Drag and Drop 4

If the idea of two men loving each other and expressing that love in a sexual manner offends you, then you have clearly come to the wrong place. Feel free to leave.

With special thanks for the editing skills of the talented TalonRider.

Drag and Drop

A George and Mike Adventure

From Chapter 3:

In Jacksonville, we dropped my personal gear at my house, and went from there to the office to turn the car over to the duty Sergeant. I got Janet’s attention as we walked by her cubicle, and asked her to join us in my office.

“Do we have ballistics results yet, Sergeant?” I said.

“Got the report Lou, but no matches anywhere.”

“Okay. Have someone make a copy of the Murder Book, and ship it down to Orlando. Lieutenant Ivory of the OPD is going to send us copies of everything he has on the two latest victims.”

“Overnight, or courier?”

“Overnight will do. The file might even fit in a flat rate envelope.”

They left to get things rolling, and I dug into the accumulated stuff in my basket. Just before six, my cell phone rang.

-4-

“I’ll be in front of your building in five minutes,” Mike said.

“Good. I’m more than ready to get out of here.”

I was waiting when he pulled up in front of the building. I hopped in the car, leaned over and kissed him briefly.

“What’s your pleasure?” he said.

“Food, you, bed.”

“In that order?”

“More or less.”

“How hungry are you?”

“Not terribly,” I said, “I had lunch at a Cuban restaurant, and you know how much I like that.”

“Was it good?” he said.

“It was different. I had picadillo, but it was a little soupier than we get locally. The flan was good, too.”

“Antipasto?”

“That’ll do, and it’s on the way home.”

Over the Antipasto, another specialty of the Pizza Italian at Five Points, I told him about my evening and morning in Orlando, and about my new Orlando contact.

“Sounds as though you had an interesting time,” he said, “especially with that bartender.”

“That was more weird than interesting,” I said. “I really think he would have gotten hard if I’d roughed him up a bit, putting him in the backseat of the cruiser.”

“Babe, there are some weird people out there.”

“Anything happening on the home front?”

“I may have a line on a couple of houses that might be bargains.”

“You’ve talked to a Realtor already?”

“Nada. I know somebody who knows somebody. I’ll fill you in when I have something concrete to tell you.”

“Handle it.”

“You bet.”

We went home, and after I got an overexcited Thor calmed down, Mike and I took a relaxing shower together. We got so playful in the shower that we didn’t quite make it to the bed to finish. That may have been a good thing, because when we finally reached the bed, the second set lasted a lot longer.

The week dragged to an end with no new developments on our drag queen case. Friday I went straight home, picked Mike up, and we went to the wine shop at Five Points. Two or three members of our little group were already present, and sipping.

One of them said, “I was in Orlando over the weekend, and saw you on the news down there.”

“He does get around,” Mike said rhetorically, “doesn’t he?”

After we had shared a few bottles, we went as a group to a restaurant on the South side. We had a great time, talking about food and wine, and I managed to put dead drag queens out of my mind.

I went to bed that night, half expecting to receive a call from Daytona, but nothing happened. I learned on Monday that nobody even remotely resembling either Henry or the mystery man had turned up at the bar, nor had there been a contestant named Miss Henrietta.

By the time we flew to Asheville the following Thursday afternoon, I was really getting frustrated over the case. Mike had arranged, as usual, to borrow a plane owned by either the firm or one of the lawyers at a large law firm who were extremely grateful clients of his. We landed in Asheville just before seven. I had Thor on a leash, and he tugged me straight to one of the plane’s wheels, where he lifted his leg. I handed the leash to Mike, and went to pick up our rental car while he arranged for the plane to be cared for.

Normally, the twins would have picked us up in my old car, which we left at our cabin. Zeb and Zeke, however, did not know we were coming to their graduation. It was to be a surprise.

Zeb and Zeke Hawkins were identical twin brothers whom we had met on our first visit to Maggie Valley. We quickly learned that they were hard workers, and over the past two years they had cleared the yard, put new coats of stain on the cabin and deck, and numerous other tasks.

By now, Maggie Valley was very much our home away from home, and we drove slowly through the business district, noting the familiar signs. At the very end of the valley, just before the highway began to head almost directly uphill, we turned on a side road, and followed it uphill to our place.

When we got to the driveway leading down to the cabin, we discovered that late spring rains had washed a lot of gravel down the fairly steep incline.

“I see what we’re going to be doing in June,” Mike said.

“Spreading a dump truck load of gravel, right?”

“Yep. That’ll be a lot cheaper than paving it.”

“Maybe we ought to look into having concrete poured.”

“Okay. It won’t cost anything to get a couple of estimates.”

I stopped the car, once we were through the gate. “We need to close the gate. If the boys see it open, they’ll come to investigate and that will spoil the surprise.”

Mike hopped out and took care of that little task. We drove down the now somewhat lumpy driveway, and I parked in front of the garage door. We got out of the car and walked around the yard. “God, I love this place,” Mike said.

“So do I, babe.”

It was beginning to get dark, so Mike unlocked the people door and went inside. He pushed the button to open the garage door, and I pulled the rental car inside.

We had a couple of bags of perishables that we had picked up on the way through the valley, and we carried them up to the kitchen and stowed everything away.

We nuked a couple of frozen entrees, and carried them out onto the deck. It was getting chilly, so we had to go back inside and pull on sweaters.

On the deck, we sat and ate while listening to the very noisy stream that tumbled over rocks about ten feet below and ten feet away from where we sat. The ground floor of the cabin consisted of a bathroom, recreation room, garage, laundry/storage room, and an additional storage room that opened only to the outside. The deck opened off the second floor, and ran along the front of the cabin.

I carried the remains of our supper inside, and disposed of the containers, while Mike rolled two chaise lounges out onto the deck. I opened a bottle of Merlot, poured two glasses, and carried them to the deck.

The lounge chairs were close enough together that we could hold hands while we lay there, listening to the stream. Our reverie was interrupted by Thor, who walked over to the gate that led to the outside stairway, and whined.

“Somebody wants to mark his territory,” I said.

“I’ll do it,” Mike said. He got up and retrieved the leash that we kept on a hook just inside the front door.

“Good,” I said, “I want to go up to the loft and check my e-mail.”

“Check mine, too.”

I picked up my computer bag off of the kitchen table, and carried it up to the loft. The second story of the cabin was of A-frame design, and there was a nice loft above the bedrooms. We had a sofa bed in the loft, along with a television set and a desk. I plugged the computer into the cable modem, and turned it on.

There was nothing of interest in my e-mail account, nor was there in Mike’s account. I sent some last-minute instructions to Janet, and shut the computer down.

I walked down to the great room just as Mike came through the door and turned Thor loose in the house.

“Ready to close up for the night?” he said.

“You bet.”

“Any mail?”

“Nothing but junk, pitches for Viagra, and penis enlargement schemes.”

“Hmm,” he said, “I wonder if I need to add a couple of extra inches.”

“You do,” I said, “and you’ll have to find somebody else to sit on it. Eight is a tight enough fit as it is, and definitely enough.”

“Just kidding.”

“Do the boys have school tomorrow?”

“I think so, why?”

“Just wondering if there was a chance we’d run into them, and spoil the surprise.”

“I don’t know, and I’m certainly not going to waste any time worrying about it,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, “I give up.”

Before breakfast, we spread a huge quantity of sunflower seeds around the edge of the wall where we had last seen the chipmunks. We sat in the lawn chairs, drinking our coffee, and watching the little guys stuff their cheeks with seeds and scamper into the pile of rocks.

After breakfast, we took a slow jog up to the top of the mountain and back. At the cabin, Thor, as always, gulped down a lot of water and went to his bed to sleep off the exercise. We showered, dressed, and spent an hour talking to concrete contractors. We were somewhat discouraged at the quoted prices per square foot. Then I had a brainwave, and dialed a number.

“Hello Bob,” I said, when my party answered. “George Martin here.”

“Hello, Lieutenant,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you this weekend.”

“We came up for the graduation, but the twins don’t know it. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“What can I do for one of Jacksonville’s finest?”

“We’ve got a real erosion problem with the driveway to the cabin,” I said. “Do you know anybody that does good concrete work at a reasonable price?”

“As it happens, I do. Martha’s brother does that kind of thing on the side. He works for one of the big guys over in Asheville, but they look the other way when he takes on odd jobs of his own, as long as he doesn’t compete with them.”

“We’d love to talk to him.”

“You can do that tonight at the High School. His wife has a nephew in the graduating class.”

“Are you and Martha going to be there?”

“Absolutely. I’ll make it a point to introduce you to her brother.”

“Thanks Bob,” I said, and the call ended.

“Well?” Mike said.

I told him what Bob had said.

“Sounds good.”

We spent the rest of the day creatively loafing, mostly on the deck, enjoying the sounds from the creek. At six, we were in the auditorium of the high school, looking for Lucinda Hawkins, the twins’ mother. We had told her we were coming, and she had promised to obtain reserved seats for us.

We found her in a large common area just outside the entrance. Zeb and Zeke were standing with her, and they spotted us first.

Grinning from ear to ear, they ran over to hug us.

“Hi guys,” I said.

“Surprise, surprise,” Mike said.

“We weren’t expecting you guys,” Zeb said.

“You didn’t think we would miss this did you?” I said.

“When we met you, you were wearing overalls,” Mike said, “and look at you now, caps, gowns, and everything.”

“Yeah,” I said, “all grown up.”

Lucinda had reached us by this point, and she gave each of us a hug.

“Will this shindig be on time?” Mike said.

“They tend to be,” Lucinda said. “At least they were last year when one of my younger cousins graduated.”

“Don’t forget,” I said, “Mike and I are taking you to dinner afterward.”

“You don’t have to do that, George,” she said.

“Nobody has to do anything,” I said, “but we choose to do this for our friends and family.”

“What he said,” Mike said.

“Bob and Martha are joining us,” I said.

Someone flicked the lights off and back on a couple of times.

“That means we have to go take our seats down in front,” Zeke said.

The boys hurried through the nearest entrance.

“I guess we’d better go sit down, too,” Lucinda said.

“Lead the way,” I said, taking her by the arm.

Mike took her other arm, and we escorted her through the door and down the aisle to our seats. The ceremony wasn’t particularly spectacular, but the participants didn’t seem to notice. Afterward, we returned to the common area to wait for the boys. Bob and Martha Plott joined us, and they had a typical good-old-boy type with them.

“This is Martha’s brother,” Bob said.

“Randy Jamison,” the man said.

“I’m George Martin,” I said, “and this is my partner Mike Foster.”

“I understand you boys are interested in a concrete driveway,” Randy said. He scratched his head, and continued, “You look familiar, but I can’t place why.”

“Lieutenant Martin and his friend own a cabin on Fie Top Road just below where Lucinda and the boys live,” Bob said.

“Lieutenant?” Randy said.

“George is the youngest Lieutenant in the Jacksonville Sheriff’s office,” Bob said.

“Now I know where I’ve seen you before,” Randy said, “you were on the television earlier this year. You’re the one that nailed that serial killer.”

“What we have, Randy,” I said, changing the subject, “is a long and fairly steep gravel driveway. It’s washed out rather badly with the spring rains.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, “and we’ve gotten some prices per square foot from two or three local guys, but they seem kind of steep.”

“If you’re interested,” I said, “stop by tomorrow morning and take a look.” I gave him the address.

“You bet I will,” Randy said, “there’s not a lot going on around here right now, in construction.”

“Here come the boys,” Lucinda said.

“We’ll look for you in the morning, Randy,” I said.

“I’ll be there,” he said, and he went off in search of his particular graduate.

Zeb and Zeke walked up to us, gowns flapping.

“You guys hungry?” I said.

“You bet,” they said.

“Good,” Mike said, “we have reservations at J. Arthur’s in thirty minutes.”

“And just enough time to get there,” I said.

Lucinda’s eyes had widened at the name of the restaurant. “That’s awfully expensive, isn’t it?” she said.

“Not another word,” Mike said. “This is the boys’ special night, and we’re all going to enjoy it.”

“That we are,” Martha Plott said, “coming Bob?”

At the restaurant, Lucinda relaxed and actually seemed to be enjoying herself. The restaurant was hardly what one would call fancy, but it was clearly well outside her normal haunts. The boys thoroughly enjoyed themselves, as did Bob and Martha Plott.

We had surprised them again during the meal, by presenting them with graduation presents. They opened the packages and beamed.

“It’s an iPod,” Zeb said, having gotten his package open a tad faster than Zeke.

“It sure is,” Zeke said, exposing his gift.

“Thanks George. Thanks Mike,” they said. They jumped up from their seats and gave each of us a hug.

“When will we see you guys in Jacksonville?” I said to the boys.

“Yeah,” Mike said, “Thor is really looking forward to having his two favorite playmates around all summer.”

“We both have to be at work down there on Monday the 3^rd,” Zeb said.

“So we’ll come down Friday so we can spend the weekend at the beach,” Zeke said.

“That’s not a problem,” I said. “Your room is ready.”

A few minutes later, the boys excused themselves to go to the restroom. While they were gone, Lucinda said, “George, you were right about something you said, back in the spring.”

“What was that?” I said.

“They told me the other day that when they finish with Community College, they want to move to Jacksonville so they can be near the beach.”

“It’s not as though they’re moving thousands of miles away,” Mike said.

“Right,” I said, “they’ll be just eight hours down the road.”

“With both of them in the McDonald’s Management training program, they’ll be able to afford a nice apartment right out at the beach if that’s what they want,” Mike said.

“I think it will be good for them,” Martha said, “by that time they’ll be 20, and ready to be on their own.”

“I know,” Lucinda said, “a mother has to let go when they grow up, but she doesn’t have to be too happy about it.”

“Nobody said it would be easy, my dear,” Martha said. “As the young folks say, ‘been there, done that,’ with both of my boys.”

“Tell me about your brother, Martha,” I said, hoping to change the subject.

“Randy’s a good man, and a hard worker,” she said.

“And it’s a good thing he is,” Bob said, “because that wife of his spends it just as fast as he makes it.”

“I know,” she said.

“Anyway, George,” Bob said, “he’ll do a good honest job for you. I’ve never heard of him cutting corners, and he’s done a lot of work on the side, over the years.”

“That doesn’t bother his employers?” Mike said.

“Not at all,” Bob said. “They’re over in Asheville, and only get involved in major construction projects. Driveways and patios are not even blips on their radar screen.”

Saturday morning, we jogged up the mountain and back before breakfast, and were sitting on the deck enjoying a final cup of coffee, when the familiar sound of tires on gravel told us we had a visitor.

Randy climbed the stairs to the gate, and opened it. Thor was waiting to see who it was, and checked him out thoroughly. Evidently Randy was a dog person, as he knew to extend his hand for Thor to sniff.

“Good morning Randy,” I said.

“Offer you a cup of coffee?” Mike said.

“Thanks, but I’m on my way to a small job,” Randy said. “If you give me a hand with the tape, I’ll take some measurements.”

“Just tell us what to do,” Mike said.

We left Thor on the deck, and followed Randy down the steps. It took a while to get everything measured to Randy’s satisfaction, and we had a lengthy discussion as to how big the parking pad should be outside the garage entrance. His good old boy demeanor faded, as he made notes in a little notebook, and used a pocket calculator to churn the numbers. The price he quoted per square foot was more than a third less than the lowest estimate we had.

“That’s a pretty good price,” I said.

“I can do it for that, because I don’t have no overhead,” Randy said.

“How long will the job take?” Mike said.

“Two or three weekends, if it don’t rain,” Randy said.

“We’re coming back the third week of June,” I said, “and we’ll be here for a whole week.”

“If I start next week,” Randy said, “I can be done long before that.”

“How much will it take to get you started?” Mike said.

“One-third now, one-third at the halfway point, and one-third at the end,” Randy said.

“Write it up,” Mike said. “I’ll go get the checkbook.”

Randy produced a standard contract, filled it out, and the three of us signed it. I gave him my card and our e-mail addresses.

I handed him the first check, and said, “We can send you the next payments by FedEx.”

“I’ve got a little digital camera,” Randy said, “I’ll send you a couple of photographs to show the progress.”

“Works for me,” Mike said.

Randy went on to his next job, and we returned to the deck.

“Well,” I said, “there goes half of the contingency fund.”

“I know, babe,” Mike said, “but we’re going to be in this cabin for a very long time, and a proper driveway is the way to go.”

“No argument there. I can see us settling down here permanently one day.”

“Can we do it next week?”

“Not quite. Ask me again in approximately eight years when I’m eligible for a pension.”

“Babe, that date is already circled on my calendar.”

“Seriously, Mike, when that happens, I don’t want you flying back and forth to Jacksonville every few days to run your business. I know that’s more or less what you have in mind.”

“I’ll always have my assistant, Jonny, or someone like him to handle the techie stuff,” Mike said, “and I can hire someone with people skills who can keep the customers stroked. Besides, it might be an interesting challenge to start something new up here, or maybe in Asheville.”

“I can live with that,” I said.

“Speaking of Asheville.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s drive over there and have lunch in that restaurant in Biltmore Village,” he said.

“The one in the old Train Depot?” I said.

“Right.”

“Okay,” I said, “what’s up?”

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Author’s note: 13 April 2009 - visited Jacksonville today. Met a former co-worker from the eighties at Richard’s Sandwich Shop in Five Points. They still make the best Camel Rider in Jacksonville. It’s amazing how something so simple - pita bread, cold cuts, cheese, lettuce and a little olive oil - can be so very satisfying.

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-To be continued-

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Your feedback, as always, is appreciated, be it good, bad, or indifferent.

Etienne.Reynard@Comcast.net

My stories can be found on the following sites:

http://tickiestories.us/Etienne_m.htm

http://www.crvboy.org/stories/etienne/

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