customers who sauntered in on their countless Sunday morning missions. One harassed lady wearing outdated sharp-pointed reading glasses bought a can of cat food and a plastic container of orange juice. Another balding man, who looked like he hadn’t gone to bed the previous night, headed toward the antacid section and purchased two packages of the strongest tablets available. Seth watched all in a bemused manner, waiting for the one person who could give him some peace of mind.
Definitely not that one thought Seth , as a harried mother with two toddlers trailing her and crying for breakfast scooped up a loaf of bread and a half-gallon of milk before hurrying to the cash register. An older man waltzed in and slammed down twenty dollars on top of the counter.
“Unleaded,” he shouted before running out as the overworked sales clerk wagged her red-tinted hair and punched at the computer keyboard. Seth noticed a skinny man with a huge Adam’s apple, dressed in blue overalls, pick out two blue energy drinks. Because of his preoccupation he totally missed the next man who quietly entered the store. Tall and in his mid-to-late thirties, he wore a heavy black motorcycle jacket. A bushy black moustache and thick hair growing slightly silver at the sides afforded him a distinguished appearance; though the dimple in his chin suggested a reckless nature. His eyes surveyed the store’s few customers before zeroing in on Seth. He studied the tall architect for a long moment before finally strolling over to the magazine rack to pick up a computer gaming magazine. He cast a sideways glance at Seth and nonchalantly winked one brown eye.
“You wouldn’t by any chance know if they have any articles on the computer g ame Simon Says ?”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Seth , eying the muscular man. He noticed the telltale bulge inside the biker’s leather jacket and immediately relaxed. “I’ll certainly keep an eye out for any articles on that game and let you know.” He replaced his roadster magazine, and picking up a Sunday newspaper paid the overweight clerk before waltzing out the store. So that was Stan Garten and suddenly Seth felt immensely relieved.
Chapter 5
The next few days were an immensely pleasant aftermath of the Christmas holiday. There was shopping with Julia and her mother, a couple rounds of golf with Jim Morris, and on the thirtieth of December a visit to Gaviota to look over the six puppies, one of which Julia planned to adopt within a week. Twice Seth spotted Stan Garten in the distance, and while unobtrusive, he was an obvious presence. Seth did not observe the stalker’s silver Lexus again and began to relax.
As they walked up to the Mediterranean house with its well-manicured lawn Seth gave Julia a word of advice.
“I’ve heard that when picking a puppy you should sit down on your haunches, outstretch your hand, and see which puppy comes to you first. That’s the one you’ll want.”
“Like the puppy will pick me? So you are an expert,” she said, giving him a warm hug, her arm remaining to drape loosely around his waist. She could never get enough of touching him and that warm tug signaling his undying devotion was always present in her heart, whether with him or not. So, as she and her soul mate waited before the elegant oak door after ringing the doorbell, Julia realized she’d never been happier in her entire life.
A petite woman with short gray-brown bobbed hair and standing scarcely five -foot tall beckoned them inside.
“I’m Mrs. Alistair,” she said , her chin dimpling, “and you must be the lucky young lady who’s waiting for her brand new puppy. Come inside and I’ll show you the lot.”
They followed her though a well-furnished open plan house with cool wicker furniture and spotless cream tiles leading to wide sliding glass doors opening upon a spacious grass lawn. Six furry little puppies whose tails curled over their furry backs
Definitely not that one thought Seth , as a harried mother with two toddlers trailing her and crying for breakfast scooped up a loaf of bread and a half-gallon of milk before hurrying to the cash register. An older man waltzed in and slammed down twenty dollars on top of the counter.
“Unleaded,” he shouted before running out as the overworked sales clerk wagged her red-tinted hair and punched at the computer keyboard. Seth noticed a skinny man with a huge Adam’s apple, dressed in blue overalls, pick out two blue energy drinks. Because of his preoccupation he totally missed the next man who quietly entered the store. Tall and in his mid-to-late thirties, he wore a heavy black motorcycle jacket. A bushy black moustache and thick hair growing slightly silver at the sides afforded him a distinguished appearance; though the dimple in his chin suggested a reckless nature. His eyes surveyed the store’s few customers before zeroing in on Seth. He studied the tall architect for a long moment before finally strolling over to the magazine rack to pick up a computer gaming magazine. He cast a sideways glance at Seth and nonchalantly winked one brown eye.
“You wouldn’t by any chance know if they have any articles on the computer g ame Simon Says ?”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Seth , eying the muscular man. He noticed the telltale bulge inside the biker’s leather jacket and immediately relaxed. “I’ll certainly keep an eye out for any articles on that game and let you know.” He replaced his roadster magazine, and picking up a Sunday newspaper paid the overweight clerk before waltzing out the store. So that was Stan Garten and suddenly Seth felt immensely relieved.
Chapter 5
The next few days were an immensely pleasant aftermath of the Christmas holiday. There was shopping with Julia and her mother, a couple rounds of golf with Jim Morris, and on the thirtieth of December a visit to Gaviota to look over the six puppies, one of which Julia planned to adopt within a week. Twice Seth spotted Stan Garten in the distance, and while unobtrusive, he was an obvious presence. Seth did not observe the stalker’s silver Lexus again and began to relax.
As they walked up to the Mediterranean house with its well-manicured lawn Seth gave Julia a word of advice.
“I’ve heard that when picking a puppy you should sit down on your haunches, outstretch your hand, and see which puppy comes to you first. That’s the one you’ll want.”
“Like the puppy will pick me? So you are an expert,” she said, giving him a warm hug, her arm remaining to drape loosely around his waist. She could never get enough of touching him and that warm tug signaling his undying devotion was always present in her heart, whether with him or not. So, as she and her soul mate waited before the elegant oak door after ringing the doorbell, Julia realized she’d never been happier in her entire life.
A petite woman with short gray-brown bobbed hair and standing scarcely five -foot tall beckoned them inside.
“I’m Mrs. Alistair,” she said , her chin dimpling, “and you must be the lucky young lady who’s waiting for her brand new puppy. Come inside and I’ll show you the lot.”
They followed her though a well-furnished open plan house with cool wicker furniture and spotless cream tiles leading to wide sliding glass doors opening upon a spacious grass lawn. Six furry little puppies whose tails curled over their furry backs
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