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Elu’s Story – Part II

21 Wednesday Dec 2022

Posted by webbywriter1 in Book Sales: Amazon.com/Kindle Books, dating, Fiction, marriage, Native Americans, romance

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There was a harsh cry in the woods, like a startled crow. Xochi jerked her head to the side. Suddenly, she felt like she was losing her balance; at the edge of the bridge. Oh my God! I’m falling. She didn’t even have time to scream before she hit the rocks; her head hitting a large boulder with a loud snap! The light dimmed, she could feel the cold water rushing over her, covering her entire body. Her mouth was in the water, it lapped up close to her nose. End Part I

Her eyes were nearly closed; she was groggy and couldn’t move. There was a sound of climbing, climbing down the bridge, over the rocks toward her. Thank God, she thought, I’m saved. There was a dark figure leaning over her, she tried to speak but nothing came out. Then a very large foot, the bottom of a hiking boot descended over her. The boot was placed carefully on the center of her chest. Slowly, slowly, the boot pushed down. Her nose went under the water and then the rest of her head. She could feel little air bubbles trailing up and lightly bouncing off her nose. Everything went black.

The rushing river water did its water work and gradually the body lifted with the current and began to float downstream. Slowly at first and then gaining speed as it gained the center of the little river, it floated down, down, down the mountain. At a curve in the river, the body washed into a side eddy and came to rest; face up in more shallow water against smaller rocks. There it stayed. Consciousness still lived in the body; it dreamed.

“Xochi, Xochi” the little boy cried out, “come on, let’s play. You said you would.” The little boy laughed and waved at her and ran across the field. He was chasing fireflies. The girl sighed and put down the basket of darning she was doing.

             
              “All work….” She mumbled to herself and chased after the boy. Her other brothers and sisters were out there in the twilight chasing bugs too. They all chased the bugs together and then began chasing each other. The grass felt good under her bare feet. She loved the night and loved the fields. She could stay out here forever. It would be okay if she never went home. 

Finally, winded, Xochi collapsed on the grass breathing hard. The little boy came up to her, both hands cupped together. “Look, look at what I got.” He beamed and the girl peaked between his two grubby hands. A small insect buzzed inside with the glowing tail.

She smiled at him. “Hector, you know you got to let him go, right?” The kid shook his head. “No, you know you do. Otherways, he’ll die. You know that, fireflies can’t live inside. They got to be free.”

The boy looked at her for a moment with big, serious brown eyes. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

With a last little shake of his head, he suddenly flung his little arms apart wide and the bug escaped.

“Fly free little firefly!” Hector announced loudly.

“Good work,” Xochi got up from the grass and patted him on the head. “We got to go home now, Hector. Mama will be waiting with dinner.”

“I don’t want to go home, “Hector said stubbornly, “I don’t ever want to go home.”

“Don’t be like that,” the girl soothed. “I think we got pork and beans tonight, your favorite.”

The kid’s face lit up, “Yum, let’s go!”

“Race ya!”

The two took off running for the house. The girl slowed as they got closer. Her dad’s truck was in the gravel drive. She could hear him inside talking in a loud voice at their mother. At twelve years of age, Xochi knew her father, his moods and when to steer clear of him. Especially if he had been drinking. She would know as soon as she got inside the door which of his various moods he’d be in. It was her job to keep the little kids quiet so he didn’t erupt and ruin dinner. She clinched her hands into fists, straightened her back and walked in.

Xochi was Indian on her mother’s side and European on her father’s side. They lived on the reservation with her mother’s people. She loved to hear the old ones talk about the past on the reservation. The stories, the language, the traditions, the ceremonies. She would sit and listen; big brown eyes open wide, fine brown hair, long and down to her butt. They would sit on their old chairs, in front of the campfire, the moon overhead; the crickets chirping softly in the background. The old men and old women would weave ancient tales and tell of times when they would fish in the great river and the deer could still be seen as well as the golden mountain lions and brown bears. They would weave tails that seemed to mingle with the smoke from the fire and dance together in the night air, then escape up into the sky. She could lean back against a log and stare up into the sky. When mother moon was out, the stars weren’t as bright. When she was more dim, the stars seemed to glow with their own majesty and fill up the entire, huge sky. Daniel, the brother next in age to her, would lean back and talk about the stars. He had an old astronomy book and he was teaching himself about the constellations.

Constellations – she could hardly say the word.

“There it is, see it?” he pointed up to the sky.

She followed his finger and squinted. “Aw, no…oh, yeah, I can see it now. The Big Dipper!” Elu was excited to be able to see anything. Daniel could make her feel so dumb with all those astrological signs up there he kept seeing.

“Right, and that bright star at the tip, that one points to the Little Dipper. You see it?” He moved his finger over.

Elu strained to look and squinted some more. “Ah….” She still couldn’t see anything.

“Hump, it’s there. You just have to keep looking. It’s not going anywhere.”

Elu felt disappointed in herself for not being able to see the Dipper. “Well, I’ll keep looking until I find it,” she told him. Daniel had already turned back to his book and was reading it with his flashlight. Elu yawned. “I guess we should be getting back.” She looked at her brother. He didn’t say anything. She got up off the log and looked at him. “Daniel…”

He didn’t look up from his book. She shrugged her shoulders and turned to go back to their cabin. Daniel wanted to be a scientist one day, that’s all he talked about. Who knew? She thought to herself, stranger things have happened.

Elu went back on the dirt trail, her feet were bare but the night was still warm and it didn’t matter. She might even be able to get into the bathroom tomorrow and take a bath, if everyone else was gone. Just as long as it wasn’t the cold shower outside. Brr! She got goosebumps even thinking about it. Bullfrogs croaked by the river, they seemed to be talking to each other in their own language. Maybe they were, she thought, maybe they were. A night bird cried as she turned down the path home.

The next day was Saturday. Her father was home sleeping. Elu and the other kids made a quick breakfast of cornflakes from the big economy box. The jug of milk was getting low. It was Elu’s job to mix up more powdered milk and pour it into the plastic jug. She carefully poured the fresh milk into the jug and shook it up and down. She plopped it on the big wood table.

“It’s not cold,” one of the little boys whined. She gave him a hard stare.

“Eat it and shut up.” She gobbled hers up with a big old spoon keeping an eye on her parent’s door. It was closed. This was a good sign. With luck, she could get everyone out before her dad woke up.

She got busy pulling shirts over the heads of the little ones and yanking up shorts.

“But I wanted to watch cartoons,” Sally, one of the younger girls moped.

“We’ll watch them later,” Elu commanded. She didn’t even bother to comb their hair. Screw it. Tomorrow was church and they could get their hair combed then. The girl actually liked church. Maybe not the sermon so much but after, all the people from the res would get together in the center hall and make breakfast. The thought of the cooking bacon almost made her mouth water. And the pancakes! With real syrup! The bomb. Sometimes they even got blueberries or strawberries, she couldn’t wait.

Elu led the kids to the river and they splashed around a little. The sun was getting higher in the sky and she knew they would dry off pretty fast. Down river, they could hear the sound of outboard motors revving up. She knew the boats would come tearing down the river any minute so she hustled the kids up to the rocks above where they could get dry in the sun and watch the speedboats.

They got a good perch on the rocks overlooking the Colorado River. The res was right by the river, by Lake Havasu, on the California side. Elu had a little tie bag with her.  She pulled it out and shook it up and down. Raw peanuts in shells clicked against each other. The kids gathered around and she started handing them out. They began cracking the shells, gathering the nuts and chewing noisily. She pulled out her own treasure, a battered copy of a comic book, Cinderella. She kept it away from the kids so they wouldn’t ruin it. But, if they begged, she would read it to them, again. The retelling and retelling of the story had lost count.

“…and the Fairy Godmother said…” There was a loud roar. A high-speed motor boat raced past on the water below; the custom colors of bright orange, yellow, white and black stripes wrapped around the boat. There was a flag flapping in the breeze at the rear. It reminded Elu of wrapped candies they sometimes saw at the store. A young white couple were in the boat. The guy was wearing a baseball cap and the woman, a blond, was reclining on a backbench, blond hair streaming in the wind. Elu could see her hot pink tube top and crisp white shorts from where she lay above them. It looked like these people didn’t have a care in the world. Not a care.

Someday I’m going to have shorts like that, Elu thought to herself. Very white, very clean. And, hey, maybe a tube top too. But not pink. Maybe orange, a dark orange. Yes, she nodded to herself, definitely orange. And sandals, just like that woman has. Real leather sandals, new. She nodded again  and put those items on her mental list.

Soon the river was busy with traffic and they could see boats racing up and down, some pulling skiers. The kids watched in awe, they never got tired of this show. Pretty glamorous all right. It wasn’t long before the boaters were popping open cans of beer they pulled from big coolers and drinking them down. People would shout at each other like they knew one another. One big happy club.

The sun rose higher in the sky. It was getting toward lunchtime and Elu was thinking about what they had to eat at home.

“Look at that idiot,” Daniel was next to her and pointed. There was a little inlet in the river below them and a lot of boulders that stuck out from the side of the hill.

“Oh, not again,” she said to him and watched.

“Yep, one more time.”

A young white guy and some friends were climbing up the rocks to the top. Elu and her people knew the dead spirits lived down there; down below the rocks. You never jumped in and disturbed them. They had seen people jump in before and sometimes, not come back up. It was unlucky. They watched the first guy climb to the top and wave at his friends just like he had really accomplished something. Elu could feel herself holding her breath.

The guy approached the edge and looked down. He seemed to hesitate. She willed him to go back down. But knew he couldn’t, not now, not when he had told all his friends he would jump. He walked away from the edge, turned around, seemed to gather his courage, ran forward, and jumped off in a big ball, yelling all the way down. There was a splash, a moment later, his head popped back up from the water. Elu let out her breath.

“Come on,” she waved at the others, “I think we still have some bologna at home.” Dutifully, they trouped after her back down the hill.

End of Part II continued

Elu’s Story – Part I

18 Sunday Dec 2022

Posted by webbywriter1 in Book Sales: Amazon.com/Kindle Books, dating, Fiction, marriage, Native Americans, romance

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“Come on,” he said smiling.

He waved her toward him. The moonlight glinted off his white-blond hair. With his white polo shirt and tan shorts, he could have been an ad for the good life. A life with him.

She paused. Uncertain. The river water rushed and gurgled as it poured over the low bridge. The bridge they were standing on. An old bridge, built back in the 30’s with Federal money. The sides of the path leading to the bridge were fashioned with heavy, granite rocks. Held fast together with mortar. Old rocks, old mortar. Rocks were set up on edge at the sides of the bridge. Like teeth, they stood sentinel over the river, a warning to not go in, not get too close. The water jumped and raced over the old rocks, the old bridge, playful and laughing. Taunting the old soldiers to let down their guard, come out and play.

Just like Sebastian, bent over in the moonlight, arm extended toward her. A smile on his gorgeous lips, inviting her, again…He was tall, head and shoulders taller than Xochi and well built. He was older now, of course, than when they had first met but…muscles still bulged at the seams of his shirt. The short sleeves exposed those massive, tanned arms. She let out a little sigh.

“It’s cold,” she told him inching forward.

“Naw, it feels good. You’ll get used to it in a minute.” He smiled again and beckoned her with a little wave. His strong, white teeth glowed in his tanned face.

Xochi felt apprehensive, she didn’t know why. She had been up here on this hiking trail forever times. Why tonight? Well it was night, that was one thing. Sebastian, her ex, had invited her on a ‘moon-light stroll’ to help mend fences. They were trying to reconcile their differences and become better parents to their two-year-old daughter. Or, so she thought. Rather, that was what he had been telling her. She wanted to give him a chance, a chance to be a decent father for once. Besides, there was still a little part of her, still in love with the bastard.

She inched forward again. The moon was very full tonight and hung heavy in the Arizona sky. The cool, white moonlight illuminated the old hiking road as it snaked its way up the canyon. Old cottonwood trees dotted the landscape along with masses of rocky hillside that towered over them. The zigzag pattern on the rocks reminded her of pulled taffy like they used to make on the res from brown sugar. That would cook the sugar in huge pots, then lay it down on trays to get cool. So soon as they could, the children would break off pieces and stuff their faces, grinning. There was an occasional croak from a bullfrog. The air smelled damp, moist almost musty. The canyon was old and felt old. An old man, quietly keeping secrets.

She stepped forward and the cold mountain water rushed over her hi-top hiking shoes. She gasped with the cold, hunching her shoulders up, and grabbed his hand. A strong hand, a big hand, warm and inviting. He laughed at her.

“It feels good doesn’t it? Especially when you’ve been hiking awhile and your feet are sore.”

“Yeah, it does,” she laughed a little too. While Xochi loved to hike, she hadn’t been doing much for a while what with taking care of a two-year-old and working.

The two stood there in the night, with the rushing water splashing over their boots, tickling the bottoms of legs. She turned and looked around the canyon. It looked different at night, peaceful, calm. Without the chattering hikers that flooded the place during the day. She liked it like this. She thought she saw a ground squirrel come out and take a peek at the couple and scurry back to its hole.

She let out another sigh and realized that she had been holding her breath. The bridge was the width of one of the wide trams that drove up the hill. She walked over to the other side, holding lightly onto Sebastian’s fingertips. The moon could be seen reflected in the water, a broken orb, rippling in the water. This was so peaceful. It felt like…well…the old days when she first met her daughter’s father. Days when he made her feel safe, secure, loved, before…   He gently pulled her back to him until they were arm to arm, gazing at the water.

There was a harsh cry in the woods, like a startled crow. Xochi jerked her head to the side. Suddenly, she felt like she was losing her balance; at the edge of the bridge. Oh my God! I’m falling. She didn’t even have time to scream before she hit the rocks; her head hitting a large boulder with a loud snap! The light dimmed, she could feel the cold water rushing over her, covering her entire body. Her mouth was in the water, it lapped up close to her nose.

Continued Part II

The Number Nine Bus

12 Monday Dec 2022

Posted by webbywriter1 in Book Sales: Amazon.com/Kindle Books, cutting, dating, Fiction, homelessnes, kids, money, romance, teenagers

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                                                      THE NUMBER NINE BUS

I rode my bike up to the bus stop and parked it neatly next to the trash bin and sat myself down on the blue metal bench. Checking my watch, I saw it was ten of six pm.

Okay then, by my calculations, the Number Nine should be here at 6:10 pm.  I have twenty minutes to wait. I can live with that. 

Then, I would mount my bike on the cow-catcher at the front of the bus and be mercifully whisked out of the heat and onto my shopping errand.

Home in time to watch the new Netflix movie and in bed at a decent hour.

I patted my pocket. There were several carefully placed dollar bills and quarters there in case any of the bills stuck in the bus changer. Patiently, I waited and pulled out my IPod and stuck in my ear buds for music.

Through my Raybans I saw them walking across the street, coming my way.

Oh, no. A guy and a girl? Yes, definitely a girl, she’s shorter. Little hard to tell with all the stuff they’re carrying.

Eventually they made it to the bus stop and I looked away into middle distance, not wanting to be part of their space. Sensing my discomfort, the girl sat down with her bag between us and the guy stood up. They were talking to each other but I couldn’t hear with the ear buds.

He said something to me and I had to pull the buds out.

“…bus?  The number nine bus?”

“Yes, yes. This is the number nine bus stop. It should be here any minute.” I said helpfully. I looked at my watch. As a matter of fact, it really should have already been here, it was 6:10pm.

“…you got your bracelet, from New Mexico?” The girl was speaking at me.

“No, not New Mexico,” I replied and kept staring off to the right, away from them.

“….mine it up in the hills there,” she was saying to me. I nodded my head, the buds back in place.

My natural nosiness took over and I looked at them. Both about twenty, they were a complete rag-tag band of assorted styles, genres, mixed clothing, backpacks, bags, hats, jewelry, tats and body piercing everywhere. He was kind of shaky and red in the face.

Is he kicking? Heroin? I thought to myself. Hard to say exactly.

I had to look carefully, there was a plastic baby doll leg pinned to the side of his pack. What was most noticeable was the big green ring he had in his nose. She had nose rings too, but smaller.

I am being kind of an ass, I thought, they’re just kids.

“The bus should be along any minute now. I think maybe it’s running late,” I volunteered.

“Oh, that always happens to us,” she told me and got up and gave the guy a long extended hug.

True love. I thought. Of course, poor and in love.

She came back and sat down again. I got up and stared down the street searching desperately for that bus.

“You guys looking for a shelter ’cause there’s a Salvation Army close by…”

“No, no, we have a place to go. We’re not really hobos…my husband and I just dress like this.”

She seemed very calm with their situation. Pretty face under all the hat, feather and jewelry. He was off staring for the bus too.

“I’m from Spokane,” she volunteered. “Did you know that Spokane and Fresno are the same size? Only Spokane has more people.” This girl seemed desperate to engage me in conversation for whatever reason.

“More rain too I’ll bet,” I ventured.

“Oh, lots more rain but crazy hot this time of year. You wouldn’t believe how hot and electrical storms, lots of electrical storms.”

“Fires?”

“Oh yeah, tons of fires, crazy.” She pulled and picked at her blond hair with bright orange polish fingernails. She wasn’t really looking at me but she didn’t seem bothered by me either.

“How are the buses in Spokane?”

“They are great! Every fifteen minutes and later every half hour,” she nodded her head with assurance.

“Well, the buses in Fresno suck,” I told her looking at my watch again. It was now almost 6:30pm.

 Where the hell it that bus? The mall is going to be closed. I have skin products to buy. Damn it! I need my Clinique.

“We’re going to his Dad’s and seeing about staying the night.” She didn’t seem sure about that.

“Where does he live?”

“Riverpark area,” the guy answered. He had put his backpack down. He suddenly jumped and started hitting the bag. Something flew out and landed. They both studied the ground.

“That’s the most beautiful beetle I ever saw,” she was staring at the little grey thing on the sidewalk.

Yeah, as long as it isn’t crawling around in your backpack.

“Don’t kill it,” she said to him. He was on the ground screwing with the bug, no doubt upset it had frightened him.

“I just don’t know about this bus,” I told them. “It should have been here by now. Don’t know if it’s Saturday schedule or what.” The guy looked concerned.

“Where you going again?” I directed my question to him.

“Riverpark down Blackstone. I remember ‘cause I lived there since I was two.”

I nodded and found the location on my IPod. “This it?” He bent over to look at the phone map but didn’t get too close.   

“Yeah, that’s the place.”

“That’s a beautiful ring!” she was looking at my white pearl and malachite pinkie ring. I knew she wanted to touch it but was careful to keep her hands to herself.

“His father is from Fresno?” I asked her.

“Yeah, Fresno.”

“Well, in that case, I would probably lose the nose rings for a few days.”

She got a disturbed look on her face, frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. It was then I noticed the healed cutting scars up and down her forearm. This girl clearly had some back story. And, probably not happy .

“You know,” she had put some thought in this, “Jesus Christ was persecuted and he wore clothes just like this. We dress like this so we will be persecuted too and still carry the message.”

“Ah,” I replied.

“I don’t change myself to please other people, only to please myself,” she concluded with some finality.

How about pleasing someone enough to get a place to sleep for the night? I didn’t say anything else, her mind seemed made up.  

“I don’t know about this bus,” I said again. It was ten of seven now.

The girl disappeared in to the car wash and came back.

“The Mexican guy says no more buses,” she told us.

Damn it to hell, the Mall is going to close and I’m never going to get my stuff! I almost stamped my feet in frustration.

I walked over to my bike. Maybe I could ride there and back before it got dark.

“Perhaps if you hitch a ride with a truck they can get you to Blackstone,” I ventured.

They weren’t really listening to me anymore.

“I’m thirsty,” she was telling him. He was practically gyrating in place trying to decide what to do.

Oh, well. Guess they’ll just have to take that whole 60’s Love Child, meets Fresno Red Neck and gets ink, rings, Jesus and hits the road becoming homeless on unknown drugs and figure it out.

I got back on my bike and rode toward the mall.

The Furniture Warehouse – Pt II

16 Monday May 2022

Posted by webbywriter1 in Crime - Fioction, Fiction, Uncategorized

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I shook my head. I must be hungrier than I thought.

Cutting it off with Debbi, I made my way to the lunch room. There was going to be an after-hours work party at the pizza place. I was really thinking about the party and anyone interesting I might meet.

The school term finally lurched to an end. We were all exhausted with finals and term projects.

One day Debbi told me “I knocked over a lamp in the living room and haven’t had time to pick it up.”

In some weird way, that made total sense. Our little group babbled endlessly either about school or the current boyfriends.  

However, life chugged on at the Megastore. I got to work a bit late the next Saturday and people were milling around in clumps, whispering. Debbi and another State girl were huddled together. I had to immediately invite myself into the conversation. They talked in low voices.

“I can’t believe it!” Janet, a short, somewhat chubby, English major was saying. “I was just working with her!”

“I know, I know,” Debbi was saying with a brilliant gleam in her eye. “Isn’t it something!”

“What, what?” I was practically jumping up and down at this point. What was going on?

“It’s Sharlene,” Janet almost whispered.

“What?” I said too loudly and two of the day girls turned and stared at me, then turned away.

“She got arrested!” Debbi blurted out.

“Arrested!” I was stunned. My mouth formed an O shape.

“Handcuffs and everything,” Janet chimed in. “The police were just here and they took her away.”

My head was reeling. “For what?” I got out.

“Stealing,” said Debbi smugly. My mouth dropped.

“It’s like this,” explained Janet. She did a small finger point to the corner where the payment book and the box had been. They weren’t there.  “She was taking the payments from the customers and giving them a receipt for their money, but then taking maybe $5.00 from the payment and putting it in her pocket.”

“But the book had two copies,” I said. “How could she change the bottom copy?”

Debbi glanced around then leaned forward, proud of herself, “She found a way to cover the bottom copy when she was writing and then changed the bottom amount to what was in the box.”

“So how did they find out?” I was dumbfounded.

“Well,” Debbi was having more fun than a barrel of exploding snaps, “these people kept coming in and complaining that their statement in the mail didn’t match how much they had paid in the store.  When one or two people said it, Marge thought they were just trying to pull a fast one, but then so many came in, she began to suspect something.”

“Yeah,” said Janet in a very hushed voice, “that’s when she started watching all of us.” My stomach got queasy.

“They finally figured out it was Sharlene but they could never really seeing her doing it. So, they had to wait until they saw her do it two or three times and then they could get her.”

“Yeah,” Debbi had to add, “Marge wants to eat Norma’s head.”

“Why?” I said incredulous.

“Because Norma didn’t notice the difference in the inks on the paper,” whispered Janet.

“Wow,” was all I could say. “How much do you think she got?” Janet put her hands up and shrugged with a question mark face. We finally all decided we should at least look busy and drifted back to work.

We never saw Sharlene after that day. And, Megalopolis Furniture Store did not specialize in any form of employee rehab. Debbi, Janet and Mark, the accounting guy, and I all graduated from State that year. I stayed with Megalopolis a few more months after graduation, just long enough to get a transfer to San Diego and find a full-time job.

We all went on with our separate lives. Still, from time to time I think about Sharlene and my own decision to just think about this green stuff as ‘paper.’

The End

Tracker Part II

21 Thursday Apr 2022

Posted by webbywriter1 in Crime - Fioction, Fiction, Uncategorized

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“Hum,” she thought to herself musing. She rummaged through her purse, ah, there they were. She had some coupons in her envelope that were about to expire, she needed to get over to the store pick up those items while they were still good. She sped off full of her next mission.

The trip to Belize had gone as planned.  It was an AAA group tour and they stayed at a little discount hotel that was not as close to the beach as she would have liked, but oh well. She spent a lot of time by the pool there and sipped exactly one Mai-Tai each evening watching the sun go down. She had time to catch up on her reading and actually had some fun eating dinner with other Americans. Of course, many of them were definitely approaching their golden years at a running gallop, but she didn’t mind, made her feel younger.

There had just been one problem on her trip. Denise was in the habit of carrying her id and money in a little over-the-shoulder bag. One evening toward the end of her trip, she had draped it over the back of her chair and forgot it. She had gotten involved speaking to an interesting older married couple and had left with them. No more than a half hour later, she realized what she had done and rushed back to the table, too late. The bag was gone. She raised hell with the kitchen staff and the manager and although they assured her they would do a ‘complete investigation’ nothing ever came of it and the bag disappeared.

Fortunately for Denise, ever mindful, she had another expired passport with her in her luggage. She was able to get back into the states with that and a photocopy of the lost passport. She had to answer a lot of questions and then immediately apply for another once she was home; but she was home safe and sound in her little condo.

She really hated when things didn’t go according to plan, but some days….  When she went to pickup her new passport she asked the girl “What if my old one shows up?”

There was a pause; “Don’t ever use your old passport again,” the counter agent assured her. “Not unless you want to have Homeland Security officers all over you. The passport has been ‘flagged.’”

Denise wasn’t exactly sure what ‘flagged’ meant but  she didn’t feel like asking any more questions so she just took her new passport and left.

Life had pretty much returned to normal for Denise after this mad-cap week in Belize. She was back to work as a senior researcher at the lab and things were back to their usual routine. She still drove to the bank every Friday and cashed a check for her weekly spending amount. As she stood in line, the cashier who she knew told her, “You know Miss Smith; you are probably one of the only customers  I have who still uses checks to get money out of the bank.”

Denise laughed and replied, “If you think that is something, guess what else, I don’t have a home computer, a TV or a landline telephone. I don’t even have an email address!”

The clerk gasped, disbelieving, mouth open. “Nope,” continued Denise, “don’t believe in those things. Just more and more ways for people to get into your pocket!”  She didn’t add the part where she also really believed it was more ways for people to spy on you too. But, she didn’t want to sound crazy so she shut up. She got her money and left; when she got home, she would carefully place the money in envelopes marked for their uses. She prided herself in going ‘all cash.’

Denise’s life continued on as normal and she was totally unaware of the van parked down the street from her condo that was tracking her movements. Denise, who had rarely had so much as a speeding ticket in her life had come to the attention of the ‘authorities’. It had all started when her passport had been stolen and then ‘marked’. While processing the new passport, the agent assigned to the replacement had noticed a distinct resemblance between Denise and an FBI most wanted poster of an international espionage agent, wanted and on the run for selling government secrets.

The agent marked the file and sent it to her boss who in turn, sent it on to the agency looking for the woman and they then, opened a file on Denise Smith.

The two agents reviewed the material they had on Smith. Agent Tim Curl reviewed it with his partner, “Denise Smith, age 42 years, not married, lives alone, long time researcher at a drug lab. No credit cards, no ATM cards, no TV, no land line, no computer, no email address, no internet banking. Uses a computer at work but only for company business and never takes any personal messages. Does all her correspondence by mail. Has one cheap cell phone that she rarely ever uses.”

His partner looked at him thoughtfully.  “Looks like she is hiding something to me.”  Curl shook his head in agreement and they decided to set up surveillance on Denise.

Denise continued her life, getting books and videos from the library and eating Top Ramen for lunch at work. She loved to read and watch old movies. She had decided that all cable company charges for channels were a scam and she though modern TV programs were a joke anyway. “Give me an old black and white any day,” she thought to herself as she checked out her latest selections.

The guys in the van followed her to work a couple of days but couldn’t get very close so returned to her condo. They felt they would have better reception here if Denise made any phone calls or tried to contact someone. They waited for a number of days with little success.

“She’s cagey, that one,” opined Tim Curl. Sandy, his big burly partner nodded in agreement.

“How do you think she is transmitting the data?” asked Sandy.

Tim shook his head. “I just don’t know. She’s basically not making any calls on that dumb cell phone of hers, there’s no phone in the condo, we checked. Any messages on the company computer are pretty regularly screened by their IT guys and we don’t think she even sends that many at work because she tells everyone ‘I don’t like computers’.”  He made a little girly gesture with his hand.

Sandy laughed. However, in the end, they were back to staring at their monitors with not a lot to go on.

Denise looked at her package happily. She had spent $39.99 to get the brand new tracking device that you could wear to track your heart rate, miles walked or run and a breakdown of the calories you had burned up exercising. She loved this! With this little baby in place she felt sure that those last five pounds would soon be a thing of the past. She couldn’t wait to try it out.

The next day was a Saturday and it dawned bright and beautiful. Denise woke up and went through her usual routine, eager to try out her new tracker on a short morning run. She popped a multivitamin and mixed up the green energy drink. It was supposed to be really good for you, so she tried hard not to look at it too much while chugging it down. She had no overtime this weekend so she was foot-loose and fancy free. She didn’t want to run too far, hard on the knees. But she could drop down to a walk by the time she got to the park and cool down that way. She might even treat herself to a coffee on the way back.

That Friday Tim and Sandy had gotten reamed by their boss. “I thought you said this one looked good!” he shouted at them. “We have gotten Intel that another data transfer is about to happen, this weekend and on your watch!” he yelled some more.

“Boss, boss,” Tim had his hands up pleadingly .  “We are watching her, we have the stolen passport, and we know she was in Belize at exactly the same time and same place as when the last data was delivered. She is the right age, right height, right color, she fits all the profiles. We think she is the one, we just haven’t been able to get her doing anything yet,” he pleaded.

“Great, great,” said the big guy. “But, by the way, you are both on duty this weekend, got that!” and he stormed off. They both nodded their heads glumly.

Saturday morning, bright and early, Tim and Sandy were parked inside the van drinking strong coffee and eating Dunkin doughnuts. They had moved the van closer to Denise’s condo.

“I just can’t help thinking that she is going to do it this weekend. We have just got to keep her close,” said Tim. Sandy nodded.

Inside, Denise had suited up in T-shirt, spandex ¾ length pants with the little zipper in the back for keys, and running shoes. The new ones that she had completely splurged on, Nikes. “With complete arch support,” she reminded herself. She proudly clipped the little tracker device on her T-shirt so that it could get an accurate reading of her exercise. She went out the door and carefully locked the lock and zipped the keys into her pocket. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and hit the button on the tracker to start it. She stretched a couple of times and then started a slow jog to the park.

Tim hit Sandy in the arm, “That’s it!” he said excitedly.

“What’s it?” Sandy queried through half chewed doughnut.

“It’s that gadget on her shirt. It must be very low frequency so we are not picking anything up. Get your gun,” he said to Sandy quietly getting out of the van to follow Denise.

Denise jogged while checking her watch occasionally to see if she was making good time. She tried reading the tracker upside down but decided it couldn’t be done and satisfied herself that she was just going to have to wait for the results when she stopped. She jogged about twenty minutes and started her slow down walk as she entered the park. She checked her pulse a couple of times to see if she was getting it high enough to do some good. After walking a bit she decided to get that coffee at the vendor stall in the park, cheaper than Starbucks. She was getting her Americano, hot to go, when she stopped. There was that older gentleman who she had met on her trip to Belize.

“Mr. Marshall, Mr. Marshall, hey is that you?” she held out her hand for a shake with the older guy when she got tackled and knocked to the ground. Sandy had done his job with a nice flying tackle and had grabbed her just before she had a chance to hand off the data stick attached to her shirt to her contact person. Mr. Marshall, the contact person, took off running in a surprisingly fast fashion for such an old guy.

Back at their headquarters, Denise was explaining over and over again that she was not who they thought she was. Tim and Sandy had by this time confiscated the tracker device and had given it to one of their own IT guys who confirmed that there was nothing else in the design except a heart rate and calorie counting device as stated. They at long last had come to the realization that Denise was not, in fact, ‘their girl’ but they began to have a lot of questions about the man she had met at the coffee carrel and why he had run off.

Denise gave them as much information as she could and by data tracking through the AAA club records and the airline records they were able to confirm that Daniel Marshall and his wife Helene had been on the trip to Belize and both had a questionable past. Denise was able to id them both and the agency confirmed that Daniel and Helene were actually professional ‘transporters’ of information.

A couple of hours later Denise was released. They had fed her with high calorie doughnuts and terrible coffee. She was sure her diet was ruined for a week.

“But, why were they interested in me?” she had asked them.

“It was your passport they were after,” Tim replied. “You may not have noticed it but you are the same age, height, and weight and hair color as Mrs. Marshall.”

“But she is so much older than me,” Denise said.

“Play acting and makeup,” said Tim “mostly to get your confidence.”

“Didn’t you have a drink with them of some kind the evening you lost your passport?” asked Sandy.

Denise thought, “Yes, I did. I was going to order my regular Mai Tai but Mr. Marshall insisted that I try some kind of local drink, forget what he called it. Too strong.”

“Right,” said Tim. “They either put something in your drink or just got you to talking so much that you forgot your bag on the chair. ‘Marshall’ escorted you to dinner and she went to powder her nose and circled back and snatched up your bag with the passport before you knew what had happened.”

“But why did she want it?” queried Denise.

“She needed a new name to get through customs. The customs officially have been alerted to both of them and are on the lookout for any of their aliases. Also, stolen passports are very, very expensive to buy so this was quick and cheap.”

Denise shook her head, she couldn’t believe it. Nothing like this ever happened to her. The agents had been very solicitous of her and were literally trying to brush her off when their boss came in and stopped them.

“We really appreciate your help Ms. Smith. These are very bad people selling some pretty valuable stuff and we would really like to catch them. Your assistance is very helpful and we are so sorry for any rough stuff.” He glared at Sandy.

“But, but……” Denise struggled with what to say.  “Why me, why did you think I was involved?”

The Boss sighed a bit, “Miss Smith, you matched the description of one of the people we thought we might be looking for. You were also at the right time and the right place for what we believe was the last stolen data transfer point, that being Belize. Also,” he paused, not sure he should say this, “you are so, well, very, very off the usual electronic grid of most people, it made us somewhat suspicious.”

Denise stared at him trying to grasp the significance of his meaning. He smiled at her and excused himself from the room. She accepted a ride home from the two arresting agents and they smiled and waved goodbye in good PR fashion. They were hot to get after the real culprits.

Denise let herself back in the condo. They had given her the Tracker back but it was sort of hopelessly pulled apart now and of no use. They had given her a form to fill out to make a replacement claim.

She sat down at her kitchen table, just a little stunned by the events, thinking. Finally, she said out loud to Frisky the cat, “Well, maybe one ATM card wouldn’t hurt.”

the end

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