're just like the rest of them. I thought you were different. But you aren't. So I belong to him now?" Toby's voice was defiant and angry as the feeling of being alone in the world took hold again. He understood betrayal and had learned to expect it. He hated it when he liked anyone as much as he liked Robert.

Robert and Albert looked at one another after hearing Toby's outburst. Robert didn't know what to say to Toby and he had already left the doorway. He wanted to protect the boy but he also wanted to keep him safe so that he could do his job without putting him at risk. He wasn't very good at explaining himself to anyone and this was no different.

Albert knew what to say but he was reluctant to interfere between the two much younger boys. He would likely make matters worse and he had no intention of adding fuel to an already raging fire. He sipped his coffee and held his tongue as Robert remained stoic.

*****

It was Thursday afternoon when Robert reluctantly dressed in the leggings and the new headdress. Albert was now in his element, his camera clicking away, with Robert doing little or nothing but follow instructions. As uncomfortable as he was about donning gear with so much powerful symbolism, it also gave him a feeling of warmth deep in the middle of his chest once he was inside of it.

Many of the pieces Albert posed him with reminded him of similar items he'd seen back on the reservation. There was little interest in the forgotten relics beyond that of the old men who kept them. He knew each must have a history that he'd like to know and didn't.

It was after Albert brought out the brown coloring that Toby came in to go through the photographs that Albert had leaned against the wall in the far corner in small groupings of five and ten. Each captured the likeness of a single Indian or a scene with several. Toby stopped to stare into each one as though he might discover a secret no one else knew.

"That's excellent. I think we've got it. Maybe one more set with the color on your skin? I'd like to get a few in that first outfit. We'll need to put a little color on your legs to be consistent."

"Bobby, come look at this," Toby said, turning around, eyes focused on the photograph in his hand.

"What?"

"Come here."

"We're working, Toby. We haven't got time for that. I'll look later."

"Perhaps you should," Albert said. "You might find that picture interesting."

Robert stood next to Toby and looked at what he was holding. It was the image of a very dark and very handsome Indian. His features were finely cut with prominent high cheeks and intense brooding eyes staring back out of the photograph.

"It's you!" Toby said.

"Get real, kid. I don't look anything like that."

"Oh, but you do," Albert agreed with Toby.

"I do?"

"This guy could be your brother. Really."

"Where'd you get it, Albert?" Robert asked.

"It's one of the first photographs I collected. I had a few pencil sketches and a painting when I discovered this in Chicago back in the late fifties. I hadn't collected photographs before, but this one captivated me. Then I saw you and it was almost like I knew you. I didn't tell you that part of it. I didn't realize it was this picture I knew. Then, one day after you'd come around a couple of times, I was going through my collection and there it was. I wanted you to find it but your curiosity level isn't nearly that of Tobias’."

Robert held the photograph out and looked into the shiny glass that reflected the overhead light. He felt eerie and a cold chill ran through him. He thought they were mistaken and that he looked nothing like the Indian in the photo. The skin was all wrong and the eyes were dark like his father's.

"Who is it?" Robert asked.

"I've researched it. No one knows the photographer, where he worked, or how many of these he might have taken. It simply says Carter 88 in the corner under the frame. No way to know what tribe or the story behind the photograph. I have people aware that I want to see anything by Carter from the last century, but no luck."

"He's Pawnee," Robert said.

"How can you tell?" Albert asked.

"I don't know. He's Pawnee. Maybe the head gear. I've seen something like it back home."

"Home?" Albert questioned.

"The reservation. North Dakota. You know where I'm from."

Albert smiled and set the picture back in its place.

"We've got to finish so I can start dinner. The breech cloth is on the bench. I'll get my cameras loaded. Toby, you can help him with the coloring, keep it even."

Toby took the pieces as Robert took them off and laid them on Albert's workbench. He then applied some of the tan coloring that Albert had mixed for the shoot. Albert took some pictures as the two boys interacted.

"I still feel naked in this deal," Robert objected.

"Turn around, dude. I want to see the rest of you," Toby said, adding some color to the higher parts of his legs that were now exposed. "Damn nice. How's it look, Albert?"

"Lovely, Toby, you do fine work."

"I didn't see any Indian in you before but you sure as hell look like one in that get up."

"It's the skin, Tobias. He has such a fine delicate white skin that it hides the lines that make him Indian, but not in that outfit. The features are unmistakable." The camera clicked as Albert spoke.

"Feel the Indian blood in your veins, Bobby? Go with it. Don't move, but keep your eyes on the lens and I'll do the rest."

"Give me a break, Albert. Just shoot the damn pictures."

"Great! Great! Hold that intensity." Albert was not dissuaded, "Feel the pride of all the generations that have gone before you. They ruled the plains for thousands of years. You would have been a chief. You are a thoroughbred."

After two hours, Robert's patience was beginning to wear thin. He'd had enough of being the center of attention.

“The parts I've seen are part pony. Yeah, Thoroughbred fits him," Toby chuckled as he admired his friend's body while standing on one leg pressing his body against the door jam as he stayed out of the way.

“Tobias has a bit of comedian in him," Albert observed as the clicking continued.

"Yeah, he also has a big mouth," Robert said, glaring hard enough to drive Toby out of the doorway.

Albert continued, setting down one camera and reaching for the other, speaking as he worked, "Bobby, you are a lucky lad to have the admiration of such a loyal boy. You should not be annoyed at the quality that makes him so pleasing. You don’t think for a moment I could miss the fondness you share for one another?"

"Albert!" Robert said through his teeth.

"Your relationship is your business, but I've seen you alone and I've seen you with him. You're a much happier person with him around, more relaxed, more alive when he is being Toby. Just the fact he worships you would be enough for most men. Don't push him away. You'll regret it if you do, and now I'll shut up. That's all. Albert is exhausted."

"I don't like my business being discussed that way. I'm not like you two."

"No one is like anyone. Our originality and passion are tempered by a society that would have us all be the same, but we aren't and will never be. You think the immature words of a young boy would give me cause to think any less of you? I have the utmost admiration for you and I wouldn't want you to be anything you aren't. Let Toby be Toby. He would never do you harm. You have won his loyalty even when you treat him badly. To use his words, you need to lighten up, dude." Robert chuckled as Albert adapted Toby's voice quite adequately.

"I don't know. It's this case. I didn't have anything against anyone back home. I spent all my time trying to fit in. I was the queer back there. When I moved to Virginia, it was the same thing. Certain kids were marked for torment. I stayed as far from that as I could. Of course I had a fight the first day, the first hour, I was at Hayfield High. No one messed with me after that. They wanted me on their side. I guess I did learn one thing back home."

"The thing you haven't learned is to let your guard down when you are around friends. We aren't the danger. We love you as you are. Don't drive him away, Bobby. You'd live to regret it but your regret isn't what bothers me. I think you would destroy any chance he has left if you do that to him."

"It's dangerous being around me, Albert. I don't want him hurt. I shouldn't even be here. If it weren't for the fact no one knows about you, I wouldn't be here. I want him, and you, clear of what I’m doing until I'm done. He can't hang around me."

"Tell him. That he'll accept, but not the attitude. Don't do to him what your father did to you. Speak to him so he knows the why behind your actions."

"I've got to shower."

"Yes, I'll prepare the coffee."

"Oh, yeah. Coffee sounds good."

Robert was drying his hair as he went into the bedroom. Toby had piled all the pillows up behind his head and was staring into the Thursday afternoon cartoon festival on WTTG. He giggled and didn't pay Robert any mind. He finished with his hair and pulled on the underwear and then his black nylon socks.

"I'm sorry I got angry with you. I can't take you with me right now."

"I don't care if it's dangerous. You said I could stay with you and I want to stay with you."

"You shouldn't eavesdrop."

"How else am I gonna learn what's really going on?"

"What I said is, I wouldn't dump you. I'm going to leave you here with Albert. You'll be good company for him while I finish my business. You like him don't you?"

"Sure, Albert's okay, but what if something happens to you?"

"Nothing's going to happen to me."

"I'm scared, Bobby."

"Nothing to be scared of. I've got a feeling we're coming close to the end of this thing. I have to be careful and I can’t be if I'm worrying about you. I'll probably be back in a week, two at the most. It's not like I can't drop by."

Toby threw his arms around Robert and cried on his chest. The tears wet the freshly dried skin and Robert sat still for it until Toby was done and went back to watching television, feeling a bit foolish for his tears. Robert finished dressing and went to the kitchen for coffee.

"Ah, Bobby. I'm out of cream. The keys are hooked over the red punch tack on my message board over there. Would you be so kind to go over to 29th and out to “M” Street. There's a bakery just to the right on “M”. I get my cream there and you can get us some rolls for in the morning. Toby can't get going without a sugar fix and he polished off the rest of them at breakfast."

"You want me to drive the Vette?"

"You can drive the Mercedes if you like. Orange tack. I just thought you could do me another favor by airing out the Corvette, since you're going out.

"Sure!" Robert said, loving the idea.

“Take the garage door opener out of the Mercedes. I need batteries for the spare."

He listened to the engine purr for several minutes before opening the garage door. He backed out into the street and felt the surge of power as he drove away.

"I knew I'd catch up with you sooner or later you slick son-of-a-bitch. Thought you could lose me, did you? I've got a long memory and I remembered where that Mercedes went." Jim Bland watched from his perch between two parked cars down in the next block as Robert backed out of the garage and headed away from him down “O” Street.

The urge to follow was strong but he decided not to risk it. Robert Mann had caught him at it once and it was too early in the day for him to be going anywhere important. Now that he knew where Mann was hanging out, he'd be paying more attention to him but it was too easy to be spotted on back streets in the daylight. He'd found his quarry, he could go home and relax and have a nice hot TV dinner and get a good night's sleep. He'd take care of Mr. Mann later, when he was least expecting it.

Bland waited for the Corvette to go out of sight. He pulled out of his parking place and turned down the first street before passing the house Mann had come out of. He didn't want to drive past the house, as tempting as it was. He was sure that the boy was there and the old fag that had driven off with Mann the first day he followed him.

Chapter 17

Listening

The phone rang twice before Albert picked it up after breakfast on Friday morning. "Yes, it's Albert. Bobby's right here," Albert said, handing Robert the phone.

There was a tight feeling in Robert's chest and his stomach churned unmercifully as he placed the phone to his ear. "Pop! How are you?
"Who's Bobby?" Came the harsh voice he immediately recognized though he'd never heard it on a phone.

"It's what they call me."

"I don't like it, Robert. That's not your name."

"I know, Pop. How are you?"

"I want you to listen!"

"I'm listening."

"Robert you need to listen."

"I am listening."

"Not to me… to you, son. Whatever the danger is, you need to listen. The answer isn't outside."

"I don't understand."

"Listen, Robert. You know who you are. Listen."

"How's your hip, Pop?"

"It'll be fine. I'm not the worry."

"You take care of yourself."

"Are you coming home soon?"

"Yeah, Pop, I think I am. I think I want to see you. I think it's time."

"I do too, son. Thank Albert. I'm glad you found such a good friend. Tell him your name is Robert. I don't like that other. I don't like talking on this thing. We'll talk when you come home."

"Yeah, Pop. That'll be fine."

"Goodbye, Robert. I'll be here." The phone went silent and he handed it back to Albert when he heard the click on the other end.

"What did he say?"

"Listen!"

"Listen to what?"

"Listen. He said I should know. I don't know.” Robert tried to relate to how his father thought. What did he mean? What did he need to listen to?

“I need to make a call." Robert dialed the phone and Mike Connell picked it up. "It's Friday. Can I come out of hiding?"

"Yeah, the warrant went away. There's no sign of it, so you should be okay."

"Thank heavens. I need to move around a little."

"Good! Go back to what you were doing. You've got my numbers. It's been quiet. The Strangler hasn't been heard from since the two last week. You sound different."

"Different?"

"You sound almost happy. You usually don't sound too happy."

"Yeah, I guess I am happy. I'll be in touch."

"It's the weekend. Unless something comes up call me Monday."

"Okay, Monday. I'll call you then." Robert set the phone down. "I'm going back to work. Everything's quiet. No one's heard from him since the last two," Robert told Albert.

"Well then, you must stay tonight and you can talk to Tobias."

"I should be out there for at least awhile this evening. I feel like I need to do some work."

"Fine! Take the car. It needs more than a trip to the market. That was just a little tantalizer for you."

"Yeah, that would be totally cool. I can't imagine roaming the streets in a Vette. Even for an evening is sweet. Thanks Albert. For everything."

"Bobby, you're the one doing things for me. You don't need to thank me. What else did your father say?

“He said listen… and he said I knew who I was. What did he mean? He doesn’t know who I am now.”

“So, you have another puzzle to solve?”

“I'll develop those pictures once you've gone. It'll give me something to do. I don't have another trip until spring. I might start thinking of getting my Indian gear back to the rightful owners. It's been on my mind the past few days."

"They'd be grateful," Robert said, feeling delighted when he thought about the history of the things he'd been exposed to.

*****

"Commander, I've got Julia Patton to see you."

"Post?"

"Yes, sir."

"Send her back after you frisk her for weapons."

"Frisk me?" The petite woman shifted from one red shoe to the other as the big voice boomed out of the box.

"Just a joke. Here, let me take you. Don't worry, I've fed him. You should be safe if you don't get him riled up."

"He sounds… he sounds…."

"Don't worry. His bark is worse than his bite. Just don't let him rattle you."

Commander Brown stood and her little hand was lost in his as he held it politely and smiled while indicating she should take the seat in front of the desk.

"Where’s Woodfield and Burnside?"

"Pardon?"

"You know, the Watergate Guys. Woodward & Bernstein."

"They do big stories."

"Oh, I'm just small potatoes," Brown stated, reaching his arms out and looking very large to Ms. Patton. "And I get you."

"I'm just here to do an interview."

"Yes, and how's Ben these days?"

"Mr. Bradley? He's just fine."

"Did he have any words of advice for you before throwing you in the lions den?"

"He mentioned a few things. I really wanted to speak about the progress you're making on the gay killer."

"What did he mention? I'm curious," Brown said, leaning forward on his forearms and smiling from ear to ear, sensing he had the woman on the run and the interview was going to be a brief one.

"Well, he said,… ah, you'd probably speak about your big black arse…, only he used a more colorful description. He said I shouldn't be shocked if you called yourself a nigger, or if you tried to make me feel guilty about you losing your job because of this and that."

Brown's laughter filled the room as Ms. Patton stared and wondered if she had already lost control. "What I really want to know is if you're making any progress and what steps you are taking to protect the gay men who seem to be the target of this killer?"

"Ben stole all my thunder. Now I guess I've got to answer your questions. I don't have anything left to divert your attention with if I can't make you feel sorry for me."

"Well, we are making progress, Ms. Patton."

"You can call me, Julie. I'm here to do a story not to give you a hard time."

"Well, Julie, we are working on some things I can't talk about. That's how we're trying to protect potential victims. It's gone better than we thought but you just don't know until the big break comes. We're confident we're doing everything we can at this juncture and we're getting closer."

"So you have things the press isn't aware of?"

"Oh, yes, we don't tell you guys anything we want to keep to ourselves. No disrespect, but reporters have a propensity to get in our way at times."

"How does a case like this impact a man like you? You're a high ranking officer but if this goes bad for you, couldn't it damage your career?"

"Since I can't complain about my career, I'll just say no. My career is the least of my worries when people are dying. If I can't get the job done then someone has to do it that can get it done. I'm hired to do a job and I'm doing the best job I know how to do. If in the end that job will be good enough to crack a difficult case like this, I can't answer that. It will remain for others to make that judgment."

"You've been around a long time, Commander. You've seen a lot of things. Who better to head an investigation like this?"

"I like you, Julie. Would you like some coffee? We got us a Bunn. It brews the most incredible damn coffee you ever sucked down."

"It's getting a little late in the day for coffee, but since you put it that way, yes, why not. I think I can use a cup. I do have quite a few questions for you. I would like to have a better understanding of how you handle an investigation of this magnitude."

"Mike, bring two cups of coffee back if you don't mind."

"Yes, sir. You didn't run her off?"

"Run her off? We're old friends. What time is it?"

"It's now six forty-six."

"You can go home after you get us the coffee. We might be a while."

"That's okay, John. I've got some work on my desk I need to get done."

*****

The man walked passed the car with a piece of paper in his hand. He looked up at the entryway of the house beside where Jim Bland had parked his car. Bland noticed the man in the wrinkled gray coat and the old fashioned horn rimed glasses. The man looked up at the house and back at the paper before walking back the way he came from. Bland continued observing him in the side mirror. The man seemed disoriented or looped. It was Friday evening.

The man stopped at the next house and then wheeled around to look at the house he was just in front of. He held his head back as though he might be having trouble seeing the addresses, but then he started walking further down the street and Bland lost interest. He'd been late getting back to Georgetown and now he was waiting to see what Robert Mann was up to. He suspected he wouldn't be staying in on a Friday night.

The knock on the window startled Bland. "What!" he growled at the man who held out a piece of paper. The stranger seemed disoriented.

"I'm sorry to… Oh, I'm lost," he said, clutching the front of his old coat with it’s huge gray buttons. "I can't catch my breath. I get this way when I get confused."

Yeah, Jim Bland thought, looking at the address written on the paper in the man’s hand. I can believe it. You look confused. "This is “O” Street. You want the next block over. You're on the wrong block is all."

"Oh, thank you. Ahhhh! I thought I was losing my mind. I've been here before but it all looks different. My daughter lives here but I don't get by very often."

"Yeah, just go over to the corner and down a block and you'll be almost in front of this address. It might look more familiar to you there."

"Oh, thank you, I'm sorry to be a bother. Ohhhhh! I can't catch my breath. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm really sorry. I'm just a…."

The man clutched the front of the rumpled coat and looked like he might pass out.

Bland was more than a little annoyed at being distracted. It was about time for Mann to be on the move. He'd have to get rid of this guy. He wasn't about to lose Mann again. "Here, don't croak on me. Just sit on the back seat for a minute. Catch your breath. Do you want me to call you some help?"

"No! Oh No! I get this way. Blood pressure you know. I'll just sit for a second and I'll be fine. I didn't mean to be a bother." The man sat on the seat with his feet on the curb and his head bent down between his knees as he struggled to get his breath.

Bland shook his head thinking, where do they come from? He focused on the garage door while listening to the man wheeze and considered his options.

*****

Julie Patton sat laughing at one of Commander Brown's witticisms as the two enjoyed their conversation. Both were left feeling better by their meeting, when the intercom interrupted the conversation.

"Commander, we've got to go."

"Go? It's what, eight thirty Friday evening, the Mrs. is in Baltimore, and I'm talking with a lovely lady. Where have I got to go?" Brown's voice was full of charm and pleasantness.

"Ten’s up. They just found him over on “O” Street here in Georgetown."

"I don't have some detectives covering this case? I'm impressing this lady with stories of how I've got everything under control and suddenly I'm getting the impression I don't."

"They want you. That's all I know. I'm just the guy behind the desk. It was Chief Henry who called. He sounded agitated."

"What's new? Okay, Connell." He sighed. "Sorry, I guess the interview is over. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, I think it will be a nice article. I appreciate all the time you've given me. Has he struck again? The Strangler?"

"That's my understanding."

"You're going to the scene?"

"Yes, I usually let my men do it but duty calls."

"Let me go with you? Let me see you in action? It'll add a nice touch to the story and it might make me points with Mr. Bradley so I can get something other than the mundane."

Commander Brown led the way out of the office and indicated to Mike that the reporter could ride along but that she should stay in the car.

In five minutes they were in the middle of eight cars with lights flashing and more cops than either of them had seen in one place since the last parade.

Connell parked the car in the middle of the street. Brown walked passed the chief's car and approached him as he stood in the middle of six uniforms. "What's up, Chief Henry?"

"He's one of yours. Nice bow tie. When did this guy move to cops?"

Commander Brown looked in the window at the discolored face of Jim Bland who's head was leaned back on the seat. The gray clothesline, the signature of the DC Strangler, was drawn tight around his neck.

"What's he doing here, Brown? This isn't the Strangler's stalking ground."

"He's a loose cannon. His partner and him were splitting up. I don't know why he's here. I'll check with my aide. See if he knows anything."

"You check with someone and get me some answers,” Chief Henry commanded. “I want to know why he's here. I'm tired of you guys chasing your tails," he continued without any sympathy in his voice.

Mike Connell stood leaning on the driver's door of the car as Brown approached. "It's Bland. He's killed Jim Bland. Same guy. Same rope."

"Better tell her not to use the rope, Commander."

"That's the least of our worries," Brown said, turning to look back toward the activities.

"His shield and gun are gone," Connell said.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Just came across on the radio. No gun, no badge."

"Okay, we've been wondering how he's getting them to go with him. Run a check on every department on the East Coast and then do the West if it doesn't pan out. See how many dead cops lost their shield and their gun. See if maybe someone went down about the time of the first killing."

"Yes, sir, what about the reporter? She's getting an earful."

"Yeah, get her back to her car. Remind her the rope is off limits. I better go hold Henry's hand. He's like a caged panther, looking to chew some ass."

Commander Brown started back toward the activity. His car eased up beside him and slowed to a stop.

"Commander, that's Mann."

"Where?"

"He just turned the corner and was staring up this way. The light lit up his face. It's Mann in the Corvette."

"What the hell? Why didn't he stop?"

"He can't stop without blowing his cover."

"Shit! What in the hell is going on? I don't like this. We've got to talk to him. I gotta bad feeling about this."

Commander Brown ran faster than he thought he could around the car. He was closing the door as Connell stepped on the gas in pursuit of the Corvette.

Chief Henry bellowed as the car drove past. “Brown get back here. I’m not finished with you yet.”

*****

Seeing all that police activity a little more than a block from Albert's made Robert anxious. As he drove toward the house he looked up at the windows. It was pitch black inside. Albert always left lights on. Always. A feeling of foreboding ran through him. As the garage door opened and he started his turn the headlights lit up a figure lying on the stairs. Jamming on the emergency brake made the tires chirp. Robert leaped from the car.

"Oh, Jesus, Albert! He stooped by the bloodied face and cradled his head in his arms. Oh, Albert, not you."

There was a slight cough and the eyes blinked open. There was more coughing. "Toby! He's up there with Toby." Instantly, Robert let go, and threw himself up the stairs.

Connell braked by the Corvette. Commander Brown thrust himself out of the car as he saw the body on the stairs and he too charged into the house with Mike Connell only a couple of steps behind. The big man's shoulders rubbed the side of the stairwell as he forced himself upward.

Robert ran through the opening and into the darkened living room. "Toby!” he yelled and grabbed at the sudden surge of pain at his temple. A gun barked three distinct times. He was only aware of the first bullet whizzing over his head as he ducked and moved to one side before the searing white hot pain took his breath away and knocked him back toward the front door.

Commander John Washington Brown lurched out of the confinement of the small staircase as the third shot was fired, emptying his gun towards the muzzle flash. The dark house fell silent. Mike Connell ran into the Commander, feeling the blocky form sag down to his big knees.

"He's right there in front of you. I don't know if I hit him."

"You hit, John?" Mike whispered, easing him back so he wouldn't present such a large target.

"A little... I think Mann's down by the front door." The Commander was now flat on the floor. He felt the blood warming his chest.

At that second the lights came on. Connell jerked his gun up towards where Commander Brown had indicated. A man in a wrinkled gray coat with wide gray buttons was lying on the floor with his legs folded back under his body. A gun was clutched in the hand up behind his head but the figure remained motionless.

Connell held his gun on prone figure, moving forward to kick the attacker’s weapon well away from the hand. The quantity of blood on the guy’s chest told Connell that he was badly wounded if not already dead.

"How'd you know where the lights were?" Mike asked Julie as she knelt beside the silent Commander that she'd just gotten to like.

"I used to be a real estate agent. I just reached out from inside the doorway where I would expect them to be."

"Thanks. I've got to call for help."

"Will he be all right?" Julie asked, looking at Brown.

*****

The sirens and the activity lit up the night in front of Albert’s house. One ambulance after another took away the remnants of the carnage that had taken place.

The headlines of the Post the following morning read:

JOHN BROWN GETS HIS MAN

Mike Connell laid the paper across his boss’s chest once he had awakened after three hours of surgery and a night in the recovery room.

"You think you'll keep your job, sir?"

"Oh, I'm sir, again. I'll have thirty in after next year. I reckon I'll hang around for that. How's Mann?"

"He's going to be okay. The older dude has some broken bones. He fell down the steps. He wasn't shot or anything."

"The perp?"

Connell shook his head from side to side. "He took four in the chest. Never knew what hit him. You're deadly, sir. You did miss with one shot. Found that in the hall."

"We sure its him? We got the right guy?"

"He had two pieces of clothesline in his pocket that match perfectly with Bland's necktie. There was a kid in the house wearing a section that matched. That's apparently who he was there for."

"A kid?"

"Yeah, someone that came with Mann, according to the owner of the house."

"What’s the guy's story. We know yet?"

"William Irving McNealy, 38, unemployed, single. He's lived in or around town all his life. At his residence, we found some pages of what looks like scripture verses about sodomites that were underlined. No one recalls him being particularly religious. Nobody recalls much about him at all. He wasn't anybody really. That's about all they've gotten, but it's early yet. We might find more when we finish going through his place. Oh yeah, you were right about the badge, a Baltimore City cop went down in a shoot out a month before the first DC Strangler victim turned up. We found the officer's badge in a blue coat in McNealy's apartment. It could easily be mistaken for a policeman's topcoat. That's the piece we were missing. That's how he got them to go with him."

"That's good. That makes it all fit," Commander Brown said weakly, drifting back to sleep as Connell sat near his bed.

*****

Phil sat beside Robert's bed, holding his hand, when he opened his eyes.

"Am I dead?"

"Yeah, and I'm Gabriel. Welcome to heaven."

"Albert?"

"He's fine. Has some cracked ribs and a gash on his head but he'll be okay. He's not moving too well this morning. He's down the hall."

“Toby?”

“He’ll be OK.”

"Where'd all the flowers come from?" Robert’s weak voice was amazed, as he noticed the colorful display around his bed.

"Oh, Jesus, the girls are delirious over their hero."

"They know I’m a cop?"

"Oh, yeah, if they can read they know. Your name is all over the Post this morning. You and that Commander. I guess he saved your life. The girls can't resist an opportunity like this. There are flowers all out in hall. This is just the tip of the florist shop."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yeah, well, we don't take much to get us going. You did your best and that's all that counts with fags. You got the guy and that's what’s important."

"I'll still be welcome in the bars?"

"I'm sure. They might have a Bobby Mann float on gay pride day."

"Gay what?"

"Never mind. You'd have to be there."

The door opened and Fran came in with a bunch of flowers wrapped in green paper. "Hi, I guess you don't need these. Who sent all the flowers?"

"The girls in the band," Phil quipped.

"Oh! I just wanted to see if you were okay and tell you how sorry I was for acting the way I did. I knew you were a nice guy. I guess I've been with the other kind too much."

"How are you?" Robert was glad to see she wasn't still mad at him.

"Me? I'm okay. I'm going home to Boston. My mother isn't well. I told her I'd spend some time there. I didn't want to go without saying thanks."

"Yeah, any time. I think I'll be going back to North Dakota myself. Maybe when I come back I can look you up."

"Yeah, well, I'll let Phil know where I am. I'd like to see you. I'm glad you're going to be okay. I've got a train to catch and a cab waiting. I just stopped for a minute. You get well fast." Fran leaned over to hug Robert and he used his one good arm to hug back.

That afternoon an orderly swung open the door to Robert's room and rolled Albert in and parked him beside the bed. Robert woke up when he heard the disturbance. He was glad to see for himself that Albert hadn't been seriously damaged.

"How are you feeling?"

"A little sore. How about you?"

"The same. I wanted to talk to you. You saved my life you know?"

"Saved your life? I brought the damn guy to your house."

"You got him. That's all that's important. If you hadn't come back when you did we'd have all been dead. They say he had rope enough for all of us."

"Yeah, the gun was a surprise. I never got mine out of the holster. Some cop! All I was thinking about was saving Toby."

"What brought you back? You said after midnight. They say you came back before nine."

"Yeah, funny thing about that. I just knew I had to go back. I felt something, heard something. I don't know. Something just told me I had to get back."

"You listened?" Albert mused.

"Yeah! I suppose I did. I've been having a pain on the side of my head ever since that cop tried to brain me, it grabbed when I went through the door into the house, when I reached for the spot the first bullet went over my head. It grabs me at the damnedest times. If it hadn't grabbed right when it did, he'd have drilled me deader than a doornail."

"They say it was the sound of the garage door that saved Toby. He had the rope around his neck when he heard you come back."

"How is he really?"

"Dying to get down here to make sure you're okay, but they've got him pretty drugged up. He won't be singing any arias for a while."

"Doesn't sound like anything he'll miss."

"No, no, I suspect not. I'll let you get some rest. I just wanted to tell you myself how much we all appreciate what you did. For a rookie you sure did bring home the bacon," Albert voice was soft and deeply southern.

"I listen to everyone talk about all the stuff that went on, and I wonder."

The orderly opened the door and pushed Albert back out as Robert dozed off.

*****

Epilogue

The small hot room was filled with anxious reporters as Mike came through the only door and moved up behind a podium that had been set up at Sibley Memorial Hospital for just such occasions. "I'm Officer Michael Connell, aide to Commander Brown. I've been asked to brief you on the condition of the Commander as well as that of Officer Robert Mann."

"Who is Mann? I can't find him on the police roster," a reporter called out. “Chief Henry didn’t know who he was.”

"I'm here to brief you on what I've just said. Commander Brown is conscious and alert after undergoing three hours of surgery early this morning. His condition is serious but the prognosis is good. Officer Mann, on special assignment to the DC Strangler Taskforce, is in critical but stable condition and is in his room after six hours of surgery to remove two bullets from his body. You'll need to wait for the doctors if you want more specific information about the injuries. Now I'll answer your questions if I can."

The hands shot up and people yelled out their questions. Connell thought he knew how the president's press secretary must feel.

"Like I said, who is he?"

"Robert Mann came out of the police academy and immediately went undercover in the DC Strangler investigation."

"Why was that? Why was Henry in the dark?”

"When Commander Brown was put in charge of the taskforce he saw the lack of progress in the investigation and took appropriate steps to rectify the deficiency. Chief Henry had no need to know and the fewer people who knew made it easier for Mann to operate.”

"Isn't that pretty unusual? Assigning a cadet to a murder investigation of this magnitude?"

"It wasn't this magnitude when that decision was made. In fact it was but a blip on your radar screens at the time. It was only because of Officer Robert Mann that the case was finally resolved, and he is a Metropolitan Police Officer, deserving of respect as such. Apprehending murderers requires unusual measures at times."

"Did the Chief approve the operation?"

"Commander Brown headed the operation and made all decisions concerning the case."

"So I gather that headquarters wasn't aware of what was going on?"

"You'll have to ask headquarters what they knew and when they knew it. I'm just an aide trying to give you some of the details."

"What happened? How did you guys get him? Weren't you there?"

"Yes, I was on the scene when Commander Brown took down the suspect."

"You do that a lot?"

"Do what?" Connell asked the flailing hand.

"Attend shootings. How have you been? You disappeared after you were shot last year."

"I'm fine. This isn't about me but thanks for your concern."

"I have a question."

"Yes, Ms. Patton!"

"Can you tell us the sequence of events that led to two DC Police Officers being wounded and the suspected murderer being killed?"

"I can do that, Ms. Patton. Thank you. Officer Robert Mann entered the dwelling on “O” Street where the shooting took place at approximately 8:47 p.m. last night. Albert Forestall III of that address was lying on the staircase just inside the garage door. Commander John Brown and I arrived on the scene less than a minute after Officer Mann, entering the dwelling at 8:48 p.m. Commander Brown led the way in. Three shots were fired at this time. Commander Brown entered the area where the shooting was taking place with his weapon drawn. There were several more shots fired. I'm not sure how many. There was another burst of gunfire as I entered the area I'd describe as the foyer. Commander Brown, Officer Mann, and the suspect as yet not positively identified, were all down from gunshot wounds. I immediately called for back up and rendered what assistance I could until they arrived."

"Who was the boy?"

"How's Forestall?"

"I don't know who the boy is. He's in serious condition from an attempted homicide. He remains sedated with no plans to operate. Albert Forestall III, owner of the dwelling, is in serious condition. He required no surgery and took seventeen stitches in his scalp. I'd say both of them were quite lucky that Robert Mann arrived on scene when he did."

"Who got the guy?"

"Commander Brown. Mann's weapon wasn’t fired and I did not fire."

"What did this have to do with Detective Bland?"

"This investigation is ongoing. I really don't know the details. There are some things we might never know. We would have preferred to take the suspect alive but that simply wasn't possible."

"He never used a gun before. Why a gun now?"

"I suppose when the cops rush you, clothesline isn't much of a deterrent. He had apparently taken Detective Bland's weapon, after killing him. We aren't positive yet but that's where we think he got the gun."

"Why gay men?"

"That answer may have died with the DC Strangler. Whenever you set up a group of people to be hated, you may be creating an atmosphere for violence against those people. You must then accept responsibility for the consequences."

"Are you sure this is the guy? Is he the DC Strangler?"

"We are fairly certain he is. As I said, the investigation is ongoing. It's only been twelve hours since the shooting. It requires a little time to get all the details in order. I'm telling you from the best information I have at the moment."

"Will Commander Brown run for Mayor?"

Mike smiled and looked from side to side, remembering Commander Brown's thoughts on the subject. "I think Commander Brown already has a job."

"Then he will return to work?"

"Yes! He told me this morning he had a few good years left."

" Even though he's a black man, you think he might become chief now that everyone knows who he is?"

"That's not for me to say. He'd make a fine chief in my opinion. He's cracked one of the biggest cases in this city's history. If you're asking me if the color of his skin had anything to do with his ability to solve the case, I'd say no, but you should ask him."

"Will you run for Mayor, Mike?" Someone yelled.

"No, I work for a living," Mike chortled. "And I'm not old enough." The room roared and Officer Mike Connell slipped out before any more questions could be directed his way.

*****

Albert stood behind the U-Haul trailer after placing another carefully wrapped package in on top of other similar packages. "I've put on the name of the man who this goes to. I guess I've told you everything you need to know a dozen times."

"Ten times over, Albert. I'll deliver them safe and sound."

"How long are you going to be gone?"

"I don't know. My father says Swift Deer is retiring this year. My original dream was to be the reservation deputy. I don't know if I'm cut out for big city police work."

"North Dakota, that's a long way, Bobby," Albert said, feeling the neck brace that sometimes irritated him. "Your shoulder okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. It'll heal." The sling did make things awkward but Robert had worn slings before.

"So your first stop is Tulsa and you leave the items I have marked and then straight up to Topeka, Kansas and then Pine Ridge, and on to North Dakota."

"Albert, quit worrying. I'll be fine and I'll take the same care with these artifacts as you do."

"I know, Bobby. Ever the worrier, I am. I've wanted to get these back to their proper owners, since I started collecting them. Now that I'm finally doing it, well, they're like my children in a way."

"I won't nurse them but I will deliver them safe and sound," Robert said, walking around the trailer for one last inspection.

"Toby, you take care of him. Make sure he doesn't over do it. There are the sweet rolls you like in the bag and Bobby's favorite coffee in the Thermos," Albert said. "You come back to see me when you can. Albert loves you and he'll miss you." The hug was held for several long seconds. Both the boy and the man had tears in their eyes.

"Me too, Albert," Toby whispered, feeling his newly shortened hair. "Indians don't still scalp dudes do they? I told them to cut it extra short."

"No, Toby. What's left of your hair is safe. Besides, you are an Indian."

"Oh yeah! I keep forgettin’. They might not know that."

Robert returned Albert's tearful hug with his one good arm. He turned and got into the driver's seat. Albert stood in the street and waved as the car pulled away.

The black corvette looked odd towing the U-Haul, but Albert had arranged to have it equipped for the chore. He felt rather good that Brandon's beloved Vette was finally in the hands of someone who could appreciate it as much as its original owner had.

He watched the Vette slowly move up the street and then walked back into the garage as the garage door closed behind him.

The End

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Editor: C. Landry