This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will.
But do leave a note.
I still am a late middle aged former government worker killing time.
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Saturday, January 31, 2015
Rehearsal (Blogophilia 49.7)
Turning into the complex, the sun blinded him. Dazed and
confused, he wasn’t sure why he was here. When he left, he absolutely was
convinced it was the right time. But somewhere mid-drive the realization that a
dry run was needed came to his thoughts. The choreography needed to be just right.
This place had a cul-de-sac like the Graves and he could test a couple of
things without the residents knowing.
A space was open, good. Carefully parking the car, he turned
off the engine sat for a moment. Anticipation pushing on Control, it was tempting
just to go ahead and do it here. But It that would be like completing an
out-of-bounds pass at the Tech-Georgia game. It wouldn’t gain any yards, just lose
precious seconds on the clock. Murray would not come until after the fun, and
all there would be is a hoard of angry cops. This was not an option. But, he
could work out a couple of kinks in the process.
Focus returned. This was the place he was supposed to be.
Maybe the stupid psychic was a genius after. Who else but him knew that there
is not great genius without a mixture of madness? Opening the door, he looked
back towards the entrance to the complex. No traffic going in or out and no
people at the breezeway entrances. This shouldn’t take long.
He sang softly to himself as he went through the walk through.
"Overture! Curtain! Lights! This is it. the night of nights..."
Murray and Gomez stood just behind the corner of one of the
“So, why do you think he’s here?”
“Not a clue, but it sure is strange.”
“Ready for back up?”
“Not yet. I don’t want to blow our cover.”
Murray motioned for Gomez to go around the back of the building.
Ducking low, he worked his way along the
parked cars and took a position behind an old Mercedes. The view from behind
the roof pillar gave him a clear view and the rather bizarre antics only thirty
Pacing up and down along the passenger side of the Toyota,
it appeared that Jeremy was placing something under the car. He repeated the
motions three or four more times and then stood up and pulled a notebook out of his back pocket. He jotted something done and looked around. Comfortable in the process, Jeremy then walked toward
one building and stopped to look at his watch. He repeated this a couple more times and then wrote some more.
What was he doing? Murray still didn’t think he had PC to make
contact yet. He glanced behind him at Gomez, whose face mirrored his own
puzzlement. With a nod, Gomez signaled retreat and the detectives slithered
back the way they came. When they got back to the car, they cranked it up and
slipped unnoticed into the afternoon traffic.