The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission Raymond Klein (read out loud books .TXT) 📖

wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” And with that the man and his dog walked out of The Riverside Mall parking lot toward Eighth Street.

Chapter Twenty-Two

A cool breeze blew across Grant Park. The leaves of the large oak tree that Jeff Trent and Genghis Khan were under rustled quietly, some lost their hold of their host and gently fell, landing gracefully on the newspapers spread out on the ground. Jeff, sitting cross legged, brushed them away and looked up at the tree. “Why do they do that? This tree must be dying or something.” Genghis was lying prone with several sections of the paper laid out in front of him. They were far enough away from the crowds enjoying a Sunday in the park that no one payed them any attention.

“Here’s another one,” Genghis said. “This one is called an efficiency. Don’t know what the big damn difference is between an apartment and an efficiency. But this one is also close by.” He put a small hole through the paper with a claw, marking the spot. Jeff was halfheartedly listening to his partner.

As they were walking to the park, they picked up a newspaper and stopped at Dave’s Coffee Pot. Jeff and Genghis both entered and no one really seemed to mind that the big dog was in the small coffee shop. And Monica was getting very used to her new, quirky friend who was at the shop almost as often as she was.

Trent took a sip of his latte while watching a father and his young son fly a kite in the afternoon breeze. He could hear the small boy scream with excitement.

“Hey! This one sounds promising. Two-bedroom one bath, fully furnished over something called a garage.” Genghis looked up to Trent, “What do you suppose a garage is?” He didn’t get a response, but cast his gaze in the direction that Trent was concentrating on. Genghis watched the kite bob up and down and heard the little boy shout with glee. He looked to his left and further down the park. A woman took a short running start and with all her might threw a Frisbee. Her Austrian Shepard bolted after it. The dog jumped up five feet and snatched it out of the air, did a midair 180, and landed on all fours, and then ran happily back, wagging her black-and-white tail frantically. Genghis gave a derisive snort, “Moron!”

“Look how that triangular material catches the wind.” Trent watched for a moment then looked beyond the father and son and saw a baseball game being played. The crack of a bat connecting with a ball drifted through the air, along with some cheering. “They sure do like to play a lot, don’t they?”

“They don’t spend much time on academics, that’s for sure!”

Trent was amused with his partner's assessment of the human race. He had his own opinions and was beginning to like them very much. “Ah? What about a . . .” He looked at Genghis. “What! A garage?”

“Welcome back, Mr. Trent,” Genghis said. “Yeah, this dwelling.” He pointed with a paw. “I think this could work out for us.”

Trent read the ad. “Yes, sounds good. We can’t get caught below decks like that again. It could jeopardize the entire mission. Let’s go back and get the cruiser and check it out.” He paused for a moment. “What’s a garage?”

They walked back to The Riverside Mall, where the car show was still going on. There were several people around the display of Fords, but no one protested when they climbed into the Thunderbird, lowered the top and pulled out of the parking lot.

They drove East on Seventh Avenue and continued across theSeventh Avenue bridge. one of the two draw-bridges in Old Town that spanned the Horseshoe River. Genghis had the holographic computer up and was accessing directions. When they crossed the bridge and entered Hampton Heights, a well established and old subdivision, Genghis directed Jeff to take a right on Hancock Boulevard. They drove the three blocks and came up on 3715 Hancock Blvd. The house in the ad.

Trent pulled up to the curb, parallel to the house. It was a small, two-story, older Craftsman design home, neatly kept and with white clapboard siding. It had a covered porch that ran the length of the front. The two second-story windows were framed with black shutters. And further up in the center of the apex was a round louvered gable attic vent. Past the curb and sidewalk was a four foot chain linked fence that surrounded the perimeter of the front and back yards. To the right, and set a little further back from the house, was a detached two-story single-car garage. It was designed similarly to the house, with matching white clapboard siding. Two narrow strips of concrete the width of car tires lead to the one-piece garage door. On the left side exterior wall of the garage was a wooden staircase that led to the second-story apartment. The stairs ended at a four-foot wide wooden deck that wrapped around to the front of the garage where the apartment front door was located.

“This does look very promising. Let’s see if Mrs.  . . .” Trent looked down at the ad. “Remke is in.” Jeff exited the Thunderbird, holding the door open for Genghis to hop out. They both walked to the fence entrance. The small gate squeaked loudly as Jeff opened it, and clanged shut behind them as they entered. They proceeded the short distance on an uneven and cracked walkway to the front porch. On the porch to the left of the front door was a weather beaten wicker loveseat. To the right were two wicker chairs and a wicker coffee table, just as weather beaten as the other. They climbed the three steps and stood facing a thick, solid oak door. The worn, wooden, framed screen door, in front of it, hung poorly on its crooked hinges.

Trent looked down at Genghis. “Now what?”

“Got