13

Chapter 13

Unpredictable Outcomes.

10:34 a.m.

It only took a few minutes for us to reach the Stop N Shop.  The scathing sun was already beating down, and I was sweating buckets in my terri cloth.  Furthermore, the convection updraft was roasting my bare legs and I was tired from my Bela Legosi marathon last night. I rubbed my eyes in order to confirm the sight before me. I was used to police cars surrounding buildings; it was standard fare for our neighborhood. But the Stop N Shop was surrounded for real!  Eight-no, nine-police cars, three un-marked cars, an ambulance, two S.W.A.T. units and a burrito wagon were placed in deliberate, measured positions around the store. One officer held a bullhorn and brazenly stepped from behind one of the cruisers.
"Come out with your hands up!" (They have to say that in situations like this. It's in their contract, or something.)
"I want a million dollars, a helicopter and an apology!!" The voice came from inside the store.
Fuzzy was my head and flabbergasted my state, but I knew the voice belonged to none other than one Bufford Johnson, neighbor and semi-recently unemployed. What has he done? I walked over to the police chief and inquired as to the situation. Surprisingly, he was more than interested in sharing what he knew.
"Aww, a couple of crazies got a hostage and are demanding ransom, transportation and, get this, an apology from one of their previous bosses! Go figure." And shook his head and walked off to go do something official.
I knew I had to get in there to talk to Bufford; he wasn't thinking straight. I also knew that Edgar was more than likely an unwilling participant in this drama, and there were serious implications to something like this. But how could I gain entrance without being arrested myself? Or shot? This was of main concern to me. The highly trained and intimidatingly dressed police snipers had positioned themselves on roofs of five of the surrounding buildings. I decided not to try and sneak in. I can make good decisions.
Soon, the word funneled through the crowd that the hostage had been identified. It was one Desdemona Franklin, the trophy wife of one Russell Little, CEO of the now-defunct Cosmo Tech software company. Hmmm. This was getting interesting. I wonder if Mrs. Franklin was aware of the expression "wrong place, wrong time" and that the expression was being applied at that very minute to her on the Channel 9 morning news program "Good Morning Los Angeles".