Saturday 27 May 2017

IT WAS COLD AND WET AT THE BUS TERMINAL

It was cold and wet at the bus terminal. Humbert huddled into his Timber-line jacket,the one he bought at the convenience store in Minnesota the last time he'd completely changed his outfit. "Was it really only five days ago" he thought "it seems longer".





"So where is that bloody Richard" he wondered as he looked around at the derelict terminal with buses that looked like they hadn't been anywhere for decades. "Anyone would think he was hiding from me" he mused.


Five days ago he'd decided to make the trip on having learned that Richard (of RBB and other aliases) had done it again. The unmentionable. Humbert had contacted The Curmudgeon to tell him of his visit. The Curmudgeon hadn't seemed that interested he now thought and only seemed interested, pruriently, of Trixie's whereabouts.

He'd also contacted Richard and arranged to be collected from the bus station. "It's a really nice one" Richard had said "the best one. Really tremendous. Busy as."


Humbert had picked up on the vocal clues that Richard had given away in their brief conversation. He had stuttered. Humbert remembered that Richard stuttered when under duress or if he had a guilty conscience. He had also wheezed, Now normally that might not mean much as he probably wheezed from the effort of going from his computer to the bathroom but, combined with the stutter this meant trouble. Big trouble.


Richard had also seemed evasive when Humbert told him of his pending visit. He had mumbled that everything was OK 'Feeling Groovy' he had actually said which put Humbert's hackles up. He knew that Richard didn't like Paul Simon music, there being no double bass or fiddle in it and besides, it had singing. Richard didn't like singing.


Humbert huddled down further into his jacket. He wished Trixie was here. Trixie had a nice feather-lined jacket with a hood. He could steal that from her.

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