The Wisdom of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton (story books for 5 year olds txt) 📕

desk. You got anything I can use to figure out if they planted something?”

“Yeah. I'll stop by the office. Be right over.”

“Thanks for asking me over to watch the game.” Walter stood at my door clutching two large duffle bags.

I grabbed a bag and held the door open for him.

There was more than one reason I liked Walter. He was smart as hell. I didn't know why he took early retirement, but it had to do with not wanting to do the job any longer, not that he couldn't.

“No problem,” I said and set down the bag. I went to the desk. Since I didn't own a TV, I logged on to my work laptop and loaded one of the live college football sites I'd heard about. I entered my credit card number to order a subscription and picked any game about to start. I waited until a football field filled the screen and turned up the volume. “You want a beer?”

“I think I need one,” he said.

I grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and handed one to Walter. He took a swig and gathered his bags. “Who do you think's going to win?”

I glanced back at the computer screen to catch the name of at least one of the teams. “Ohio State.”

Walter opened the first duffle bag and extracted a plastic case. He removed four separate metal pieces and assembled them into a long wandlike device. “Yeah, you're probably right. They've got a solid offense this year.”

He opened the other bag and hauled out a large box with a computer screen and keypad attached to it. He placed the computerized device on the folding table and sat, raising his eyebrows as the table teetered with the extra weight. When it stilled, he flipped a switch and waited for the screen to turn on.

Walter kept talking like it required none of his thought to assemble his gear and begin checking my apartment. “Did you see it's supposed to snow all week? I hate the damn cold.” He keyed in a command on the keypad. His fingers tapped with no sound. “I've been thinking about moving south, somewhere warmer before next winter.”

The device's screen flashed off and came back on displaying a few lines of text. A list of the device types it had located nearby. Walter held up four fingers.

I looked around. Four goddamn listening devices planted somewhere in my small apartment. What the hell was my father up to?

“You going to move your business?” I asked.

“Maybe.” He stood and reached for the wand. The phone on the desk was his first stop. He held the wand over it and an indicator light lit up. “I can run the business from anywhere.” He squatted next to the desk and lifted the phone.

Did our sham conversation have any merit? “You know you're not that old.”

Walter squinted up at me. “What?”

“Moving for the weather. Seems like something old guys do. They pack a camper, wear Hawaiian shirts and sandals, and move someplace where they can't catch a draft. You're not that guy.”

Walter laughed and went back to work on the phone. “No. I guess I'm not. Someday, maybe.” He used a screwdriver to pry the cover off the handset and removed a small device from inside. Then he detached several of the tiny wires and placed it into a metal box he'd brought with him.

“I'm going to find you a date,” I said.

His brow furrowed and he stared at me for a moment before moving on to scan the wand over the computer equipment on the desk. “I don't need a date.”

“The hell you don't. You're talking about bingo and shuffleboard.”

He stilled and met my gaze. “I am not.”

“It's too fucking cold here? You want to try for someplace warmer? Sounds like two steps away from the senior bus tour that travels to a different casino every weekend.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, I'm thinking it's you who needs a fuck.”

He snorted. “Had a great lay six months back. Turned into a fine friend, but now I'm thinking he's a punk who should shut his mouth.”

I held my hands in the air. “Ease up.”

Walter went back to work. The sound of the game covered the silence between us. He located two more of the devices. One hidden under the desk, and another under the lamp in the bedroom. He searched the kitchen last and scanned for several minutes before the unit lit up over an electrical outlet. Walter retrieved the last device, deactivated it, and placed it inside the case. “Should be it.”

“You're sure?”

He pointed to the computer on the table. “That's our latest creation. It can even find experimental devices, off-the-books type stuff. After 9/11, the government's willing to pay me good money, so I deliver the best. There's no way he's got anything else in here.”

I paced the living room and dragged a hand through my hair. “Whoever my father has working for him this time is good. He knew to check the tape on the door, and that shit's impossible to see. He deleted today's video feed and restored yesterday's in its place.”

“Smart.” Walter eyed the computer. “You keep any personal info on there?”

“No. It's for surveillance. And my laptop was with me all day.”

“Good.” Walter walked back to the kitchen and peered into the small room. “Is anything missing?”

“Not that I can see.” I shrugged. “I don't have much.”

“This isn't a robbery, Luke. They weren't here for a TV and your DVDs. They may have taken something small, something with personal shit on it.”

“I don't keep that kind of stuff.”

He went into the kitchen and returned with two new beers. He handed me one. “What's he up to this time around?”

I swallowed a long gulp. The cool beer took the edge off my nerves. “I don't know. Somehow, he lets me know when he's found me. He wants me to know he can always find me. This time"— I shook my head—"he has another agenda.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Move.