Dirk pedaled steadily along Lake Miona Drive. He felt a renewed sense of enthusiasm after his brush with the Community Watch vehicle. His decisions to dress casually and act as normal as possible had paid off. He felt like he was in the clear now.
After a short ride, he arrived at the intersection with Sample Street. He glanced right and noticed a tall man walking toward him on Sample Street with something clutched in his hand. “It’s him,” he murmured. Dirk did a rapid 360 and pedaled rapidly back toward the mail station.
Arriving at the station, he leaned left and coasted to a stop in front of the small building bordered on three sides with mail compartments. The area was deserted, except for a few mallards that scurried out of his way and disappeared into the bushes. He was confident that no one would hear the muffled shots of his thirty-eight revolver at this time of the morning.
When he had met Cathy at the flea market, she had informed him that the slot for mailing letters faced the parking lot. With this in mind, Dirk hurried around the building and then ducked down into the bushes that bordered the mail station and crawled to a location that would give him a good view of the front of the building and a clear shot at Ed Roberts when he arrived. Dirk’s hand slid into the middle of his fanny pack and lifted out the heavy .38 with silencer attached. From this angle, he was well hidden from anyone approaching the mail area. He pointed the gun at the front of the station and took aim-it was perfect. He would have an easy shot at Ed Roberts from there.
The plan, which he had rehearsed over and over again in his mind, was to hit Roberts with a couple of body shots from the bushes. Then, with his prey seriously wounded, he would hurry over and give him a round or two to the head to finish him off. It was a horrible thing to contemplate but Dirk felt no emotion. Killing some “rich bastard” would be like killing your worst enemy. Dirk felt no reservations about what he was about to do. His only concerns were about getting away without getting caught or being noticed by a passerby.
“Ouch!” Dirk suddenly rolled on his left side and yanked a pointed thistle from his stomach and tossed it on the ground. He quickly rolled back to his stomach and fell on his elbows lifting the thirty-eight to eye level and taking dead aim at the front of the building. I can’t miss from here, he thought. Suddenly, a shadow fell across the end of the parking lot. Dirk’s heart began racing. He watched as the man he had seen the day before at Burger King appeared from around the corner of the tall bushes that surrounded the parking lot and walked casually toward the mail building, holding the letters to his grandchildren in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
Dirk steadied his hand for the first shot. After years of practice on a pistol range near Ocala, he knew he wouldn’t miss. His hands felt steady. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a set of headlights flashed across the parking lot. A small truck sped into the lot and jerked to a stop in front of the building just as Ed Roberts was arriving. It was the same Community Watch truck he had passed earlier in the Palmer parking lot. Waves of anxiety shot through Dirk’s body like volts of electricity. Beads of perspiration popped out on his forehead. He had to think fast. He had to find a way out of this, but how? He couldn’t run because there was really nowhere to run. He would be caught in minutes if he tried to escape on foot. He was in a state of shear panic; he had to figure something out and quickly. He jammed the revolver back into his fanny pack and began crawling on all fours toward the rear of the building.
* * * * * *
Vinnie hastily exited his vehicle. He scanned the area for any sign of the man on the bicycle and saw nothing. He reached forward to shake the hand of the approaching Ed Roberts. “Good morning, how are you?” he said.
As the two men shook hands, Ed had a quizzical look on his face.
“Remember me? I’m Vinnie, the cop from New York, Alphonzo’s friend.”
“Oh yes, yes, I remember, we played golf together. Good to see you again.” Ed’s smile diminished slightly. “Is everything okay? You came in here in quite a hurry.”
“Why…uh, yes, certainly. I kind of got a lead foot I guess. Just stopped to get a newspaper.”
“I’m doing my weekly duty, mailing letters to my granddaughters.”
“I know what you mean, I have two….”
A voice from the right side of the hut interrupted the two men, “Good morning, gentlemen!”
Ed glanced at the bike lying on the ground near the curb and then at the man coming around the building, “Good morning,” he said politely. “Out for a ride?”
“Yeah, sure am.” Dirk walked directly toward the two men and extended his hand. “Dirk Harrison here.”
“Ed Roberts, Dirk, glad to meet you.” The two men shook hands.
Vinnie didn’t give his name or attempt to shake the man’s hand. He glared at the object bulging from center of the fanny pack. “Are you a resident here at The Villages?” Vinnie asked.
A friendly smile spread across Dirk’s face, “Why… uh, no I’m not. I own a motorcycle shop in Lady Lake. I have several good customers here in The Villages. In fact, I have a couple right here in Bridgeport, a Mr. Jefferson and a Mr. Caldwell.”
Ed interrupted, “Why yes, Dirk, I know them both well and they sure love those Harleys.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to hear that.”
“Ride your bike here often?” Vinnie asked pointedly, studying the man’s face. As a member of the Community Watch, Vinnie had very little authority. If he thought a crime was being committed he had to contact the authorities from a nearby county and wait for them to arrive. He wanted desperately to search the man’s fanny pack, but he had no authority to do so.
“Occasionally I do. One of my customers, I believe it was Bob Jefferson, told me that Bridgeport would be a great place to ride my bike. So I’ve taken him up on it a couple of times. I hope I haven’t broken any rules, officer.”
Vinnie was taken aback by the coolness of this customer. He was impressive. “Were you bird watching back there behind the building or what?” Vinnie asked.
Dirk’s eyes went to the ground. “I’m kind of embarrassed. You caught me in the act, if you know what I mean?”
Ed Roberts laughed out loud, “Don’t think a thing about it, Dirk. Me and my buddies do it all the time on the golf course.”
“Well…uh, I didn’t see anybody around so I…uh, well you know.”
Vinnie cracked a weak smile, “This is not the best place to relieve yourself, Mr. Harrison, but I guess this time of day you don’t have many options.”
“Thank you, officer, for your understanding. Well, gentlemen, I best be going. The shop opens in less than an hour.” Dirk nodded and quickly walked to his bike, lifted it off the ground and hopped aboard, nodding and waving to the other men as he rode away.
“Nice fella,” Ed said.
“I guess so,” Vinnie replied.
“I best be going, too, Vinnie, nice to see you again.”
“Yea, same here. Be good to those grandkids, okay?”
“Will do.”
Vinnie opened the car door and slid into the seat. He felt conflicted. Initially he thought he was dealing with a potential killer, but when confronted, the guy seemed to have all of the right answers. He made no attempt to hide his identity and presented a very logical explanation as to how he ended up in The Villages on a bicycle early in the morning. Even if Vinnie had been a cop on the beat back in New York City, he would have had a hard time finding a ‘probable cause’ to arrest this man. He simply had not done anything wrong and his explanations for his behavior were completely plausible and understandable. In fact, after their impromptu discussion at the mail station, Vinnie almost liked the guy. “Looks like I did it again,” Vinnie mumbled as he pulled the shift arm into reverse and slowly back out of his parking spot. “I overreacted.”