Frank asked Tom to pick up Rita at the bus stop for him. He said that he would know who she was; she never let herself be unnoticed.
“Well … Is she blond? Tall? Older?” Tom asked.
“You’ll know!”
“Why am I picking her up?”
“I promised her a ride home and I can’t make it. You don’t want to break a promise ever, and especially not with Rita.”
As Tom sat in his car he feared he would regret this. The hazy fog hanging over town did not make it any easier to discern people. He turned the key in the ignition, going through the motion, and the engine remained silent. His shoulders relaxed and he smiled. His relief was brief though; he remembered to step on the clutch the next time he turned the key in the ignition.
There were several people at the bus stop. None were particularly noticeable. It wasn’t going to be as easy as Frank predicted.
There was someone who did not look like she was waiting for the bus. She was leaning toward an opened passenger side window, speaking with the driver. As Tom opened his door, he overheard the woman express slowly but distinctly that she did not realize that her walking on the street could possibly disturb anyone and that if her presence was distracting to him she was completely sorry, but that again she had not meant to cause any problems.
“Just use the sidewalk,” the man insisted, “it’s dangerous in this fog!”
He started to close the car window, but she continued talking about not meaning any harm and that she really thought the street was for everyone.
“Lady, I need to run, so would you please step away from my car?”
She looked at him very directly and said, spacing each word patiently: “Sir, I was apologizing to you, you could be a gentleman and accept my apology.”
“I accept your apology,” he said with some irritation.
“Now, what was your name again, I don’t recall hearing it?”
“Goodbye lady!”
He drove away, and sped up quite briskly once at a safe distance from her. She stood up, watched him leave. Her long dark hair still covered her chest from bending forward at the car window. She had dark features as if Mediterranean, which in Tom’s mind was in contrast to her slow and distinct southern belle speech pattern.
“There are so few gentlemen anymore,” she said out loud.
“Rita?” Tom hailed out.
“Yes!”
“Frank couldn’t make it; he asked me to pick you up!”
“I will be darned if that isn’t Frank! Would you come and open the door for me?”
Rita had her hands free. It puzzled Tom that she asked this. He went ahead anyway and opened the door for her.
“You’ll have to give me directions,” he said, once in the driver seat.
“Frank did not tell you where I live?”
“No.”
“Did he leave you with an envelope for me?”
“No.”
“Isn’t that’s a surprise?” She said sarcastically.
“Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. He planned it all very well. Thank you!”
Tom remained quiet.
“You see,” Rita continued with her trademark slow and distinct speech, “Frank owes me money. He was going to return it today – so he said. I see he sent you instead. You are my money. I’ll keep you until Frank pays up.”
Tom laughed.
“You think I am joking?”
Tom wanted to call Frank. But Frank did not have a phone. Not even a landline phone.
“How will you let Frank know?”
“He will have to figure it out, won’t he?”
“How much farther is it?”
“Keep going.”
By now Tom was starting to fear Rita was going to keep him driving indefinitely, just pretending to give him directions to her home.
“Let’s go see Frank,” he said. Tom changed lanes to turn the car around.
“Where is he?”
“We can wait for him at his home!”
“I will not wait for him or anyone. Please drive me home.”
“I don’t believe you are giving me the directions to your home. I believe you are stringing me along. You are kidnapping me for a ransom.”
“That is an awesome idea! Why didn’t I think of that?” She exclaimed, appearing truly innocently surprised by the idea.
Tom stopped the car on the side of the road.
“How did you know I live here?” Rita said, sounding even more genuinely surprised. “Frank must have told you!”
Tom shrugged. He felt he had the upper hand for the first time since this whole story started. Frank had not told him where she lived. It was just luck, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Thank you for the ride then,” Rita said, “I do not recall your name.”
“Tom.”
“Thank you Tom. Would you be a gentleman and walk me to my door?”
Tom agreed. At the door she looked for her keys in her large size purse.
“I must have left my keys at the office,” Rita said with a little agitation in her voice. Tom would you mind going around the house and going in from the back door or try lifting the window by the door to get in?”
Tom went around the house. He tried turning the back door knob. A lady came to the door.
“Yes?” She inquired.
“Rita is at the front door ...” Tom started.
“FRANK?” She yelled across to the living room. “WE HAVE A VISITOR FOR A RITA?”
“Don’t know any Rita,” an older gentleman’s voice said.
Not my Frank, Tom thought.
“We don’t know any Rita.” The lady said.
“Sorry to have disturbed you.” Tom said.
When he went back to the front door, Rita was no longer there; she was in his car. Tom ran to it angrily, opened his door and yelled: “WHAT …”
(to be continued)