Sunday, October 24, 2010

I hate this

I really am sorry to say I am going to close this blog. My mind is not working as well as I had hoped so I can't really keep writing. Thing just kind of get lost and when I go back and read what I write it doesn't even make sense to me.

I'm not sick or anything just confused a lot. So good luck to you all.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

I looked through the police report until I found the detective interview with the parents. Shanon had gone out with a friend. One she was supposed to pick up. She actually left the house alone in her car.

I went to my board and wrote. SOURCE OF THE CAR... GIFT OR ?

She didn’t mention the name of the friend, and no one came forward. For that reason her movements that night were a mystery. I would have expected her ten year old car to turn up outside a club, movie, restaurant, or some other place a young women might choose to spend her evening. Instead it turned up in the parking lot of a small strip mall. It was a shame that on one had a parking lot camera.

A canvas of the stores revealed that no one had noticed anyone leaving the car. It seemed that several car pools used that part of the parking lot, so it went unnoticed. One thing for sure, the car had not been wiped clean. It was a cornucopia of finger prints. Most were matched to her one friend, Martha Evans, none of the others popped out of the NCIC computer run. If someone else had driven her car that night, he or she had no criminal record.

I wrote on my board. HOW DID SHARON’S CAR GET TO THE PARKING LOT.

So I knew Sharon left home in her car that night. She may or may not have been headed out to meet her killer. If she had not been on a date with her killer then where was she likely to have gone? I needed to talk to her friend Martha.

“Hello,” I said to the person who answered the cell phone of the only friend the police had interviewed. “Is this Martha?”

“No, it’s Martha’s mother. Who the hell are you, and what is a grown man doing calling my daughter?”

“I’m Chief Burke of security for the park service. I was calling to arrange a meeting. I would like to speak to your daughter about Sharon McDonald.”

“Oh, she has already spoken to Detective Edwards. I don’t know why the park service is interested.”

“Well Shanon might have been involved in some park activities the night she disappeared. Or at the very least park facilities might have been used in her murder, so if you wouldn’t mind, I need to speak with your daughter. Is there a time that would be convenient. You are more than welcome to be at the interview.”

“Even if Shanon was involved with something there, what has my daughter got to do with it?”

“Maybe nothing, but I won’t know until I ask her.” I was avoiding my sarcastic voice.

“It’s late now sometime tomorrow after school would be alright, I guess.”

“Is she home from school by 4pm?” I asked.

“Usually, I’ll make sure she is here tomorrow.”I made a note to be sure Jane asked the people she spoke to if they heard or saw anything the night Shanon died. It might not help, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. Just to be sure that I didn’t forget, I emailed the note to myself at the office.




“Thank you Mrs. Evans.” She hung up without even a goodbye. That went real well, I thought.

“Mrs McDonald?” I asked of the lady who answered the phone at the McDonald house.

“Yes,” she responded carefully..

I explained again about my need for information. “So I will probably be calling you now and then to ask question you have already answered. Lots of bits and pieces of information don’t make it into the police report. I’m just trying to do a thorough assessment of the facts to be sure our parks weren’t involved in her death.”

“Is this necessary, the police are investigating.”

“Mrs. McDonald, I was a regular police officer for 18 years before I transfered to the Park Service. All the security personnel here are sworn officers, so talking to me is just talking to another cop.”

“Very well, anything to help find who killed my little girl.”

“Thank you ma’am. Could you tell me if the car she drove that night was a gift or if she purchased it herself?”

“We didn’t give her the car, she saved her money to buy it.”

“Did Shanon have a job?”

Friday, October 15, 2010

The next morning I stopped by the Hobby House before I headed to the marina. I found sheets of cheap brown cardboard used to back picture in a frame. the sheets were thirty inches by forty inches. I figured i need at least three of them to start.

From the Hobby House I drove to my new almost empty office. The marina had to be the most beautiful spot in the whole damn town. Too bad the view from my office was of the parking lot. It seemed that the lake view was much too valuable for an employee.

I looked out over the parking lot and tried to concentrate on the over night report from Carlton. Carlton was one of those rangers who had been a city cop who retired early. He was putting in time until his Social Security and Medicare kicked in. I learned from Carlton that buying private medical insurance was prohibitive. He informed me that he worked mostly for the city provided insurance. The salary for a ranger was just a little over minimum wage unless you had 18 years in like me. Even then it had required a lateral transfer to keep my salery.

The total of his report was a list of his rounds followed by the short entry, all okay. I would have been worried that he wasn’t doing his job, except that I checked the parking lot tapes from every location he was supposed to visit I found the ranger car pulling into the parking lot on time. He left the car to do his walking rounds just as he was supposed to do.

That took me until noon, what with all the tapes I had to view. After I got back from lunch, I called Jane to ask that she stop by between rounds. She made it in around 1:30.

“What’s up boss?” she asked.

“Nothing really, I just wanted to ask if you remembered the day you guys found Shanon in the lake?”

“Sure, how could anyone forget that. Did anything happen around that time at the campground?”

“Not that I remember. The patrolmen and later the detective asked the same thing. I never could think of a thing.”

“I would go back and read Carlton’s reports, but I know how they would read.”

“Yeah all secure,” she replied. It must have been a well documented fact that Carlton didn’t like to write incident reports.

“If you have some spare time, I want you to do me a favor. I want you to get the
campground logs for that week and make some calls. Verify that all those contact phone numbers are real.”

“Why do you think that she went in from the campground?”

“I don’t really. I mostly want to rule it out before moving on. After all we don’t want to run a refuge for riff raff.” I laughed as i said it. There were two possibilities, even if she were killed at the campground. One was that the killer was just that a killer. If he planned to kill when he checked in, then his sign in info would be worthless. The other and more likely was that something just went terribly wrong and a young girl died during a crime of passion. In which case everything would be in order. So even if Jane found everything in order, I would have learned something.

“Ordinarily during an early fall week there would be very few campground visitors, but it was trade show week. The campground wasn’t full but it was damn close to full,” Jane informed me with an excited look. She had spent the afternoon assembling the list and checking just a couple of the phone numbers. I found her at the spare desk after a couple of hours. I checked on her because I knew her shift would be about to end.

“I got the list ready and made a couple of calls between rounds. At this rate it will take me at least till the weekend to get them all checked.”

“Well don’t make it a top priority just yet. You need to keep your park ranger job as priority one. This is just a diversion. Hell everybody needs one.” I smiled as I returned to my office.

Later that afternoon I stopped at the Food Warehouse, on the way home from work. I filled one of their hand held baskets with frozen dinners. I still had a couple of bags of frozen dinner rolls at home in the freezer, so the only other thing on my list was a dozen eggs.

With my grocery shopping done, I headed home. Home was a very small double wide mobile home. Whoever had owned the beast before me had been a Martha Stewart wannabe. It looked like an average double wide on the outside, except for the house grade vinyl siding and the real stone foundation.

Someone had added a concrete stoop complete with metal awning onto the front. It made for a small porch of sorts. I had sat there with a cup of bad coffee more than a few times. The small lot on which the beast sat was landscaped much better than any of the other double wide lots around it. Almost all my neighbors had no front porch, but they had a rear deck, I had the porch but no real deck. The rear deck was just enough for steps and an uncovered landing. If I tried to enter there during a storm, I got soaked. I had been meaning to add an awning over it for the five years I had owned the place. I just never got around to it. After all it was clear more than it rained, so it just kept slipping my mind.

I used the cardboard panels to create my own Murder Board. I attached the cardboard to the upgrade drywall with push pins. Those I found in my desk drawer where I knew they would be.

My first attachment to the board was a picture of Shanon McDonald on the autopsy table.

The question I wrote on the board was, HOW DID SHE GET IN MY RESERVOIR.

Under that heading, I put the chart from the city’s hydro engineer. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but I had a good idea who could get me an answer. It was way too late to catch my cousin Davie in his office at the University, but I had his home number. I got voice mail so I explained that I needed an expert. I sent him the data I had and asked that he check around the campus for me. Since David owed me, I figured he would find someone.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Jay Jay arrived just after 9 pm. “So why are you interested in Shanon McDonald?”

“Is that the name of the girl who went into the lake.?”

“Why don’t you know that? I heard you picked up a copy of the police report today.”

“Damn woman, do you have spies everywhere?”

“Here and there, and they thought I would like to know what my boyfriend is up to.”

“I doubt they think of me as your boyfriend.”

“Well my secret lover, which is not even a secret from my mother.”

I smiled waited a couple of minute then asked. “So what’s the scoop on Shanon?”

“She was seventeen years old and a senior at Central High School.”

“Any extra curricular activities?”

“Do you mean like the marching band or like drugs?”

“Either?”

“She wasn’t the social type. Friends said she was voted most likely to wipe out the school and commit suicide.”

“Ah, black trench coat type?”

“Yeah Goth, or as much Goth as you a teen can be in a southern town.”

“Any drugs in her life?”

“None we could find, but the police report should answer that better.”

“I was waiting for your footage before I went into all that.”

“So are we going to watch an hour's worth of my coverage of Shanon McDonald, or are we going to screw?”

“Is that a one or the other option?”

“Afraid so, I have to be back at the studio in two hours.”

“Oh why do you have to go back in the middle of the night.”

“Buddy and I are going to take a train ride. The train only stops here in the middle of the night these days.”

“So why are you doing it anyway?”

“We are going to interview the last of the old black men Arlo Gutherie wrote about. You know the song “City of New Orleans” was actually about a conductor he met on a train. The last of the old timers on the New York to New Orleans run is retiring. Now everything is automated. Pa Systems to make the announcements and the trains have automated doors and steps. Just no need for conductors anymore.”

“Well then let’s get to bed, since I know that is the only reason you come here.” I said it with a smile. She placed the dvd on the kitchen table, then led the way to my bedroom.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

One thing I learned that afternoon, water all looks alike. The secret was on the shoreline, not in the water.

We passed a restaurant and bar on the way to the recovery site. The parking lot was enclosed on the water side by a low concrete block wall. It would not have been difficult for an average guy to lift an average sized woman over the wall. I had assumed that the woman was average size.

“The woman, they fished out of here, wasn’t especially large was she?” I asked.

“Pretty average I would say,” Jane replied.

“Thanks, I couldn’t for the live of me remember that part of the autopsy report.”

“They say the memory is the first to go,” she suggested.

“It isn’t.” I said with a laugh. “It’s the legs.”

I sat quietly until she said, “We should be right on top of where they found her floating. Some guys on their way fishing saw her.”

“So we are about a mile north of the restaurant,”

“Yes but there are plenty of houses with lake access around here as well.”

“I guess you are right. So where is the campground from here?”

“Two miles north west of here. Why?”

“Just trying to figure out where she might have gone in.”

“She didn’t go for a swim chief, she was strangled then dumped.”

“Well that’s true enough. She wasn’t just strangled it was with a ligature. That is the kind of killing that is planned at least a little. Spur of the moment it’s done with the hands. Okay I have seen enough. It’s a little chilly on the lake.”

“Chief, you are going to need long johns if you plan to go out on the lake,”

“I suppose I’ll have to put them on my list. At least the uniform coat is pretty warm.”

“Yes it is chief, but it is so damn green.”

“Not your best color?”

“I look terrible in green. Not to mention how my legs seem to dangle out the bottom of that heavy parka.” I had to admit she had a point she probably looked like a chicken in the heavy parka. “Which is why I wear two sets of thermals and the lightweight jacket in the winter. I just hate that parka.”

“I think the parka is going to be my best friend,” I suggested.

I got home around six that evening with the pizza in tow. I immediately put it into the frig’ since Jay jay liked it cold. I had time to watch Jay Jay on the evening news. She was a little long in the tooth compared to the national new anchors, but in my opinion she was better looking than a lot of them. She looked more approachable which would be better suited to the regional all news channel. There catch phrase was All the local news from around the state, when you need it.” Jay Jay was at the station all day recording news events. When she left at five, the just reran them until the next morning.

If I missed her show at six, bits and pieces of it would be running all evening and all night. Jay Jay was quite the local celebrity. The dump job at the reservoir was long past being news. It would remain in limbo until something new came up. That most likely would never happen, but I was enjoying the intellectual pursuit of the unknown mooch.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

The day was slow as I expected almost all days with the park rangers to be. That was most likely why it was filled with old men and anorexic women. They were more security guards, than sworn officers of the law. They did however have the power of arrest not in the parks but in the whole city. They had that more to hold the mooch till the real cops arrived, than to deal with infractions of the law. Everyone agreed that those actions were best left to the real cops. At that time even I agreed. I fully expected it to change before my two years were done, but slowly.

I managed to get down to the police station to get a copy of the file on the dump job, as I had come to think of it. The file wasn't all that thick,which led me to believe it went cold quickly. From the crime scene crew's notes I got the exact coordinates of the body when it was discovered. I made a note of them.

I also got the approximate time of death from the autopsy report. I did some math as to how long the body was in the water. The dumpee could have been in the water almost two days. It would depend on how long after death she was pushed into the reservoir.

What I wanted to know was could she have been tossed from the campground. Would the body have made it a half mile from the campground to the pickup spot in a lake with no real currents. The water moved from the feeder creeks to the overflow, which fed the family park with all the attractions. That movement was the only current and it should have been insignificant.

I had to admit I just didn't know enough about the science. What I lacked in science, I made up for with organizational skill. I figured a specialist would need the current rate as small as it might be, the wind speed and directions during that time, and a good map of the lake to work with.

So before I began looking for an expert, I worked on assembling those things. I called the water and sewer chief engineer. When I finally got him on the line I began with, "This is Chief Burke with the park rangers, yes I promoted myself, I need to know the rate of flow in the city's upper reservoir and marina."

"I have it somewhere. can I get back to you in a couple of hours?"

"That's fine just call the office at the marina they can take the information, if I'm not available." I suggested. "Oh one more thing, if the rate of flow varies, I will need to know the factors involved."

"Sure I can tell you now, it will depend on the amount of rain in the last 3 months. More rain the more current. I can get you a copy of the current chart broken down by rainfall. I have it somewhere on the computer. Give me your email address."

"Hold on, I'll get it for you." Maybelle provided the email and I passed it on to the city's hydro engineer. Maybelle also arranged for me to change the password on the account.

While I waited for the chart of current flow in the reservoir, I convinced Jane to stop by and pick me up again. Once in the car I asked, "Do we have a boat with GPS?"

"Sure our power boat has that," she informed me with great pleasure. Jane liked being a teacher and guide.

"Okay let's get it and go see the pickup site for the dump job last spring."

"We don't need GPS for that, I have been there a couple of time helping with the evidence search."

Monday, October 4, 2010

By Monday morning I had worked out my plan for the park rangers. Since I had old men and anorexic women in uniform. I decided that it was best that they do just as they had done all along, just as little as possible. The one change I did make was to insist that the dispatcher try me before she called the duty ranger. If I wasn't doing anything, I would handle any night calls myself. If the call became an emergency, I wouldn't have to feel bad that I let an old man or anorexic woman take the hit.

After I read the weekend logs and incident reports, I called JJ at the TV station. "J.J. it's Burke here," I said to her voice mail. "I need a favor how about giving me a call. You know the number call the cell phone."

It took about an hour but she did return my call. "Burke you calling me at work, did they finally fire you?"

"Not yet, but it might not be much longer. There just isn't anywhere lower they can transfer me."

"Well if you aren't in the hospital, and you aren't on the street, why the heck did you call me at work. Do you want to do lunch?" She laughed at the very idea of it.

"Tell you what, I'll take you to lunch, if you do me this favor."

"Oh what kind of favor is it. It must be really important for you to risk being seen with me."

"That's not as big a deal as it used to be. I don't think park rangers catch hell for their pillow talk with reporters."

"Yeah, so what do you need?" she had turned serious suddenly.

"I need everything you have on a dump job out at the marina last spring."

"Hey I did the initial report on that is there something new?"

"Only thing new is that I want to review the case file. I want to see the news coverage before I get the police file."

"Didn't you see it all at the time?"

"No I was working vice at the time. I heard about it but I had no contact with the case at all. I do know it went cold."

"Yeah cold because she was a local. If she had been a tourist, they would have worked it till hell froze over. It was during the time that the Mayor was trying to increase the size of the trade shows. He said the town could take in a few million more, if the tourist had a better impression of the place. That and if the citizens would vote for him again, of course."

"Of course," I said in agreement.

"I'll have Eddie make you some copies and put them on a DVD. I can drop it by tonight."

"That would be great, bring your notes as well. I know you found out things that didn't make it on air."

"I hate that you know me that well. Okay notes it is, and for this I want the deluxe pizza not the two topping one."

"Garbage can pizza it is. I'll pick it up and stash it in the refrig until you get there."

"You know I only do the six o'clock news now."

"Then you check the reaction of the focus group and then you set your appointments for the next day. If you get to my place before ten I will be shocked."

"Yeah, you do know me."

Sunday, October 3, 2010

I got my first look at the park ranger staff that afternoon. It seemed that all of them found an excuse to drop by the marina office. The marina was where I chose to make my office. It was the newest of the parks, and it was adjacent to the campground. Most of the problems I had seen came from the campground.

The rangers were a sorry looking lot in general with only one exception. There were eight of them to cover two shifts and to cover then after our calls.

As they drifted in I assured each of them individually that I expected any changes to be for the better. I was willing to discuss any change I made with them before I implemented it. I hoped that we could work things out before they went to Melton but I also understood that personal differences would wind up on his desk. I hoped that there wouldn't be any, but expected that there would be.

Most of the rangers took it with good grace, not all but most did. I noticed a couple of the guys seemed to feel slighted somehow. I couldn't quite understand, since there had never been a position like mine and most likely they would keep it after I was gone. One of them was likely to be the next supervisor of park security.

"I have a question," a morbidly thin women stated.

"Shoot," I said it since we were alone in the office. No sense waiting for a crowd to form.

"I hope you don't expect us to be cops. We pretty much suggest compliance with the rules, then if we don't get it, we threaten to call a cop. As a last resort we do call a cop."

"I totally agree with that policy, unless the mooch comes at you swinging. In that case I want you to put his ass in the hospital. Even if it's only to have the pepper stray washed from his eyes."

"I can agree with your policy in that case."

"Good then we see eye to eye on it. One more thing, when you call the cops, you also call me at the same time." She looked a little like she wanted to say "Whatever." so I added, "That isn't a suggestion. There will be a memo to that effect." I scribbled a note to send a memo. I hadn't even thought of it before.

"Since you are in uniform, I assume you are the duty ranger at the moment."

"Yes I am." she replied.

"Good then you can take me on a tour of the parks tomorrow and I will take you to lunch." We arranged to meet at ten the next morning for the tour.

I passed the evening with a bottle of Jack Daniel's and My computer set for old TV shows.

As usual I skipped breakfast the next morning and drove to the marina. My office was no more than a janitor's closet with a window. At least that seemed to be the size to me. It was okay since I didn't plan to be in it often. I was a beat cop and planned to be a beat ranger.

Jane arrived promptly at ten. The first place she took me was a large recreational park with a few of rides and picnic tables. It also had a swimming pool. The pool was a problem spot she informed me. Usually the calls there went directly to the city police.

"Those calls usually are serious. The police response time is better and they are better prepared to cope with that kind of issue."

"That sounds reasonable, since I don't want this to be anything but a peace keeping force. I'm not looking to turn you guys into a swat team." She seemed relieved by that pronouncement.

From the lake front park, we drove to several of the small city parks with baseball fields. "There was almost never a problem call with these parks. Usually we make an appearance at the picnic shelters just to show the uniform. Sometimes we get a call from the 911 dispatch, if there is a disturbance but usually they go to the police patrol officer. Sometimes we write tickets in these small parks for open bottles of beer and wine."

She also drove me to the city golf course and tennis complex. "We have jurisdiction here but seldom do anything at all. Once in a while we write a ticket for open alcohol containers here as well. That is usually in the parking lot. I personally have never been past the parking lot. I never had any need to do so."

We stopped for lunch before we went to the campground. I don't think she expected steak or anything, but she seemed disappointed when I directed her to the county fairgrounds. Since it was Friday the vendor wagons were working the flea market. I had her stop near Charlie's Hot Dog Stand. That was the name on the side of the trailer.

"Charlie, give us two dogs with everything and two cokes." I turned to Jane, "Is that okay with you?"

"Sure but I am going to tell everyone not to expect anything when you take a girl to lunch."

"Oh well I thought you had already been warned." The dogs came on a square piece of cardboard. The cardboard was most likely recycled from a box of some kind. Charlie did cover it with something like waxed paper but much thinner. I carried the dogs and Jane carried the cokes. We used the hood of the ranger car as a stand up table.

"Wow this is a great hot dog. I never had one with so much crap on it," Jane said.

"I know and the chips are home made. Probably why the hot dog is two and a half bucks."

"Well it is worth it for sure. Is he here every day?"

"Just on Friday. Believe it or not, he has a web site with a list of his locations for the week. People actually check it out to follow him around."

After the standup lunch, we drove to the campground. The area had 50 sites that could accept a trailer with water and sewer connections. The other fifty sites could handle tents or small campers but they had no water or sewer connections. There were water faucet every twenty yards along the access drives. If you didn't spring for the fancy sites, you carried your own water and used the community bath house. Every space did have electricity, so even the tent campers had power.

Open campfires were forbidden, but there were elevated charcoal cookers at every site. All in all it was a very nice campground. "We get a few disturbance calls out here. Usually it's during one of the trade shows. Some of the people who attend those tend to be heavy drinkers."

"Yes I know we see a lot of hotel calls during the shows. Everything from drunks giving the clerks crap to rape. those things might bring a lot of money to town but they are a major pain in the butt."

"Did Maybelle tell you about the dumped body in the reservoir?"

"Yes she did. Why was it during a show?"

"We found it after and on the other side of the lake, but the time it went in could have been right after the show. They don't all leave right away. The guys who stay here are mostly the setup people. They also stay to take the show down."

"I assume from what you say they didn't catch the killer."

"Didn't you know?"

"I was a patrol sergeant. I didn't keep up anyone else's cases, mine were plenty."

"No, they never caught anyone."

Maybe I would find something to play around with while I waited out my retirement after all. Catching a killer was a nice fantasy, but highly unlikely.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

The last story just never spoke to me enough to finish so I'm moving on. It happens often when I write. The false start syndrome.

So this is the new one.

...................................................................................
Ranger

"So you're the new guy?" The question came from an at least forty pound over weight young woman.

"Yep. I'm the FNG. My name is Michael Burke, but you can call me Mr Burke." I replied.

She ignored my attempt at formality and just jumped right in. "Well we sure have heard a lot about you. Did you really beat the crap out of the mayor's son?"

I didn't quite know what to say, The chubby chick was at least open and direct. I would probably have liked that, if she hadn't directed it at me. "He said I did," I replied.

"They say anyone else would have been fired."

"I heard that to," I hoped she would get it all out so the rest of the people working at the city ranger's office wouldn't be asking. Telling it all once was more than enough."

"I suppose it would have been hard to call you the city's greatest hero in March, and fire you in June?" she added.

"I suppose dating a TV reporter didn't hurt either." I said it so she wouldn't have to.

"I guess that is true." she agreed. She went on, "Friend of mine on the force said, 'Don't try to be his friend, but if shit happens out here find him and glue yourself to him.'"

"Oh does shit ever happen here?" I had expected to do the next two years riding around checking campsites and then to retire gracefully. It was the deal the chief and I had made.

"We get a mean drunk now and then. Had a couple of drownings and even a body dumped in the lake last spring."

"Sounds like an exciting life you have here."

"Well the city cops do most of the heavy lifting. If it gets nasty, we just back off and call them."

"Yeah, I was out here on a domestic a while back. Nothing worse than a man and wife having a beef in a twenty foot camper."

"It does seem to upset the neighbors," she agreed.

"So is there a park ranger to show me around." She probably guessed that I wasn't thrilled with the new position in which I found myself. I managed a lateral transfer from patrol Sergeant to head of the park rangers. I didn't lose any pay or any of my accrued time for retirement. Of course the job had been created for me since the rangers had previously been supervised by the parks and recreation department. In theory I worked for the parts department as well. The truth was I pretty much would be working on my own. It was up in the air as to whom I would report to. At least it had been all the last week.

"I got a call from Bruce Melton this morning first thing. He wants you to report to his office at the parks and recreation department. You do know where that is?"

"Sure in that old school on Elm street," I replied.

"Yes that's the one. There is a car assigned to you in the parking lot." She placed the keys on the counter. It's the only one out there. When You get back I can show you your office and call Jane in to show you around the park."

"Sounds like a plan."

"By the way, just so you know, I don't work for you."

"That's fine." I replied as I headed for the parking lot. I turned back at the door to add, "In that case I'll make the call for the duty ranger to come show me around, when I get back. If you have a list of all the rangers and their home phone numbers, just leave it on my desk please. If it's not too much trouble, that is." Yes I was sarcastic with her. If she really wanted to have a pissing contest, I would be happy to play along.

Bruce Melton was a kid at least ten years younger than me. I had worked for younger men before and found them a pain in the ass. It had to do with their needed to prove themselves to me. Melton was no exception.

"We haven't exactly worked out how this relationship will work, but I expect that you will cooperate."

"You can expect anything you like, but I will do what I have to do. One of the things I will not do, is to do nothing at all. So don't worry, I'm sure I will be a pain in your ass, like I am everywhere I go." I did smile when I said it.

"I'm sure we can find things to keep you busy for the next two years."

"Oh I am sure you can. I think when you get around to figuring out how things work, you are going to find that I am solely responsible for security at the various parks, you are responsible for everything else in the parks."

"The rangers have always answered to me," he said indignantly.

"And I'm sure when I retire they will again, but in the meantime the will report to me and I will keep you in the loop."

"You understand that you work for me," he said angrily.

"And you understand that I am here as a representative of the police department and the Mayor's office." Okay it was bullshit, but it worked to put a little fear into him. Kids, you gotta love them. They intimidate so easily.

I wondered how long it took him, after I left his office, to make the calls to city hall. It would be even more interesting to know who he called. I doubt that he called the chief of police or the mayor. He wasn't high enough up the food chain to question them. Most likely he called the city manager. If he did, he probably got the old give him enough rope speech. I seemed to be collecting rope from everyone. That god for the civil service board. I was so close to retirement that I would have to kill the mayor in the McDonalds parking lot at noon, to get fired. Mostly it was because the feds were looking into the firing of employees everywhere who were almost eligible for retirement. Some companies and even cities were trying to use it as a cost cutting tool.

The truth was that I was pretty safe, as long as I didn't punch the little prick. I was pretty sure he had been told to keep a black book on me. When my twenty came around, they would sit down and use it to force me into retirement. At the moment the score on me was tied. Three commendations for bravery and good police work and three complaints. Not a bad score unless the last complain was from the mayor. Seems he didn't like the fact that I refused to lose his son's DUI arrest.

To be honest, I threatened to have my girl friend do a piece on the event, if he got any special treatment. I think they knew that it wasn't an idle threat.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

"Did you have any kind of relationship with her, other than dealing with her about the bike?"

"None whatsoever," I replied truthfully.

"Then tell them the truth. If it looks like they are going to compromise you call me before you do anything else."

"Fair enough," I replied, then rang off.

I rode my Rhino bike to the shop. I chose it over the fancy expensive bike, because I had a lot less invested should I have an accident with it. Also it was more fun because it got noticed. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that it was a power bike.

When I got to the shop, I checked to make sure everything was where I had left it the night before. The bike builder wasn't due in until 10 A.M., so I had the place to myself. I rounded up all the paperwork and computer records of the transaction with Lucille Monroe. There weren't many, just a few emails from her about the bike. There was the original sales contract and a receipt signed by her for the return of her money for the purchase price of the bike.

As a matter of fact the bike was still in the showroom. I had planned to put it into the rent/lease program but just hadn't needed it so far.

In my record search I realized the one things I didn't need was a through search of my records. It was in my best interest not to be a person of interest in her death. I hoped that there were some real leads. I didn't need to only person she ever pissed off.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

"Hello," I said into the phone. I knew I sounded irritated because I was. I had answered the phone a dozen times while trying to spray paint a bike frame. I had decided to make a couple of stealth bikes, so I was spray painting them urban camo. Three different shades of gray went on one bike and the other had brick red and mortar gray colors.

"Nice, I hope you don't plan to sell many bikes with that attitude," the voice replied.

"If I don't get back to work, I won't have anything to sell. So what can I do for you?" I thought the voice belonged to Jengin but I wasn't sure.

"Your name came up in an investigation. I wanted to give you a heads up. I don't think the Ds will be talking to you but just in case, you might want to get your records together."

"What records?"

"You sold a bike to a woman named Lucille Monroe. She evidently wrote you an angry email."

"Yes she did. The bitch wanted her money back, so I gave it to her."

"Get your records and have them ready. Not too ready though. I don't want them to know I gave you a heads up."

"So what are you investigating?"

"Homicide, I can't say any more."

"Geese what happened to her. She must have pissed someone else off with that attitude of hers."

"What attitude is that?"

"She didn't listen to the explanation or read the brochure before she bought the bike. She kept it a month then swore it never worked right. I had one of the other guys check it out since I couldn't find anything wrong with it. She just realized that she couldn't ride it to work everyday. It does rain down here now and then."

"Well, I don't think I would call her a bitch, if the Ds come around."

"I probably won't. Thanks for the heads up."

I was on the phone to Cindy within five minutes. "So they probably won't come around but if they do, how do you want me to handle it?" I asked.

"I have to ask Eddie. Did you have anything to do with this mess?"

"Hell no."

Monday, September 6, 2010

I figured most of the bike riders wouldn't mind doing a little pedaling so I could get away with a smaller motor and lighter batteries. Truth is the bikes were just a toy in anything but almost perfectly flat areas. Coastal areas and the great plains were perfect for Ebikes. Just about anywhere else and they were a pain.

I was happy to sell the toy kits all over the country, but I knew in my heart they would be used seldom except in the area previously mentioned. Still it was a start in the new year in a new direction. 'The League of Old Men,' as I called my workers, were very careful builders.

One of the Old men was a retired welder. He cut, drilled and assembled the frame of the drive. The second was an old bicycle shop mechanic who was bored to tears sitting at home. He assembled the motor drive wheel and frame. He then fitted it to a bike, and rode it two miles. If it checked out, he disassembled it and packed it for shipment. The third man was a retired office worker with a big trucking company. He took care of the orders and shipping. They didn't really need me except when one of them was sick. I could fill in for anyone.

I sold the kits on Ebay and Craig's list. By the spring of that first year, I was doing more in kits than in bicycles. I didn't make a lot of money, but I could sure laundry at lot through the business. To laundry the money, I just built a bike on paper and sold it for the top price and then sold it to a tombstone buyer. After I had the buyer's name from the obits, I just figuratively pedaled the bike off a cliff. It seemed to be working pretty good to add a grand ever couple of months to my take.

With spring came the return of the tourist season and the custom bike sales and rental business. That second year it was bigger than ever. I kept busy and was having a grand old time. I built bikes. fished a little, and hung out at the Holiday Inn's ocean side lounge on Wednesday nights.

I hadn't had near as much fun over the winter as I was having during the spring of that second year. I had fished, arranged for the building of bike motor kits, and went out with Jengin. She and I began sleeping together just after Christmas but I was a disappointment. I should have stopped after the first time, but I swear I thought it would get better.

The expression, "The worst I even had wasn't all that bad," fitted Jengin to a tee. She was usually hammered when we slept together and pretty close to catatonic. I was thrilled to see that she and I both got busy with the start of tourist season. It was almost a blessing that she had less and less time for me.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Three weeks later the Marshall program counter signed a note for one hundred and forty seven thousand dollars and change. When the papers were all signed, I took possession of another falling down Monkey Junction building. I found a contractor willing to do the minimum repairs necessary for the building to be habitable for seventy five thousand dollars. The Marshall service underwrote that loan as well.

What the Marshall service never knew is that the contractor and I worked out a deal. I paid him cash for anything above the minimum repairs. The base contract was to repair the roof, the carpentry, and replace the doors and windows with contractor grade materials. I explained to him that I wanted a steel doors with a spy hole in ever unit. The code required a second entrance which really wouldn't have been a problem since each unit after being renovated would have a living room kitchen combination and a bedroom bathroom. In other words one of the new units would be two of the old motel rooms. My unit of course would be the old office and one of the adjoining old motel rooms. The way it worked out I had one end unit for storage.

In what was the bedroom unit I had the contractor close up the front door, and add a rear door. It was an unnecessary expense but one I paid for myself so no harm no foul to the government. The contractor and I agree that no one needed to know about the very large over run expenses. When I finally got the units ready to rent after two more months it was Christmas in Monkey Junction.

To celebrate my new digs, I decided to have a Christmas party at the shop. All my employees were invited, that was a total of none. The two fabricator /subcontractors and their families got an invitation of course, all the local people who had bought bikes from me got an invitation. I was surprised to find that I had sold a dozen, give or take one or two, high end bikes. The moped trailers were a much better selling product. I had sold twenty three of those retail and another fifty odd ones to dealers who resold them to their customers.

The five push trailers I had the fabricators build sat on the showroom floor untouched. I had to push them into the shop for the party. I expected that those would wind up being a game show question. You know, what was the best idea that never sold a unit, kind of thing.

I invited Jengin of course, but she didn't show. I hadn't expected her to. Everyone I did any kind of business with got invitations as well. The employees of the Monkey Junction diners where I ate, the convenience store employees,where I bought my gas. In other words everyone I knew in my new life.

I usually over estimated my popularity, but it seems I underestimated the people of Monkey Junctions love of free food and beer. I can only say that it was a good thing I had located the shop near a grocery store. The family that was doing the catering just kept making trips to the store and adding to my bill as the night progressed. I spoke to a lot of people I had never seen before, but that was okay. It was the only time I expected to ever have a party there.

I shouldn't have been surprised to see Cindy, but I was. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Hey, I'm like the rest of these people I never miss free food and drinks." She tried to smile but I could see that something was on her mind.

"So why the long face?"

"This isn't keeping a low profile Eddie," she stated bluntly.

"I know but these are all local people and this won't make the papers."

"I hope not," was her only reply.

The Christmas party ended at midnight only because we ran out of food and beer. The reason we ran out of everything at midnight, was the store closed at ten. The family who had taken care of the food, presented me with a bill while Cindy was dancing with the younger brother of the man who fabricated my moped trailers. I paid the hefty bill with cash that was till warm from the off shore bank.

"I understand that contractor finally got finished at your apartment building," Cindy said after her dance.

"Yes he did, That's some of why we are partying tonight. I have a new place to go home to tonight."

"I'm coming with you for the grand tour," she demanded.

"Sure, but only one unit has furniture, mine."

"I'll sleep on your sofa."

"No way, you sleep in the bed."

"Where will you sleep?" she asked.

"Anywhere you want me to sleep."

Friday, August 27, 2010

She was gone when I woke up Thursday morning. I can't say that I was disappointed, since I didn't remember anything about the night before after we left the bar. That being the case, I knew nothing had happened. Falling asleep on a woman was a little rare, but I had done it before, so I didn't go looking for a shrink.

What I did go looking for was breakfast. A chrome and glass waffle joint came to mind. I hate those chain monstrosities most days, but that morning it seemed to fit my hangover mood. After the waffle and lots of black coffee, I felt more like myself.

Back home in Monkey Junction I was on the prowl for a new home. I had looked at several houses and found them far from acceptable. They were all just plain and small, but worst of all they were mostly landlocked. Not locked away from the ocean. I accepted that since I already knew that was the required life style for at least a couple of more years. No these little houses just couldn't be renovated so that they were acceptable. There was just no room to add onto them. Even property 20 miles from the ocean was at a premium. I just couldn't justify the expense on paper.

What I could justify was another business expense. I passed a deserted motel about ten times every day. It was on the same bypassed road as my shop and showroom. The building was concrete block with a flat roof. I would have bet all my money that the roof was leaky and probably rotten. There were twenty units and the office each with a single large window and a door.

I stopped one day to take a closer look. Other than finding one small window per unit in the rear, the inspection was a waste of my time. Someone had kept the weeds down, so that the abandoned building didn't appear to be in ruins. Still it was pretty ratty looking.

The small sign in the office window had the name of a realty company and a phone number. I used my cell phone from the parking lot of the motel.

"Mabe realty," the female voice on the phone informed me.

"Good morning, I'm standing in the parking lot of an abandoned motel in Monkey Junction. Since your sign is in the window I decided to give you a call. Can you hook me up with someone who can give me the asking price please." I had expected the phone to be answered by a receptionist.

"I can do that, the price for that piece of property is 200k as is." she informed me.

"Well I own the bike shop down the street. I can tell you that it is going to be sitting there a long time at that price. Thanks for taking my call though."

"What kind of price did you have in mind?"

"I don't have one until I get a look at the interior. But I can tell you right now it isn't 200K. It wouldn't be any more than half of that, so no since wasting each other's time.

"Can't hurt to look," she suggest

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Even though Wednesday night at the Holiday Inn had changed, it was till a place I visited every week. I guess I had become a creature of habit. I chose Wednesday as my one weeknight out.

I pretty much stuck to my routine even though the tourist no longer crowded the streets. Riding the bike around Wrightsville Island didn't produce nearly the calls it once had. Most of the calls I got were from people who saw my webpage. I got a lot more email than phone calls by that time.

I had been house hunting all day, so I needed the drink I ordered at the Holiday Inn's bar. Even though it was Wednesday night, the lounge was almost empty. I was about halfway through my first beer, when I heard the voice.

"Okay bike builder on your feet," I looked up into the bar mirror. I saw Jen gin standing behind me.

"I do hope this is a joke?" I suggested.

"Yes, but it always gets a man's attention.."

Tight jeans work just as well. The guy doesn't go to the bathroom and never come back nearly as often with my method." I did say it while smiling. "So how is the Holden Beach PD?"

"Boring, I want to move to a bigger town."

"Oh really, what do you have in mind, New York."

"Not that big, I was thinking Wilmington."

"You should do that," I replied.

"I just need one big bust to get noticed," she suggested.

"I can't help you."

"Too bad you aren't a big time coke dealer."

"My banker probably feels the same way." I waited in silence while she took a seat at the bar. Then I waited while she ordered a drink, which I paid for of course. "So what brings you out on the town tonight?"

"Saying goodbye to the tourist season," she replied.

"Is this a celebration, or a wake?"

"A little of both. From now until spring break, Holden Beach will be a ghost town. All the retired cops in the area, who work there in the summer, will be gone. It will be back to two officers on patrol with nothing to do but try to keep the locals from putting kitchen knives into their spouses."

"Sounds like total boredom with a shot of terror now and then," I admitted.

"Yep," she said sadly. There just didn't seem to be anything in her future but coffee and donuts until spring. She didn't need too many more donuts either.

"You should get a bicycle to fill your time. Riding up and down the beach roads would be good for you. Tune up the old heart, kind of thing," I suggested.

"You just happen to have one right?"

"Go to the downtown flea market in Wilmington on Saturday. Tell the owner that Eddie sent you. He will fix you up at flea market prices." She looked at me questioningly. I sell power bikes not pedal ones. You need to pedal around over the winter. It will be good for you."

One drink turned into five. "I'm going to check into the motel tonight. The rates are down, and I have had too much to drink." Flashing her badge might get a buy on a driving under the influence, but it wouldn't help me any. I could just hear Cindy going off on me for being arrested. "You are welcome to spend the night no strings attached."

"Do you do this often?" she asked.

"I came down for two drinks and to relax. The rest just happened, but fifty bucks for a room is better than a night in the drunk tank. The local police have nothing better to do than stop people driving home after midnight, just to be sure they aren't DWI."

"That is true, we do it in Holden Beach as well. Okay, but no tricks, I have a black belt."

"Then why aren't you wearing it?" I asked being my usual smart assed self.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

The first chill, such as it was, came to Wilmington NC. a few months after I settled in. It didn't take long for me to realize that I needed a better place to live than the camper. It wasn't the space, even though I did need more of that as well, it was the air leaks that got to me. A drafty trailer in the summer was nice enough, but a drafty trailer in the winter was going to be a real SOB.

With that in mind, I began thinking about a place to settle. Even though the e-bike and moped trailer sales surprised me, I hadn't been able to laundry enough money to justify a house on the ocean. At least not one which would comfortably handle the winter weather.

My plan was to find something to buy far enough from the ocean so that it would appear that I could afford it. I also wanted something I could turn over, when I had enough cash flow, legal and ill gotten gains, to justify a ocean front place. The Marshall's witness protection detail was still watching me, so I dared not dip too deeply into my off shore cash.

"Cindy, how's my guardian angel doing?" I asked it with what I hoped was a smile in my voice.

"I have no idea, but I'm just fine. What's your problem today?" she asked.

"The weather down here is about to change hon. I need to start looking for a winter home."

"What, you want to leave where you are?"

"Not the town or the business, but it's time to get out of the trailer. I need to get into something a little more permanent."

"Why hurricane season is over and you are still there?" she had that twinkle in her voice so that I knew she was smiling. "You should be good till next summer."

"It has to do with comfort. After all I'm not getting any younger."

"Thirty-five is not old."

"Thirty-three," I said to correct her.

"So what do you need from me."

"I need you to arrange the financing on something that I can afford."

"Eddie, you have been in business three months, there is nothing you can afford without our stipend."

"Yes but I can't explain that income to a bank, but you can."

"Find something and send me the numbers. I will see what I can do to get you a loan with a low or no down payment."

"I might have to arrange some kind of deal with you for the down payment as well." I didn't have to at all, but I really did want it to look legitimate. I didn't want Cindy asking questions either.

I figured the thing to do was to buy a house through the Marshall service, then have my own little company buy up the mortgage and just pretend to pay it. I could buy something inexpensive and then have it renovated for cash, I could get a nice house with a mortgage that looked affordable on paper. Yes it was a shell game but I didn't mind a little misdirection I had made a living doing that. I new how to manipulate the shells, but II had learned how to make the shells in the Federal Prison Camp.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

I made a mental note to always come to the Motel on Wednesday nights from that time forward. I asked several of the ladies to dance until I found one who agreed. She was a very well taken care of blonde on the sunny side of forty.

We actually had fun. A few dances a couple of drinks and a walk on the beach. I didn't pressure her to have sex but it happened anyway. I have no idea why. Maybe for her it was part of her beach experience. For me it was just part of the experience of life. Food, shelter, and sex it was all part of life, as far as I was concerned. One was no more important than the other.

One thing that was pretty scary was keeping an eye on the alarm clock. The child care ended at midnight, so I had to be gone. The drive back to the camper in the middle of the night was no fun, so I moved the Wednesday night idea to a slightly lower position, on my things to do list.

I didn't have much to do, since I was winding down my bike building until I got a feel for the winter demand. I didn't mind the break from building, except that I got bored easily. I spent some time surf fishing and drinking coffee on the pier.

I began to notice an increase in the number of scooters around. Those didn't belong to summer tourist who had rented them for the week, but to locals getting too and from work. More and more I noticed them trying to come up with ways to carry cargo on the scooters.

My little bike power trailer would be a natural, if the motor and batteries were removed. One could transport a week's worth of groceries easily. Since the speeds and distances would be longer the bicycle tires and wheels might not do. At least they would look too light weight. I went on line to do some basic research. I found that I could buy used wheels and tires from the electric scooters very reasonably. I bought one used set on ebay, then I found a new set from an online scooter parts house.

After I made the decision to give it a try, it took a week to get all the parts in and to assemble the first scooter trailer. I made the bed of the trailer with the new wheels resemble a utility trailer by attaching a metal tool box to it. That trailer would have a retail cost of about three hundred dollars. I didn't expect to sell it.

However the one made with the used wheels was my economy model. It had a bed made with a plywood floor and sides like an old cattle truck. That one I marked at half the price of the fancy one. That one might or might not sell. I put an advertisement for them on craig's list.

I got calls about both of them but no one willing to put down the money. Craig's list was mostly about used merchandise at give away prices.

I have to explain a little about my welder at this point. He was an accidental discovery. The retired shipyard worker had done my first trailers but he decided he didn't want to build the same things over and over. Like me he just wanted to do things that he enjoyed. Production work wasn't one of them. From him I learned enough to make a really ugly prototype trailer.

After the prototype I went looking for someone to do the work. I wanted someone who would bankrupt me. I also needed someone who couldn't steel my design and go into business for himself. As I said Hector was an accidental discovery. I saw his rusty pickup truck with an equally rusty portable welder at the one service station in Monkey Junction.

His English wasn't good and my Spanish is non existent but we managed to work out a deal for him to weld a trailer frame just like the one I showed him. I did hope his version had cleaner welds.

From the start I knew he was an experienced welder and metal worker. I had no idea where he was trained or what his emigration status was, I just knew that I could afford him and he did good work. In that respect I was no different from all the other people who hired questionable workers.

I had taken the work to the retired ship builder, but Hector and I worked out a deal. Hector came by my shop and used my cheap welder to assemble my trailer frames. In the process I learned a lot from him. It got so he would call me every couple of days to see if I had any work for him. I began to feel the pressure to keep him working until I forced myself to remember he wasn't an employee. He was just casual labor.

In the second week I took a trailer with the cattle sides to the local scooter dealer. He let me leave it in his parking lot with a sign. It wasn't a gimme, I did have to pay for the space. He didn't want to be a dealer at first. I took orders and Hector and I made custom trailers for gasoline scooter owners. Hector quickly learned how to make the bike trailers and he was a real asset.

If I had the metal cut with the chop saw he could assemble either kind of trailer frame in a couple of hours. I put ads on a couple of moped sites for the trailers as well as on the motor bike forums. It was slow going but I didn't need the money to live so I was content if the business broke even.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Cindy came to vacation at the beach without her kids. I showed her a couple of restaurants the tourist never could have found. The seafood restaurant served only fresh fish and shrimp. It was every bit as good as the high priced spread. The place had no real decorations unless you count the cooking grease stains on the walls. There were a few cheap prints of the ocean, but they were so dirty they all looks as though they were shot at dusk.

The diner where I ate most of my meals was about a mile from the shop. It too was inside the unofficial town limits of the unofficial town of Monkey Junction. No you wouldn't find it on any map at least not since highway 17 bypassed the crossroads village fifty years before I got there.

The food ranged from a small daily special at every meal, to a plate of food so large that it came on a platter. You dared not order a side of french fries unless your insurance was paid up. On Fridays they did a huge business in take out orders for an item brand new to me, The item was called a collard sandwich.

The collards were cooked in real pork fat, then spread on a fried hoe cake, before the final hoe cake was added to the sandwich, thick bacon was placed on the collards. I would be willing to bet the owner of the place got a kickback from the cardiologist at the local hospital.

Cindy and I shared one of the sandwiches, washed down with large glasses of iced tea. We ate our collard sandwich with a fork. I had seen guys pick them up to eat, but I never was that courageous.

I almost kissed Cindy the night as we walked along the beach, but she moved away deftly. The attempt may be why, when I next heard from her, she was fifty miles up the road headed home. It didn't matter all that much, but she might have been a fun date in another place and time.

The tourist season ended labor day weekend, so during the dog days of August tourist were everywhere. They were trying to get in those last vacation days before the weather started to change and the kids went back to school.

The shop was almost full of completed bikes. I had more than enough going into the winter months, so I was pretty much out of things to occupy my time. The fishing was fun, but it didn't hold my interest. I was a hit or miss kind of fisherman. I might go three or four days in a row then not go for weeks. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was bored to tears on the Wednesday after Cindy left.

I really hadn't been going out at nights for fear I might do something stupid and attract attention to myself. Since I hadn't really had a night in since my release from the prison camp, I decided to give it a try. It had been several months of drinking alone at home, so I wasn't sure exactly what to do.

I still wanted to be careful not to draw any attention to myself, so I dressed in cotton slacks and a nice clean shirt. I had decided to go to one of the upscale motel lounges on Wrightsville Island. I did everything possible to delay my arrival at the lounge.

I arrived at nine p.m. expecting to find every coupled up and having fun. What I found were about a dozen couples trying to talk over the music. Then there at least a dozen women sitting alone at tables for two.

"Hi," I said to the cute bartender. "I'm new around here."

"Good for you," the cute twenty something bartender replied. "Would you like a drink."

"A draft and some information would be nice." I replied.

"The draft I can do. The information maybe I can do."

"Good," I waited until she returned with the beer before I asked, "Why are there so many women sitting alone?"

"Wednesday night widows," she replied. When it was obvious I had no idea what she meant, she continued. "The motel runs a special. Bring your family down on Saturday, the check out of Friday night before midnight and only pay for five nights. Kids stay in the parents room free."

"Okay but how does that account for Wednesday night widows?"

"A lot of the men bring their families, then go back home to work after the weekend. They come back on Friday to take them home. Mom is stuck in a motel with the kids a week and dad is stuck home working. To keep the homicide rate down, we offer free baby sitting on Wednesday night and a free drink in the lounge."

"Ah, now I get it."

"Well it's a crap shoot, but a lot of guys do get it here on Wednesday night." she added with a smile.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

For the two weeks that I worked on the power trailer, I did nothing else. I did remember to eat most days. When I get wrapped up in a project, I tend to stay with it no matter what. I managed to build all of the bikes I had on hand, before I went to work on the power trailers. That being the case I didn't have anything laying around to break my concentration. I did have to show customers bikes now and then.

The man who welded the prototype was more than willing to build the trailer frames for me. I decided to allow him to build a dozen, by the end of that project I hoped to have learned enough from him to build my own. He agreed to teach me to weld and cut the metal as part of the price for the dozen.

Finding the new sixteen inch wheels was a challenge, but I did find a source for wheels that looked new. The owner of the local flea market had an in with a thrift store chain. He would allow me cherry pick his shipment of bikes, if I agreed to pay flea market price for each and allow him to salvage the bike frames after I stripped the wheels. I had no problem at all with that arrangement.

The welder bought the metal from a salvage yard several miles up the road. The wireless throttles proved a problem, so I cabled a throttle to the trailer. When the trailer was attached to the bike, the throttle cable just had to be stretched to the front of the bike. I wasn't thrilled with the arrangement but it would work. I could always make the wireless throttle an option. The batteries type was an option as well.

With the arrival of the first production model, I began to think about other things. The most important of the other things was having some fun. I was living a few miles from the beach but I did very few things there. I rode the bike along the strand just for the attention but I seldom did anything else.

The least expensive thing to do at the beach was surf fishing. With that in mind I went to visit the flea market run by the man who sold me my bikes.

"You looking for more bikes Eddie?" he asked when he noticed me.

"I think I have enough for now. Tourist season is about over, so business is going to take a nose dive I expect."

"I don't know about that, there seems to be a lot of interest in bikes here. I don't get much tourist trade, so I think it might surprise you."

"I hope so."

"So if not bikes, what are you in the market for today?"

"I'm thinking about trying my luck at surf fishing."

"So you want to get serious about it or just test the waters, so to speak?"

"Just testing it. Before I sink any real money in the project, I want to know that I can stand the solitude."

"That sounds like a good idea."

"So, what do I need?"

"A rod, a reel, a lure and a plastic bucket will do the trick. Come on back and I'll introduce you to Seymore. Seymore has the tackle shop." The flea market was filled with dealers who had individual spaces. The owner leased the spaces and took care of the credit card transactions. He even covered the spaces, if the dealers were not around. He did charge for the service of course.

Seymore was around that morning, so I made my purchases from him. That is I made them after I got a long explanation of the Seymore method of surf fishing. Since I knew nothing about fishing, I just bought what he suggested as long as it was reasonably priced.

What he sold me looked a lot like the fresh water rig I had used as a child but on steroids. The rod I had used as a kid was about five feet long at the very most. The rod I bought from Seymore was twelve feet long and at the base it was about as thick as a small water pipe. Fortunately it came apart into three pieces a little over three feet each. The reel was just a giant open faced spinner reel.

The Seymore rig, as he called it, was a heavy weight and a plastic lure with two feed line between them. The weight held the lure on the ocean floor but the lure also floated two feet above it. Seymore swore that the currents made it appear to be alive. I had my doubts but I bought the whole thing for about thirty bucks, so It seems like a reasonable deal. Seymore even threw in the plastic bucket every fisherman seemed to have.

I would have taken the bike onto the beach, but the sand was far too soft. It would have just been more effort than it was worth. I drove the sedan to the beach. Finding a place to park was a nightmare, but I drove to the end of the island. I found a public car park there. Then I just walked out onto the beach and setup shop. I had seen enough surf fishermen, since my arrival to know I needed a folding chair and a big assed hat.

After I staked my claim to a piece of the beach, I threw in my lure and sat on my folding chair. After a few casts and retrievals I grew bored so I let my mind drift. In my mind I was rolling around on a large bed with a small woman well over the age of consent, when my phone rang.

I answered, "Rhino Bikes."

"I like the name. I'm just checking in on you. Are you staying under the radar?"

"Hell, sometimes I forget who I am. How are things in copville?"

"How the hell would I know, I'm just a glorified realtor," Cindy said. "We never do any cop things in this shop."

"Ah well at least it is nice and safe. You husband and kids don't have to worry about you coming home at night.":

"Kids are teenagers, they don't even know I exist. Husband got remarried to another teenager, which brings me to why I called. I'm going to come down and do the surf and sand thing for a couple of days. It's time for me to review your situation."

"Do I really need a review, I'm a model citizen these days." It was true. I was saving myself for a time when the feds took their eyes off me to start living up to my means. At that time i was still in my beach bum stage.

Friday, August 13, 2010

I figured the hub motors were best with the lithium battery packs and for those I should charge the most. Preferably something ridiculous.. I also figured that I would look for a less expensive ebike as well. That was the problem. There just were no really inexpensive kits readily available.

The chain driven kits were almost as expensive as the hub motors. There were also other problems with the chain drive. They were noisy and less efficient energy wise. Their advantages were wasted on the flat geography of the area.

I almost gave up until I ran across a comment on one of the forums. The comment was made by a bike builder. He was wondering about the advantages of a push trailer. Since it would be possible to build one that was completely self contained, he wondered it if wouldn't be possible to rig it so that one could remove it completely for storage.

I spent two weeks of my life working on a design to build a trailer that could be easily attached and removed from a common bike. A local welder agreed to build the first trailer and to attach the hitches to the bikes for me. Since he was retired from a local boat building company his price was very fair,.but I wanted to do it myself. I knew that I would need to enroll in the local community college or hang around his shop. I chose hang around his shop.

I wasn't surprised that the prototype trailer cost me as much as a kit built bike would have. I knew that I could get the cost down, if I bought the parts whenever and wherever I saw them laying about. Not to mention I could save the labor by doing it myself.

It took my welder only three days to build and install the first trailer. The hitch had to be welded to the bike, but after that it was a simple one bolt to attach the trailer. All the electronics went onto the trailer with only a wireless remote throttle attached to the bike. That device was from a RC race car.

The whole trailer platform was easy to attach to the bike. The true beauty of it was in the power supply. Since the trailer was self contained the power supply could be the heavier and less expensive lead batteries. The size and weight were less an issue on the trailer.

I picked a heavy framed mountain bike on which to build my first bikes, but by the time I got to the trailer build, my first order of bikes was gone. To test my any bike will do, and since it would be easy to move the trailer to a different bike, I bought a used 12 speed bike from the flea market on the side of the road. I went through and repaired and greased every part of it before I sent it to the welder for a hitch. When the used bike came back, I loaded the trailer into the trunk of my car, put the bike in the carrier on back, then drove to the beach.

The push trailer was an instant hit. I had my cell phone ringing after just a few blocks. I had people wave me down to discuss it. I made appointments back at the shop for people to come ride the bike.

Monday, August 9, 2010

It took two weeks after the closing before I had my first bike ready to sell. It wasn't great but the kit was easy enough to assemble. It was designed so almost any idiot could have done it without ruining either the kit or the bike. Yes I managed to get it set without wrecking either kit but it was a close call. Even so I was very proud of myself.

I had the good bike rack mounted on the sedan left to me by the Marshal service, so I tried my first ride. I drove the bike to Wrightsville island. I removed it from the bike rack while parked in the lot of Johnny Mercer's pier. The bike went about ten miles before the battery warning light began to blink on and off. To get the ten miles, I had to run up and down the island several times. It got some notice but not as much as I would have liked.

When I got back home, I began researching signs. Since the bike was the draw, I began looking at signs to hang from it. As usual there was nothing being sold that seemed up to the task. So I designed my own.

Designing the sign was more about designing the sign holder, then writing a few words on a piece of cardboard. I knew I wanted something with movement but not something that would get in the way of the bike's normal operation. I settled on a weather vane kind of mount, It was no more than a clamp over the seat post, with a one foot high pole set back about six inches from the post. the post could move inside the holder when the wind blew it. It was supposed to wave side to side.

I envisioned a sign with just the name of the company and my new web address. Con men are pretty adaptable, so designing a website using the host freeware was pretty simple. Since I didn't want to be tied to the site too much, I required the buyer to contact me by phone. After that everything would be done on the phone or by mail or even email. On line sales were by paypal only, for credit card purchase I required telephone orders, checks were to be accepted through the mail, so I had everything covered. I didn't expect to sell anything on the net or by mail but it was an option that would help account for the extra money flowing through my account. I needed a few real purchases to hide the fake ones.

Where I was located the land was flat and the ebike was great. It was a tourists dream. One could convince themselves that they were getting real exercise without breaking a sweat, as my daddy would have said.

I had the second bike with the hub motor finished, when I got my first business call. "Rhino bike company," I said into the cell phone.

"Hi, I saw you on the beach yesterday. I think that is just the coolest thing. How far can I go on a charge and how fast," the woman on the phone asked.

"You aren't going to set any land speed records, but you can probably do about twenty miles an hour. Here at the beach you can probably get ten to twenty miles on a charge, depending on your choice of batteries."

"Do you rent them. We are going to be here a couple of weeks. I would love to have one of your bikes to use while we are here."

I had never thought about a rental, so I had to do some quick tap dancing. "Twenty-five dollars a day. Just leave me your credit card number, like you do at the motel. We will make the charges after you return the bike. Now that is with a lead acid battery pack. If you want the fancy lithium pack it will be forty dollars a day." I explained the benefits of the lithium pack but she decided that she and her husband would need only a few miles a day so they were willing to go with the lead acid pack.

I delivered the two bikes to them. I was surprised that the man didn't demand that I remove the front fender sign, but he seemed to be okay with it. I did take the more expensive rear sign away. When I left they were climbing on the bike for a quick ride down the beach. I saw them ride off like a couple of kids and knew I needed a better battery system. I needed something that could be easily switched out. It would be best if one battery was charging while one was being used.

The answer came from the Internet of course. With the hub motor the 12ah battery pack was good for about five to seven miles at the beach. That is on the flat ground and with a little pedaling, just enough to get it moving from the at rest position.

The three 12ah batteries would fit almost perfectly into a plastic shoe box from the dollar store. It wasn't going to be a problem but to make the batteries an easy change I needed to build trailers for them. It wouldn't look as cool, but it would be the answer for the lead acid batteries. The lithium could still fit on the bike since they were smaller and lighter.

Friday, August 6, 2010

That's how I met Shelly. We had dinner at 7:30 and sex at 10:00.. In between we talked about this and that. We even managed to walk on the pier on Wrightsville Island. When the sex happened it was a surprise, at least to me. With women one never knows since they are in control of that part of life.

Shelly was a nice just under middle-aged lady. She had blonde hair, and I was pretty sure it wasn't what god had intended. It was far too even to have been natural. Even so it was well done, I supposed.

Shelly was attractive in that skinny washed out country girl kind of way. Yes you can take the Southern farm girl off the farm, and you can put her in nice clothes, and even inside a bank, but she is still a Southern farm girl. I really didn't mind her country girl looks or her rather deep drawl. It was the fact that she was still married that bothered me some.

"Oh my husband is away and he knows I go out with other men. He understands that I get lonely." she said over dinner.

"Oh is he away on business?" I asked.

"Not really, he is in the state penitentiary." I was more than a little surprised by that. I mean she had been a date set up by a cop for God's sake.

"Oh what did he do?" I asked innocently.

"Assault with a deadly weapon. He really didn't plan it, he just lost his temper."

"And how much longer is he going to be away?"

"About five more years before he comes up for parole."

"Well I would appreciate it, if our relationship stays just between us."

"Of course," she answered. "That is also the deal I made with my husband. I would wait for him, if I could see other men. He would never ask about them and I would never talk about them.

Even with the thought a violent felon for a husband, Shelly still managed to keep my interest up. At least she kept something up long enough to get it done....

"What the hell were you doing?" I asked Jen gin on the phone.

"What? you didn't like Shelly?" she asked with that smile in her voice.

"Of course I liked Shelly. I just didn't care for the idea that she has a violent felon for a husband."

"Yes, but it will be years before he is free. Even then, he has a lot more men to get to before he reaches you. At least he does if he works Chronologically." She broke into a laugh.

"Why did you do it?" I asked.

"You looked like you needed it. After all you have also been away. I figured you and Shelly had something in common. I mean you did time, and she is married to a guy in prison."

"Oh you looked me up?" I knew she would so it wasn't a shock.

"I'm a cop, of course I looked you up."

"So next time I ask you out either accept or just say no. I don't think I want you fixing me up again. You have a weird sense of humor." I replied then clicked the phone off.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

I checked with all my delivery people and found that I had only two days to sight see. So I headed up the coast along the not so famous highway 17. I visited three of the best known early towns in North Carolina. They were founded back with river boats were about the only way to get goods inland. The towns all had two things in common. The first was a mostly decaying downtown in the process of being revitalized for about the hundredth time. The second was that each had an almost identical riverside park. From the signs I could tell that the state of North Carolina had sprung for the money to build all of the parks in the same budget. That was long before the fall of the US economy.

Two of the three river towns were being tastefully restored, but the third and smallest of the three looked as thought it had been done by one of those reality TV shows. It was just plain awful. All the wrong colors and way too many of them. Instead of the quaint cobble stone pavers most often used, they had gone for colored in the mix concrete. It was truly a gay decorator's wet dream.

I did find. probably. the worlds best fish sandwich along the way. In one of the small towns, on the main street, within sight of the mouth of a river, I found a small seafood restaurant. Their lunch special was a fresh filet of fish sandwich. Since the fish could vary widely, they didn't specify a type.

Being somewhat adventurous, I ordered it with a home fried potatoes. I ordered the potatoes in hopes that they wouldn't come from a bag of precut frozen ones. The sandwich absolutely lived up to it's billing. The filet was just thick enough to be flavorful, but no so thick that it was too fishy. The breading was light and well spiced. The sauce was mayonnaise based, but not too sweet. It was truly delicious.

I loved the road trip and hated to see it end. On the last day I took a ferry ride to the barrier Islands. It was another beautiful day and great scenery. I had never taken the time to just wonder around, so it was a real treat for me. Life on the run did have it's advantages.

When I got back in town I found a medium sized box sitting beside my door. The mail carrier had left a box of tools unattended. If the place hadn't been a flurry of activity for a while, and the door inside a small alcove, I expect the package would have been gone. Still, there was so little traffic it might have gone unnoticed for several more days.

Inside the box were four sets of wrenches. One was a metric set of box and open end wrenches, one was a sae set of the same type wrench, there was also a set of Allen wrenches, and finally one set of metric in a knife like handle to fit in my pocket. I had bought them on line through ebay. I did it because I knew it would take a while to arrive and I really had no place to store tools until I took possession of the building.

I called the carpenter who had worked on the roof deck repair. The economy was so bad that he was able to come right over. It took him all afternoon to build the work bench which covered the rear wall of the service bay. When he had finished he left me the scrap 2x8s and plywood. I stored them under the work bench.

I went on line that night to get some help determining what tools I needed. I knew how to use simple hand tools, but I had a feeling there would be a need for specialized tools as well. I was right of course. There were special wrenches to make tightening wheel parts easier and special tools to remove crank sets from the bike and a tool to remove the sprocket set of a multi sprocket rear wheel.

Then there were the power tools. There were grinders and cutoff tools. as well as power drills and saws to buy. I found it best to just drive to Harbor Freight and load up all at once on the power tools I needed. Everything bike related, I just ordered on line and hoped I wouldn't need it before it arrived.

On the second day after my return from the trip just as scheduled ups delivered several boxes of used parts, which I had purchased on line. There were three 600 watt scooter motors and the mounts to attach them to the drives. Those all came from an electric scooter repair shop.

A second box held a half dozen used rear wheel assemblies from a much smaller scooter. Those came from a scooter salvage yard of all things. I chose those wheel assemblies because they were smaller than the ones from the repair shop and they had solid core tires. Those two items along with some raw metal from home depot would made my first three bikes. There were more sophisticated kits on the way from china, but these three would be the first to hit the showroom floor.

I stole the design from a guy on one of the bike forums. He didn't mind since he was just an old fart who was in it for fun. By the first weekend in the shop, I had the motors and the electronics ready to mount on a bike. I was waiting for the heavy duty bikes to arrive when I decided to hell with it. I went to three different Wal-mart stores to find three bikes I wanted to use. Since the rear seat, on the sedan Cindy left me, folded I was able to get the bikes back to the shop.

Instead of assembling the bikes over the weekend, I called my cop friend. "Jen gin, what you got planned for today?" I asked.

"Who the hell is this?" she asked.

"It's Eddie, from the palm room." I said it with a laugh.

"Oh the older guy?" I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yes the one who reminds you of your uncle. You know the one who took your virginity," I laughed out loud so that she would know that I was joking.

"Damn I must have been drunk, If I told you about that." She paused a moment then added. "I'm working this weekend. Actually swing shift so there is nothing I can do for you."

"Too bad, I guess I'll just have to tough it out alone. So when can I take you to dinner. I did promise."

"You promised to ask me out, I did not promise to accept," she said with that smile in her voice again.

"Good point," I admitted.

"I have a friend you might like. She just broke up with her boyfriend. How about I fix you up."

"Aren't you worried about her taking me away from you."

"Can't lose what I never had," she replied.

Monday, August 2, 2010

"Tell me you aren't making friends with the local police. Eddie that would be a very bad idea."

"I thought you said this ID would hold up to any scrutiny?"

"Of course it will, you might not though."

"Trust me I have been questioned by the best, and I held it together. Besides it was just a lady who happened to be a cop."

"She is also a cop who just happens to have female plumbing, She is always going to be a cop first."

"I'm counting on it," I said hat with a huge smile. "What can be less suspicious than a guy who dates a cop. If I had anything to hide, surely I would find someone else to date."

"You know she will run your background and find the bit you did in the federal prison camp?"

"I'm counting on it," I replied. "Spread the word around that I'm a harmless nerd and they will leave me alone. I don't have any books to juggle, except my own."

"If this goes sideways, you are going to be on the run," Cindy informed me.

"I know and I'm not interested in doing that again. I'm going to be very careful."

"Good, so when will you have the shop open?"

"In a couple of weeks if I keep my nose to the wheel. I probably will do some sight seeing while I wait for the inventory to arrive,"

Friday, July 30, 2010

I wasn't so sure about the whole beach bum thing by the time the closing arrived. I figured it was still real estate, even it if was a crappy location. Cindy seemed thrilled to have me settled into something. I explained to her about the trailer and my intention to stay behind the shop until I could got the business going.

I didn't want some smart ass accountant finding too much money in my hands. IE the government reward for the Sanchez brothers, or my own ill gotten gains, could send up flags.

"I'm glad one of you finally gets it." she said.

"One of you," I laughed. "Maybe i should get you into a sensitivity training class,"

"I meant one of you witnesses. Most think it's going to be business as usual."

"I think in my case, the certainty of a Columbian necktie, if they find me, is enough to keep me focused. I know I need to stay hidden. It's my ass so it's in my own best interest to keep out of sight both in my real life and with my paper trail."

"Good for you. Do you really think you can sell bicycles out in the country like this."

"No, I think I can make them here, then sell them in town or on the beach. Maybe even on Craig's list. I'm going to have a bike rack put on the rear of the car. A good one, not one of those strap on things, but one welded on by a pro."

"To deliver bikes? Isn't it going to be hard to sell a bike sight unseen?"

"Actually more to take me to a place where I can ride with maximum visibility, I plan to be my own best advertising." Probably up and down Wrightsville Beach, then down to Carolina Beach. I'm going to spend some time in Holden Beach and Fort Fisher as well. I might even go up to Emerald Isle. You know places like that never see these bikes. I think showing the bikes and giving out cheap brochures is the way to go."

"So sign this last page and initial it on the front, then the building is all yours," the lawyer said.

"Mine and the bank." What no one knew was that after a year my little off shore holding company would buy the mortgage and the payments would end. Until then Uncle Sam was making them anyway, so I played along. The first year's expenses were part of my resettlement settlement.

Cindy and I went to a well known but grimy seafood restaurant, located on the inland waterway, for lunch. It survived on the local trade mostly, since tourist wanted a dining experience not good food,

"How the hell did you find this place?" Cindy asked.

"It was recommended by a cop," I admitted.

Monday, July 26, 2010

I had decided to buy a 25' camping trailer. I planned to park it behind the shop. I could sleep in it until I got my affairs in order. I wanted to get the place up and showing a profit, even if the profit were only on paper, before I bought a house or beachfront condo. It had to do with cover maintenance. I didn't want anyone asking question about me.

I found the trailer on Craig's list. My plan was to move it somewhere down south and have a second beach home. It was comfortable as those tin cans go. I paid six grand for it, but it was only money. I didn't mind that but I did hate the three hundred dollars I had to pay to get the thing towed to the shop.

The shop was due for closing in a week, so I took the chance and stored the trailer on site. If the building fell through I could just pay a few bucks and have the trailer moved. I didn't do anything but have the driver do anything but level the tongue jack. I didn't plan to live in the darn thing until the closing and then only for a few months at the most. Just enough time for it not to be so suspicious me buying a house.

One thing about being in jail with a lot of white collar criminals, it teaches you how to screw around with money. I learned how to make myself a loan for the house I wanted to buy. It would be so clean that nobody would every doubt it. I would just be my own mortgage company. One who never complained about a late payment. Somewhere down the line when the government cut me loose from their assistance, I would just refinance the shop with myself as the banker. Thanks to a couple of guys who made Bernie look like a rank amateur, I could do all kinds of neat things with money and the trail it didn't leave.

I tried my hand at fishing off the pier at Wrightsville|Island. I had a lot more luck at the beer parlor next door. I caught no fish on the pier but I met a heck of a nice young woman in beer joint. She and I seemed to share the same sarcastic sense of humor. There were many nasty zingers floating around the bar that morning.

"Well sorry to do it Eddie, but I have to get ready for work," the almost thirty year old blonde said to me.

"Oh at noon what kind of job starts at noon?"

"None that I know of but it takes me a while to get dressed."

"Oh then you aren't a topless dancer?" I asked.

"Not even close, I'm a Holden Beach police officer," she said flatly. She also stared at me to see what my reaction would be.

"All those years of thinking on my feet had prepared me for all kinds of things. It is probably why I reacted in a positive way rather than a negative one. "Wow, could we play with your handcuffs sometime?" I just knew that it was the right thing to say.

"Oh so original," she said smiling.

"There is a reason why men ask that. We all want to be ravished by younger women."

"And there are plenty who will gladly do it for a price."

"Ah too bad money had to be mentioned. I guess I will just have to dream, since I have no money. Actually I was going to try to borrow enough to pay for these beers."

"No way, I never pay for it." She gave me an evil smile.

"Hell, best I ever had I paid for," I said it smiling. "I can show you sometime."

"Call me," she said writing something on the rear of a business card then handing it to me.

After she left I finished my beer and then I headed for home. Home was still the motel. Fortunately the closing was less than a week away at that point.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

As I was driving toward the motel after dropping Cindy at the airport, I saw a long row of bicycles sitting in front of a very old building. The hand lettered sign painted on the window of the building advised me that it was a thrift store and flea market. Since I had passed the building I had to turn the car around to get a better look.

I inspected the bicycles as if I knew what I was doing. All I really knew was that I didn't want to buy used bikes that looked like used bikes. So of course I didn't buy anything. I sat in the car getting myself ready to leave the parking lot when realized that I had made a terrible mistake by buying the old country store.

No I hadn't bought anything at the thrift store/flea market, but it also hadn't cost the owner a dime to get me in. I had seen his bikes as I drove down the road. He had drive by traffic and I would have none. No wonder the owner of the building had jumped at the change to sell it to me. I was as they say in poker drawing dead. I had no chance to win in that situation.

I would have been depressed except that I really wanted to be a beach bum. The business was just cover for me.

It had been less than 24 hours since the owner had accepted the contract on the building. Even so I drove out to take another look at the building. I was shocked to see the door open and men on the roof. The owner seemed to be trying to do everything at once.

One of the trucks was an Owen's Plumbing Company truck. I found Mr Owens himself checking the toilet and sink. "Hi there, I'm Eddie Wilson the buyer of the building," He just nodded, a man of few words I decided, "So everything going to be okay with the plumbing?"

"Yeah, gonna have to replace the hot water heater and then some drain lines but nothing much to it," he replied.

"Do you have a card, I might need some work done after I move in," I suggested. "By the way, be sure to check that floor drain please." I had plans for that drain, but he didn't need to know about them.

I returned to the motel with the bag from a fast food restaurant. All prisoners in any facility will tell you that they miss cheese burgers from a fast food restaurant most. Even if I had been in a country club prison, I was no exception.