In her home office Teary Filisteinsdatter Mast was examining her master excel sheet. She labeled the sheet’s tabs with the abbreviations of various organizations. She had just updated information on the Banned Drinks column on the excel sheet with the tab reading WheW. Whelping Wellness was the name of her coaching business. It had that natural vibe to it, an almost inevitable outcome.
Other tabs in the master excel sheet stored information about all kinds of organizations. Or more specifically information on the people involved with other organizations that Teary had access to because of her interests. After a friend died, leaving an entire filing case in her care, Teary had excitedly added more information to her master excel sheet. What a goldmine.
Teary clicked on the tab reading OVU which stood for Oasis of Venerable Uncertainty. She had been busy with this project for two years. She examined the names. Rosenberg. Yes, she thought Rosenburg would do. Lilith Rosenburg didn’t smell as clean as she claimed.
After Teary finished writing her letters, she printed them out along with the corresponding address labels.
“There,” she thought. Then she checked the status of the Festive Christmas Animal Transport Boxes that she had ordered from Amazon. They would deliver them that afternoon. El-Don should be home about that time. His car was working again. Why he stalled on 1st and Main was still a mystery to Teary. He said, in that vague manner of his, that he had taken a slight detour coming back from the church that evening to check out the signage on a shop.
Swiftly pulling a tissue from the box on her desk, Teary covered her fingers and pulled out two envelopes from the box by her feet. Then she extracted the letters from the printer’s tray. Using a ruler she folded them and carefully put one letter in each stamped envelope. She placed the letters individually in ziplock bags and stuck them into her tote bag.
Before leaving the house, Teary went into the garage to check on the prairie dogs. They looked plump and healthy. Plenty of fresh food and water. The animals were active in their cages, burrowing and darting in and out of the wood shavings.
Emery stood in the door to hospital room number seventy-seven. Two small eyes looked back at her. The brown eyes were hooded. The face didn’t move. The body, barely perceptible under the white sheet, lay still.
“I brought you your flowers,” Emery said. “They arrived this morning.”
From his hospital bed Gator Matcha looked at the blond and blue eyed girl. She was holding a pot of poinsettias. He was allergic to poinsettias. He was partial to blonds.
“Would you like me to read the card?” Emery looked for a card. There was no card. “I can check for you who sent it,” she said.
Gator shook his head. He reached an arm out for the cloth pouch next to his bed. “What you can do for me,” he said hoarsely, “is give it to someone else.” He pulled out a twenty. “And please come back before you leave. I have a request to make. Could you bring me something when you come…. you are coming again?”
“Yes, tomorrow as a fact. But not long,” Emery said.
“Good.” Gator was exhausted. The girl left the room. Gator’s head felt like lead. What had happened to him? He was pretty sure he was in Longmont Colorado. He had been hired by Buck Rogers. Had Buck paid him yet? The cattle rancher was rich beyond belief but traumatized. Yes, that was certain. There was an aura of trauma about the ranch, and not just because of the fate of the lowing cattle. There was more to Buck than met the eye.
The last thing Gator remembered was getting back to his hotel room at the Holiday Inn Express and Suites after spending the afternoon in session with Buck Rogers. Buck had been pretty antsy about something and wanted to take Gator out for a ride to shoot prairie dogs. There was “an art” to it Buck said. Gator had distracted Buck for a while until Buck realized his minutes were flowing. This was about the time Chief of Police Noel showed up. The lawman had something to discuss with Buck.
Gator waited in the atrium next to the aquarium for the men to finish whatever they had to say to each other. Two weeks had already passed and he was supposed to be paid cash. Gator had been hired for three weeks to sort Buck’s problems out. When he wasn’t working with Buck, Gator was editing his half of The Direct Road to the Nearest Neighborhood, How to Reach Your Inner Artistic Spirit back at the hotel. Hotels were great places to write novels.
Yet, somehow Gator was experiencing a writer’s block and was unhappy with the project. Maybe that’s why F. Scott Fitzgerald had appeared to him. Strange that Tirzah hadn’t spotted Fitzgerald. Could it be that Gator was channeling divine inspiration? Maybe Gator was writing a novel without knowing it. Was The Direct Road to the Nearest Neighborhood, How to Reach Your Inner Artistic Spirit becoming an iconic work of culturally great literature akin to The Great Gatsby? “Something about rotten eggs,” Gator thought wearily, when his dinner tray was placed before him.
Keith Abbott had the garage on 1046 Grant Street to himself. The girl was working at the florist all day and business was certainly good during the holiday season.
He let out a sigh, glad to be alone. That lean woman had been in good condition. Keith suspected she ran marathons. It had been quite a sprint to lose her. He’d ducked into the Civic Counsel on Kimbark Street, figuring there probably was a force of obtuse thought surrounding the building that would block his spirit energy from perception. Keith had been right. For safety’s sake he’d spent the night on the table in the boardroom, only waking up when he realized he was in a 7:30 am meeting about zoning issues. None of those people recognized that Keith was in the room.
Settling into a meditative position, Keith focused on a koan. He felt he needed to focus and, at the same time, distract himself. Was he able to do both? The voice of Ry Cooder floated into his ear.
I got money in my pocket
I ain’t begging for bread
Cadillac Eldorado
Going to my head
Got a short time to live
And a long time to stay dead
Keith smiled.
Tags: #longmont #1046grantstreet #colorado #keithabbott #mast #keithkumasenabbott #rhinoritz #blackmail #rycooder #fscottfitzgerald #buckrogers #matcha #gator #tirzah #pyrestone
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