Message-ID: <6cd3114c.358ac531@aol.com>
Date: Fri, 19 Jun 1998 16:08:15 EDT
From: Maryilee@aol.com
Subject: "And Then There Were Two" Part 2

Chapter 2


Sam closed his eyes and sighed, wearily running his hand down his
face.  He stood up straight, and turned around, bracing his hands on
the sink.  He looked up, absently studying the face of the man he had
leaped into. Light brown hair, receding.  Blue eyes and a round face.
He looked down, taking a deep breath. He was trying to get a grip on
his emotions.  Sam didn't know why, but in the very brief meeting he
had had with Gary, he had felt a connection to him somehow.  There had
been a look in his eyes that seemed somehow familiar.

"You okay, Sam?"  Al asked with concern.

Sam turned back around, nodding. "Yeah." He cleared his throat.  "Yeah,
I'm okay.  Who kills him Al? Why?"

Al put the cigar back in his mouth, and punched some buttons on the
handlink.  He shook his head sadly. "Sorry Sam.  No one was ever
charged with the crime."

Frustrated, Sam started pacing within the small confines of the
bathroom.  "Doesn't Ziggy have any data on this?"

Al shrugged, "All we have is that at eleven thirty P.M. Saturday,
Gary's body is found in an alley behind this bar." Al jabbed at the
buttons, squinting to read the small display screen. "The police report
lists it as a possible robbery, as his wallet was missing."

"Okay," Sam sighed, pausing in front of Al, "I guess I'll just have to
somehow make sure that Gary doesn't go out into the alley Saturday
night."  Sam paused for a moment.  Something wasn't right.  "Wait a
minute, Al.  You said that in two nights Gary gets killed.  That would
make it Sunday, not Saturday."

Al double-checked his hand-link, his brow furrowed.  "No, according to
Ziggy today is Thursday, November 6th.  So two days from now is
Saturday."

"But that can't be right."  Sam shook is head and continued his
pacing.  "I just saw the newspaper out there, and it had November 7th
as the date."

The door to the bathroom opened, admitting a man who made a beeline for
one of the stalls.  Al grimaced, "Yuck!  This is why I hate having
these meetings in the john."  His nose wrinkling at imaginary odors, Al
continued, "Sam, I'm going to go see if Ziggy can dig up any more
information and clear this up."  He punched a button, opening a square
of light.  In second the square closed, and Al was gone.

Sam washed his hands, and left the bathroom.  Head down, made his way
back to the bar, barely noticing the jovial atmosphere anymore.

Suddenly, he was tripping over a dog.  "Oomph!" Sam fell flat on his
face.  He scrambled up, feeling color creeping up his face, as several
patrons laughed good-naturedly.

An attractive black woman had her hand on his arm.  "Is that you,
Chuck?"  She asked.  "Are you alright?"

Sam looked into her large, dark eyes, and realized with surprise, that
the woman was blind.  He glanced down at the dog he had tripped over,
and felt doubly stupid.  The large German Shepherd was a guide dog.

"Umm, yeah, I'm fine.  Sorry."

The woman smiled,  "That's okay."  She reached down and stroked the
dog.  "Spike is fine.  Aren't you boy?" She said sweetly to the dog.

"Do you know where Gary is?" The woman asked.

Sam looked around.  Gary's barstool was now empty.  He turned,
searching the room, without luck.  "He was just here a minute ago."

The woman shrugged, "I'll check the office."

Sam watched her go, then got an idea.  "Hey, wait!  I'll go with you."
He hurried to catch up to her, ignoring her puzzled expression.

"Okay, Chuck.  Whatever."

Sam followed her into an office off the kitchen.  A couple of desks and
filing cabinets were crammed into the small room.  Papers were strewm
across the top of the desk where they found Gary.

He was still searching the newspaper.  He looked up as they entered,
and smiled briefly.  "Hey Marissa."  Gary stood and closed the
newspaper.  He folded it and tucked it into his coat. Looking at Sam,
he said, "I was just coming to get you.  I need your help on this
one."  He hurried from around the desk, pulling Sam by the arm.  He
called over his shoulder, "Sorry, Marissa, gotta go."

"Be careful, Gary!" Marissa called after him.

Sam stumbled trying to keep up with Gary.  He had no idea what 'this
one' was, but apparently Gary was used to Chuck helping him.  As they
went through the bar, Gary snatched a brown leather coat from behind
the bar, and flung it back at Sam.  "Here's your coat.  Got your keys?"

Sam hastily put the coat on, and patting his pockets, was relieved to
hear the jingle of keys from within.  "Uh, yeah...Gary."

Before Sam knew it, he was behind the wheel of a shiny red car, trying
to recall the layout of the streets of Chicago.  He had been here
before, but his memory wasn't the best with all the leaping that he had
been doing.  Glancing at Gary, who was nervously drumming his fingers
on the door handle, Sam ventured to ask.  "Where am I going?"

"Oh. Sorry."  Gary said sheepishly as he flipped through the
newspaper.

Sam looked over curiously at the tabloid.  Why was Gary so obsessed
with it?  Ever since he had leaped in, Gary had had his nose buried in
that paper.

Evidently, finding the article he was looking for, Gary skimmed it with
his finger. "We're going to Michael Jordan's restaurant."

Michael Jordan, that name sounded familiar, but Sam couldn't quite
place it.  "Okay.  Where is it?"

Gary started to give Sam a sarcastic, ha-ha look, but it was replaced
with a puzzled expression when he saw that Sam wasn't kidding.

Sam caught the look, and thought, uh-oh.  Thinking quickly, he smiled,
"I mean, what would be the fastest way to get there."

Gary didn't look like he quite believed him, but proceeded to give Sam
the directions to the LaSalle street restaurant.

The place was jam packed, Sam noted, as he slowly pulled to a stop in
front of the building.  Seeing the soaring figure of a basketball
player on the front of the establishment, Sam quickly recalled who
Michael Jordan was. A parking attendant was waving Sam away from the
curb.  Evidently, no one was allowed to park here.  Sam started to pull
away to find a parking spot, but before he could, Gary flung his door
open, and glancing at his watch, bolted out of the car in what Sam
could only describe as a panic.

Ignoring the parking attendant, Sam quickly jumped out of the car and
raced after Gary.  He pushed open the doors, and just caught a glimpse
of him as Gary raced up to a table.

Sam watched in disbelief as a woman at that same table suddenly
clutched her throat and stood up knocking her chair over.  Recognizing
the universal symbol for choking, he hurried towards her.  Gary beat
him to the victim, however, and wrapping his arms around her, performed
the Heimlich Maneuver.  A chunk of meat went sailing across the room.

Sam's jaw dropped in astonishment as he took in the scene. He rushed
over pushing his way through the gathering crowd of waitresses and
onlookers. Gary bent to right the chair, and quietly asked the woman if
she was okay.  Everyone in the restaurant was focused on the drama, and
suddenly Gary noticed all the attention, and Sam could see his face
turn beet red.  Gary nodded to something the woman said, turned and
fled, bumping into Sam on his way out.

"Come on, Chuck." Gary mumbled, as head down he hurried out. Ignoring
the smiles and nods of acknowledgement from diners, he shouldered his
way to the front door.

Sam rushed to follow him; still not grasping what had gone on back
there.  How had Gary known the woman was going to choke?

Outside the restaurant, Sam found Gary arguing with the parking
attendant, as a tow truck was hitching Sam/Chuck's car up.

"You can't tow this car!" Gary insisted. "Look," he pleaded "we were
only in there a minute."

"Sorry, mister, but those are the rules." The attendant shrugged.  "You
shouldn't have parked there."

Sam hurried over, making his own attempt at swaying the attendant.
"Aw, come on. Gary just saved a woman from choking in there, and now
you want to tow our car?"

The attendant just rolled his eyes.  "Yeah. Right." And turned away.

Seeing the car about to be towed away, Gary rushed over to the tow
truck driver to plead his case, but his appeal fell on deaf ears. In
seconds, the car was being hauled away as Gary angrily aimed a kick at
the tires of the truck.

Gary turned to Sam a dejected expression clouding his face, "Sorry
Chuck.  I'll pay for it."

Sam shrugged.  The guy just saved a woman's life and he worried that
Chuck would be upset about getting his car towed?  "Don't worry about
it, Gary.  I'll think of it as money well spent." Sam grinned.

Gary did a double take, his eyes widening in surprise.  "Huh?"