I may have been awake but I still felt like shit. My head was pounding and I was hungry again. I lay on the bed trying not to think. When I closed my eyes, The damned woman kept coming back. I kept seeing her appear in the rain, and the little .25 auto pointing at me. Granted it wasn’t much of a gun, but that range, it could kill. I stumbled off the bed, still naked I headed back to the bathroom. I came out a half hour later feeling somewhat more alive. I found a clean suit, and made myself presentable. One look in the mirror said I needed a razor, But I didn’t dare touch one. I’d probably slit my own throat. So I left two days of beard on . By now Brenda was up. Over coffee I filled her in on what happened last night. One the way out I grabbed the film from the camera, replacing it with a fresh roll.
I stopped on the porch and made a point of locking the door behind me, while I looked over the street. The old chevy was still there. I decided to let it follow me for a while. I got in the Ford, fired it up and pulled out the driveway. Turning right, I drove past the chevy. I was able to get a look and the plate, and the men in it. There were two of them. Both looked like they’d been there all night. Which suited me fine. They would be tired and probably hungry and have to go to the bathroom. In other words very uncomfortable. About halfway downtown I decided to lose them, or let them think I’d lost them. I made a couple of quick turns down a couple of side streets. Ducking into a parking lot, they drove right past me. I pulled in behind them several cars back. I spent the rest of the morning following them. They weren’t any better at spotting a tail, then they were at tailing. I was getting hungry myself and I needed to go see Robert. I was about to call of the tail , when I hit paydirt. Down on the docks they pulled into a warehouse. I decided it would be wise to see if I could figure out who they were meeting at the warehouse. I managed to sneak up on them. Finding a window where I could see in, I was able to see into the office. There were probably a dozen men. Several in fancy suits, but most in work clothes. The suits seemed to be discussing something. While the rest stood around waiting. I noticed several had shotguns, mostly pump, and a couple were wearing guns under their suitcoats. They broke up to leave. I beat it back to the Ford. Barely making it in time to ID the two from the chevy. I managed to write down all the plate numbers of the cars that were parked in the warehouse. As they drove out. Once everyone was clear, I decided to head to the bar. Once at the bar, I parked in the alley behind it. Letting myself in the back door. I fired up the grill and made a couple of hamburgers and drank a beer.
I was sitting at one of the tables in front when I heard the lock start to open. I carefully slid the .45 from the holster and turned my chair towards the back of the bar. And waited. In less than a minute later Brenda came in. She still looked as good as she did before the war. Yes she looked older, but we all look older, war does that.
Brenda and I married in December 1940. I had volunteered immediately after the attack on Pearl Harbor, along with millions of of men across the country. I joined the marines. Inside of six weeks I was halfway around the world. The things I saw still haunt me most nights. Then in Spring 1943 in the middle of Germany, I turned up missing. I was reported as Missing In Action. No one knew where I had been for the rest of the war. After a year of being missing, I was declared dead by the marines. Brenda had starting seeing another man, but it didn’t end well. He was killed in a bar fight.
“Morning, Jim”
“Morning Brenda, I figured you wouldn’t mind,” indicating the plate with the remains of a hamburg, and the half empty bottle of beer.
“You ok?”
“I’m as ok as I ever am. “ Smiling grimly. I nodded to the chair . Brenda sat down across from me .
“Sorry about last night.”
“It’s ok. I knew something was up, when you didn't call.”
“I should have called you right after I called Bob, I’m Sorry.”
By then I had finished the food and drink. I got up and went back to the kitchen. The next few minutes were spent with me cleaning the plates, and silverware. I also trashed the empty beer bottle. Having cleaned up my mess I returned to the table out front where Brenda was still sitting.
I pulled out the chair, and sat back down. My trenchcoat flapping around as sat back down on it. At point the hole in the pocket showed. I glanced down at it. Looking back up at her I could see the worry in her eyes.
“Yeah it was stupid. I know. Hon. I knew better then to go out there without a backup.” I finally said. Finally acknowledging the hole in my trench coat pocket and what had happened earlier that night before.
“Yes you did, But at least it's over.”
“No Brenda, It's not over. We still don’t know who she was, or why, she was there to kill me.” I leaned forward over the table looking at her closely. The lights were off in the bar, but the colored sun coming through the stained glass windows over the door did things to her. I took her hand and squeezed it and said I was sorry for being a idiot.
About then the phone rang. The mood broken, Brenda got up and went to the bar and answered it.
“Jim, it's for you, It’s Bob” she said as he handed it to me.
“Jim, We found her.” I listened to Bob a minute and hung up.
“Gotta go, Babe, I’ll let you know what he says.” With that I kissed her on the cheek and headed out to door.
With a full stomach and some rest, I was starting to feel a little better.
Bob calling to say that they had figured out who the woman he shot last night was, gave me my second wind. Hopefully now I would be able to get some answers.
Arriving back at the police station I headed straight to the second floor, and Robert’s office. There sitting in the other chair was a another gentleman, besides Robert.
“Jim, this is Steve Clark, FBI”
“Steve, this is James St.James. the PI I told you about.” We shook hands.
Pleasantries were exchanged. We both bitched about the the unusually cold and rainy weather we’ve have been having. I took an instant dislike to the FBI agent. While I sat and played nice, made small talk, and the like. I carefully watched the man. Observing his dress, and shoes. While the suit he was wearing looked right, the shoes were on the expensive side, The watch he was wearing was definitely not something the average FBI agent could readily afford. His manner was friendly, it seemed to me,too friendly. After a few more minutes of general chat, Robert brought the topic around to the woman I’d had shot the night before.
“So Steve, You said you have a ID on the prints and picture we sent you.”
“Yes, Bob, “ He pulled a file out from his briefcase. He handed the file to Robert, The cop sat at his desk leafing through the pages of the files. “Yep that’s her alright,” He handed the folder to me, While I started reading it, Robert started talking about her.
“Her name is Wanda Reed. She was a hired assassin for the mob back east. She’s believed to be responsible for at least a half a dozen hits on the east coast. She was good. Local police suspected her, but could never get enough evidence on her to bring a case. That's what was her mistake was last night. Being too confident, cocky, thought she could get away with a easy hit on an unsuspecting victim. She almost got away with it too. If you hadn’t be as fast as you were last night, you’d be downstairs right now. At that range she couldn't miss. Even that little .25 automatic at close range just as deadly.”
While Robert gave a very brief overview of Wanda Reed, I read the more detailed report that the FBI had provided. For the next hour or so the three of us discussed various ways in which she could have been employed to make a hit on me . None of them seem plausible. I’d only been back from the Marines for about three months after being released from them. It had taken most of the three months for me to get my PI License and gun permits reinstated. due to corruption and incompetence at the LA County level. Forcing me to go the the governor and getting him to force them to act. I’d only had the new license about a month, and no cases as of yet. So there didn’t seem to be a connection with anything recent.
After Steve left, Robert and I continued to talk over various scenarios in which I may have been targeted. Over more coffee I enlightened Robert on my instinct about Steve. How he seemed to eager to help, and too friendly, and how his watch was way too fancy and expensive for a FBI agent salary . Robert nodded in agreement, he hadn’t noticed the watch, but agreed that Steve seemed too good to be true. Robert told Me a background check on Steve Clark was in order.
Robert and I said our goodbyes. I took copies of the Wanda Reed file with me and headed back to my office. What I said to Robert, and what I privately thought were different things. Yeah I agreed with him, that Steve Clerk was too good to be true, I had other suspicions. Remembering back to the warehouse this morning. I was pretty sure I’d seen him there. But I wasn’t a hundred present. So I kept my mouth shut for now.
The rain had finally let up. The sun was finally showing its face, thus drying things up and warming the temperature back to where it should be. Once I got back to my car, I took off my trench coat and threw on the back seat. All the while keeping a sharp look out at my surroundings in the police parking lot.
While the weather was clearing up, traffic wasn’t. The traffic on the main drag was almost bumper to bumper, complete with idiots changing lanes without signaling. I was so busy trying not to get hit, or hit anyone I almost didn’t notice the car following me. At first I wasn’t sure it was following me. The old black chevy sedan seemed to be showing up on every street I was on.
Not a coincidence . I let it close enough to get its plate number. After several more left turns I was sure it was definitely following me. “Interesting” I thought, I don’t have a case with a client, and I picked up just as I left the police station. Wonder who he is ?” I thought to himself . “Time to turn the table and see where he leads me.” I suddenly turned into a plaza parking lot, headed straight for a bunch of parked cars that looked a lot like my old Ford. In my mirror I saw them barely miss turning into the lot behind me. I was far enough ahead of them I was out of sight just long enough to park the car, and duck down and wait. Sure enough they drove around the lot a couple of times not seeing me, they headed back to the exit. As soon as they were at the entrance to the street, I fired up my Ford, and followed them out into the street. I was much better at tailing they they were. I stayed back far enough that they didn’t notice me, but barely managed to keep them in sight. They drove north through LA. Eventually the traffic thinned out, and it became harder to keep them in sight without being seen. A couple of times I should have been spotted. But they were too incompetent to notice a car following them for two hours. The Chevy finally pulled onto a dirt side road. The recent rain had made the road muddy, But by now, early afternoon, the sun had dried it out to its former hard packed clay. There was no cover the land was wide open, flat, and deserted. I had to decide quickly what to do. At the last second I turned down the road and followed the Chey , hanging back as far as I could, hoping his dust cloud wouldn’t be noticed. They chevy came to a stop in front of a gate in the driveway. A man wearing a sidearm and carrying a lever action rifle came out and talked to the man in the car. A second, later the gate swung open and the car drove into the fenced in area. In his Ford, I watched the scene with the guard and chevy. Hopping, I was back far enough that they wouldn’t see me. I sat and considered what to do. I took out my small notebook and wrote down the route and location, and the time and distances from LA. Several options crossed my mind. One idea was to sneak down and see if I could find out anything. I quickly discounted that, There was no way to know who or what was in the farmhouse. And I had no backup or support of any kind. Or I could back up to the main road and sit and wait. Slightly better than the first option. However, as with the first idea, I had no support, and no one knew where I was. Not good. So I settled on the third option, strategic retreat. I made detailed notes, and descriptions of everything I saw. Than as quickly and quietly as possible I backed my car up the road until the house was no longer in sight at all. Then I replaced both his guns in my holsters. and turned around and headed back to LA. I didn’t relax until I was back on the main road. I carefully kept one eye on my mirrors. I never saw anyone following me. If they were, they were a damned sight better than the jokers I followed there. At the first place where I could I pulled of the road and hid the car in the trees,and waited about a half hour. I saw no cars come past me either way, much less from behind me. Now I was reasonable sure I wasn’t followed. But I still took precautions. Once I got back into a town that had a restaurant, I stopped for some food. Still being careful, I parked the car behind the building. and went around and went in the front door. Once inside I sat where I could see the both the front door, and the kitchen door. I ordered a soft drink, and a sandwich. Looking around, I spotted a pay phone. as soon as I had some food in me, and was feeling a little better, I made a call.
“Bob, I have a plate number for you check out” I gave him the plate number of the chevy had had been following all afternoon. And told him where I was, and how I’d gotten there. and that as far as I could tell I wasn’t being followed again. I was about to hang up, I thought I heard a click on the line, that didn’t come from either of them. I hung up and called Bob back again.
“Bob, I was wrong, We’re being followed, even as we speak.” I took care to put an emphasis on the last three words. to Bob as soon as he picked up,
“Ok Jm I’ll check it out” Bob replied indicating that he got the message, that the phone line was tapped.
I felt much better with a full belly. At the next gas station I filled up the tank on my car. All the time wearily watching for anything that didn’t belong, or seemed out of place.
Three long hours later I arrived back in LA. By now it was late evening and I was tired. The constant pressure to watch for tails had starting to wear me out. My nerves were getting rattled. I knew the feeling, It was the same feeling I’d had back in the war, when the pressure was high, and I had to keep on edge for long periods of time. I could feel my palms sweating, and my eyes starting to blink way too fast, the rush was coming back. My mind kept racing acting out worst case scenarios. I had been doing pretty good since I got back, except for the nightmares. Now I was getting scared, like I used to before I went into battle. What had happened the night before had been very quick, and I had reacted instinctively, without having a chance to be scared. It was over as quickly as it had begun. This was different. The sense that I’m was being played, and used, and was not in control was wreaking havoc with my nerves. Fortunately by now I was home.
Again checking for tails, I parked the car, and locked it. Watching carefully I made my way to the porch . After checking one last time, I carefully opened the door and went in, gun in hand. I quickly cleared the house before turning on the lights, and locking the door behind me.
Once I felt secure in the house, I checked the headset on the phone. Sure enough it was bugged. Suddenly I felt drained. I went to the bedroom took off my jacket and shoulder holster, laying them on the chair next to the bed.I didn't expect Brenda to at home this late in the afternoon. She was at the bar getting ready to open for the evening. I flopped down onto the bed. The room started to spin. Slowly I managed to close my eyes. the dizzy feeling finally went away. Eventually I drifted off to sleep. This time there were no dreams.
I stopped on the porch and made a point of locking the door behind me, while I looked over the street. The old chevy was still there. I decided to let it follow me for a while. I got in the Ford, fired it up and pulled out the driveway. Turning right, I drove past the chevy. I was able to get a look and the plate, and the men in it. There were two of them. Both looked like they’d been there all night. Which suited me fine. They would be tired and probably hungry and have to go to the bathroom. In other words very uncomfortable. About halfway downtown I decided to lose them, or let them think I’d lost them. I made a couple of quick turns down a couple of side streets. Ducking into a parking lot, they drove right past me. I pulled in behind them several cars back. I spent the rest of the morning following them. They weren’t any better at spotting a tail, then they were at tailing. I was getting hungry myself and I needed to go see Robert. I was about to call of the tail , when I hit paydirt. Down on the docks they pulled into a warehouse. I decided it would be wise to see if I could figure out who they were meeting at the warehouse. I managed to sneak up on them. Finding a window where I could see in, I was able to see into the office. There were probably a dozen men. Several in fancy suits, but most in work clothes. The suits seemed to be discussing something. While the rest stood around waiting. I noticed several had shotguns, mostly pump, and a couple were wearing guns under their suitcoats. They broke up to leave. I beat it back to the Ford. Barely making it in time to ID the two from the chevy. I managed to write down all the plate numbers of the cars that were parked in the warehouse. As they drove out. Once everyone was clear, I decided to head to the bar. Once at the bar, I parked in the alley behind it. Letting myself in the back door. I fired up the grill and made a couple of hamburgers and drank a beer.
I was sitting at one of the tables in front when I heard the lock start to open. I carefully slid the .45 from the holster and turned my chair towards the back of the bar. And waited. In less than a minute later Brenda came in. She still looked as good as she did before the war. Yes she looked older, but we all look older, war does that.
Brenda and I married in December 1940. I had volunteered immediately after the attack on Pearl Harbor, along with millions of of men across the country. I joined the marines. Inside of six weeks I was halfway around the world. The things I saw still haunt me most nights. Then in Spring 1943 in the middle of Germany, I turned up missing. I was reported as Missing In Action. No one knew where I had been for the rest of the war. After a year of being missing, I was declared dead by the marines. Brenda had starting seeing another man, but it didn’t end well. He was killed in a bar fight.
“Morning, Jim”
“Morning Brenda, I figured you wouldn’t mind,” indicating the plate with the remains of a hamburg, and the half empty bottle of beer.
“You ok?”
“I’m as ok as I ever am. “ Smiling grimly. I nodded to the chair . Brenda sat down across from me .
“Sorry about last night.”
“It’s ok. I knew something was up, when you didn't call.”
“I should have called you right after I called Bob, I’m Sorry.”
By then I had finished the food and drink. I got up and went back to the kitchen. The next few minutes were spent with me cleaning the plates, and silverware. I also trashed the empty beer bottle. Having cleaned up my mess I returned to the table out front where Brenda was still sitting.
I pulled out the chair, and sat back down. My trenchcoat flapping around as sat back down on it. At point the hole in the pocket showed. I glanced down at it. Looking back up at her I could see the worry in her eyes.
“Yeah it was stupid. I know. Hon. I knew better then to go out there without a backup.” I finally said. Finally acknowledging the hole in my trench coat pocket and what had happened earlier that night before.
“Yes you did, But at least it's over.”
“No Brenda, It's not over. We still don’t know who she was, or why, she was there to kill me.” I leaned forward over the table looking at her closely. The lights were off in the bar, but the colored sun coming through the stained glass windows over the door did things to her. I took her hand and squeezed it and said I was sorry for being a idiot.
About then the phone rang. The mood broken, Brenda got up and went to the bar and answered it.
“Jim, it's for you, It’s Bob” she said as he handed it to me.
“Jim, We found her.” I listened to Bob a minute and hung up.
“Gotta go, Babe, I’ll let you know what he says.” With that I kissed her on the cheek and headed out to door.
With a full stomach and some rest, I was starting to feel a little better.
Bob calling to say that they had figured out who the woman he shot last night was, gave me my second wind. Hopefully now I would be able to get some answers.
Arriving back at the police station I headed straight to the second floor, and Robert’s office. There sitting in the other chair was a another gentleman, besides Robert.
“Jim, this is Steve Clark, FBI”
“Steve, this is James St.James. the PI I told you about.” We shook hands.
Pleasantries were exchanged. We both bitched about the the unusually cold and rainy weather we’ve have been having. I took an instant dislike to the FBI agent. While I sat and played nice, made small talk, and the like. I carefully watched the man. Observing his dress, and shoes. While the suit he was wearing looked right, the shoes were on the expensive side, The watch he was wearing was definitely not something the average FBI agent could readily afford. His manner was friendly, it seemed to me,too friendly. After a few more minutes of general chat, Robert brought the topic around to the woman I’d had shot the night before.
“So Steve, You said you have a ID on the prints and picture we sent you.”
“Yes, Bob, “ He pulled a file out from his briefcase. He handed the file to Robert, The cop sat at his desk leafing through the pages of the files. “Yep that’s her alright,” He handed the folder to me, While I started reading it, Robert started talking about her.
“Her name is Wanda Reed. She was a hired assassin for the mob back east. She’s believed to be responsible for at least a half a dozen hits on the east coast. She was good. Local police suspected her, but could never get enough evidence on her to bring a case. That's what was her mistake was last night. Being too confident, cocky, thought she could get away with a easy hit on an unsuspecting victim. She almost got away with it too. If you hadn’t be as fast as you were last night, you’d be downstairs right now. At that range she couldn't miss. Even that little .25 automatic at close range just as deadly.”
While Robert gave a very brief overview of Wanda Reed, I read the more detailed report that the FBI had provided. For the next hour or so the three of us discussed various ways in which she could have been employed to make a hit on me . None of them seem plausible. I’d only been back from the Marines for about three months after being released from them. It had taken most of the three months for me to get my PI License and gun permits reinstated. due to corruption and incompetence at the LA County level. Forcing me to go the the governor and getting him to force them to act. I’d only had the new license about a month, and no cases as of yet. So there didn’t seem to be a connection with anything recent.
After Steve left, Robert and I continued to talk over various scenarios in which I may have been targeted. Over more coffee I enlightened Robert on my instinct about Steve. How he seemed to eager to help, and too friendly, and how his watch was way too fancy and expensive for a FBI agent salary . Robert nodded in agreement, he hadn’t noticed the watch, but agreed that Steve seemed too good to be true. Robert told Me a background check on Steve Clark was in order.
Robert and I said our goodbyes. I took copies of the Wanda Reed file with me and headed back to my office. What I said to Robert, and what I privately thought were different things. Yeah I agreed with him, that Steve Clerk was too good to be true, I had other suspicions. Remembering back to the warehouse this morning. I was pretty sure I’d seen him there. But I wasn’t a hundred present. So I kept my mouth shut for now.
The rain had finally let up. The sun was finally showing its face, thus drying things up and warming the temperature back to where it should be. Once I got back to my car, I took off my trench coat and threw on the back seat. All the while keeping a sharp look out at my surroundings in the police parking lot.
While the weather was clearing up, traffic wasn’t. The traffic on the main drag was almost bumper to bumper, complete with idiots changing lanes without signaling. I was so busy trying not to get hit, or hit anyone I almost didn’t notice the car following me. At first I wasn’t sure it was following me. The old black chevy sedan seemed to be showing up on every street I was on.
Not a coincidence . I let it close enough to get its plate number. After several more left turns I was sure it was definitely following me. “Interesting” I thought, I don’t have a case with a client, and I picked up just as I left the police station. Wonder who he is ?” I thought to himself . “Time to turn the table and see where he leads me.” I suddenly turned into a plaza parking lot, headed straight for a bunch of parked cars that looked a lot like my old Ford. In my mirror I saw them barely miss turning into the lot behind me. I was far enough ahead of them I was out of sight just long enough to park the car, and duck down and wait. Sure enough they drove around the lot a couple of times not seeing me, they headed back to the exit. As soon as they were at the entrance to the street, I fired up my Ford, and followed them out into the street. I was much better at tailing they they were. I stayed back far enough that they didn’t notice me, but barely managed to keep them in sight. They drove north through LA. Eventually the traffic thinned out, and it became harder to keep them in sight without being seen. A couple of times I should have been spotted. But they were too incompetent to notice a car following them for two hours. The Chevy finally pulled onto a dirt side road. The recent rain had made the road muddy, But by now, early afternoon, the sun had dried it out to its former hard packed clay. There was no cover the land was wide open, flat, and deserted. I had to decide quickly what to do. At the last second I turned down the road and followed the Chey , hanging back as far as I could, hoping his dust cloud wouldn’t be noticed. They chevy came to a stop in front of a gate in the driveway. A man wearing a sidearm and carrying a lever action rifle came out and talked to the man in the car. A second, later the gate swung open and the car drove into the fenced in area. In his Ford, I watched the scene with the guard and chevy. Hopping, I was back far enough that they wouldn’t see me. I sat and considered what to do. I took out my small notebook and wrote down the route and location, and the time and distances from LA. Several options crossed my mind. One idea was to sneak down and see if I could find out anything. I quickly discounted that, There was no way to know who or what was in the farmhouse. And I had no backup or support of any kind. Or I could back up to the main road and sit and wait. Slightly better than the first option. However, as with the first idea, I had no support, and no one knew where I was. Not good. So I settled on the third option, strategic retreat. I made detailed notes, and descriptions of everything I saw. Than as quickly and quietly as possible I backed my car up the road until the house was no longer in sight at all. Then I replaced both his guns in my holsters. and turned around and headed back to LA. I didn’t relax until I was back on the main road. I carefully kept one eye on my mirrors. I never saw anyone following me. If they were, they were a damned sight better than the jokers I followed there. At the first place where I could I pulled of the road and hid the car in the trees,and waited about a half hour. I saw no cars come past me either way, much less from behind me. Now I was reasonable sure I wasn’t followed. But I still took precautions. Once I got back into a town that had a restaurant, I stopped for some food. Still being careful, I parked the car behind the building. and went around and went in the front door. Once inside I sat where I could see the both the front door, and the kitchen door. I ordered a soft drink, and a sandwich. Looking around, I spotted a pay phone. as soon as I had some food in me, and was feeling a little better, I made a call.
“Bob, I have a plate number for you check out” I gave him the plate number of the chevy had had been following all afternoon. And told him where I was, and how I’d gotten there. and that as far as I could tell I wasn’t being followed again. I was about to hang up, I thought I heard a click on the line, that didn’t come from either of them. I hung up and called Bob back again.
“Bob, I was wrong, We’re being followed, even as we speak.” I took care to put an emphasis on the last three words. to Bob as soon as he picked up,
“Ok Jm I’ll check it out” Bob replied indicating that he got the message, that the phone line was tapped.
I felt much better with a full belly. At the next gas station I filled up the tank on my car. All the time wearily watching for anything that didn’t belong, or seemed out of place.
Three long hours later I arrived back in LA. By now it was late evening and I was tired. The constant pressure to watch for tails had starting to wear me out. My nerves were getting rattled. I knew the feeling, It was the same feeling I’d had back in the war, when the pressure was high, and I had to keep on edge for long periods of time. I could feel my palms sweating, and my eyes starting to blink way too fast, the rush was coming back. My mind kept racing acting out worst case scenarios. I had been doing pretty good since I got back, except for the nightmares. Now I was getting scared, like I used to before I went into battle. What had happened the night before had been very quick, and I had reacted instinctively, without having a chance to be scared. It was over as quickly as it had begun. This was different. The sense that I’m was being played, and used, and was not in control was wreaking havoc with my nerves. Fortunately by now I was home.
Again checking for tails, I parked the car, and locked it. Watching carefully I made my way to the porch . After checking one last time, I carefully opened the door and went in, gun in hand. I quickly cleared the house before turning on the lights, and locking the door behind me.
Once I felt secure in the house, I checked the headset on the phone. Sure enough it was bugged. Suddenly I felt drained. I went to the bedroom took off my jacket and shoulder holster, laying them on the chair next to the bed.I didn't expect Brenda to at home this late in the afternoon. She was at the bar getting ready to open for the evening. I flopped down onto the bed. The room started to spin. Slowly I managed to close my eyes. the dizzy feeling finally went away. Eventually I drifted off to sleep. This time there were no dreams.