Lying face down on a white plastic lounge chair, his body pink from the sun and clad in a red swim suit several sizes too small for a man of his girth, her target was not hard to spot. Samuel “Sammy” Gilroy was oblivious to Andie’s intrusion as a topless woman vigorously rubbed suntan lotion onto his lower back.
Shuddering, she made a face. Ewwwww
Obviously, Gilroy had not gotten the memo that men pushing sixty should not wear a thong. She, Andrea Dixon, process server extraordinaire, was scrunched down behind a tightly planted row of yews, swallowing past a hard lump of fear before she pushed her face farther out between the bushes. The tangy smell of chlorine caused her nose to twitch and she squelched the urge to sneeze. Any slip-up in this crowd was akin to signing her death warrant, and she wasn’t ready to go just yet.
So, she scanned the pool area for the pair of goons Sammy kept on his payroll and ignored the funky twist in her stomach.
Frick and Frack, she called the pair, as they resembled bookends in the black shirts and slacks they always wore. She’d seen them twice during her investigation into Sammy’s hideout. They were humorless, probably sprinkled steroid powder on their corn flakes, and were not to be messed with.
Thank goodness the goon squad was not within sight. She relaxed a little between thoughts of “remember the money, Andie” and “what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
This case was far and above serving court papers for divorce cases and traffic warrants. To find herself just yards away from her first criminal went way beyond stupidity as far as she was concerned. But she had something to prove to herself…and to her family.
This case would show her mother and sisters that she wasn’t headed for a lifetime of dead-end jobs and familial disappointment.
Four months in and she was convinced she’d finally found her calling...if she didn’t end up dead.