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."