| OCR Text |
Show Coffee Drinkers Preferred Page 139 of 307 It was safe for me to double back and wander casually in that direction, on their side of the street, as if I suddenly realized an error in my own navigation. Their apartment building was the blocky 1950s style and this one still bore it's overly serious 1950s name: The Scarlet Arms. I paused and saw that there was an open courtyard in there with a pool toward the far end, pool chairs next to a couple umbrelled tables. Two ivory colored stair cases allowed residents access to a second floor. No sign of Sariah or any of her children. I made a mental note of the the street number but I still needed to know her exact apartment number and I had been forbidden from knocking on doors. I scanned the rusting set of mailboxes for Cox, Sariah's last name, at least as far as I had been told. No luck. Then I saw the four year old racing out with a toy starship held high above his head and making a very loud whirring -sound. He had emerged from apartment three. I disappeared before anyone else could possibly have spotted me. CHAPTER 22 I was packing up back at Harrah's when Steve called. "Did you get her address?" I gave it to him, down the apartment number. "I'll be back in Mount Pleasant tonight,"' I informed him and then I joked in my best Native American accent, "Our work here is done, Kemosabi." |
