Politics Of Murder

By Perley J. Thibodeau

The ongoing turmoil of LuLu's personal emotions now finds her facing death, and her very best long time friend Randy could well turn out to become her eventual mad killer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Perley J. Thibodeau
• Release date: Mar 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311982940

Perley J. Thibodeau

Perley J. Thibodeau was born and lived the first 45 years of his life in Bangor, Maine. He now resides in Manhattan, New York

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

STARTLING DISCOVERY

Having received an urgent telephone call from her long time friend and next door neighbor, best selling romance novelist Maybelle Trueworthy, who is admittedly self confined to a Manhattan mental institution, with the message containing an urgent and begging request that she comes to visit and to please stop off along the way at a nearby delicatessen for a thick corned beef sandwich to bring to the self described starving for a decent meal pseudo psychiatric patient. LuLu has now done just that because of the long time friendship between them.

So, what are you doing in a mental hospital for? What are you nuts, or something? LuLu bluntly asks, as she settles into one of the two hospital issue type wood and upholstered chairs that are placed near the bed for the use of patients, visitors, and sometimes casual acting hospital personnel. I know that books aren’t selling in great numbers right now, but you have more than enough money put aside to tide you over until the current presidential administration is out of the white house, and the new money regime has had a chance to take over.

It’s not book sales that have landed me in here. Maybelle replies, while wearing a fashionable black wig to cover her otherwise now usual heavily hennaed orange red hair in a futile effort to disguise herself from anyone who might recognize just who she happens to be. I simply periodically check myself into this extremely private and highly expensive institution for various reasons, including health check ups concerning my own sanity and those of others that affect my life in general, and also of course, for the sheer quietness and rest that only a mental institution can provide.

I suppose I should say that I’m amazed, LuLu answers her, while watching the due process of the clear plastic wrap that envelopes the sandwich being removed, the good sized slice of kosher dill pickle quickly tasted, and the action of her friend Maybelle performing like a hungry field hand in opening her red lip painted mouth and biting off a goodly proportioned mouthful of sandwich. Remind me never to get in the way between you and a corned beef sandwich. LuLu further confirms her observations.

Well, not with a New York City Jewish kosher delicatessen one, anyway. Maybelle speaks between bites and swallows, wiping her mouth carefully of possibly dripping yellowish brown kosher mustard. It’s the only time that I happily forget to eat like a lady.

Thanks for the warning. LuLu picks up a fashion magazine from the small end table and starts to silently thumb through it to give Maybelle a chance to consume her meal in unwatched silence.

There, Maybelle triumphantly states, as she bunches up the wrappings of the former sandwich and places them on the high rollaway bed table. Thank you, LuLu. I now feel completely sated. She drops her head back onto the pillow in happy remembrance of the meal she had just enjoyed.

Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that, Maybelle. LuLu carefully returns the glossy woman’s magazine back to the small stand that it had originally been retrieved from, and now gives her full attention to her friend who is currently starting to sit up in the hospital style bed. Is it safe to ask why yours and my dear friend Mercedes wasn’t called to bring you this repast? And she hurriedly adds. Not that I minded doing it for you, but is Mercedes well and up and about?

Oh, heavens yes, thank you for asking. Maybelle quickly assures her. Once a year for two weeks she goes on a lecture tour, and I sign myself into a mental institution.

Well, I know where you are, but where is Mercedes lecturing? LuLu asks, both trying to suppress a smile, and to keep the conversation going.

Oh, she isn’t lecturing. She’s being lectured. Maybelle tries to clarify her answer. She’s in Israel right now.

You mean to tell me that she traveled all the way to Israel to be lectured? LuLu is trying even harder now to maintain her slightly staid composure.

She’s on a group tour. Maybelle goes on to add. Every year the same small group of woman goes on a trip to a different part of the world. It’s a combination of sightseeing and speeches made by whoever is the top intellectual writer of that particular county. It’s all very chi chi and literate.

But none the less a lecture. LuLu lightly queries.

Yes. Some people enjoy lectures, as they do, for the very same reason that I enjoy signing myself into a highly run psychiatric institution.

"Oh?’ Is all that LuLu dares to respond.

Personalized attention, my dear. Personalized attention. Or as we’ve been known to say in New York; it’s something happening.

Laughing out rightly at that familiar remark, LuLu readies herself to rise to her feet in preparation of leaving. I know well what you mean, Maybelle. Believe me. I hate to have to cut this session short but I really have to het back to the book manuscript that I’m presently working on. I’m sure you know how that feels.

Very much so. She agrees, almost with a trace of weariness tingeing her vocal tone. I’m always in the midst of writing a book myself."

Going toward the open door LuLu turns back to speak. How long will you be here? She inquires.

Five more days. Maybelle answers with a slight pause, then adds. And, by the way. This said almost slyly. On the way out please see if you can sneak a peek into room number 18A on this same floor. I believe you’ll find a surprise for your edification awaiting you in what you’ll see. I’m sure it’s something that you can mention in the current book you are writing. I myself being the queen of romance novels have no use for the information you’ll discover there, unless I write it around a description of the mayor’s boy toy, and that information may well prove to be ever so slightly repugnant to my starry eyed homemaker readers who like their romances transpiring under nighttime southern skies, and strictly between members of the opposite sex.

With her curiosity now whetted, LuLu tells Maybelle that she’ll do just that. But what about this being a highly secretive private hospital. Will the nurses outside allow me to look into a patient’s room that I didn’t expressly sign in at the front desk to visit?

Maybelle cautions her after quickly glancing at the room’s wall clock. It’s timed perfectly that you are leaving now as the two nurses are on break, and you’ll have to act quickly as possible to see just who the mysterious patient really is before they get back within the next twenty minutes or so.

Can’t you just tell me who it is? LuLu heaves a sigh, as she starts out the door.

No, my dear. The corned beef sandwich was only half of the reason for me to get you here today. The other half is to have you see the patient yourself and to confirm to me that I am completely right in believing it is just who I think it is."

Ah, sweet mystery of life again at last I’ve found you. LuLu gives a small wave and steps out into the immaculately clean hospital hallway.

It isn’t difficult to see which door is the one opening into Room 18A as LuLu walks along the narrow corridor and spies the door frame with the door slightly ajar. Peeking around to make double sure that the two nurses have gone on break and out of the area, LuLu opens the door a crack wider and peeks gingerly into the small space that comprises the hospital room proper, and sees a patient lying on the bed wearing a sort of blue polka dot on a white background Johnnie, with the bottom half of the body covered in a typical coarsely woven durable white hospital sheet. Seeing that the person is completely inert and is solidly hooked to various intravenous feeding tubes with their sharp needle ends inserted into veins at various spots on the upper part of the patient’s hands to allow the fluid from the clear plastic bags to drip down, and slowly enter the system.

A total shock awaits her to the point where her mouth inadvertently drops open in a small stifled gasp of surprise, at the same time her eyes pop out at the sight of the face of the person lying on the bed with his glassy eyed stare directed at the curtained tracked ceiling up over his body.

Ron Briar, the Chairman of The Board of Directors for The New York City Housing Authority. She does give out a tiny barely audible gasp in thinking his name aloud, but is relieved in a strange sort of way to notice that he is totally unresponsive to hearing his own name and formal work title mentioned; if he heard it at all. LuLu is totally doubtful of this last question, as she instead sees that his eyes are remaining fixed to the ceiling, with no flicker of recognition flashing in them at all.

So, this clears up all the questions of all the unexplained absences from public meetings and the attendant news media coverage of the fact that he never seems to be in his office on lower Broadway during working hours. She’s thinking, while stepping back for fear that the seemingly comatose body before her may suddenly come to action and leap at her.

‘A casual informant has told me a week ago that it was with the mayor’s consent that the chairman of housing, who is strongly suspected to be a steady cocaine user, got a bad batch of coke and it accidently killed him. She’s thinking at this point, as she steadily backs away from the bed in inching her way toward the door behind her that is still slightly ajar from her entrance. ‘However, try as I might I have not seen any mention of his drug induced death in any of the news outlets.

Her thoughts calculatingly ramble on, as she now fully realizes that she has discovered something that she didn’t expect to find, but realizes also that it only seems logical that this would be the next step in the shifty mayor’s long list of crafty cover-ups concerning his well orchestrated civic crimes.

‘However, in checking around, as I was instructed to do, I find that he’s not dead, and that he’s actually being held against his will in this privately run psychiatric clinic helplessly drugged, supposedly, I would imagine, until such time as the fall mayoral elections are over in order to keep him quiet and not to garner any further notorious headlines until the currently term limited mayor’s council speaker candidate will be elected to take over as mayor, and continue to do his nefarious bidding for him."

It’s with a mind and body numbing jolt that she is solidly confronted with and sees right into the equally shocked, and irate eyes of the two women attendants that she had spoken to earlier on being admitted to this ward to visit her friend.

What are you doing in this room? The taller and more mannish looking of the two demands, as she takes Lulu’s arm forcibly and pulls her out into the hallway.

You are not supposed to be in this room. The second woman speaks in a harsh, but badly hushed tone of voice.

Glancing into the room briefly as if to see that the patient hasn’t been disturbed, the first woman decides all is otherwise in order, and she quietly closes the door as she turns back to speak to LuLu.

You signed in to visit a friend in 18B, and you have no business whatsoever to be coming out of 18A, especially with the warning sign that has been attached prominently to the door.

Yes. The second attendant challenges. What were you doing in there? She pauses to think. Snooping around?

Oh, heavens no. LuLu has now caught her breath, and also a bit of her latent mental equilibrium. My friend in 18B had taken a prescribed sleeping pill just before I arrived. We visited until it had started to take effect, and I bid her good night, and I was leaving. I had heard the two of you from a slight distance as one of you said it was alright for the two of you to leave for a while. However, I didn’t have a chance to call out that you had apparently forgotten my presence in the ward, and had abruptly left the area. She hurriedly explains. It was then that I realized that the door that goes out to the hallway and the elevators was locked.

So you quickly decided to open the door with the do not disturb sign and find out just who was in there, and why they weren’t to be disturbed. The first, more rugged looking female now openly accuses.

Having regained her complete composure LuLu now does a good job of staring the both of them down; as she calmly goes on to speak.

I can assure you that there was no dishonest ulterior motive, or motives in my going into the room with the sign on the door. I knew that I would have to alert someone to the fact that I was locked in the ward, and that security would have to come around immediately to free me.

And what does that have to do with a patient who has been formally court committed and is in no condition to help you gain your freedom either? The second attendant scowls.

It now registers on Lulu’s mind that the Commissioner of Public Housing isn’t in this place under his own volition, but has been placed here by someone with enough political power to have him fully committed by the local law courts. And that means that, unlike voluntary admission, he is at the will of the courts in their decision as to just how long he can be held against his will, and also when he can be duly released.

I didn’t bother to try the telephone on the nurse’s station desk. LuLu calmly explains. I know there is a code number that has to be pressed in order to summon someone on the line, and not knowing what that number was, I quickly came to the conclusion that it was needless for me to even try. She bluffs on. And that’s when I called out a Yoo hoo in hopes someone out in the outer hallway would hear me, and come to my rescue.

And? The burliest of the attendants skeptically demands.

No one answered. However there was a noise coming from behind the door that carried the do not disturb sign, and that’s when I opened the door to see if someone in there was calling out to help me.

And you don’t happen to have a cell phone on you, and at your convenience in case of any such emergencies? The second attendant almost snarls.

As a matter of fact I do. LuLu repetitiously speaks with fear arising from the fact that she’ll quickly have to come up with a sturdy explanation as to just why she didn’t use that personal instrument to make the freeing call.

And you couldn’t have used that? The first attendant smirkingly inquires.

As a matter of fact the cell phone isn’t working. She almost fumbles for further words of clarification. ‘But why? Her brain quickly asks herself. The battery is run down! She speaks aloud. Yes, I was using the phone earlier and right in the middle of a call to my stock broker, the telephone suddenly went dead on me. Apparently I had forgotten to recharge the battery right after a call I had made to my legal council." She adds, for good measure.

Right on time the phone rings a merry summoning tune in announcing a call, and the sound jumps LuLu frighteningly, and almost lifts her right out of her high heeled shoes.

Staring unbelieving at the now ugly faced female pair of psychiatric workers who are glaring directly at her, all she can think of is the old saying: ‘Oh what tangled webs we weave, when first we practice to deceive.’ ‘Well, poetry isn’t going to get me out of this situation. She quickly thinks to herself, as she hurriedly reaches into her amply padded bosom and extracts the noisy but now suddenly silenced cell phone turned musical instrument.

Oh, dear. She flips open the lid, and sputtering states. The battery wasn’t dead after all. I must have mistakenly pressed something, and accidently hung up on the call that went dead.

Now she is relieved to see that the message says that it had been a blocked call. This gives her the idea to carry the bluff even further.

I can always tell when the New York City Police Commissioner is calling me. Or any other member of the 19th Police Precinct force, for that matter. She calmly stares them right in the eyes, as she has further deliberately drops a few prime authoritatively prominently named official city positions in further speaking on. They always have the Call Blocked notice on the cell screen, and that way the person called will either not know who is calling them, or that they don’t want the called individual phoning back, or that they simply didn’t want to speak to the person in the first place. Her voice ends on a friendly like slightly higher pitched light tone.

This, of course, has the affect on the two attendants’ surly displayed demeanors that LuLu has intended, and wishes for it to have done.

You know that you could be arrested and charged with unlawfully invading a restricted area in a private institution. The first attendant now forcefully threatens. And that could well lead to a criminal sentence to be served out on your part in a public state mental institution.

I can well suppose. LuLu heaves an audible sigh. However, I could also well inform the public press that the two of you deliberately abandoned your assigned station in a Mental and Rehabilitation Center, thus leaving all of the patients in your assigned care completely alone in their trying to protect themselves from any possible danger that just might arise due to your thoughtlessly performed actions.

The unsure questioning look exchanged between the two female psychiatric attendants instills the knowledge in Lulu’s mind that they have now been literally pinned to the floor mat, and don’t know how they are going to get back up as to the defense of what LuLu has assuredly told them.

This, of course gives LuLu the brave impetus to speak with further confidence in saying. I’m sure my telling you that there was no ulterior motive on my part to enter that room, that I didn’t get a good look at the person in the darkened space, and so I still don’t know, nor do I care; who that person may or may not be. That, plus my assurance of not telling anyone of your extremely unprofessional attitude in regards to the safety of the helpless patients that are in your official care, should allow you to give the extended kindness toward me of opening that door to the outer hallway and elevators, and allowing me to go home, as I had intended to do before you thoughtlessly locked me in here in the first place.

The helpless look that passes between the two nurse/guards tells LuLu that she may well be winning the conflict, and that causes her to go on additionally.

I know I can rest assured in the knowledge that my dear friend in 18B will continue to receive the excellent care that she has told me that the two of you have been extending to her. Lulu’s voice turns slightly saccharine sweet, as she continues to speak. I’ll be checking back with her in a few days for further chats about her health, and the fact that it has vastly improved with the professional treatment she has been receiving at this facility.

The softer look that now spreads through the two women’s features tells LuLu that she only needs one more well aimed zinger, and she’ll be out on the busy Manhattan street going about her everyday business once more.

I really do have to get back home now. She glances surreptitiously over the women’s shoulders at the door at the end of the long hallway that leads to freedom. I just know that was the call I’ve been expecting from the Commissioner of Police who told me earlier today that he’ll telephone to inform me of the plans for my riding in a police escorted motorcade to the world premiere of my book’s motion picture tonight.

In now hurrying down the short length of hallway to unlock the door for Lulu’s exit, the more mannish looking, and acting of the two nurse/guards openly gushes forth. I know you simply signed the entrance form with the anonymous name LuLu, and that made us think that you must be someone of importance. But I’m afraid neither of us is familiar with just who you are?

Yes, the second woman demands, in stepping aside as LuLu starts to exit through the now open doorway. We are curious. Just who are you?

Well on her way to pressing the button to summons an elevator, LuLu replies over her shoulder. Angela Lansbury!

CHAPTER 2

APPROACHED BY MURDER

It is the next day when LuLu reads on the computer that the Chairman of Housing has actually died from an accidental overdose of drugs. Her skin fairly crawls from the blatant treachery and lies that are surfacing in the official tersely written press release that has been so carefully prepared by highly paid professional public relations consultants for the city of New York, and been distributed en masse to all the members of the New York City, and the world at large news media outlets.

A sudden loud ring from the white landline telephone that LuLu keeps placed next to her computer joltingly snaps her out of her trancelike reading state. Glancing at the small white caller ID box that she prefers to have attached between her computer and telephone line rather than the one that comes built in from the service provider, as does her cell phone, causes her to can’t help but wonder. She doesn’t seem to see any telephone number but just the name of the supposed state of Nevada in the place where the name and phone number should ordinarily be placed. This leads her to believe that it isn’t an official call from the NYPD, as their calls always state RESTRICTED emphatically. So, with no telephone number or an accompanying name being printed before her eyes, she is sorely tempted to pick up the receiver and hang it back down all in one continuous motion to avoid having to be bothered at this interestingly crucial time with either a pollster asking her opinions on a candidate for New York City public office, or one of the candidates themselves all friendly like saying they would appreciate her vote, and would certainly run the city of New York in an honest manner like it has never been run before.

These are the times when all politicians are glad handing people and is the best time that anyone can meet them up close and face to face, and to tell them whatever is that is on their mind. Not that they would ever follow through on any citizen made suggestions, as they in all likelihood already have their own agendas long worked out, and those agendas only comprise what personally benefits the candidate themselves.

While she is mulling the possibilities over, she doesn’t realize the set number of rings have run their course and been answered by her own pre recorded voice announcement saying, ‘Hi, this is Louie LuLu. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you’ll please leave your name, number and a brief message, I’ll get back to you just as soon as possible. Thank you."

That familiar nasal accent that immediately classifies her as being a native of Bangor, Maine is still present in her speech. Which, as she always thinks when hearing it, isn’t really so bad. People used to ask her if she was from Down East Machias. And that always leads her to further think that isn’t so bad, either. ‘Better than asking me if I’m from Boston."

Surprisingly enough she is intrigued to realize that it really is a telephone call from someone wishing to speak to her, rather than yet another recorded message from a candidate’s machine leaving a communication on her machine in letting modern electronics take over the mundane aspects of present day life.

You don’t really know me, LuLu. The whispery voice announces dramatically, But we met briefly the other day, and I now have something to tell you that I feel you may well be interested in knowing.

The light feminine voice is obviously being disguised, or is extremely nervous as it fluctuates between a whisper and a louder pronounced volume on an almost steady timing. This sound unconsciously on the caller’s part is as if telling LuLu that the person speaking is hesitant in what she is going to tell, but nonetheless determined that she will tell it. And this, of course, interests LuLu all the more.

I’m listening. LuLu says, in a tone that is neither overstated nor understated, but nonetheless willing to hear what the unknown caller has to say.

I don’t now if you have a recorder taping this message or not, and that is why I wish to sound non committal in what I tell you for the time being.

No, the recording mechanism is shut off. I only use it when I wish to save a message that I’ll need to know later on, or a reminder of what I’m supposed to do for the caller, and how to get back to them when I’ve finished the task, or have the needed information at hand.

I’ll confess that I have a phony identification on your telephone screen as a safe guard pertaining to whether or not you want to hear my message or simply wish to let it go.

Yes. I’ve noticed that. LuLu replies, in now starting to feel a little nervous in regard to all the secretiveness about the call, and the person who is speaking on the other end of the line. Can you tell me in a round about non committal way what the subject of your information is about? LuLu fishes for a further clue as to what all of this vagueness is currently in regards to.

You’ll know me when you see me. The voice further heightens the ever mounting suspense. I will say that we met yesterday and you, I and another woman spoke very briefly to each other at that time.

Knowing her habit of speaking to any and all people that she meets on a daily basis from people waiting for a bus, in a grocery line at the supermarket, sales clerks, and bank tellers and a myriad of even more people that in one way or another filter through her life causes LuLu to come to the immediate conclusion that the woman’s description is just about as identifying as absolutely nothing at all.

However, LuLu does have an inner strongly felt intuition that the voice on the phone belongs to the more fragile and less belligerent of the two night nurses from the hospital that Housing Chairman Ron Briar had been in, and who had caught her in the room where she had seen him drugged out and strongly tied the hospital bed. So, with this in mind, LuLu decides to take the initiative and offer a solution that could get the both of them on a better understanding track as to just what the mystery caller wants to convey to her.

If you feel uneasy speaking of the matter to me on the telephone, then we can meet somewhere else that is convenient and more agreeable to the both of us. LuLu tries to sound casual with her remark in hopes of not furthering the nervousness that this person who could may well know vital information pertaining to the subject uppermost in her life at this moment in time, and that would help solve the problem in making way for the next crisis in her life; whoever or whatever that may assuredly be.

It will have to be very public, LuLu. The caller warns. No out of the way place where anyone observing the two of us talking would get the immediate feeling that we are meeting purposely to discuss a matter as serious as murder.

‘There it is right there. Lulu silently chortles at the revelation that the whole subject of the unexpected phone call has been revealed, and is just what she has been hoping it is, and that is the fact that it is all wrapped tightly around greed, drugs and murder. Where would you suggest?" LuLu speaks aloud into the instrument in her hand. This with the logical feeling that she really doesn’t know just how safe it will be meeting clandestinely

with a woman of whom she has possibly never even met, nor what actual motive for the meeting still hasn’t been fully revealed.

Are you familiar with the East 86h Street subway station? The woman now seems to relax in speaking in a more normal sounding voice.

Why yes. As a matter of fact I am. LuLu assures her. But don’t tell me that we will be taking a ride all the way to Coney Island while we talk. I know for a fact those cars can be pretty crowded even now in the middle of October.

Oh, heavens no. The voice of the woman mildly protests. I’ve been thinking that if we sit at the very end of the platform for the downtown express on the lower level then anyone seeing us would just assume that, together or apart, we are waiting for the train to come in, and enjoying a friendly chat while we are doing so.

That sounds like an excellent ploy for anonymity. LuLu agrees. What day and time do you wish for us to make this planned rendezvous for?

Today, this afternoon at 2 o’clock. She now rushes to say. "It must be today at 2 o’clock LuLu, because I have to be to work at 3 o’clock and I mustn’t be late. That would cause an uncalled for fear for my safety in my fellow workers, and that would raise far too many suspicions when I finally do get there.

Will you be giving me your cell phone number now in case I’m momentarily delayed and have to call and tell you that fact?. LuLu wants to know.

Oh, no. the voice roundly protests. I could never ever do that.

And why not? LuLu now almost demands out of a sudden gut fear of the unknown that possibly faces her.

Because it is my fellow worker’s phone, and she loaned it to me for just this one occasion. She hurriedly seems to cover.

This in turn causes a perplexed and highly doubtful reaction from LuLu, coming so soon to the time that it is right now. She has been mulling the situation of the meeting over and has more or less agreed to the place, but the time leaves her defenseless as far as getting anyone to go along with her, but to stay at a discreet distance, while she meets to talk with this woman, not knowing, but that she could well be the killer herself.

She’s now hurriedly thinking. ‘That even leaves my long time friend Randy out as a possible chaperone, as he’s busy formulating plans for a security detail for a rock star’s performance tonight at Radio City Music Hall on 6th Avenue and 50th Street."

Are you still there, LuLu? The voice on the phone worriedly asks.

Yes, yes. I’m still here. I’m afraid I was silently making plans on how to get to that destination at that particular time, that’s all. She now quickly thinks to herself. ‘I know what I’ll do. I’ll go dressed as Louie and I’ll not go anywhere near the edge of the subway platform lest the plan is to suddenly push me over the rim as an incoming train is arriving and everyone is looking for it to stop so they can get aboard, and will never even notice that I am then under the huge heavy iron or steel wheels."

* * *

It doesn’t entail a great amount of time for LuLu in preparing for the meeting after she has hung up after the phone call from an unknown woman asking to meet her so she can tell her what actually happened to Ron Briar, the now dead Chairman of The New York City Housing Authority. This all having been accomplished by LuLu’s simply deciding to go to the meeting as Louie, and that is just what LuLu looked like when she had answered the phone and agreed to the meeting’s hurried arrangements.

Going down the second set of iron stairs to the express track’s lower level on the East 86th Street and Lexington Avenue Subway Line, Louie is having further trepidations regarding the agreement. This from imagining all sorts of various possible scenarios that might confront him as he faces this new adventure in his also other fully active life.

Turning left after swiping his fare card and going through the turnstile, he begins to walk to the very farthest end of the smooth grey concrete platform that runs along the side of the sunken tracks, and he soon spies what he’s sure he recognizes what has to be the more docile acting nurse of the uniformed pair that he came into contact with at the hospital the day before, and who is now sitting at the very end of the bench with her left shoulder touching the last wall at the end of the walkway.

Relaxing at this visual revelation makes him feel a little bit more relieved to know that unless she has an unseen accomplice with a gun, then there really isn’t anything that he has to immediately fear with this agreed to encounter. With this in mind, he realizes that he has stopped completely still in front of, and facing, this woman in a white nurse’s uniform covered over on the top with a light colored sweater, and the white starched nurse’s cap held gently in her right hand. Knowing full well the number of hospitals along the 1st and York Avenue stretch of midtown Manhattan, he agrees silently that she doesn’t really stand out much above the crowd in her formal skirted dress work outfit. However, she is ignoring him looking at her and he realizes that he is dressed as his male persona, and not in his well known theatrical and literary costumed way of dressing. Not having seen him dressed in this fashion before, he now decides the woman is being New York City cautious in not acknowledging a male stranger’s attention in either public, or private.

You called? he tries to sound light, but not flirty in speaking directly to the woman. Trying hard not to give her his so easily recognized broad toothy white smile in being aware that it would be wasted and not recognized by her, as his whole encounter with her and her work companion the day before wasn’t anything that gave him, as LuLu, any reason to show his smile.

LuLu? The slightly frightened woman whispers in an unbelieving manner.

With Louie’s now being sure he has met and been acknowledged by the woman at the pre designated spot, he’s pleased to find out he had been right with his intuition, as the caller’s appearance is that of the aforementioned more gentle appearing night nurse

Yes. Louie hurriedly admits, now showing some pearly white teeth. I very rarely if ever dress as LuLu when I’m in and around my apartment; preferring to save the show for the outside. However, this time I decided the time for the requested meeting was so short that I would simply come as me, unshaven and all.

Motioning acceptance by pointing to the empty space on the oak bench beside her makes Louie realize that the lady has fully accepted him and his changed appearance, and so he sits down beside her.

"This is all more friendly looking, and it also gives us the chance to speak softly in a more intimate style of conversation that can hopefully be