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Bus Riders(continued) He continued glaring at her, as if waiting for further clarification. "I'm sorry," Brenda continued, voice quivering. "I don't
know where it is. I never heard of it." But she was lying. Rockford
Avenue was where she got off. Did he know? "Uh-huh," the man said, no longer facing Brenda. "Hold
on. Let me just jot that down. I've got another operative, the apprehending
agent. Yes, Rockford Avenue. Yes, yes. Desportation. Got it. Of course.
He'll intercept at the bus stop," he concluded, in a low, weaselly
voice, head swiveling back and forth, as if making sure no one was listening.
"Wilco and out." Then he snapped his cell phone shut and placed it back in the case,
closing that, too. "Would you pull the cord, please miss?"
he asked in a formal, polite voice. "I get off at the next stop." Brenda yanked the cord without thinking, before her nerves gave out. She started to tremble as the big man twisted around, patting his chest and thighs, as if searching for something. "I seem to have misplaced my notes," he said. "Have you seen them?" Brenda shook her head, too frightened to speak. He grunted in response,
then hoisted his enormous girth up from the seat and out into the aisle,
in one sweeping, agile motion that astonished Brenda. Then he swaggered
toward the front of the bus as it slowed and pulled over to the curb. Brenda couldn't stop shaking, or slow the pounding of her heart. What
on earth was going on? What did all that crazy talk mean, and why was
she in the middle of it? Then she saw the crumpled piece of paper on
the seat beside her. "Oh, Mister, um, um ... your notes," she said in a faltering
voice. The man got off, the bus drove on, and once more Brenda
found herself opening a set of cryptic notes. She read: Jasper Riordan, Esq. It just didn't make any sense. She shook her head in
dismay. It was utter madness. And these two fat Riordan guys thought
she was Nora. And who was Mr. Yelir? Why was he pursuing Nora Finley? She sure as hell wasn't getting off at Rockford. She'd get off the
block before, circle around the back route to her apartment building.
She stuffed the note in her pocket along with the other, and checked
her position from the window. Just in time. Windsor Avenue coming up,
the street before Rockford. She pulled the stop cord, heaved a sigh
of relief and slid out of her seat. She threaded nervously down the
aisle. The bus swung over to the curb, and the accordion doors flapped
open. Brenda stepped down and out onto the sidewalk, at last free from
this unnerving business. "Oops," she said, as she nearly bumped into a very tall man
who stood right in front of her. "Excuse me. I didn't see you."
She looked up at the towering figure and blushed. He was very thin,
with a long face, like a horse, and his eyes were set so wide apart
they appeared to look off in opposite directions. His long arms dangled
below his knees. He smiled lopsidedly, and addressed her. "Ms. Finley?" he asked. "Ms. Nora Finley? Will you step
this way, please?" He leaned over in a parody of a bow, pointing
one long arm out into the street, while crossing the other over his
chest. "What?" Brenda responded, astonished, petrified as she recognized
the Finley name. "No, I'm sorry, but I'm not. You have the wrong
person. I'm sorry." She tried to push past him, but he blocked
her way. He put one large hand on her shoulder to detain her, while
maintaining that silly, lopsided grin. "I'm Dexter Riley, Ms. Finley, and I have been duly authorized
to meet you at the Rockford station, but I see you disembarked prematurely.
Fortunately, I took precautions." Brenda was momentarily speechless. Then she gathered herself, and said,
"I'm sorry, Mr. Riley, but I'm not Nora Finley. There's been some
mistake." She tried again to walk past the man, but his grip remained
firm on her shoulder, and she couldn't budge. "You do have those papers, do you not?" he asked. "Well, yes but, you see." But no, this was all wrong, she
thought. She wasn't answerable to this strange man. She should just
tell him to get lost and move on. But he was so imposing and insistent,
standing over her like this, that she felt intimidated, threatened.
How could she extricate herself from this ridiculous predicament? "Here, here, what's the problem folks?" a man's voice demanded,
behind Brenda. Riley removed his hand from her shoulder, and she turned
to face the intruder, who, thank the Lord and Savior, was a cop on his
beat. Brenda's knees wobbled as she let out a gush of air in relief.
She started to explain, when Riley interrupted. "See here, officer," he said, frowning now. "This here
is Nora Finley, a fugitive from afar, and I've been assigned to apprehend
and desport the lass." This was too bizarre. Brenda thought she'd burst out laughing. Surely
the policeman would cart this crazy man off to the looney bin. She wouldn't
have to argue her case. But the cop surprised her. "Is that so?" he inquired, casting
a doubtful glance at Brenda. "An illegal immigrant, you say? And
you're a federal officer with orders to deport the woman?" The officer's obtusity stunned Brenda, as she perceived the situation
sliding out of control. She managed to say, "No, no, officer,"
but Riley quickly interceded. "I believe she has the papers to establish the serious nature
of the allegations, officer," he said. A glimmer of hope. "Yes, officer, I have my driver's license in
my purse, I'll show you. It'll prove who I am." "No, no," Riley said. "The papers in her pocket." "May I examine the immigration papers in your pocket, Miss Finley,"
the policeman directed Brenda. Good Lord. How can this be happening? But what could she do? She did
have those crazy notes. If she resisted, he'd seize them, and it would
look even worse. She pulled the crumpled notes from her pocket, and
said, "Well, yes, but you see, these —" "Ah ha!" Riley said, snatching the papers and unfolding them.
"Just as I suspected, officer. Her name, description, and instructions
for the apprehending agent. Here, see for yourself." Brenda watched with growing horror as the policeman accepted the papers
and studied them. He scratched his head, and said, accusingly, "Well
Miss Finley, they do seem to be in order, so I don't have any alternative
but to let the immigration officer take you into custody."
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