“Good news,” Pops said during breakfast the next morning. “Found the perfect spot. It’s abandoned, but no paper in the windows.”
“Listen to your old man for a change. Will you?” He sipped his vodka laden coffee and smirked at me. “It’s got reflective glass windows. How perfect is that? No one will give a passing thought to cars in the parking lot. Plus it’s on a side street with virtually no traffic. It’s just north of the Southwest Freeway, so easy get-away. It's got a garage bay we can use to hide the van in. Plus, I already got inside once. No alarms on the property.”
“OK. Sounds like you’ve done your homework.”
“Am I good, or what?”
“No bragging this early in the morning,” I said. I hadn’t finished my first cup of coffee, sans vodka, and my head was pounding from all the worrying I’d done the night before when I should have been sleeping.
“Call your guy. Set it up.” Pops rubbed his hands together greedily. I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was counting the dollars he’d be able to spend betting on the next Astros game.
“When I finish this,” I said. I lifted my cup and took a sip. My hair was sticking up in a multitude of directions, I felt clammy and smelled sweaty. I finished my coffee and moseyed toward the bedroom. “I’ll call after I shower and dress.”
“Take your time,” Pops said. “You know what I alwa...