“Look Sylvie, we have to make this look convincing. We want whoever is bugging you to think I’m an old boyfriend,” He said it quietly over his beer.
“Exactly how far to you think I am going to carry this charade?” I asked.
“That depends on how bad you want to know who is bugging you. Believe me I don’t want to be here. I have better things to do with my time, don’t I?” he said.
“Look that cockney accent is going to wear thin in about an hour. I have heard you speak with hardly any accent at all. If you could manage, let’s try not to get on my last working nerve,” I said.
“So, I guess this mean we won’t be swapping spit in private,” he asked.
“Exactly right,” I said finishing my beer and ordering another. I figure I was going to have to dance with the prick. Just to add to the cover. “The things I had done for Swamp Dog,” I said in disgust. I expected that I had done my last job for them. But if I was being bugged they needed to know, It could well be about them.
While we drank and I dulled my disgust reaction, I noticed that the Brit was slightly OCD. Before he returned his glass to the table, he used the napkin provided with the beer to wipe the table top dry. Over and over he did it to the point of driving me insane.
I finally had enough beer to dance on the tiny dance floor. The amount of beer I consumed left me perched on the edge of DUI. After we dance several time with me glued to him I said, “Brit, we have a problem,”
“Oh really, we surely can’t make him or her disappear,” he said quite seriously.
“If anyone is going to disappear, it would be you,” I said to correct his thinking.
“Or you,” he did smile. “So what is the problem?”
“I used to be a deputy sheriff in this county. I made an enemy or two.” I said before he cut me off.
“How could that be old girl?” he asked laughing at his attempt at humor.
“Never mind that, I am not going to drive after having this much beer. I am on the verge of drunk driving. I figure since you probably weight twice what I do, you are still quite sober. So the question is can you drive a car, and if so can you stay on the right side of the road.”
“Give me your keys, I am both sober and know my right from my left,” he said.
I gave him my car keys from the pocket of the cargo pants. I was very careful not to put the keys in the same pocket as the one containing the ,38. It was okay to have keys in the pocket with the box openers though.
He paid the bill and herded me into the parking lot. I pointed out the old blue Toyota. “Well I see you don’t waste your compensation on shiny new automobiles,” he said with a laugh.
“It only gets worse,” I said as we crawled into the car.
I didn’t even notice how he drove since it was only a short distance to my apartment. “When you pull into the drive, stay to the right as far as you can and still be on the pavement.” I demanded.
He parked the car then said, “Nice old house,”
“Yes it is, but I don’t live there. I live in the maid’s apartment over the garage,” I said to correct his thinking. He followed me up the stairs, then into the small apartment.
I looked it over complete then said aloud, “Well it is the right size for you.” Then he laughed. He brought his folding suitcase up the stairs with him. It was the kind that bulged on both sides. In the Air Force we called them B4 bags. I have no idea why. I had seen him move it from his company SUV.
From that bag he removed an instrument of some kind. He ran it along the walls. He stopped at the light switch. He held his finger to his lips demanding silence. Funny how all that good, alcohol induced, lightheartedness disappeared. The Brit was all business, and I fell right into it as well.
Both the light switch in the main room and the kitchen had microphone. They would be the easiest place to hide a microphone for sure.
“Damn Brit you spilled that ashtray. The smell of ashes will drive me crazy.” I said that as I got the small vacuum cleaner. I set it under the light switch in the living room and turned it on. Then went to the other side of the room to talk.
“Every room except the bathroom is bugged.” He said. “I don’t think it’s a law enforcement agency. It pretty obvious where they were hidden. The CIA would have done better. This is one of your Radio Shack buggings. One of those husband and wife things, You got anybody pissed at you?”
I just looked at him. “Okay anybody pissed enough to do this?” he asked.
“The Sheriff’s Department might use something like this. They don’t exactly rate state of the art technology,” I said. “There are probably some moonshiners who aren’t happy with me. They might want to know my plans,”
“What is a moonshiner?” he asked.
“People in the Illegal Liquor business. It’s make from corn distilled by the light of the moon,” I said.
“And you are making this liquor?” he asked.
“No, that vacuum has been on too long.” I said going over and turning it off.
“You about ready for bed,” he asked. He had me and he knew it. Then he pulled me too him and forced me to kiss him. While he held me he whispered. Let’s leave them in place and act for them for a couple of days. At least till we know which one it is.”
I nodded, Hell I had screwed a lot of guys for a lot poorer reason. I undress with the light on then, turned it off before he undressed. I did that just in case they were watching the place as well. When the lights were off, I took the back rest cushions from the sofa and pulled extra covers from the storage boxes, which was the frame of my sofa bed. I was sure he had slept on worse, so I didn’t feel sorry for him. When he saw what I had done, he smile and went immediately to sleep in his clothes.
I awoke at 5AM and he jumped right up. “I’m going to ride my bike Brit, If you would like to tag along, I could run for an hour instead,” I suggested.
“I suspect that I run a bit farther and faster, so ride your bike,” he said. “I think I’ll run down and get the SUV.”
“Then I’ll see you in two hours,” I said taking off on the bike. Since he would be waiting at home, I didn’t stop for breakfast at the plaza. Instead I turned off on a county road before I got to the plaza. The road ran to the dirt drive which went into the land I was in negotiations to purchase from Monk’s family. I turned around then rode back to the apartment. I had been gone a little over two hours.
When I went into the apartment, I heard signing, bad singing I might add. I went to the source and found The Brit stretched out in the tub as best he could be, with an empty cup of coffee by the tub. He saw me and said, “You did say to make myself at home. That is damn fine coffee. And of course there is nothing like a soaking to improve a man’s disposition. Now I assume the plastic pitcher is for washing the hair?”
He had made it a question, so I nodded as I left the room without closing the door. Yes I had seen his penis and it was rather ordinary, but the scars on his body were far from ordinary. Since he hadn’t commented on mine, I didn’t comment on his. He walked out of the bathroom thirty minutes later. I was glad that he had enjoyed his soak. I noted that he had somehow managed to clean the bathtub when he finished, and had a small towel hanging on the rack to dry.
“I am glad you didn’t come out wrapped in the towel,” I said as I closed the door to take my own bath.
“It would work better on me than on you love,” he said with good humor in his voice.
“Don’t lock the bathroom door and I’ll bring you coffee and scrub your back.” He had checked the wall switch in the bathroom the night before. They had only used the kitchen and living room light switches for their bugs. It would seem logical not to bother with the bathroom.
They might want to rethink that with the Brit in the house. He brought the coffee and a chair from the breakfast area of the kitchen. He spoke softly. Lets go somewhere and work on the plan. We can go out to breakfast.” he suggested.
“Fine now wash my back, you did promise,” I demanded. He washed my back as I sat naked on the small plastic step stool. The stool made it easier for me to get in and out of the tub. The hand had presented a new challenge that way. But it was doable now that the stitches were out. The hand would at least grip the wash clothe. when it was waded up. It wasn’t efficient. but it worked. Same with the hair washing. I could hold the pitcher that way when it was no more than half full it worked fine. It took more effort, but it worked in the end.
Through the whole process, The Brit sat on his chair and watched. He didn’t have an especially sexy look, he just looked. I stood up and he handed me my big ass towel. I dried and dressed in my usual tee shirt. The one I wore that morning was a boy’s undershirt, I wore it with jeans I had cut off. Not cut off short, but cut off almost to knee length.
“So Brit, after that workout in the tub you need a good breakfast. I know just the place, I can show you off. They serve the kind of food to keep your strength up.” I said with a laugh. I saw as he removed a large thick vase from his bag then set it on the end table, which was also a plastic storage box. The vase was of course a camera and transmitter.
I drove the car down to the Cafe on the Square. The were serving breakfast still. It would be breakfast until 11AM. So we ordered two hero special breakfasts. That one had biscuits, eggs any style, bacon, sausage and grits or hash brown potatoes.
When my buddy the morning waitress first showed up at the table she asked. “My god girl where had you been hiding this man. He looks fine enough to eat.”
“Honey, you know that’s what I have been doing all night. Now I need real food.” I said. The Brit actually Blushed. Of course he wiped the table three times before the food came.
Now the Cafe on the Square served a table, with more than one person, country style. They put a plate of home made biscuits in the middle of the table. You were expected to serve yourself from them. The bacon, sausage, eggs and grits all came in small bowl. The Brit was shocked at the amount of food. “We aren’t suppose to eat all this are we.”
“No, what you don’t eat goes out the back door to the city’s homeless shelter. The shelter will be by for the bacon sausage potatoes and biscuits. So feel free to leave the food in the bowls. You pay for it and the extra goes to the poor, think of it as your good deed for the day.” I said seriously. “Some times the waitress feeds stray dogs and cats, if the owner doesn’t catch her.”
The waitress heard me. “Your Silvie used to take off her belt to make a lead for strays back when she ran downtown. She would bring me them strays she found. I found them homes. Since the shooting, she don’t run here no more.” The waitress said then she left.
The Brit looked at me hard, but he didn’t ask for an explanation. I was beginning to wonder, if I had made a mistake about him. I guessed, I was more willing to give him a second chance, since I had seen him naked.