So, either quarters are the new pennies or I’ve uncovered a crime in progress. Or something. As I’m walking to the library today, I hear the sound of coins falling to the pavement and sure enough, two quarters come rolling my way. One veered to the left sharply, skipped up over a raised bit of pavement and stopped when it fell flat. The other one rolled straight towards me and I put out a foot to stop it as it rolled under my sneaker. I could feel that it was still standing on its edge when I put my foot down and for a quick second, thought of that episode of The Twilight Zone where Dick York gains the ability to read minds after he tosses a coin that lands on its side and stays there:

Of course, I snapped out of my black and white dreamland and looked up to see where that fifty cents came from. There was a man standing at a the block’s parking slip dispenser putting more coins in the machine, so he seemed to be the one who’d just lost that money. I lifted my foot and picked up the first quarter and then scooted over to retrieve the second before taking the dozen or so steps up to where he was standing. Holding out the coins, I got out a cheery “I think these are…” before a blunt “KEEP THEM” hit me on the head. Ouch? He didn’t even look at me, preferring to glare at the meter instead. As he placed a new quarter in the machine, I asked “Did you drop these?” and got a flat “Yes. Don’t need them.” back in response.

Hmmmm… this could get innnnteresting...

Well, Oh-kaaay, Mister Man. I slowwwwly retracted my hand back and put it into my jacket pocket, giving him plenty of time to change his mind or at least, step aside and let me put the money in the machine. He still stood there as his ticket came out and I gathered at this point there was something odd about him (really?). As I turned to go around him, I noticed that he was wearing what looked like white cotton gloves underneath the very nice thin leather gloves (they looked pretty expensive) AND he had what looked like a surgical mask or sorts around his neck poking out from under the scarf he was wearing.

If this were some crappy crime novel, I’d say something like “And then the lights went out…” , but I didn’t get hit on the head and tossed into a car trunk. On the other hand, if I said something like “And then my blood started to chill a little..”, yeaaaah, that would be about right. As I walked away with a slightly quicker pace, I imagined that that guy was either some sort of mysophobe or he was about to go put a bullet or a knife or something else between the eyeballs of some sap who might or might not deserve it. Of course, that’s a big stretch, but I can’t see someone with a fear of germs using coins at all when a credit or debit card might do better. On the other hand, unless it’s a stolen card, I can’t see an assassin using his OWN card to park his car at all.

Hey, maybe it was a rush order and he didn’t have time to get a stolen card from the person who got him the gig. Maybe he’s using coins because they can’t be traced so easily. Sure, you can ask “Well why the heck would a hitman PAY to park a car, man?” all you want, but this is NYC, people. You don’t feed that meter and you’re booted or towed off three minutes after you walk away, tops. Maybe he did the deed already, the body is IN that car and he’s just literally buying time as he makes good his escape? My mind was reeling and of course, when I looked behind me to see if I was about to catch a bullet or a knife or whatever, Mister Mystery was GONE. Hell, I didn’t even know which car he had parked!

I am a dead man.

Hmmm… I wonder if I can move into the library? I’m here NOW and I can live on one meal a day. And some water. Then again, I didn’t get a good look at your face, Mister (maybe) Killer Guy. At all. Hmmm… I guess I’ll be taking that shortcut home tonight when I leave after all… *eep!*…