Pushback by John E. Stith

Author:John E. Stith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, ptsd, reunion
Publisher: ReAnimus Press

Chapter 30

As I stepped outside the gun shop, my phone made a chirp I didn’t recognize. It took me a moment to realize it was the nanny-cam app, alerting me to activity in my motel room. My heart started thudding.

Seconds later I got a glimpse of the person who was invading my territory. She was probably completely unaware of being photographed and having her picture sent over the wires.

A maid.

Unless the team took the precaution of finding a twenty-something, tired-looking young woman dressed in a maid’s outfit and who was taking the time to change the sheets on my bed, my guess was that she was not the criminal mastermind behind my harassment. The worst she could probably do was short my sheets. And maybe eat the mint that could have been on my pillow.

Police headquarters had been my next planned stop, but since I was already south of downtown, I decided to make another stop first.

The Blue Star restaurant parking area was empty. It wasn’t yet officially open for business. I parked in front, got out of my car, and walked around the three sides of the building. The restaurant butted up to Bristol Brewing just to the south of it. Most passers-by probably never saw them, but two large murals adorned two walls of the building, one to the north, the other on the side farthest from the street. The north view showed a restaurant scene mostly in red. The rear showed a humongous wine bottle and some grapes the size of basketballs.

I hadn’t noticed the hardware before, but now that I was sensitized by my exposure to the nanny-cams, I spotted three small surveillance cameras.

As I rounded the corner to the back, a guy a little older than me was hunting for his key to unlock the back door.

“Hey,” I called.

He jerked his head around, startled.

I stopped. “Sorry. Just wanted to ask you a question.”

He looked more at ease now that I had stopped approaching. He had the build of a football player, so he really didn’t have a lot to fear from me.

“There was some trouble here Friday night. What are the chances I could look at some of the footage from your security cameras?”

“Nil to none. The owner feels it’s private. We’ve had people claiming a legitimate need when what they really wanted was to see the license plate on a car driven by a woman they tried to pick up.”

“I understand. Can you at least tell me how long you save the recordings?”

He looked me over. Did I look like a stalker?

“At least a week.”

“Thanks.”

My next stop was police headquarters. As I waited for Detective Winchester, I pictured him snacking on a donut. Blame The Simpsons. I wondered how old the dollars-to-donuts idiom was. And how long before the meaning was completely reversed when the cost of a donut greatly exceeded a dollar?

“I don’t have any new information for you yet,” he said as soon as he stepped into the conference room. Again he had both his tablet computer and his paper folder.

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