Lemons 02 A Touch of Danger by Grant Fieldgrove Page B

motel in the area, requesting to be patched through to a Mr. Archie Lemons’ room.
    16.
    I had called and told Anderson everything I had and he said he would try to get pictures or video of the trail. Just something we could go on. I would really like to talk to that mystery man.
    After ending the call, Elise and I made a quick trip to the local Wal-Mart and picked up two small pairs of binoculars for our little stake out tonight, and once the sun set, we took off down the hill towards the cliffs where we could keep an eye on Mr. Jackson. We really needed to do some snooping around in that house, but we would have to wait until he was gone. Hopefully we would luck out.
    We picked out a spot near the edge of the cliff that would partially hide us from any casual observer. We took a seat and focused our binoculars on Brad’s house. There was a light on in, what I guessed, was the main living room, and I am pretty sure I could make out the slightest bit of movement in the house. I was almost positive he was home.
    Now we had to wait. I had an idea about what I was looking for but I needed to get close to the house to check on it. Something I would not be doing as long as Mr. Douche was home.
    We sat in the evening air, the sun setting behind us, and waited.
    “Man, you know what I hate?” I ask Elise.
    “Everything?”
    “Yeah, but besides that?”
    “The abbreviation of ID4 for the movie Independence Day?”
    “Yeah, I do hate that. Like, it sounds like it’s the fourth movie of a series titled ID. It made no sense. But that’s not what I was talking about. Besides that.”
    “Oh. Watching people eat cereal? Old people? Temple of the Dog? Grunge music in general? The Kings Speech? Reality shows? The Kardashians? Football? Basketball? The names Josh and Matt? Movie remakes? The royal family? Family Guy? Benjamin Button? Shall I go on?”
    “Okay, okay. Point taken. But no, what I hate is the Shania Twain song That Don’t Impress Me Much.”
    “Where in the hell did that come from?”
    “I dunno. Oh, the whole Brad Pitt thing. Guess it just reminded me. It is so fucking retarded though when she names off the things that ‘don’t impress her. And that’s another thing. It’s DOESN’T, not DON’T, ya dumb country bumpkin!’
    “Geez.”
    “Well, it’s retarded. She starts off saying ‘So you’re a rocket scientist.’ But hold on, that don’t impress her even though it pretty well goddamn should. Then she says ‘So you’re Brad Pitt,’ which also doesn’t, sorry DON’T impress her much, and it kinda should since he’s a big star. He may not be as impressive as a rocket scientist but still, it’s not every day you meet Brad Pitt…But then, the last one is, ‘So you’ve got a car!’ A fucking car! Whoopty-goddamn-do, a car! Fucking children have cars, but man, that DON’T impress Shania Twain! She goes from Rocket Scientist, to Brad Pitt to any po-dunk hillbilly with a goddamn car!”
    “Calm down there, Tiger. It’s just a song.”
    “Yeah, well, it’s stupid.”
    Elise rolled her eyes at me and went back to looking through her binoculars.
    “Hold on there, Cowboy” she said to me. “I think he’s haulin” out!
    “Oh great. Let’s get ready to go.”
    We saw a car back out of the driveway, one of those fancy-ass BMWs or Mercedes, I couldn’t tell from this far away. When he was out of sight, we stood up and headed towards the house.
    “Maybe instead of playing the Guess What Archie Hates Game, we should have come up with a plan,” Elise says as we reach the house.
    “Yeah, well, shoulda coulda woulda. Let’s go.” I took out my lock pick kit and once again opened his locked gate and let us onto the property. What kind of tool locks the gate around his house? How does he expect to have visitors if no one can even reach the door? Seems fishy.
    “Archie,” Elise calls out to me. “There is another door over here by the garage.”
    Oh. Oops.
    I walk over to her, since my main