Down the Hall on Your Left

This site is a blog about what has been coasting through my consciousness lately. The things I post will be reflections that I see of the world around me. You may not agree with me or like what I say. In either case – you’ll get over it and I can live with it if it makes you unhappy. Please feel free to leave comments if you wish . All postings are: copyright 2014 – 2017

Archive for the category “Hiding”

Fiction Saturday – “And Pull The Hole… THE CONCLUSION

Fiction Saturday – “And Pull The Hole… THE CONCLUSION

 

Chapter Thirty-Nine

 

The sunset over Lake Pend’Oreille was a soft orange color, going to red. It promised calm waters and good sailing come morning. A few lights were beginning to switch on in the houses near the waterline. The smells of wood smoke and family suppers being cooked mixed and drifted over the lakeshore.

There were few tourists left with the holiday season approaching. Only those people who were planning to winter over remained. For them, this part of Idaho was home. It was a place where your thoughts, your opinions and your past were your own business and nobody else’s.

On a quiet, tree-lined street, a few blocks up from the small business district, a young boy on a bicycle pedaled along the leaf-strewn sidewalk. He passed the white frame house with the steeply pitched roof and lobbed a rolled-up newspaper onto the front porch.

The screen door opened and a woman wearing khakis and a wool shirt stepped out. The air was cool, yet inviting. The first hard frost was still a week or two away in this part of the state. She sat down on the top step and unfolded the Sandpoint Mountain Tribune.

In the remaining light of the autumn day, she took her time reading the front page and then turned to the national news section. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at the photograph in the center of the page. She had seen that picture before. Tears began to flow down her cheeks as she read the accompanying story.

“U.S. Calls Off Womanhunt”

 

“Department of Justice and DEA officials announced today that they were calling off their nationwide search for Beverly Deltino, the fugitive wife of New York crime figure, Dominic Deltino. FBI Regional Director Morris Bland said that Mrs. Deltino, who was wanted in connection with the death of an undercover DEA operative, was herself, deceased. ‘We are satisfied that she was killed while attempting to flee the country, in a shootout at the U.S. – Mexican border, near Tijuana. We are no longer looking for Mrs. Deltino and we consider her case closed.’

“It was also announced that Mrs. Deltino’s husband, a suspect in a number of underworld enterprises himself, was also deceased, apparently, by his own hand.”

The woman stood up and crossed the porch toward the door. She opened it and walked into the rented house, wiping a tear from her eye. She cleared her throat before calling out.

“Davis, let’s eat out tonight.”

 

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Fiction Saturday – “And Pull The Hole… Chapter 36 Continued

Fiction Saturday

Chapter 36 Continued

pull-tijuanaOutside, the sun was beginning to go down and an offshore breeze was finally cutting through the hot and hectic city. The shopping-mad tourists were heading home and the drinking-mad tourists were arriving. The mood in Tijuana was changing, like it did everyday at this time, from commercial cordiality to alcoholic depravity. The zebra-painted donkeys that pulled small carts along the avenidas so tourists could have some unusual pictures to take home to Iowa, were being replaced by other donkeys for another kind of entertainment that Tijuana was famous for.  

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Fiction Saturday – “And Pull The Hole… Continued Chapter 36

Fiction Saturday

Chapter Thirty-Six

 

warehouses“It’s at number 162, Tomás. Drive past it and let us out down the block,” said Laura, scanning the fronts of the small warehouses and workshops.

The cab slowed while Tomás craned his neck out the window looking for the address.

“There it is, Señorita. That’s it, with all the doors.”

The structure at 162 Avenida de Negocios was unlike anything Laura or Davis had ever seen before. It was built entirely out of garage doors.

“What the hell is that?” she asked.

Tomás smiled. “We Mexicans can be very resourceful. There are a quite a few buildings like this in Tijuana. They are made out of recycled garage doors from LA and San Diego. A few Mexican entrepreneurs have been importing them by the truckload. Actually, there is a whole neighborhood near here made of doors. Very clever, no?” He steered the cab over to the curb about fifty yards past the all-door structure.

“Well, Tomás,” said Laura. “Thank you for your tour of Tijuana and for your help. Bless you.”

“My pleasure, my friends. I wish you both good luck.”

Davis patted Tomás’ shoulder.

“Bless you twice, Tomás.”

Laura and Davis stepped out of the taxi onto the empty sidewalk. The cab turned at the next corner and was gone.

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Fiction Saturday – “And Pull The Hole… Continued Chapter 34

Fiction Saturday

Chapter Thirty-Four

 

pull-molinas-bldgIn the darkroom at Ernesto Molina’s photography studio a new person was being born. Years of experience in creating false documents for many of the Earth’s most dangerous people had made Molina a very wealthy man. His home was an opulent, yet tastefully decorated, house by the ocean, near Rosarita Beach. This cheap-looking studio was a place to do his work undisturbed. He owned the building.

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Fiction Saturday Chapter 32- “And Pull The Hole In After You” – Continued

Fiction Saturday

Chapter Thirty-Two

 

pull-taxiThe cab was festooned with bobble-head dolls of Elvis, The Beatles, and Ricky Martin.  The Virgin Mary held the place of honor in the center of the dashboard.  Red and gold dingleballs circled every window and lying on the rear window deck was a three-foot-long crucifix.

The cab driver, dressed in a crisp yellow shirt, was doing his standard sales pitch to yet another pair of Yanqui tourists.

“Buenas dias.  Let Tomás be your guide for the day.  Only two hundred dollars—well  worth the price.  Tomás knows all the best restaurants and shops.  And I can get you the best seats for the bullfights.  My cousin is a matador.  Deal, okay?  Best price in Tijuana.” His accent made him sound like a parody of Cheech and Chong.

Davis looked at Laura, who was still holding the brochure outlining the benefits of membership in the San Diego Skyscrapers.  She shook her head.  This was a business trip.

“No, not today,” said Laura.  “Just drop us up on the main drag.  Maybe next time we’ll get the tour.  Okay?”

“Okay, you the boss, but, I can show you where to get genuine Armani suits for three hundred dollars, with free alterations.  Best price in Tijuana.”

“Another time, my friend,” said Davis.

Laura pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.

“Say, do you know any good photographers?” asked Laura.

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Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole… Chapter 31 Continued

Fiction Saturday

Chapter 31 – Continued

pull-border-mcd“That’s two Egg McMuffins’ with cheese and two coffees, and thank you for visiting McDonald’s, Buenos dias.”

“And buon giorno to you.”

Laura picked up the tray and turned around to look for Davis.  He had found them a table by the wall.  The restaurant was already half filled and would soon be packed, just as Vivian had predicted.

“Here we go,” she said.  “Oh, could we switch seats?  I want to be able to look out of the window.”

“Sure, no problem,” said Davis.  They traded places.  Davis could see the side door that opened onto the small parking lot and Laura could scan the entire plaza.

As she poured a pink envelope of sweetener into her coffee, Laura’s eyes picked out the good guys and the wise guys.

“Vivian was right.  This plaza is overloaded with cops and I see three guys that might be Dominic’s boys and two more over on that bench back by the train.  He must have called in reinforcements.  I don’t recognize them.  Damn!”

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Monday, Monday – Can’t Stop That Day

monday1MONDAY MORNINGS JUST AREN’T THE SAME AS THEY USED TO BE. When I was a kid Monday morning used to start on Sunday when there was a scramble to make sure that all my homework was finished. I’d had all weekend to do it, but it would be Sunday evening before I’d even look at it.

When I finished my education and got into the real world where people actually paid you to be somewhere on Monday morning things got rougher. How rough depended on how stupid I was over the weekend.

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Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole… Continued Chapter 30

Fiction Saturday

 

Chapter Thirty

 

pull-motel“Kids, I’m sorry.  I’m really sorry.”

Vivian was near tears.  Davis was numb.  Laura was torn between comforting Vivian, trying to keep Davis from going into shock, and keeping watch on her own boiling pot of anger and fear.

“Vivian, I don’t blame you,” she said.  “It was just bad luck.  We’re all safe.”

But she did blame Vivian in a way.  She blamed herself as well, for accepting Vivian’s dangerous invitation in the first place.  She thought that, maybe, they weren’t all that safe, not any longer.

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Fiction Saturday Chapter 28- “And Pull The Hole In After You” – Continued

Fiction Saturday

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

atlantaLaura gathered up the dishes as Davis toweled himself dry in the bathroom.  She had showered first, standing under the steaming water for fifteen minutes, crying there so Davis wouldn’t see her fear manifested yet again.

“Davis, while you’re getting dressed I’m going to take the dishes back to Vivian.”

“Okay,” he called from the bathroom, “and thank her for me too.”

Vivian saw her coming across the parking lot and hit the door buzzer to let Laura into the small office.

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Fiction Saturday – Chapter 24 – And Pull The Hole – Continued

Fiction Saturday – Chapter 24

 

Chapter Twenty-Four

 

pull-drivingA starlit nightfall was racing across the Mojave Desert and California was disappearing into shades of gray and neon splashes.

“Davis, wake up.  I want you to take over.  I’m exhausted and I think we’ll be safer with night coming on.  We’ll switch again when we stop for gas.”

“You look drained.  Laura, we are going to make it, right?”

“We’ll make it, Davis.  Things will be fine.  Once we get to the border, we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, beautiful, carefree, Mexico.”

They were both whistling past the graveyard and they knew it.

They had changed their path south to California Route One, the coast road.  Just north of Ventura, on the outskirts of LA, Laura pulled the car into a Shell station.

The orange floodlights washed over the concrete and the islands with the self-serve gas pumps.  Inside the station a young man with stringy hair and acne sat behind the counter reading a motorcycle magazine.

“I’ll fill it up,” said Davis.

Laura opened her door and got out.  She stretched her arms and yawned.  She looked around the brightly-lit station.

“I’m going to the bathroom.  I’ll be right back.”

She walked into the mini-mart and reemerged seconds later holding a large brass key attached to a miniature baseball bat.  She disappeared into the darkness around the side of the building.

Davis used his debit card to fill the tank of his three-year-old, white, four-door Ford Taurus.  He made a mental note that it was due for a scheduled maintenance checkup.  He topped off the tank and put the nozzle back into the pump.  It was then that he realized he was finally hungry.

He really hadn’t eaten anything since he had picked at his lunch back at the Target store in Santa Maria.  Now he wished that he had, at least, eaten his churro.  Laura had inhaled her food as if lunch was going out of style.

“Maybe she’s more used to this than me,” he thought to himself.

After replacing the gas cap and pocketing his receipt, Davis walked up to the cashier’s counter inside the station.

“Hey, good evening, Mister.  Can I help you?”  The young clerk put his magazine down on the counter.

“Hi.  I need to get something to snack on.”pull-gas-station

“We got a pretty good selection of munchies and the cold sodas and stuff are over there in the cooler.  We don’t sell beer or anything hard any more.”

“Thanks.  Soft drinks will do.”

Davis walked over to the rack.  He studied the collection of foil and paper-wrapped sweet and salty junk foods.  He picked up a small bag of chips and headed over toward the beverages.

“Hey, Mister,” the kid called out to him.

“Yes, what?”  Davis turned away from his search.

“I think you got some company outside,” said the young man, his head tilted toward the door and the gas pumps beyond.

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Fiction Saturday Chapter 23 – Pull The Hole… Continued

 Fiction Saturday – Continued

Chapter Twenty-Three

 pull-clouds“Actually, Davis, using your car is a good idea.  We can avoid public transportation and no pesky rental agreements floating around.”

“See, I told you I’d come in handy.”  Davis looked out of the passenger side window at the passing California landscape.  “I wish you’d let me drive for a while, though.”

“Later tonight maybe.  I’m a better driver than you are and it helps me to relax.” Relax was something that Laura had not been able to do for a second, ever since she saw her own face staring out from page four of the San Francisco Chronicle.  “Besides, I think better while driving.  Maybe I can figure a way out of this mess for us.”

“Well, I’m a very good driver—no accidents ever, and you could use a break.”  Davis knew there was no changing her mind once it was made up, even though Laura looked like she hadn’t slept in days and her jaw was clenched tight.

Appreciating his effort to care for her, Laura smiled and gazed at him as he huddled up against the car door.  He looked lost, she thought.

“Well, dearest,” she said, “at sixteen I was picking up extra pocket money as a wheel man.  Just for kicks really.  My father never knew.  It was stupid and dangerous, but I was good at it.”

“Don’t tell me any more right now.”  He was a stranger in a strange land if ever there was one.  “I haven’t digested everything you’ve laid on me so far.”

“Okay, I understand.”

“I do have one question though,” he said.  “Why did we stop at a travel agent before we left?  A ticket for one from Miami to Detroit?”

“A little deception.  Detroit is a border town, a ten-minute walk out of the country across the river.  I bought it in my own name, of course.  It won’t fool anybody for long, especially Dominic.  But the Feds will have to check it out.  It’ll tie up a couple of their guys for a few hours and give us a little extra edge.  It’ll help our odds, maybe.”  She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.  “Maybe not.  I don’t know.”

“What are our odds?”  He was immediately sorry that he had asked.

“We’re two snowballs and we’re driving south.”

“Oh.”

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Fiction Saturday Chapter 22 – And Pull The Hole… continued

Fiction Saturday – Continued…

Chapter Twenty-Two

pull-donut-shop 

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

“This is not good, Dominic.”

“Really?  You think so, Peeto?  Jeez, I never would’ve figured that out all by myself. Thank you ever so much, you moron.”

“Well, Dominic, Don Giani ain’t going to like seeing his daughter’s picture all over the newspaper like this.”

“No, he won’t,” said Dominic.  This was serious.

Peeto was scrutinizing the newspaper, looking at the picture and slowly reading the story about it.

“Y’know, it’s not even a very good picture of her, Dominic.  She’s much prettier in person,” said Peeto.

Dominic grabbed the paper from Peeto’s hands.

“That’s my wife you’re drooling over there.”

“Sorry, Dom, but you know what I mean.  She is a fine looking…”

Dominic cut him off with a look and threw the paper to the floor.

That was the second time this morning he had thrown it down.  The first time was when he checked the baseball scores and saw that the Mets had blown a four-run lead to lose to the Washington Nationals.  He was wearing out his welcome.  The owner of the donut shop, standing behind the crullers, muttered something in Chinese.  Peeto picked up the paper again.  It was part of his job.

Dominic was back at his booth in the donut shop.  He still felt uncomfortable going back to his old hangouts.  The jokes were getting to him and he knew that some of the guys were not happy with Dominic’s inability to control his wife.  It was making things a little uneasy for them at home.  Their wives were talking about more than clothes and kids. Several were making secret plans of their own, just in case.

The table was filled with empty paper coffee cups and the remnants of maple bar pastries and crumpled napkins.

“Y’know, Peeto,” said Dominic, a small, lopsided, grin on his face, “There’s a good side to her picture being in the paper.”  He wiped his chin with a napkin, cleaning away the last few shards of sugar glaze.

“There is?  How you figure that?” asked Peeto.  “Don Giani is going to be even more pissed off with you than he already is.  He don’t like publicity.”

“Thanks for that news flash, Peeto.  Just listen.”  Dominic was trying to analyze a complicated situation—not something he did all that often.

“The paper said that they want Beverly about some hit or something.  I don’t know what that’s all about.  I think they must have made that part up.”

Peeto couldn’t keep quiet.

“That part’s going to piss off the Don even more.”

“Oh, well, so much the better,” said Dominic, holding up a finger as if he had just made a big discovery, or was ordering a beer.  “They’ll work really hard to find her, and when they find her, I find her.  And when I find her I get my money back, I get the Monsignor off my back, and I put several holes into Beverly’s forehead.  It’s like three birds with one stone.”

“But, Dominic, I haven’t heard about nobody getting whacked.  Have you?  I dunno, but it smells funny.  Beverly always seemed like such a sweet and gentle soul.  Almost like a nun, but without no penguin suit.”

“Peeto!  Will you stay focused on the problem at hand here?  Quit talking like that about Beverly.  She’s still my wife.  Until I find her anyway.”

 Peeto was on a stumble down memory lane.

“You remember old Sister Modesta, Dominic?  Man, she used to beat the stuffing out of both of us.  Remember when she locked me in the closet all day for calling her a penguin?”

“No, I don’t remember and I don’t care.”  Dominic tried to cut him off.  “‘Cause when she sees her picture and this story she’s going to come popping up out of her hole just like Bugs Bunny and I’m going to be standing there with my shotgun.”

“You’re going to be just like Elmer Fudd, right, Dominic?”

Dominic hit Peeto in the nose with his crumpled napkin.

“Just go get me another maple and bacon bar.”

When Peeto left Dominic alone in the booth he looked again at the newspaper and the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon of his mind as two and two began to add up and the story started to make sense.

“Oh, my God…the cleaning lady.”

***

Sitting in the study in his barber chair throne, amid the clutter of his life, Giani Montini was reading the same news story and looking at the same blurry picture of his daughter.  His blood pressure medication was getting a test.

He was talking to the Consiglieri, his attorney and adviser, with whom he met twice weekly to keep tabs on the never-ending investigations into the Family businesses.  He also met with him because this highly paid lawyer was the only friend from his early days who was still alive.  They sipped at their coffee and nibbled at some low-fat, low-cholesterol, low-sugar and totally tasteless pastries.

“They think my little girl killed somebody.  That’s nonsense.  She wouldn’t hurt a fly.  It’s not in her.  She wasn’t raised that way.  If anybody had been hit I would have heard about it.”  He tossed his pastry back onto his plate.

“Bobby, what is going on here?  Why are they looking for my daughter?  This doesn’t make any sense.  It’s crazy.  Even if she did do something like that, which I’m sure she didn’t, she’d come to me.  She wouldn’t just take off.”

The lawyer took another look at the newspaper then settled back in his chair.  He looked like anpull-dons-library actor from a casting agency hired to play a lawyer on a TV show.  He wore a four-thousand dollar Savile Row suit and had just the proper amount of gray at the temples.  Looking distinguished and intimidating was expensive.

“You’re right, Don Giani.  I agree.  Something is very wrong here.  Have you talked with Dominic about this?”

“Yes.  He says that he doesn’t know anything.  I sent him to Philadelphia and he swears that when he got back, Beverly was gone.  He hasn’t been able to find her and neither have I.”  The Don was feeling powerless.  Things were happening and he had no control.  “She’s hiding somewhere, but where?  And why?  Help me find my girl, Bobby.”

The lawyer, acting as both Consiglieri and as a friend, spoke in soft measured tones designed to impart confidence.

“My Don and my friend, I will find her.  I will bring her to you, personally, and we’ll get this whole thing straightened out.  I give you my word.”

 Giani Montini’s face had turned an unhealthy shade of red from the anguish and frustration he was feeling.  He stopped and took several slow, deep breaths to try to lower his blood pressure.  He was not used to feeling this helpless.  He needed to put his fatherly instincts aside and use his Family powers to find his daughter.

“This mess has Dominic’s fingerprints all over it.  Call Dominic’s captain, the Monsignor.  Tell him I need a meet on this.  Somehow, that smelly animal has put my little girl in danger.  Go and call the Old Man.  I’m going to find her and God help anyone who gets in my way.”

to be continued8

Fiction Saturday – “And Pull The Hole In After You” – Continued

Fiction Saturday –  Continued

Chapter Twenty-One

 

pull-apartment-bldgHe stood by the door of his apartment building slowly going through his mail. Everything was addressed to him as either Mr. Davis Lovejoy or, all too often, as “Occupant.”  Mixed in with the junk mail and the bills was a plain white envelope with no return address.  It was postmarked the day before.  He opened it slowly.  It was almost as if he expected it to explode.  Inside was a single sheet of notepaper—the same notepaper he had seen taped to the mirror in Laura’s apartment.

“Meet me in the arboretum in Golden Gate Park, tomorrow at ten a.m. – at the Moon Viewing Platform.”  It was signed with a simple ” L.”

“My God.  What is going on here?  Crazy notes?  Secret meetings?”

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Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

Fiction Saturday – Continued

Chapter Eighteen

 

pull-fed-office“Okay,” announced Agent Paxton, “It runs tomorrow in about a hundred and thirty papers from East to West.  The story is essentially true, but we are keeping the mob connection out of it.  No sense in tempting somebody out in the boonies who happens to be a wise guy wannabe.”  He was hopeful.

“You think it will work?” asked Agent Richey.  “Will it make her come up out of her rabbit hole?”  She was still skeptical.

“I hope so.  Nothing else is working.  I’m just still concerned that we’re helping her husband in the process.  If he gets to her first….”

Markosi shook his head.  He was pessimistic.

“Yeah, the latest word is that Don Giani and Dominic are not on good terms over her disappearance,” said Agent Richey as she inspected the press release for typos even though it had been checked a dozen times.

“Ask me if I care,” said Paxton.  “I want her alive.  I know we can flip her on any number of things.  She may have been born into it, but I have a feeling that she wants out.”

Markosi looked up from the daily reports.  “What makes you think so?”

“She’s voted with her feet.  It would have been easier to just have her husband’s body dumped in the Poconos.  Unless, of course, she did kill the DEA agent,” said Paxton.

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Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

Fiction Saturday – Continued

pull-roseChapter Sixteen

 

Davis wasn’t late the next morning.  He showed up on time and he was carrying one white rose.  Laura blushed.

After another leisurely breakfast they walked down by the shore of the Bay.  The fog had stayed out at sea and the Golden Gate Bridge dominated the view, it’s towers vaulting into the sky.  As they strolled beside the magnificent sailing yachts and watched skeins of pelicans skim the surface of the Bay, these two transplants from other lives held hands and knew that something was happening that they hadn’t planned on.  And they let it happen.

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Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

Fiction Saturday

Chapter Twelve

 

pull-fed-office“Nothing.  Not a peep.”

“She has really gone to ground.”

“Well, she has to come up for air sometime, and when she does we’ll grab her.  They always do and we always do.”

Special Agent Paxton sat behind his desk in New York.  He toyed with his pen as he looked at the ever-growing file on Beverly Deltino.

Agent Thomas Markosi was sitting at another desk, going through the daily field reports, hoping for something that they might be able to use, some little gem of information.  There were no gems today.

Reports from offices around the country all said much the same thing: Nobody has seen her.  Nobody has heard anything.  Not even a whisper.  The lady was gone.

Markosi looked down at her photo, but it was Paxton who spoke to her.

“Beverly, where in the hell are you?  We get more tips on sightings of Elvis.”

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Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

Chapter Nine

pull parrots Laura knew that she had to conquer her fears, both rational and irrational, or she wouldn’t make it.  She would end up taking her revolver to bed.  She knew that it was just too dangerous to start resuming any kind of a normal life.  But she also knew that she had to try.  It was a risk, but life is a risk.

Baby steps.  I need to take baby steps first, she repeated to herself.

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Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

pull dons mansionChapter Eight

Since his wife had walked out on him while he was in Philadelphia, three things had plagued the mind of Dominic Deltino:

  1. Where was she?
  2. Where was his money?
  3. What is her father thinking about all of this?

He didn’t have any answers to the first two and he was afraid that he did to the third.

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Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

 

Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

Pull SafewayChapter Seven

After three days of eating from the snack machine outside of the rental office, Laura Smith made the calculated decision to risk a late-night trip to the Safeway supermarket a few blocks from her new home.  She had a small kitchenette, she knew how to cook and she couldn’t look at another peanut butter-cheese cracker without gagging.

She would have to walk. 

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Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued

Chapter Six

 Pull Golden Rose

“It’s $1500 a month or $750 every two weeks, if you want.”

“I see.  Is it month-to-month or is it on a lease?”

“Month to month, week to week, day to day if you like, but I don’t care for leases,” said the young man behind the counter.  He really hated dealing with the renters.

“Is it quiet?  I mean, it’s not a lot of noisy neighbors?”

“What’s quiet?  Look, lady, you’ve seen the apartment.  Do you want it or not?”

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