Like a dumb shit I had left the lock open to my abode. Sometimes I couldn't believe what a fucking fool I could be. Coming around the side I ducked down under the kitchenette window and placed my back next to the open door. A rental scooter was parked about twenty feet away. My dog, Ramos, a flea bitten old mutt was no where to be found. The smell of a really nice perfume mixed with the aroma of coconut oil sunscreen was wafting out of the trailer as I gingerly stepped through the door holding my knife down against my thigh. Sitting on my bed, smoking a cigarette and drinking from a can of beer, was a older and very good looking woman. She was wearing a cleavage revealing lime green bathing suit and a pair of cutoff jeans. Her wear was cut short and was grayish blonde. I remembered it as strawberry blonde. Feeling the trailer shift as I stepped in she turned and smiled at me. Ramos, the traitor, was laying on the bed with his head in her lap as she scratched his mangy head. I felt like I was in the middle of an acid flashback. I walked over and shut off the stereo. "Son of a bitch! Look who's here." She smiled brightly at me. "You've lost weight but you look taller." "That's a weird way to greet someone that you haven't seen in almost thirty years. Almost rude one could say."
She laughed. "Well, forgive me, this is kind
of a weird situation. And you do look different from
what I remember. Different but not bad. You've got
the beach bum look down that's for sure. That's all I
was saying."
"Well, it's been a long time, Reggie. Things
change. How are you?"
She nodded at the knife. "You can put that
away." She leaned back on her hands. Even from
this distance I could see a tiny bead of sweat run
down her tanned cleavage. Bad habits die hard.
I folded the blade and dropped the knife in
my pocket. "I guess I can do that. It doesn't look
like you could have a pistol on you the way you're
dressed. So are you here to arrest me? Let's just get
this out of the way. I know why you're here. I didn't
kill that NIS agent. I was there but Brewer did it. It
was a traffic stop gone wrong. Ricky freaked
because he and his old lady were dealing all that
dope and he thought that he was going to get
busted. Jesus Christ, I'm almost fifty fucking years
old. Can't you people give it up?"
Her green eyes flashed in anger at me and
then she looked down to the floor. "I know all that
but I'm not here on business."
"Bullshit! So you're the one that wrote that
fucking letter. I should have goddamn known! I
almost fucking drowned in Galveston but I guess I
was lucky that a goddamn hurricane was hitting the
island or else the cops would have been there to
arrest me.
The weather kind of fucked up their
stakeout. You were setting my ass up again. Just
like in Pearl Harbor."
"I didn't set you up in Pearl Harbor and I
wrote you that letter to warn you! I didn't fucking
think that you'd go up there to kill Brewer."
"I didn't kill him. The cocksucker was
already dead when I got there. Someone shot.." I
realized suddenly what was happening and what
was being said between us. "Wait a fucking minute
here! Just who the hell are you working for now? It
still can't be for NIS. Even they couldn't be that
fucking concerned about that ancient murder to
waste the cash on sending someone all the way
down here to check out old leads. Who the hell are
you working for? What the fuck are you doing
here? How much do you know about what's
happened to me since I left the Navy?" Ramos,
startled by my tone of voice, jumped off the bed and
ran out the trailer.
Reggie stood and flicked her cigarette butt
out the window and quickly lit another one up. "No,
I retired from the Navy years ago. I've been
working for another agency for almost ten years. I
can't tell you who it is but after September 11th I've
been working closely with the Department of
Homeland Security. Running background
investigations, looking over intelligence on
domestic terrorism, monitoring wiretaps, Patriotic
Act bullshit. And then one day an old case file just
was magically dumped on my desk. It really rang a
bell. Some supervisor saw my name in it as a
previous investigator on the case so they thought I
might be interested in it."
"Me? The file was on me?"
Cigarette smoke streamed out of her nose. In
spite of my worked up self it seemed oh so sexy.
"No, not you. Seems like an old ex-prison snitch
named Ricky Brewer who had turned himself into
some sort of a semi-professional computer detective
was trying to sell information on an old murder of a
NIS agent that happened in Hawaii almost three
decades ago. He said he even had gotten his hand's
on the murder weapon. He also claimed that the
murderer had in his possession a large photo album
containing photos of a sexual nature involving
many military officials and political figures. Very
graphic shit! Snorting coke, anal, oral sex, bondage,
shit that ran the whole gamut. Brewer had copies of
some of the photos but said the originals and
negatives were in the photo album. Some of these
people mentioned do in fact hold some very high
and important public offices right now and the
snitch, that nasty prick Ricky Brewer, claimed the
person who was holding this photo album planned
on using it for a huge blackmail scam. The fucking
media would eat that shit up with a spoon if it was
all true."