My phone rang. I jumped, knocking it to the floor of the car. It was the boss.

“Yeah?”

“I have called in Preston, my best attorney, and we’re going to court Thursday. Go to 4th and Main, find the man at the bus stop says he’s waiting for the number 12. He will have the papers. Then go tell the family.”

He hung up. I started the car and drove. I parked blocks away and walked to the bus stop to find a homeless man reading the paper, unshaven, toothless, dirty.

“Excuse me, sir has the number 12 arrived yet?” I tried to sound friendly.

“I’m waiting for the number 12, meself. Ha!” She breathed in my face and I had to stifle a choke as I tried not to contaminate my lungs. I scrutinized him. Where were the papers?

“You lookin’ for sumthin’?” He had a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I was looking at the paper. I am interested in papers, especially certain ones,” I hinted.

“Well I have some…somewhere…safe. If’n you be lookin’,” he grinned. “But I’m lookin’ for papers too, green ones, with little numbers.”