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The girls stayed on the dance floor. Michael joined me as Michelle stayed with Tamara."I want to thank you for introducing me to Michelle," he said. "She is wonderful." You're welcome, but no thank you is needed."We chilled and watched the girls go to town. Mike was out there with them. He was the prince in charge of the harem. Everything was going so well. Guys were approaching our ladies and dancing with them. Tamara and Michelle came back to the table. I guess we were the old fogies.The girls would drift back to the table periodically to get something to drink and then head back out to the floor. I decided to join them. I danced out and noticed a couple of the guys had latched onto Marie and Stephanie. It seemed innocent enough.Tamara came out and joined me. I turned to her and was paying attention to her when she got a strange look on her face as she was looking behind me. I turned and saw the guy that Marie had been dancing with holding her wrist and pulling her off the dance. ”“Yeah? Model this.”The psychic weight had lifted somewhat. But until I knew for certain that Cozad Dillinger had run me off the road, I’d still have some worry-burden to carry around.He lived, with his mother, in a small North Kansas City bungalow. Well maintained neighborhood. I drove by, wearing shades and my redheaded Barbara Reynolds wig. Dillinger was dutifully pushing a hand lawnmower up and down a tiny yard. A woman, in her 50s, was sipping something from a glass with a paper napkin rubber-banded to it. She sat in a green Adirondack chair, overseeing the operation.It wasn’t that much of an enterprise. The lawn hardly called for reincarnating Capability Brown for landscaping duties.Dillinger wore a blue Royals cap, sweat-stained. I wanted to stop the car and shoot him.I wouldn’t of course. But that uninvited impulse bothered me. Something had been gnawing at me lately. Two somethings. Not the toss-and-turn, lose-sleep type of anxiety. Just that annoying brain-tickle, mostly.
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