Scrab Chapter XX Page 2

Certainty came as the crone spotting the newcomer, nodded her head, before she turned back to the TV. Skinny as a rail, his hair was more gray than blond. The skin was wrinkled and sagged from the bone. He stooped, and continuously muttered to himself. He was drunk; but it was a drunk’s drunk, and he could manage that. With one hand the old man held a sacked bottle close to his chest. The other he used to grasp the banister as he began the ordeal of climbing up the steps. The calories he accidentally gained from the wine barely gave him enough energy to make the second floor landing.

Arete rose from the chair, and went through the lobby to the rear entrance. He paused en route to lay another twenty on the front desk, then held a finger up to his lips His meaning was clear, and the old crone merely nodded with little interest. Out the back door, he braced it with one hand, while stooping to examine the refuse that littered

the alley floor. He found a sliver of wood and wedged it into the jamb recess, so when the door closed it would not lock. That accomplished, he trotted down the alley to the street and turned right. Janus should arrive at the parking lot anytime now. It had taken the policeman a couple of hours to reach him. They had agreed to meet at the beach lot.

He walked with a quick pace, moving his eyes from one recess to another, his ears cued for the slightest out of the way noise. This was not a good neighborhood at the best of times, after dark it lay exposed to "antisocial types". If any such spotted the purposeful moving cop, they let him passed unmolested. He looked capable of handling himself, and the takers were not lions, but jackals who scavenged on easier prey. Soon enough he neared the beach front, entering a different world. The beach front was better patrolled for one thing. But mostly the change was due to the hoards of Friday night thrill