Clearwater Journals

I Have an Unexpected Visitor

I Have an Unexpected Visitor

As I pulled into the short lane leading to the garage, I cut the lights so as not to disturb the neighbours. Possibly, God had decided to pitch in again, or maybe I just got lucky. Turning off those lights saved me. As I got out of the car, I heard a low whisper and felt a hand on my forearm pulling me down.

"Food Guy" and then the hand pulled me towards the back of the Jag. It was Papa Smurf.

"Papa, what the hell are you doing here this time?"

"Shush. That big guy is in your house."

"The big guy who walks funny-how do you know that?"

"I was sleepin' in your yard man when he snuck around from the front and let himself in. At first, I thought it was you, but this guy is a fuckin' monster. I mean really huge."

This was not good-not good at all. I pushed Papa around to the passenger side of the Jag. I wanted to put the car between the house and me. I shot a quick look back out towards the road. There were two cars parked on the street about twenty-five yards apart. I couldn't recognize the make of either vehicle. I thought about grabbing the cell phone from the car and dialing 911. That would be the smart thing to do, but that would only postpone the inevitable. And at that moment, I had the advantage.

I had the Sig hidden in the garage and the Beretta in my backpack. The Sig made more sense with its suppressor. I'd been lucky so far. My backpack was still on the passenger's seat of the Jag. I didn't want to open the car door and have the courtesy lights go on.

"Stay here Papa."

I crept forward and unlocked the garage door, lifted it enough for me to slide under. There was enough ambient light for me to see the front of the garage's interior and the flowerpots where I had hidden Langdon's favourite weapon.

I had the Sig. I checked the clip and safety. I screwed on the silencer as I crept quietly back to where Papa was waiting.

"Holy shit," he said when he saw the elongated Sig. His eyes were like saucers in the darkness. "Are you some kind of fuckin' hit man Food Guy?"

"No Papa. Why didn't you just take off earlier?"

"I was afraid to, man-so I just hunkered down back here-blended in."

"Did the guy have a gun, a knife and canon-did you see anything?"

"A little gun I think, but I'm not fer sur; whatever it was, he held it pointing up."

"Okay. Wait until you hear from me, or if fifteen minutes goes by, call 911. Tell them what's happening."

"I don't got no watch."

I slipped my watch off and gave it to him. "Good luck Food Guy," he said before he crabbed back around the edge of the garage.

When Papa was safe and quiet, I crept to the door of my room. The guy was moving quietly through the dark rooms. The door had been expertly jimmied. I wouldn't have spotted a thing.

I waited and listened for more than one person. Terry was trying to be careful about keeping quiet, but I guess he was in the wrong line of work. I could tell his location. But maybe there was another guy Papa had missed waiting just inside the door to do an instant lights out and game over on anyone returning home. That would be me.

I hit the door hard and rolled low into the bedroom. When I stopped, I was lying on my back on the floor with the Sig pointed back and up at Mr. Ambush. There was no Mr. Ambush. The room was empty. Terry must have heard me. He went real quiet.