forgotten what happened in part one of the story?
Richard shifted his weight from one hip to the other while he desperately tried to figure out the thing NOT to say to make the two cops even more interested in him. The trick was, of course, managing not to say it after having thought of it.
"OK, so if I tell you guys where I think he went, will go you at least talk to him and see if I'm crazy or if he is? I'm pretty sure that when he leaves here, he walks down to the Starbucks on Maple, because I've been down there myself a couple of times after seeing him around here, and he was hanging around over there the same way."
"That Starbucks is on Jefferson, not Maple," the older cop offered, and the younger one chimed in with, "Yeah, we'll go by and see if he's there, see what's up with him giving you the stank eye and everything." And in a cloud of amused chuckles, snarling snatches of radio static, and the squeak of new leather, the cops finally left.
Richard went down into the basement that night at home (he hadn't done that in a dog's age) and just made sure that everything was still where he had left it, undisturbed in its peaceful dust and harmless tarpaulining. Maybe it was time to get a storage space for everything, now, with those stupid cops and all...there were still places on the north side where you could rent for a handshake and $25 a month cash, without all those annoying legal documents and required pieces of identification. And if that old guy kept hanging around, staring...well, it just made more sense to do than to not, overall.
He clicked off the light as he reached the top of the stairs, making a mental note to ask around at work tomorrow to see if anyone could swap him a pickup to use over the weekend. The snap of the lightswitch nearly echoed, comfortably, in the endless new restored darkness.
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