By the time Stu double-parked the Lincoln in front of the Brooklyn YMCA, his whole body ached from tension. After the debacle involving the couple in the Chevy, Aunt Sue had called every one she knew--and Stu suspected a few people she probably didn’t know well--so that he had to listen to the lurid details of the expressway brawl over and over again, at full volume.
The only good thing to come of it was his Aunt Sue had more information about Rich. None of it pleased Stu, but at least he had some idea of what he might be facing. He knew that Rich had been married and divorced more times than Elizabeth Taylor and one of his wives had died. He also knew, from the grapevine, that Rich had a penchant for wine, women, and fudged account books. He was on the IRS watch-list and was suspected of laundering money in the Caymen Islands. He’d lost several good paying jobs because his hand was always in the proverbial cookie jar and the only reason he’d never faced jail time was that no one could ever prove his guilt. According to rumor, one of Rich’s wives had done some unique accounting of her own and took every thing but Rich’s underpants in the divorce. The same divorce, as fate would have it, that introduced Rich to Brenda and put an end to Stu’s marriage.
As he unloaded the Lincoln’s trunk, Stu glanced to his left and saw a small group of police officers huddled on the steps of the 94th Precinct and cringed as he followed their line of sight. Aunt Sue stood braced in the center of the road, Razr held seven inches from her ear, and yelled into her cell phone speaker. Her brown wig was flat on top and bushed out on the sides. The curls were a distant memory. It rode low on her forehead, making her look like an angry sheep dog. Behind her, Glimmergroin stopped traffic. He didn’t wave his axe or yell at the motorists. He simply stood, feed wide, and glared. One by one, the cars rolled to a stop on the one-way street and traffic slowly back up to the traffic light.
Beside Stu, Legless helped unload the baggage. “So, beloved, when do we launch our attack?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Stu saw two men in black cargo pants and bullet-proof vests grab the butts of their guns. Stu straightened and waved at the police. “Howdy.”
The officers blinked and one of them nodded back.
Turning back to the elf, Stu shook his head. “Poor choice of words. Look, we’re not going to do anything but talk to Brenda and Rich and see what’s going on. There’s no need for violence or hostilities.”
“Excuse me, sir,” a uniformed officer stood beside Stu and peered into the open trunk.
“Howdy,” Stu said, giving the officer his best smile. “We just got in.”
The officer glanced at the license tag. “Georgia, eh?”
“Yessir. We drove up to visit my daughters.”
“They live in Brooklyn?”
“They live with the Queen,” Legless provided.
“They live IN Queens,” Stu interjected. “With my ex-wife and her husband.”
The policeman nodded, still checking out the contents of the trunk. Inside were six suitcases, an over night bag, a large Igloo cooler, one duffle bag and a small trunk. “How long you planning on staying?”
“A couple of days.” Stu set the small trunk on the ground. “My Aunt has no concept of traveling light.”
This brought a smile to the officer’s face. “The lady with that--ah--” he glanced over at Sue.
“Yeah,” Stu agreed as Glimmergroin goosed his aunt. “Her.”
Another officer peeked inside the car. “You know there’s an axe in here?”
“Costume,” Stu answered. “My friends here are part of one of those reenactment societies.”
“S.C.A.?”
“Yeah, them, too. My friends like to dress up as...um…elves and dwarves.”
The officer glanced between Legless and Glimmergroin. “They do a real good job. Very convincing.”
Glimmergroin retrieved his axe from the back seat and Stu nearly bit his tongue in half. The dwarf planted the butt of the axe on the asphalt and crossed his arms over the top. “That’s because I am a dwarf, laddie.”
The officer tilted his head. “I thought you preferred to be called Little People.”
The dwarf bared his teeth. The officer blanched and reached for his handcuffs. Stu made choking noises and reached for the dwarf. Legless bared his teeth and reached for the policeman. Aunt Sue reached for her wig.
“Police brutality! Help!” Sue screamed.
The dwarf turned and stared at Aunt Sue. The policeman took a step back and placed his boot on top of Stu’s foot. Stu opened his mouth and yelped.
“Beloved!” Legless reached for Stu.
“Sit!” Stu slapped Leg’s hands away.
“You-” said the cop.
“Sit, dammit!” Stu snapped and waved his arms over his head. “You can’t go around New York smacking every body that brushes up against me.”
The cop pursed his lips. Legless folded his arms stubbornly across his chest.
Glimmergroin rummaged in a pocket and came up with his pipe. “You’ll have to forgive our friend, here,” he said as he examined the bowl. “He’s got a Madagascar hissing cockroach up his ass.”
“Which one?” The cop asked, looking from Stu to Legless with a frown.
Stu scrubbed his face. “I’m really sorry about all this. Legs is a little over protective sometimes.”
The cop side-stepped away from the car and its slightly insane occupants. “Really.”
“It’s because we are bonded. I must protect my beloved.”
The cop tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Bonded for what?”
“Life, of course.”
Once more his hand snaked towards his utility belt. “You don’t say…”
“Yes,” Legless nodded vigorously. “He went out looking for himself and I’m what he found.”
The officer’s head swiveled toward Stu. “Pal, I think you’re still lost.”
Glimmergroin lit his pipe. “That’s what they have me for.”
“And me,” Aunt Sue said as she snuggled up to the dwarf.
“My advice, next time you go out looking for yourself, buy an Atlas,” the cop waved his hand toward Stu as he backed across the street.
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Author’s Note: S.C.A. stands for Society for Creative Anachronism. This organization is dedicated to the reenactment of Renaissance and Medieval Life.
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