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choice of a location so near the gang’s area raised my suspicion as to whether this gang was involved and seeking some revenge.
    “Okay Scott, here’s what I suggest. The station closes at 9 pm, which is why I’m to make the drop at 10 pm, which means the main station is locked, but the entry area still has access to the flyers and other schedules. If you wait in your car across the street you can see who comes and goes. Near midnight there shouldn’t be anyone coming and going except the blackmailer. You should be close enough to see who it is.”
    I was considering what he offered.
    “Scott, maybe we should meet and go together in your car?”
    “As much as I would like the company, I think that’s too risky.”
    “Scott, I’m going to put in a good word for you with Mercedes. She needs to know—“
    “No, Stephen.” I interrupted him immediately. “Please do not say anything to her about me. She would be much too interested in why you offered.”
    “Scott, do I sense a problem?”
    I took a deep breath. “Let’s just say she’s concerned that I should focus on business things and not things that could get me killed.”
     
    *.*.*
     
    I changed and was going to head over to pick up some of my things at Mercedes’ apartment. I was really hoping to run into her and try to smooth things out between us. However, I realized I should scout out the Dudley Street station to know what I was going to do, and where I needed to park.
    It was a short ten minute drive from my Brookline Village apartment to Roxbury and the Dudley Street station. My white ’58 Pontiac Bonneville convertible was not very inconspicuous. Late at night, it was going to get even more questioning looks, especially since I was white too.
    I drove by the station and noticed there were people entering and leaving even though it was a holiday. I turned up one side street beyond the station to come back to the station—wrong thing to do. It seemed like everyone was on the front steps or on the sidewalk and I was the afternoon chicken dinner. I didn’t care about turning around. I was headed out of there.
    My heart was beating and I was thankful I managed to get back to the station without losing my car or my life. I parked the car across from the station entrance. I estimated it was about forty feet from where I was parked to the entrance.
    There was a light pole with its globe still intact, so I assumed there would be some light to help me see who would be taking the money. If I backed up just a little I could see if someone stepped up on the bench near the entrance. I had a plan and wondered what it would be like near midnight tonight.
    I quickly got back into traffic and headed the fastest route out of this area to Mercedes’ apartment near MIT.
     
    *.*.*
     
    I pulled in front of the building and the door man greeted me. “Hello Mr. Tucker. Will you be parked for the night?”
    “No Harold. I’ll be leaving shortly.”
    “Why don’t you use the receiving area, there’s no deliveries expected today.”
    “Thank you Harold.” I discreetly handed him a folded dollar and got back in my car. I pulled around the side of the building and parked on the down slope area to the receiving docks.
    I was coming around the building when I saw Mercedes looking fine as usual in one of my white shirts and a short black skirt. She was standing in front of her apartment building looking at her watch. I was about to call to her when I noticed her turn to a man exiting the front entry door with two suitcases.
    I recognized Mercedes’ white luggage and the man…it was Ralph. I remember Ralph from Bermuda, and he was involved with Mercedes while they were investigating the missing men there.
    Mercedes said there was nothing between them, but I could tell from his actions that he didn’t see it that way. Despite her saying that nothing happened, I could tell he at least had tried.
    He came over to a waiting cab, handed keys to her, and put his arm