Free Geezer Paradise by Robert Gannon Page A

trying."
                  "I hope you're being careful," I said to Mary.  "You know, we're all in danger from these cockroaches."
                  Mary reached into her pocket and pulled out a small semi-automatic pistol.  "I'm always armed these days," she said.  "And I'd suggest that you two get armed, too.  These people aren't fooling around." 
                  After Mary left Willey said, "She's a fighter, Barney.  I'm glad we have her on our side."
                  "Yes, we need her . . . and we need lots of luck, too."  
     
    Chapter Five
    ****
    JOHN FLAHERTY LEFT his office and stepped into the humid Clearwater afternoon.  He stopped and rubbed his temples trying to dislodge the headache that had been with him all day.  Senator Buckland kept demanding more money to bribe the local officials, but Flaherty knew most of the money was going into Buckland's pocket--or up his nose to be more accurate.
                  And now that Stevens had taken care of that trouble-making lawyer from the park, and things were finally moving along, there's those two old nitwits creeping around spying on him.  That's just what he needed.  He was already behind schedule, and if he couldn't close the deal on the park property soon the banks would renege on the loans.  They were already saying the economy was slowing down and condos just weren't selling as fast as they used to.  He opened the door to his BMW, started the engine, and waited for the air conditioner to do its magic.  
                  A group of Scientologists trooped by.  Boys and girls in their twenties, each of them dressed in tan slacks and green shirts.  From the opposite direction came another group dressed in black slacks and yellow shirts.  What the hell was that all about?  And why did they all have fat asses?  Flaherty shook his head.  Florida just got screwier by the day. 
                  He climbed into his car and drove up 19 North toward his favorite watering hole.  A few scotch and sodas would set the world straight again. 
                  Damn, he hated this place.    
     
    ****
     
                  The Night Stalker moved quietly through the shadows toward the target's trailer.  That's how he liked ta think a hisself--as the Night Stalker.  In his back pack he carried the bomb.  He built it hisself, and he knew it would do the job.  The target tonight was Barney McGee's trailer. 
                  When the Night Stalker hadda' leave the shadows an cross an open space, he tried ta duck-walk like they do in the movies, but his creaky old joints jest wouldn't let em.  And the damp night air weren't helpin' his asthma any, either.  The best he could do was walk bent over.  Everything depended on this mission.  It were the answer ta all his problems--a ticket ta the good life.  And he had ta admit, he got a thrill outt'a doin' it.  If Mary hadn’t a told him these Barney and Willey guys was holdin' up the sale of the park, he never woulda' knowed.  It was then that it came ta him.  It was so simple--jest plant the bomb and let it do its job.
                  He crouched behind McGee's trailer, and pulled out some'a the white
    foundation blocks that ran around under the trailer.  It weren't hard, they weren't
    ce'mented together, jest stacked up on top'a each other to make it look like a foundation. 
                  He made a openin' jest big enough fer him to crawl through. Then he took the bomb outta' his backpack, and a roll of duct tape.  And under the trailer he went, crawlin' on his stomach, his white beard draggin' in the dirt.  It weren't easy for a man his age.  He crawled until he found a good place ta plant the bomb.  Then he ripped tape from the roll and taped the bomb ta the underside of the floor overhead.  It was hard goin', what with the headroom bein' only 'bout two foot