“Intricate Manipulation”

From the confines of my vehicle, I keep an eye on people coming and going through the doors of the building I’m watching. Not all of those scurrying about are officers, but, cooped inside those four walls, members of Law Enforcement are certainly the majority. I’m seeking the whereabouts of one of them in particular.

I’m dressed casual, though there’s a stylish blazer hung over the seat next to me; such, combined with the sling-back heels on my feet, is all it’ll take to transform my ordinary clothes into daywear any professional type would be proud of.

Tucked between the gear shift and my leg are a couple of empty folders and a medium-sized Manila envelope. In preparation for my ruse, I pull the coverings out and shove various inconsequential papers loosely inside: real estate publications, printouts detailing the inner-workings of a video camera, topped off with a yellow copy of an old speeding ticket protruding from the edge to encourage an impression of “official looking.”

In short time I spot someone exiting the establishment whom I judge to be susceptible to my subterfuge. I quickly yank on my jacket. Documents in hand, I move from car to parking lot towards the policeman.

He’s mildly attractive -- decent height, nice body -- and coming in my direction at a relaxed gait. The sides of his lips lift nicely when his eyes catch mine.

Feigning an expression of relief, I first gander at his face before deliberately switching my gaze to drift over the place of occupation he’s come from. Reaffixing my focus on his mug, I expel the words “Hi; can you… help me?”

He’s more than willing to. Inwardly I smirk -- do I know how to pick ‘em or what?

Making a display of the items in my grasp, I tell the accommodative fellow all about how I’ve planned to drop something off to a certain someone. “Am I at the right place?” “Is he working now, ‘cause I’m sort of early you know?”

I haven’t lied, exactly, though it is entirely my fault he’s been led to believe what my hands contain are currently supposed to go to one of his co-workers. Hey, I’ve learned from the best how to stage-manage the thought processes of the unknowledgeable; Law Enforcement is notorious for doing so.

Through communication I gather, yes, the guy I’m searching for is at this location, merely out-of-office for the day. Ha! The information is as I suspected.

I respectfully thank the gentleman in front of me for his assistance. As I pivot around to return to my auto, he generously offers to, later, bring the things I’m holding to their intended, or at least escort me inside to leave them with somebody else who can pass them along.

“Ah, kind of you, but I’d rather deliver them in-person” I say.

He laughs and gestures at himself. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Oh I always trust a man with a badge. It’s my weakness.” With a wink and a wave, I then depart.