Chapter 11

The way Leslie had it figured was that the average person changed clothes no more than a couple of times a day. Even the most fashion conscious peacock would do it no more than three or four. Realizing this was what made Leslie think she was something of an expert in the clothes changing business. She not only changed clothes, every day, more times than any other three people combined but, she could probably do it quicker since with practice comes perfection.

It was not even noon yet and, already, Leslie had been back to her place and swapped out wardrobes four times. As she left the crappy little room that, once you opened the door, had a commanding view of the local YWCA’s indoor swimming pool, she hoped to stay in these close a lot longer than normal. She was finally comfortable for the first time all day. Of all the clothes that she had to change into, these were the ones that Leslie considered actually being her own.

She came down the stairs to the pool room and her clothing actually caught a comment from Redding. He was actually a good looking guy and he volunteered here, mainly teaching kids how to swim. It was apparent to Leslie that he thought she was good looking too. His huge smile appeared every time he saw her. He never failed to say hi and, he was a nice guy. Unfortunately for him, he was just too neat for Leslie. His clothing always fit perfectly, his shirt and shorts were always ironed with military precision. He just wasn’t Leslie’s type.

Today, when Redding saw her, he quickly asked, “where you off too? Sure you don’t want to take a couple of laps?”

Leslie slapped him on the shoulder as she walked right on by and told him, “sorry Red. Wrong kind of pool for me today.”

Leslie was starting to wonder if the kind of pool that you filled with water was always going to be the wrong kind from then on. She had considered herself something of a water baby for most of her life. Anything with water had always drawn her in and that, along with her insatiable need to move around, is what had drawn her to eventually working on the Roby Celeste. It was working on that steamer that got her stuck in the water for over twelve hours. Things like that have a way of beating out the most deep seated habits in a person.
Once out the door, Leslie quickly made her way to the Check Cashing door down the street. It was an unremarkable little business in an old red brick building with almost nothing of a waiting area, a counter with a thick bullet proof glass, and no obvious way to get into the back of the place. One guy sat behind the glass. He had a rolling drawer and a speaker to interact with whoever was on the other side. As near as Leslie could tell, it was all worthless because she had never seen the guy actually talking to anyone.

Leslie pounded her hand on the glass and said whimsically into the microphone, “Lenny Squigmire Koblonski, you serious piece shit.” She then shoved some papers into the drawer and shoved it through to the other side, “there you go, as promised.”

Lenny pulled the papers out, skimmed over them, and then laughed as he put them in a drawer that was exclusively on his side of the window. As he did he commented, “I don’t know why I keep posting bail on that numb nuts. He skips every single time. You know the guy gets one DUI after another, and he always forgets his court date. Do you know why? Because the ass hole is too drunk to remember.” Lenny growled and said, “if I wasn’t married to his sister!!!”

Leslie gave the guy one of her cute little smiles and facetiously replied, “oh the joys of domesticity. Where’s my money?” When Lenny started counting off bills from a drawer, Leslie shook her head, “um no. Those are Colonial script. I want Deutsch Marks, remember?”

The guy acted like he had simply made a mistake, “I can’t keep all of you straight. You’re not my only skip tracer, you know that, right?”
Leslie kept her smile but became a tad bit more serious, “so I hear. I also heard Barry and China were back in town. They get run off Doris again? Who’d they piss off now?”

“How the hell should I know,” Lenny replied as he changed out the bills. “They’re a couple of dead beats. I won’t even give ‘em any marks. They always screw it up and then I get the court breathing down my neck because even the ones they manage to bring in always wind up with a hospital bill attached.”

“Sounds like the Bass Gang to me,” Leslie replied. “So they’re not toting papers right now? I guess. Know where I can find them? I want to say hey to the old neighborhood if you know what I mean.”

Lenny put her money in the drawer and pushed it out the other side, “if they owe you money you never heard this from me. I hear they’re hanging out at Quigley’s. Can’t promise you anything but, that’s what I hear.” Leslie winked, grabbed her money, and walked for the door.

As she did, Lenny yelled out through the speaker, “you don’t want another case?”

“Got it covered Squigman,” she said as the door jingled on her way out.

When she was gone Lenny just snorted, “they must owe her a bunch of money. I’d hate to be them. Maybe she’ll knock a little sense in ‘em.”