“Hey, Kelby. Everything under control?”
Several people had phones in their hands. They lifted them to, I could only assume, film our conversation.
“All good, Chief. Lots of visitors today stopping in to see the little police station they heard Patrick Baum talking about. I’ve asked them to only linger a few minutes, take their photos and leave. So far it’s been twelve people out, twelve people in kind of thing.”
I gave the tourists a smile. “As long as we don’t push the fire marshal’s occupancy limit, that’s fine with me.”
I stepped into the bullpen, which was in clear eyeshot from the lobby. We were going to be working in a fish bowl today. It wasn’t the best of conditions, but we’d handle it.
“Also,” Myra said, addressing the crowd from where she was seated at her desk. “Please respect that we are working. There may be confidential conversations we will not want recorded. If that happens, we will ask that you please leave quietly.”
I settled at my desk and powered up my computer, ignoring the crowd. Things would have been fine if Road Bomb himself hadn’t strolled into the place.
The gasps and excited babble were instant. Half the people stood and rushed toward Patrick, cameras out, the other half snapped photos as fast as they could.
“Hi there, everyone,” he said, holding his camera—not his phone, but an actual camera—to give the room a slow pan. “First, I need to ask if you are all okay with me using your image on my channel.”
The chorus of agreement was universal, everyone nodding, laughing, and squealing about the whole deal. He was filming, and they were taking pictures of him filming, trying to angle devices so they were in the frame with him.
“Morning, Mr. Baum,” Kelby said, over the clamor. “Is there something we can do for you today? Preferably outside? I bet all these nice folks would love to get your autograph, or maybe be interviewed for your show?”
This time the gasp was synchronized. The silence was absolutely breathless with hope. One girl sat down hard and looked like she was about to faint.
“Outside is better light, and there’d be more room,” Kelby pressed.
I liked how she was making the case to move the circus out of the building. She wasn’t wrong about the light and room, but it would also move Patrick and his hangers-on out of the way so we could get our work done without so much attention.
“I’d be happy to sign autographs,” Patrick said to the crowd, like that sort of thing happened every day, which for him, it probably did. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time for interviews.”
The crowd made disappointed sounds, but most of them were producing paper and pens with stunning speed.
“I know you are all my truest fans. Thank you for being here. Thank you for sharing the road with me. But you know how I roll.” He winked. “I like to keep it natural. No script. Just having fun, interacting, you know…” he waved his hand between himself and the crowd, “…all of us adding our lives to the story, and all those stories connecting us, holding us tight while they set us free.”
The crowd was absolutely mesmerized. Someone started clapping.
Man had charisma, and he used it like a weapon. Those people would follow him anywhere.
“Please do as the officer asked and wait for me outside. I just need a quick word with Chief Reed.”
His gaze flicked to me. “Then I’ll come out for photos and autographs. And hey, we’ll stay away from the station from now on, right? Since this is a real working police department, and we don’t want to get in the way of them taking care of the town we’re exploring.
“Remember, Bombers respect the road, and all those upon it.”
“And all those upon it,” they repeated.
Sure, that wasn’t creepy.
He gave me a look that said he could just as easily turn this crowd the other way. Tell them to stay, to do their own interviews, film, and generally disrupt us trying to get our work done.
“So, how about it Bombers? Meet you outside?”
They cleared out in seconds flat.
“If this is about lunch,” I said, once the crowd was gone, “I’m open around one.”
He blinked, and his eyebrows lifted. “That easy?”
“I don’t know. Does one o’clock work for you?” I asked.
