by Cheri Lewis
She’s standing upright and comes eye level with his dick. I move the camera up and set it on the edge of one of the large potted plant and tape another fifteen seconds of him getting a blow job. Movement to my right catches my eye. I grab my camera and slide backwards down the steps. I watch through the slats of the porch as someone moves almost in the same pattern I did around the back of the house. I slide on down and when my feet hit the ground I’m up and running the rest of the way around the house to get back around front. Of course this side doesn’t have a gate so I place my camera in the bag and set it over the fence before hopping it. I ease out from around the house and take a picture of the maroon car I recognize as some of my competition.
I run back to my truck and get inside. Joe’s happy to see me. I guess he thought I was gone for good the way he tries climbing in my lap and licking me once I’m back. I turn my truck around and take a few pictures of the maroon car then wait for one of the dumb asses to come out so I can take a few pictures of him. One picture for my lawyer so he can let his client know he’s about to be busted and two so I can send one over to the president of the dumbasses and tell him this is how you don’t investigate for clients. I got several good ones, too, of him falling as he climbed over the fence the same place I did to get out from around back. I get another of him standing up against the front side of the house. I don’t know what he’s doing or looking for but the dumbass looks dumb and way more suspicious just standing there. I wait for him to get in his car and leave before I call Jim’s after hour number and leave a message letting him know what just happened and wait to hear back on how they want me to proceed.
I contemplate not doing the other case today because I have Joe with me and I hate to leave him again. He’s lying in the passenger seat with his head on the center console so I have easier access to pet him, damn spoiled baby, but it’s a baby that I love. I have him move his head so I can get the other file that’s under it and pull over to see how close it is. I look over at Joe. “If I do another case will you be okay hanging out? I’ll take you to the dog park again.” His ears perk up and I pat his head then put the truck in drive and head out to 65 Wayford Pines.
It’s not too far away according to the GPS but the closer I get the more I realize I’m at the exact opposite type houses than I was earlier. The houses are tiny and not maintained. The road is small with a ton of potholes. Cars line the street because the yards are too small to park in. I have to carefully weave through them hoping I don’t meet anybody coming the other direction because my big truck hogs the entire road. I drive slowly down the road but can’t find 65 anywhere. Another problem is, the mailboxes are on the front of their homes and not out by the road. It’s not like I can stop and knock on somebody’s door to ask for help right now. This is the type of neighborhood that everybody knows everybody and everybody knows everybody’s business. I have to take a right on a side street to be able to turn around. I come back taking a left driving slowly scanning back and forth as I pass. I see a car with its door open then do a double take when I see a leg sticking out from under it. I slam on my brakes, put it into park then jump out with Joe hot on my heels. I race over and see grocery bags and food lying around and an old man lying on the ground and groaning.
I run around a power pole and kneel down beside him. “Sir, are you okay?”
He opens his eyes and give me a kind smile, then closes them and says a prayer, “Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Lord, for answering my prayers. Thank, you Lord.” He opens his eyes and looks to me. “You’re my angel.”
I don’t want to laugh at his statement but that’s the first time in my life I’ve ever been called an angel. Normally when someone references me it has the word –itch attached to it, bitch or witch take your pick. I look around and I see how this happened. He was getting groceries out of his car and when he stepped back his foot caught the thick wire stabilizing the power pole.
“Do you mind helping me up?” he asks as he sits up slowly.
“Of course not. Are you sure you need to get up?”
“I’ve been lying out here for I don’t know how long hoping, praying somebody would come along and help me.”
I watch as he uses his hands to help move his legs where they need to go. I notice Joe has one of the man’s oranges in his mouth. I frown at him. “Joe, put that down.” He lies on the ground and drops the orange between he paws. I try helping the man by holding his hand and supporting under his elbow but he can’t pull himself up. “How about if I hug you around your chest and try it that way.”
“I’m willing to try anything.” I squat down behind him hugging around him lifting as he tries to push up. It’s a struggle but we manage to do it. I can tell he’s embarrassed and I haven’t a clue what to say. I suck at consoling people. I always say the wrong thing and make it worse so it’s better if I don’t say anything. I dust off his back then pick up his groceries for him. One of the bags is busted where it got hung on the wire when he fell. “My poor body doesn’t work like it used to.”
“Let me help you take these inside.” He hobbles to the front door and I feel the gallon of milk is still cool but not cold. “I don’t know if I’d drink this milk without smelling it first. It’s not very cold anymore.”
“It will have to do.”
I know what that means. He doesn’t have any more money and it will have to do until he does. I wait as he takes his time stepping up on the front porch and I notice the mailbox with a very faded 67 on it. I glance to the house next door and I know where 65 is now. He gets to his door and opens it then takes a step back sitting in a flimsy green plastic chair on the porch. “Do you mind setting them on the counter? I’ll put them away, once I rest a minute. You’d think lying on the ground I got plenty of rest but it plum wore me out.”
I take the bags inside and in less than ten steps I’m through his living room and standing in the small galley kitchen. I set his groceries on the counter but I go ahead and put his milk, bologna, a dozen eggs half of which are broken, and store brand cheese in the refrigerator. He has a glass turned upside down in the dish drainer next to his sink. I look in the freezer and it’s empty. No ice either, so I fill a glass with water. His house is neat and tidy. I can tell he doesn’t have much but what he does have he takes good care of. When I come out Joe has joined him on the porch enjoying a good rub from the man as he leans against his leg.
I hand him the glass of water and ask, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m great now.” He raises the glass and takes a large gulp. “Thanks for your help. Won’t you have a seat?”
Have a seat? I’m a little taken aback by the invitation and come up with an excuse to leave. “My truck’s parked in the middle of the road and it’s still running.”
He nods as he pets Joe one more time. “Thanks again for your help.”
I look back and step down off the porch. Joe doesn’t move from where he is. “Do you have anybody you can call or I can call for you, in case you wake up tomorrow and you’ve hurt something worse than you thought you did?”
“I don’t think I broke anything and I can drive myself to the clinic over on Shipman Drive, if I need to.”
The clinic he’s talking about it’s for people with no insurance. It’s a great resource to have but I know they are also overrun with people, understaffed and underfunded. My eye begins to twitch thinking about the mess our country is in with the insurance problem we have today. But I push that away because he doesn’t need or want to hear my views on my heath care sky rocketing for decent, but mandatory, coverage.
“Well, if there’s not anything else…” I watch as the man dotes over Joe and I realize he’s lonely. He’s lonely and I have nothing to do. He’s lonely and I was lonely this morning, but I have Joe. Why does this always seem so hard, to allow myself to just sit on a porch and have small talk? It’s not, you just have to do it. So do it. “Hey, let me move my truck and Joe and I’ll hang out a minute to make sure you really are okay
.”
He smiles and seems truly thrilled. I run back to my truck and have to back down the road to find enough space to park it. I come back and sit next to him in a green chair on his front porch and watch the neighborhood on a Saturday afternoon. I’m able to verify in fact that his neighbor who lives next door is disabled. Why they’d think any different I don’t know. The poor man is missing half of his right leg confined to a wheelchair, and living in a house that’s not handicapped accessible.
Richard, my new found friend filled me in on his neighbor’s terrible motorcycle accident. It wasn’t a motorcycle. He was driving a moped because it’s cheaper on gas and he worked three miles down the road at some chicken houses when a woman ran him off the road. She was on her phone. This is the other side of the insurance I don’t like. I don’t like it when they go after someone who does need it just so they don’t have to pay out. I don’t know the specifics but I’m sure he’s got a lawyer and they haven’t reached a settlement or they wouldn’t have me out here on a witch hunt.
I find myself wanting to go over and tell the man to fight like hell. My report will be in his favor I don’t. I’m not able to get any pictures of the man while sitting with Richard on his front porch because he’s out here with me but that isn’t really why I stayed anyway. I’m not sure how I’ll do it since the man only goes from the doctor or therapy to home and from home to the doctor or therapy. More insight into his life courtesy of Richard. I guess I’ll go stake out the doctor’s office or therapy, which should be fun.
I learn a lot about Richard in the hour and a half I’m here. He’s a veteran. Never married. Engaged once, but she didn’t wait for him when he went off to war. He came back, ran a small office supply business until about ten years ago when he couldn’t compete with the internet run businesses and went belly up. So now here he lives in his little house on Wayford Pines. He doesn’t seem to be miserable or unhappy but I find myself sad for him. That’s why when Joe and I leave him we go buy groceries and a large cooler filling it full and leave it for him on his front porch during the night with a note signed ~ ‘from an angel’.
****
It’s Sunday afternoon and Joe and I have had a busy morning. Mrs. Wright called before she went to church and filled me in on everything going on with the disappearing cats. They haven’t found any cats and they don’t think any more are missing but she sure does find Corky odd, which makes two of us. She also informs me he’s putting GPS on some of the cats. She doesn’t come right out and say it but she’s worried about the man’s sanity. I reassure her that he’s the expert and knows what he’s doing, I hope, and if she needs me all she has to do is call.
After I get off the phone with her we cut the grass, well I did. Joe ran around inspecting my work and marking more territory. We cleaned out the shed where I keep the lawn mower because it’s gotten so cluttered I could barely get the mower out or back in when it came time. And now we’re sitting on the front porch watching the neighborhood. Something I find I enjoy more than I thought I would.
Heath’s S-10 pulls up in front of my house and he parks out by the road. Joe is at the edge of the yard eager to greet him. Heath’s still in his police uniform and is carrying his duffle bag as he walks across the yard to me. “Figured I’d drop by. Dang, you’re filthy, but your yard looks good.”
“We just got done with everything. It needed cutting badly.”
“I was going to say something the last time I was here. The city is now giving out citations for grass over eight inches tall. You’d have gotten double citation since yours was knee high.”
I roll my eyes at his stupid joke. “Well, come cut it for me. I’ve been busy and I don’t see how it’s the city’s business if I cut my grass or not.”
“One complaint from a neighbor is all it takes.”
“Let’s hope they don’t find that out.”
“What have you been up to besides cutting grass?”
“Working cases… Hey, I got something I want to show you.” I keep my face the same but I’m dying laughing on the inside.
“Let me get out of this uniform first. I think the dry cleaners changed something. I’ve been itching all day.”
“It’s inside anyway and I’ll get a quick shower while you change, then I’ll show you.”
****
I have Heath sit down in front of my laptop and stick my memory card into the slot. It takes forever to load. I finally get to what I’m looking for and click the play button. He stares at the screen then looks up at me frowning. “Why do you have me looking at a man’s naked ass? I don’t want to see…Holy hell.” He’s enthralled and now it’s my turn to wrinkle my nose but I still laugh. He looks up at me again pointing at the screen. “Do you know who that is?”
“No? Do you?”
“That’s Little Lisa.”
“How do you know?”
“Oh she’s a legend and got quite the reputation. She’s little but she can handle—”
“Shut up and stop it.” My joke backfired on me.
I click the button to stop it and Heath clicks it again making it play.
“You could sell this… Is this all you got?” My mouth is wide open not believing what I’m hearing. He makes a funny face at me. “Not for me, you dummy. But I do know a lot of guys who would love to see this. Including Wade.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Oh really? He got a thing for Little Lisa, too?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. Or at least I don’t think so. Once he caught wind we have a prostitution ‘problem’ as he calls it and nobody was really enforcing it he’s made it his personal mission to shut it down.”
“What’s he got against prostitutes, I wonder?”
“I told you, Willow. He’s by the book. I tried telling him if that’s how they made money and feed their kids then who am I to tell them not to do it. I mean he’s right. It’s against the law and if I see them blatantly doing it then I’ll say something or whatever, but for the most part I leave them alone and so do the other guys.”
He hits play again and begins watching it over again. I roll my eyes and leave him at my computer squashing any thought of him getting a reaction, meaning erection, while watching it on my couch. I go to my bathroom and shut the door to blow dry my hair. When I come out Heath is lying back on the couch with the TV on and Joe burrowed up beside him. My laptop is lying closed on the arm of the couch. I sit down on the loveseat. “You wanna order a pizza or something?”
“Nah, I was thinking about going to Buzzards.”
“You have to work tomorrow.”
“Yeah and you have liter patrol.”
“Pfft… thanks for reminding me.”
“We don’t have to get drunk. Just go play pool or darts or something.”
“Yeah. So you’re not going to drink… at all.”
“I might have a beer.”
I let out a breath weighing the pros and cons of going tonight. No matter what we always have a good time and with everything going on in my life the last thing I need is to get shitfaced drunk. But we haven’t been in a while and I am kinda bored. Even though I find it a bit odd Heath wants to go out on a Sunday night, I decide to go anyway.
“I do like their hot wings.”
Heath sits up and smiles with a goofy look on his face as he nods his head agreeing with me about their hot wings.
Buzzards is a hole in the wall bar Heath found about six years ago when he was dating a girl named Dixie. That wasn’t her real name that was her nickname I’m not sure I ever knew her real name or if Heath ever knew it. They had only been dating two weeks and known each other about a month when she moved away for another job. Anyway we go to Buzzards from time to time when we want to get tore up or apparently today when we want good hot wings.
The place hasn’t changed since the last time we were here. Still the same old smoke filled bar with good southern rock on a juke box. It’s a little crowded but not too bad. I find myself bobbing along with one of my fa
vorite songs as we look around to find where we want to sit. Heath points to the back where a few empty tables sit near the pool tables. I nod my head and follow behind him. My eyes go wide when I feel the pain of an extremely hard slap on my right butt cheek. I spin around enraged ready to kill the dumbass who did it. I see a wall of muscle on a smiling bearded man and it takes me a second before the rage subsides and I find myself smiling at Brantley, a bounty hunter and old boyfriend/fling/lover whatever he was, he was one of those.
I reach up and tug on his beard. “What’s with the beard?”
“Blending in…”
Still a man of few words I see. “What are you doing here?”
He smirks. “Blending in…”
Ahhh… he’s after a skip. “You’re in Brandy and James’ territory. They ain’t gonna like that.”
He shrugs. “Then they need to find him first…”
Still a cocky bastard. I liked that about him in the beginning but it grows old when he doesn’t offer much as far as conversation and then when he does it’s cocky as hell. Plus he doesn’t stay in one place long. He’d come through town stay a day or two then off on the road again and I’d see him a month or so later. He’s a true bounty hunter. He also only takes the big money skips so somebody around here must be worth a lot of money.
“It’s good to see you. Maybe we can have a drink in a bit,” I say as he leans over to hear what I’m saying over the juke box.
“I’ll come find you.”
I glance around and spot Heath watching me and looking at my bearded friend curious as to who he is. I look back to Brantley. “You in town long?” My eyes move to his mouth. He’s biting on the inside corner of his mouth. It’s the look he gives when he’s contemplating, thinking. When he doesn’t respond I give him a soft smile reaching up and patting his chest. “Come find me before you leave.”
He nods and I don’t look at what he’s staring at but his eyes are locked onto whoever he’s after. I turn away making my way over to where Heath is sitting. He already has a pitcher of beer and two glasses at the table.