"what is it huey?" a woman asked.

"shut up jenny lou. i'm trying to find out." jenny lou was dressed about like huey, only the underware appeared to be cotton. both looked to be in their late forties, early fifties. "i can't see shit out here jenny lou, it's too damn foggy." huey looked around for a while, we were vailed in fog, i don't think huey could find us unless he steped on us. "hell, i believe it was them same boys, go on jenny lou, get your sweet ass back upstairs, i think i'm about to get a hardon."

lissell pinched my butt "lifestyles of the rich and famous carlee."

"can we leave?" i asked. all i needed to see was the exorcist walking up to the house to make this night complete, and i suspected that the place probably needed a good exorcism.....

lissell walked back much quicker that we came. "did you know that the average annual income of each of those renters is in excess in $65,000.00 a year?" that was amazing, my income was zero, and i was sure that lissell didn't make half of that figure.

"gosh, where do they work?" i asked.

"all over town, the amazing huey and jenny lou own and operate the downtowners bar and freak show, where leroy works, the couple across the hall from them own the red mile, or at least serve on the board, but i think they are owners. god carlee, it's a whole nuther world in that building. i have busted a third of the residence, and it's a fuckin waste of time. they are out on the streets before i can get my paperwork done."

"wonder why they rent there instead of living in houses?"

"oh, most of them own houses, but 905 st. james court is a legend, queer city, famous since the mid 1940's. we have a map at the station showing each room, and its occupant, or occupants, it's updated monthly. that map will come in handy for us carlee, very handy."

we crossed the street and headed up my walkway. "carlee, i've enjoyed today so much, i just hate to go."

"don't then lissell, you're welcome to stay the night."

"wish i could babe, but there will be hell enough to pay when i do get home." margo, i didn't ask her, but she knew that i knew. lissell came in and collected her stuff, packed it neatly in her bag. "is it ok for me to wear your sandals home?" she asked.

"of course lissell."

"i'll be back, i have a 9am class tomorrow, then work until 7:00 tomorrow. i'll map leroy's apartment, find out what i can, and get back with you when i know more. i'm certain leroy killed the three, carlee, almost certain. but we can't say anything to anyone, ok?"

"i understand lissell." she kissed my cheek, then left. oh, gosh, she left her riding boots. she said she had only one class tomorrow, i hoped it wasn't polo.

"carlee!!!" it was ms. manasco.

"yeah."

"i know it's late, but may i ask you a brief question?"

"sure." i said, and opened the door.

"have the police talked with you and carie about grey?"

"yes ma'me, was it wasn't much, they didn't seem real concerned." i replied.

"good, that was the impression i got, sorry to bother you, sleep well." she said.

i did sleep well, i woke up at 7 oclock and was terrified that my clock didn't go off and i was late for work. then i remembered.....i made coffee and turned on the television. the coffee was mayby half decent, and good morning america sucked, i couldn't cook well in wolfegang puck's personal kitchen, i would ask carie how to make coffee, but it would be too too embarassing. i just got dressed and drove to hardys, their coffee was always great.

"two large coffees to go and bacon and egg biscuit please."

"do you have a master card?" the unseen girl asked.

"no, but i'd probably qualify for a bank loan, i wasn't aware that a breakfast buscuit and a couple of coffees were that expensive." i chuckled.

"oh no ma'me, we are working with master card, we'll give you an application if you like."

"no thanks, i couldn't make the payments." i said. actually i needed to go to the bank and make a deposit, and i needed some help getting my check book back in order; i had made a fifty one dollar and 63 cent error last week, and a few more of those would leave me financially embarrased. but hey, i had the horses now, with unrelenting financial opportunities. i really had to become friends with mr. anderson, he could guide me to finincial independence.

as i drank hardys delicious coffee and nibbled the biscuit, i headed for the red mile. there was no racing this morning and the track was quite empty. i walked inside, a few people were milling around, the track was being manicured by a team of professionals, the flowers were beautiful, the groundskeepers were hard at work. i headed for the paddock in search of laverne "pork pie" and i saw him as he steped outside to smoke.

"mr. anderson?" i shouted. mr. anderson looked up and saw me.

"hey, carlee, good to see you, come on down." he smiled, he looked sincere. he held out his arms and i ran right toward them. he hugged me tightly "i was just thinking of you babe, i'm so glad you came to see me."

"i told you i would mr. anderson." i smiled.

"oh, you can call me pork pie, or you can call me pork, but you doesn't has to call me laverne, or mister." he laughed and said.

"how's andy's babe, pork pie?"

"great, just great carlee, couldn't be better, he'll be pullin' a sulky at florida 2 saturday. flew down there first class, 10-1, best odds he's had in two years. my, you look good carlee, a sight for these old sore eyes." he wore bermuda shorts and a colorful shirt with the tail hanging out, still wore the hat, probably did all the time.

"actually mr.---pork, i came for a little information, plus to see you."

"in that order?" he asked.

"not necessarily" i smiled and put my hand in his.

"now, it's talk like that, that will get you anything from me miss carlee." i thought he was going to blush.

"i was wondering if you could give me some information about the owners of this track?" i asked.

"hey pork ass, you looking for some jail time accosting that sweet young thing?" a familiar voice shouted.

"up yours buck, i'll take my chances! a trip to the slammer would get you out of my sight for a spell." both men laughed, and so did i. "ah, could you repeat the question babe?"

"about the owners."

"oh yeah, well, this is owned by a co op, all locals i think, maybe 14, and i ain't one, that's about all i can tell you for certain." he let go of my hand.

"do you know anything about st. james court?"i asked.

"weeel, i know i'm not going to get any pussy on that street." he smiled and said.

"hmmm. do you then know of a sure winner at the track, i need some more money?"

"how much do you need darlin', i could spring for a few thousand."

"no, pork, i don't want a loan, i just need a little extra for my bank account." mr. anderson thought for a moment.

"you ever done any photography honey?"

"no, not really."

"every now and then i hear of a sure thing, it's not common mind you, we don't fix races or anything like that, but every now and then a horse that really out classes the pack runs in a race, and the outcome is pretty much predictable. maybe we could strike a deal pretty lady." pork pie was thinking, thinking seriously. "ah, i collect nude photography carlee, and i would love to take a couple of pictures of you without any clothes on. would you be afraid to undress in front of a old codger like me, in turn for the horse pick of your dreams?"

then i thought. "fair enough." i said.

"good! i have a studio on fifth street, meet me at six oclock carlee." he scribbled down an address and handed it to me. "and thanks, see you at six, i have a little more work to do here, but i'll be on time." i kissed his cheek and left.

as i drove home, i thought, what have i gotten myself in to. posing for mr. anderson wasn't like prostitution; god only knew what lissell had in mind for me tonight. if i'd stayed in new jersery, none of this would have been happening. and if i hadn't of married bryan, i would never have gone to jersey. i should have taken up with fischer when we were playing tourney chess at the ywca, when i was fifteen. everything seemed kind of mixed up. i ate a chicken tv dinner at 5 oclock and drank a diet pepsi. i knew the traffic was terrible on fifth street this time of day, and i should change my clothes and get going. i chose a blue shorts outfit to wear, not very creative, but it would do. mr. anderson would probably post me to the internet and dad would see me. oh, pork was a sweet old man, maybe he just wanted my picture to jack off while he looked at it. the name of the sure winning horse made it worth it, i could turn what money i had in the bank into thousands. i changed and drove, onward and upward. the traffic really was terrible, i finally got to the address, studio 8 it was called. there was a huge lincoln parked in front of it, mr. anderson's, i assumed, i pulled in behind him.

"carlee, carlee, i thought you'de stood me up." he said an a frantic but nice voice. i smiled.

"now why would you think i'd stand a nice man like you up pork pie?" i giggled.

"aw, come on in sweetie, gosh you look teriffic."

studio 8 was very professional looking, nude pictures were all over the walls. he had photographed some fabulous girls. golly, why did he want me? when we reached the room with the cameras, i was overwhelmed; i'd bet he had forty thousand dollars worth of stuff, it was scarey.

"carlee, have a seat on that couch, and reach over in the bottom drawer of that filing cabinet and put on a pair of white socks, i'll be writing down the name of that horse while you do that." not too pressing thus far. the socks were all brand new, some long, some short.

"which ones pork pie?" i asked. i held up a pair of each.

"the low ones dear." he answered as he wrote. i took my sandals off and put on the soft white socks. they must have been expensive, they were fuzzy and felt really great. "hey, that's fine carlee, you have nice long legs and thin ankles, this'll be a great shot." he handed me the paper he'd written on.

"goofus4 plemlico race 6 sept 5 40-1."

"ah, you'll need to write this yourself, and give the origional back to me darlin.ok?" it really didn't mean a lot to me, but i agreed. pork pie told me to sit (he positioned me) arch my back and slowly take off the left sock, he emphasized slowly."and look at me and smile precious." i wondered, as i smiled and slowly peeled off my left sock, if this horse was really a winner, or did pork pie just lure me down here to take some pictures for himself. lights were flashing everywhere, probably twenty snaps between start to finish. my foot was bare. "great,wonderful baby, that's a big 10-4, a take, beautiful!"

i couldn't discern the beauty, as described in pork pie's voice, of a plain ole girl like me undressing my dirty foot, but he was elated, just beside himself, oh well.

next, he wanted me to strip to my underwear. as i undressed, he took several shots. a though suddenly crossed my mind, the add in the paper, could it have been pork's? he certainly wasn't uncomfortable while taking my pictures. maybe he was going to sell them to hugh hefner, and i would be next month's centerfold, with other pics and a story about my love for horses. :) and maybe i was a dreamer. when i removed my bra, many pictures were taken.

"ever consider a silicon implant carlee?" wow, i really needed that, what a pal.

"no pork ass, i'm rather considering having them shrunk and having a sex change." i was angry, and he knew it. there was no need to make fun of me, i started to dress and get the hell out of there.

"now, now, i wasn't cutting you down baby, just making an observation based on years and years of looking at sexy ladies."

i dropped my panties, and turned away from him, started to tell him to kiss it.

"very nice." he said, and the camera shot. "now turn around slowly, that's it, that's it. now sit down. slowly! yeah." i was becoming uncomfortable. "spread your legs a little carlee." he said, and i did. it's no telling how many pictures mr. anderson took, fifty maybe. he turned on the lights and told me that i was very photogenic and i was as pretty as any girl he'd ever shot. "come back saturday and i'll show you what we did."

"i'm busy saturday pork pie."

"carlee, just stand over there by that statue and let me take a few more." what did i have to lose, after being photographed naked and being insulted. i wasn't sure what pork was going to do with these pictures, and was afraid to ask. he took three of me smiling (which was hard to do), four of my left profile. two of my right, and three of my hind end. "carlee, i don't know how to thank you, you have justified my life." he smiled. "now write that horse stuff down, and i'll take you to dinner."

it was almost six. he locked up and opened the door to his big lincoln. the seat covers were leather and very soft, the seat reminded me of those in the airplane, when daddy took me to cuba. pork fired up the engine and adjusted his hat. he really was a nice man, i guessed. he drove to broadway, then down nineteenth street, he was a cautious driver. i really needed to see andy before the store closed, but i was famished. pork pulled up in front of a steak and lobster place called "harriet's place." it was very eloquent, he opened the door for me, and i noticed he had that horse tie on, when i first met him. he looked rather nice.

"oh, you'll love this place carlee." i felt that i would. the inside of the restaurant was very classy, lots of art and things like that, i wondered who harriet was. it was crowded, very crowded, and we sat at a small table for two in the lobby of a thing. "i've been around the world carlee, and wound up on a dog turd, but in all my travels, this restaurant is the most appealing to me." he sounded sentimental, a new side to pork pie.

"laverne anderson, mr. laverne anderson and company!" a voice rang. pork raised his hand and a skinny waited in a tux came over. "your table is ready sir." he said, stiffly.

"listen motherfucker, tell your boss lady that i killed my mother for naming me laverne, and i wouldn't hesitate to do the same to you all." the waiter's adam's apple moved up and down, he choked.

"i'm very sorry sir, i will inform ms. harriet." no smiles.

motherfucker led us to a nice table for four in the back of the restaurant, pork was limping. "the waitress will be with you in a moment sir." motherfucker explained, and walked away.

"where the hell do they find son-of-a-bitches like like?" he said.

"oh, pork pie, motherfucker's ok, just wrapped up in his job."

the waitress was pretty, she was dressed very nicely in a white chiffon blouse and a black vest with matching pants. her smile was nice. the menu blended well with the atmosphere of the restaurant, elequont. they offered everything from soup to nuts, i chose a crab meat salad, lobster, and a charcoal broiled rib eye.

"eight ounce or twelve?" she asked.

"twelve." i answered.

"that sounds good to me too, yeah, i'll have the same." pork said.

"and how would you like your steaks cooked, rare, medium or well?"

"i would like mine medium rare." i said.

"and i wan't to hear the son-of-a-bitch mooing when you bring it." pork pie declared. the waitress smiled.

"very well sir."

"you want to pick your lobster out carlee?" he asked.

"naaa, i'll just take pot luck."

"is this a smoking area pork pie?"

"it is by god if you want to smoke darlin'. hey up there! we want a drink!" the waitress acknowledged him and came to our table. "a beer for me and whatever the young lady wishes."

"beer is fine." i smiled.

"any particular kind sir?" she asked.

"something expensive." i had never seen beer so thick and so dark. pork pie took a drink then left his mug half full. "wheee, i can breathe again." he was a funny fellow.

"pork pie?" a voice said.

"anderson!"

"why, johnny marose, ain't seen you in years." johnny came over and the two shook hands.

"vegas, 1994, i believe. is this lovely creature your daughter pork pie?"

"naaa, just a friend, my daughters are pretty." he smiled, and finished his beer.

"sit down johnny, take a load off."

"thanks pork, but i don't want to interrupt, and i have a meeting in twenty minutes. where can i find you, i'm here for a week?"

"look me up at the red mile, a few people know me there." mr. marose smiled.

"i'm sure there are more than a few." both laughed.

"good old johnny, a poker playing son-of-a-bitch, me and him won a gamblin' casino one drunken week end some years back." he grinned a large grin and lit a cigar. "uh, uh, how the time does fly. but, the present ain't bad either." he smiled nicely at me. "oh, it's din din."

the waitress laid a piece of smoldering red meat in pork pie's plate, and a very nice lobster in the other. "mmm, mmm." he said. "cooked just right."

the salad was delicious, as was the lobster. my steak was cooked a little longer than pork's, and was absolutely delightful. "you choose very nice restaurants pork pie, very nice indeed." he touched my arm.

"stuff tastes better when the company's the best." what a thoughful thing to say, i thought.

when we finally left and headed for his lincoln, a policeman was writing him a parking ticket. "what the fuck do you think you're doing!!" his face turned red, and his jugular veins swelled.

"my job sir." he answered, very quietly. he continued to write and pork pie looked like he was about to explode. suddenly he slapped the ticket book out of the policeman's hand. the policeman's hand went down to his gun.

"why you son-of-a-muthafuckin-bitch!!"

"stop it, and i mean it!!!" i cried. "this is ridiculous, you're both causing a scene that i don't like, nor does anyone else." a small crowd was gathering. "grown men, you should be ashamed." they looked at me in disbelief. pork pie grabbed my arm and led me to the car, opened the door and i scooted in. "pork pie, you should never react like that, you'll have a stroke!" i was already developing nervous indigestion, and was about to cry.

"you're right carlee, that bastard wasn't worth me getting upset."

"god, you should have first asked why he was writing you a ticket and if it was for illegal parking, we could have taken it back to the restaurant and made them pay it." i explained.

"i do react too quick, i know that, always have, goddamn metermaid, maybe i should slow down now that i'm getting older." his voice mellowed. i put my hand on his.

"yes, you should, i'd like so see you around a little longer." the cop was at fault too, i thought, what if he had taken out the gun and shot pork pie, over a twenty dollar parking ticket.

when he let me out, he held my hand for a moment, his eyes stared directly into mine. "ya know, a feller could get used to you pretty lady."

"not if the feller was stroked out on a respirator." i smiled.

"come see me later on in the week, when i get the pictures fine tuned." maybe mr. anderson did appreciate my getting excited about the scene. i rarely get that excited, and maybe he could sense that. i was glad. i pulled up in front of andy's store as he was walking out.

"hey handsome, got a tip for you."

"where the hell have you been?" he asked.

"you wouldn't believe me if i told you babe. does this mean anything to you?" i handed him the piece of paper that i had scribbled on. andy got in my car and studied the paper for a moment.

"yeah, it means a little something, who gave it to you?"

"mr. anderson, from the track, you remember."

"oh, yeah, did he tell you to bet this horse?"

"every dollar i can round up, and you too buster."

"i don't know carlee, money is tight with me, my daughter nikki is coming in tonight to visit me for a week. that's why i'm leaving early, she's to arrive a bowman field at seven. find out more about it, will you?"

"sure andy, you didn't tell me that your daughter was flying in." i stated, with concern.

"it came up suddenly love, i'll explain more when i have the time. please call me, i'd love for you to meet nikki. anything more about leroy?"

"will know more tomorrow, i hope." andy kissed me gently, then headed for his car. i drove home and saw carie in the yard.

"hey buddie."

"carlee, that pretty policewoman we met when gray was killed was here to see you about fifteen minutes ago, i've forgotten her name." carie sounded concerned.

"lissell's her name, and it's alright, we're doing some leroy work carie." i smiled.

"good, he should be nailed." she said. "she said she would be back in a little while, want to wait for her in my place?"

"thanks anyway, but i've got some stuff to do before i meet with her." i was hardly back into my apartment when she knocked at the door. "come in." i said.

lissell was in uniform and had a piece of paper in her hand. she sat on the bed and i sat down next to her.

"carlee, this is a map of the building, this is leroy's apartment, he's at work as we speak and will be there until at least twelve o'clock. i've seen to it that the window is cracked, all you have to do is raise it and climb in."

"me?" i questioned.

"sure, i'll be on the inside pretending to answer a 201, making sure that you have plenty of time to look around. i've got some stuff in my pocket for you." lissell pulled out a pair of black latex gloves and a pen light. "i knew you didn't have the gloves, and i wasn't sure about the light."

"god, lissell, what am i looking for?"

"anything carlee, anything that you might recognize, you'll know them when you see them. leroy will probably know his place has been searched, especially if you're messy or you take something."

"why can't you go in there with me?" i cried.

"honey, i wouldn't know what on earth to look for, and besides, his room must be secured from the inside. i won't be suspected, i'm there answering complaints two or three nights a week. it'll be alright carlee."

double 0 carlee, boy, did i have second thoughts about this caper.