"Westward Ho or Lupe' Takes a Road Trip"

The Vette screeched to a stop in front of the massage parlor. I clutched the plastic wrapped manila envelope to my chest, anxious to expose the contents, and ease my mind about Lupe'. Breedlove ripped it from my arms as soon as the Vette's engine died.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I said.

"You obviously don't know how to handle evidence," he said.

"Excuse me, but I don't watch many cop shows on television." There was sarcasm to my voice.

 "I'll explain it all to you later," Breedlove said, "for now, we have to see what's in here." He waved the envelope at me, pinching just the corner. Maybe the guy did know a little something about handling evidence.

Breedlove opened the car door, and stepped out into they dying light. The envelope slipped from his fingers and landed on the damp pavement. So much for hiring Columbo, I thought.

 "Oops, my bad," Breedlove said. He picked up the envelope, and I exited the car, following him inside.

I noticed the massage parlor owner glared at Breedlove when we passed on the way to the upstairs entrance.  I shrugged my shoulders when she smiled at me.

Just as Breedlove put his hand on the door, I heard the owner say, "You late on rent "Beedlub."

Without turning, he answered her, and at the same time threw the door to the upstairs open.

" Sunnee Lee, it's in the mail."

She mumbled something about, "cheapskrate."

I followed Breedlove up the stairs, and paused at the door to his office as he worked the key in the lock.

"Hey, if you don't want me to call you detective, why do you have it painted on your door?" I asked.

"I paid by the letter, it was cheaper than private investigator."

"Cheapskrate," I said as I followed Breedlove into the his office.

I stood nervous, as Breedlove examined the envelope at his chair behind the desk. I prayed Lupe' was still alive. Breedlove carefully opened the thick yellow envelope. I watched in the dim light as he read it slowly. He appeared to stumble over some words.

"Hurry," I said.

He held up a shushing finger, then slid the cigar from the band of his fedora. He lit the fat stogie with a wooden match plucked from his shirt pocket.

"Christ... get on with it," I said.

A blue swirl of smoke rose in the air, and Breedlove lowered his Ray Bans. His blue eyes stared at me.

"Oh my God, he's dead isn't he?" I choked.

"No, not yet."

"What do mean not yet?"

"Buddy, Lupe' is going to Sturgis."

"Where the hell is Sturgis," I said.

"Out west, in South or North Dakota, I'm not sure, I'll have to Google it," Breedlove said.

He blew a smoke ring, then said with calculation, " Pack your bags, this wagon is westward ho."

Downstairs, Sunnee Lee yelled, " I not ho, you pay rent Beedlub."

"Thin ceiling," Breedlove said casting his look to the floor.

I wondered how long it would take to get to Sturgis from North Baton Rouge, and I wondered how much Breedlove would charge for that.

All Rights Reserved 2007 Ronnie Ray Jenkins

Lupe' is the official trademark of the Free Cheese Global Fund.