Like a dumb shit I had left the lock open to my abode. Sometimes I couldn't believe what a fucking fool I could be. Coming around the side I ducked down under the kitchenette window and placed my back next to the open door. A rental scooter was parked about twenty feet away. My dog, Ramos, a flea bitten old mutt was no where to be found. The smell of a really nice perfume mixed with the aroma of coconut oil sunscreen was wafting out of the trailer as I gingerly stepped through the door holding my knife down against my thigh. Sitting on my bed, smoking a cigarette and drinking from a can of beer, was a older and very good looking woman. She was wearing a cleavage revealing lime green bathing suit and a pair of cutoff jeans. Her wear was cut short and was grayish blonde. I remembered it as strawberry blonde. Feeling the trailer shift as I stepped in she turned and smiled at me. Ramos, the traitor, was laying on the bed with his head in her lap as she scratched his mangy head. I felt like I was in the middle of an acid flashback. I walked over and shut off the stereo.
"Son of a bitch! Look who's here."
She smiled brightly at me. "You've lost weight but you look taller."
"That's a weird way to greet someone that you haven't seen in almost thirty years. Almost rude one could say."
She laughed. "Well, forgive me, this is kind of a weird situation. And you do look different from what I remember. Different but not bad. You've got the beach bum look down that's for sure. That's all I was saying."
"Well, it's been a long time, Reggie. Things change. How are you?"
She nodded at the knife. "You can put that away." She leaned back on her hands. Even from this distance I could see a tiny bead of sweat run down her tanned cleavage. Bad habits die hard.
I folded the blade and dropped the knife in my pocket. "I guess I can do that. It doesn't look like you could have a pistol on you the way you're dressed. So are you here to arrest me? Let's just get this out of the way. I know why you're here. I didn't kill that NIS agent. I was there but Brewer did it. It was a traffic stop gone wrong. Ricky freaked because he and his old lady were dealing all that dope and he thought that he was going to get busted. Jesus Christ, I'm almost fifty fucking years old. Can't you people give it up?"
Her green eyes flashed in anger at me and then she looked down to the floor. "I know all that but I'm not here on business."
"Bullshit! So you're the one that wrote that fucking letter. I should have goddamn known! I almost fucking drowned in Galveston but I guess I was lucky that a goddamn hurricane was hitting the island or else the cops would have been there to arrest me. The weather kind of fucked up their stakeout. You were setting my ass up again. Just like in Pearl Harbor."
"I didn't set you up in Pearl Harbor and I wrote you that letter to warn you! I didn't fucking think that you'd go up there to kill Brewer."
"I didn't kill him. The cocksucker was already dead when I got there. Someone shot.." I realized suddenly what was happening and what was being said between us. "Wait a fucking minute here! Just who the hell are you working for now? It still can't be for NIS. Even they couldn't be that fucking concerned about that ancient murder to waste the cash on sending someone all the way down here to check out old leads. Who the hell are you working for? What the fuck are you doing here? How much do you know about what's happened to me since I left the Navy?" Ramos, startled by my tone of voice, jumped off the bed and ran out the trailer.
Reggie stood and flicked her cigarette butt out the window and quickly lit another one up. "No, I retired from the Navy years ago. I've been working for another agency for almost ten years. I can't tell you who it is but after September 11th I've been working closely with the Department of Homeland Security. Running background investigations, looking over intelligence on domestic terrorism, monitoring wiretaps, Patriotic Act bullshit. And then one day an old case file just was magically dumped on my desk. It really rang a bell. Some supervisor saw my name in it as a previous investigator on the case so they thought I might be interested in it."
"Me? The file was on me?"
Cigarette smoke streamed out of her nose. In spite of my worked up self it seemed oh so sexy. "No, not you. Seems like an old ex-prison snitch named Ricky Brewer who had turned himself into some sort of a semi-professional computer detective was trying to sell information on an old murder of a NIS agent that happened in Hawaii almost three decades ago. He said he even had gotten his hand's on the murder weapon. He also claimed that the murderer had in his possession a large photo album containing photos of a sexual nature involving many military officials and political figures. Very graphic shit! Snorting coke, anal, oral sex, bondage, shit that ran the whole gamut. Brewer had copies of some of the photos but said the originals and negatives were in the photo album. Some of these people mentioned do in fact hold some very high and important public offices right now and the snitch, that nasty prick Ricky Brewer, claimed the person who was holding this photo album planned on using it for a huge blackmail scam. The fucking media would eat that shit up with a spoon if it was all true."
I sat down on a stool across from her. "It was Brewer and Mason and Rose who were pulling that scam off. Not me. I didn't know about it until the night before I shipped out of Pearl. Mason got all liquored up and babbled on about it. I thought it was just all bullshit until now."
Reggie let out a sigh. "I always thought Rose was into something a lot deeper than working for a call girl service. She was a sweet girl really. Just real mixed up."
"What do you think happened to her?" "Her last known whereabouts was supposedly at the house of an admiral in Pearl. He denied everything and his alibi checked out. It's been too many years. Nothing will come of it."
Reggie stared deeply into my eyes. "But I'm telling you straight right now. Whoever has that photo album, if it does exist, is in very serious danger. There are people in our government who are willing to kill to get their hands on it. Things have changed since 9/11."
"I don't have it if that's what you're here for. Anyway, people working for the government are the last people that I'm going to lose sleep over. You could say that I have a much more hardcore bunch who would like stumble on to my ass these days. If they found me a prison cell would be a cakewalk compared to what these assholes would do to me."
She paused for several seconds and then took a deep breath. "Did you really kill those two people after you broke out of that security hospital?"
I walked over to the cooler and grabbed two beers and handed one to her. "So you do know. I guess your agency does have big ears. Doesn't it?" I sat back down across from her. "I had to or I was one dead motherfucker. It was just one bad thing after another in my life that started when I was barely out of high school and led me to that moment. A fucking nightmare."
She nodded her head. "la Favor."
I gave a short laugh. "I forgot I told you about him. I guess I never could keep my mouth shut once I climbed into your bed. You sure could work your magic."
"Did you really walk away from that trailer with 150,000 dollars in cash?"
"150 large? Is that what they said? Hell no! It was closer to 200 grand. It was so heavy I could hardly carry the bag into the airport. Whoever said 150 either couldn't count or they had been skimming on the cut."
Reggie's face turned serious. "Those Nazis still have a contract out on your ass! Still, after all these years. That's what Brewer's game was.
Through all his Internet research, prison ties, and government flunkies and informants he was talking to, he devised a plan. He'd get the Feds interested in the old NIS murder and grease the wheels with that idea about the photo album and they'd track you down. Once you were in custody and inside a federal prison you'd be an open target for the AB or the Nazis. Our intelligence reported that he was in almost constant contact with them about you. And then he'd collect the reward. It's nothing to sneeze at. A quarter of a million is a shitload of money, especially for a scumbag like Brewer. I just don't think he realized how dangerous a game he was playing."
"Who killed Brewer. The Feds, the skinheads, who?"
She took a sip of beer and looked out the window. "I really don't know. Brewer was piece of shit. No one is crying in their beer that's he's dead, that's for damn sure. The world is better off without him."
I didn't want to ask the next question. "Then why are you here? Don't even tell me that you're here to catch some sun and relax. That this meeting is just a coincidence."
She didn't answer. Just kept sitting there looking out the window. I slipped my shirt over my head. "Look at this." She turned and looked at the tattoo over my heart. "You broke my fucking heart the day I saw you in that courtroom. I've never gotten over you, that's a goddamn fact. But if you're here to arrest me or shoot me, either way, let's get this shit over with. I'm getting to old to keep on running."