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At the end of the block was a playground with a basketball court and six goals and, beyond the court, a softball field with a shallow outfield. A few teenaged guys were on the court and a guy in his early thirties was running wind sprints in the outfield. I watched him race from second base to the far edge of the outfield, then walk back, then doing it all again. A row of tall elms stood sentry along the far perimeter of the outfield, then there was another street and more houses. There were kids playing on the playground. This is a family park. Not a drug dealer park.
A white Good Humor ice cream truck was parked at the curb in the shade of one of the elms and a tall guy in a Malcolm X hat was leaning against it with his arms crossed, watching the sprinter. He didn't look interested in selling ice cream.
James Edward Stone said, “That's our guy.”
We turned away from the park, made the block and came back to a side street that gave an unobstructed view of the basketball players, the outfield and the ice cream truck on the far street. I parked on the side street so we'd have an easy, eyes-forward view and then I shut the engine. If the neighbors saw us sitting there, maybe they'd think we were scouting for the NBA.
“This used to be called Northeast Park.” I said plainly.
“What?” Stone responded like I’d slapped him in the back of the head.
“1825 they renamed it Franklin Square in honor of Benjamin Franklin himself.”
“What are you? The History Channel?”
“Was a big revolutionary war gun powder storage place, too.” I smiled. I’m sophisticated like that.
“Next thing you’ll be telling me is they got bodied buried up in here.” He shook his head and looked away.
“Actually,” I looked directly at him and pointed across the car, “over there the German Reform Church had a cemetery from 1740 to 1835. Word is they didn’t move all the bodies.”
James Edward Stone looked me in the eye and shook his head without saying a word. Maybe eight or nine minutes later four guys in a white Malibu turned onto the far street, slowed to a stop and the guy with the X hat went over to them. One of the guys in the backseat of the Malibu gave something to the X and the X gave something to the guy in the Malibu. Then the Malibu drove away and the X went back to his leaning. A little bit later a kid on a bike rolled up the sidewalk, jumped the curb down to the street and skidded to a stop. The kid and the X traded something and the kid rode away. Stone said, “Cool Mo better be giving it to us straight about those cops.”
I pointed at the X. “He's here, isn't he?”
“He's here, but will the cops come and if they come are they coming because they're cops or because they're working with the Double-Deuce?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out. Isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I guess we will.” James Edward shifted in the seat, uncomfortable, but not because of the seat. My ride is super comfortable. “They don't come and run this muthafucka off, maybe I'll do it my-damn-self.”
“Maybe I'll help you.” That was no question either. Stone glanced at me and nodded.
A couple of minutes later Linc Diesel came up along the sidewalk and squatted beside my window. I said, “Linc Diesel, this is James Edward Stone. James, this is my partner, Linc Diesel.”
Diesel canted his head to lock onto James Edward Stone and reached in through the window. You can't see his eyes behind the dark glasses, but it's always easy to tell where he's looking. His whole being sort of points in one direction, as if he were totally focused on you. James Edward took his hand, but stared at Linc’s tattoos. Most people do when Linc is showing them off. Today they were clear as day on his arms. I told Diesel about the X at the ice cream truck and what Cool Mo had said about Simons's POINT team and their involvement with the Double-Deuce Gang.
Diesel nodded. “Frisco and his people are supposed to thump this guy?”
James Edward said, “That's the word.”
Diesel looked at the X. “It's a long way across the playground to the ice cream truck. If Frisco moves the action away from us, we've got too much ground to cover to catch up. We might lose them.”
I said, “Why don't you set up on that side and we'll stay here. If Frisco moves that way, you've got them and if he moves in this direction, we've got him.”
Diesel stared behind us up the street, then twisted around and looked at the park. “You feel it?”
“What?”
Diesel shook his head. “This doesn't feel right.”~~~~~~~~
Today I have a sample from The Insider's Story, the second book in the Lance Carter Detective series! Pick it up today and catch up with Lance and Linc Diesel!
| The Insider's Story is available via: Paperback Amazon Kindle B&N Nook Sony (Smashwords) Audiobook ~~~~~ Bruce has worked in educational technology for over 18 years and has implemented several 1:1/BYOD programs. He also has served as a classroom teacher in Computer Science, History and English classes. Bruce is the author of five books: Sands of Time, Towering Pines Volume One:Room 509, The Star of Christmas, Philadelphia Story: A Lance Carter Detective Novel and The Insider's Story: A Lance Carter Detective Novel. Follow Bruce's Novel releases by subscribing to his FREE newsletter! Be sure to check out Bruce's Allentown Education Examiner Page, his Twitter and his Facebook! |
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