The Serviceman, Chapter 10

10 — The Vagrant

As the Forensic Entomologist was backing out from the scene, the Landlord walked over to the Cop and handed him his statement. Who’s going to clean up that mess, he asked the Cop? You can’t touch anything until we complete our investigation and we will give you the number to a forensic clean-up company who provides that service. The Landlord, stepped back, threw his hands into the air and said; screw this, are you done with me? The Cop looked at him; you might want to stick around to secure your property once we finish our investigation. Nobody is going to want to go in there, pointing to the house as the coroner was walking into the house. Is that the son of a bitch that killed her, pointing at the Vagrant in the back of the squad car? The Vagrant looked up at the Landlord; I haven’t done anything, wrestled with the cuffs behind him, pulled his knees to one side and looked away from the Landlord. The Landlord threw his hands into the air, walked to his truck, opened the door and jumped into the seat, picked up his cell phone and leaned back on the seat looking at the ceiling of his pick-up. The Vagrant looked into the rearview mirror of the Cop’s squad car; my ruck is back in that house, as he motioned with his head. I’ve got a receipt from a motel I stayed at In Georgia from a few days ago, man, I haven’t done anything and I’m just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Cop looked in the mirror; ruck, are you a veteran? The Vagrant looked back into the mirror; yeah, Desert Storm, Quarter Cav, first ID, then looked out the side window. The Cop looked at the screen as the Vagrants info popped up; loitering in Atlanta, pan-handling in Valdosta a month ago. You say you got a receipt in your ruck? The Vagrant shook his head yes, and looked out the side window away from the Cop. Let’s walk back to the house, take a look at what you got and if it checks out, you can go on you merry way. The Vagrant looked into the mirror; I haven’t done anything man, I promise you, I haven’t done anything. The Cop opened his door, stepped out of his squad car, opened the rear door of the squad car; come on, step out and let’s go for a walk back. The Vagrant swung his legs over onto the street and stood up in front of the Cop. I’m going to take the cuffs off you and we are going to check you out; OK? If you have any drugs in your ruck, you’re going back into cuffs and in the back of my car, I’m just warning you. The Vagrant looked at the Cop; I’m a drunk, not a doper. I don’t do that crap, it will get you in trouble. The Cop smiled, shook his head as he released the cuffs from the Vagrant. As they walked back to the house where the Vagrant was, the Cop asked; Desert Storm, Huh? The Vagrant looked down at his shoes and said; yeah, we brought everybody home but the causalities began after we got back. Wives getting beat up, kids with birth defects and several of the guys I kept up with have health problems, the VA can’t figure out what’s wrong with them. As they entered the house, the Vagrant pointed to his ruck and the Cop went through the Vagrants worldly belongings. All the clothing contents were military rolled and tucked, personal hygiene products in a dirty shaving kit was stuffed into an outside pocket with a washcloth folded into the top flap of the ruck. The Cop looked at the Vagrant; roll your blankets up and get out of here, this neighborhood will get you into trouble. I’m busting camp right now as he looked at the Cop; Scouts out.

%2CI��J�