Some Things I Just Don't Understand............

Doyle called. He asked me to meet him at 9:00 AM in the Menlo Park Mall, on the lower level just outside of Nordstrum's. There are some tables set up out there that should be empty that early in the morning. I didn't sleep well last night, so I left my house even earlier then usual, and took the long way to the mall. This took me down Main Street in Woodbridge. I hadn't gone this way in a while and I almost caused an accident when I pulled up short in front of "Sarge"'s house.

It looked empty. There was a realtor's sign out front.

I didn't really know the guy. But before I got the car - when I used to walk up to Woodbridge Center - I would pass by his house. He would always be sitting out there. On the porch in bad weather. At a table he'd dragged out from somewhere in good weather. Sometimes with a friend, sometimes alone. Sometimes with a beer, sometimes with a cup of coffee or tea.

Looks like he won't be sitting out there any more.

I thought of him as "Sarge" because he always had an American flag and a Marine Corps flag flying off the side of the porch. I thought of him as "Sarge" because he didn't seem like an officer. I thought of him as "Sarge". I would always snap off a salute as I passed by.

I think I still will.

Semper Fi, Sarge.

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I got to Menlo Park about 8:15 and decided to park in the back, under the deck, because it was closer to the place Doyle wanted to meet. As I walked towards the entrance, I noticed a young man sitting against one of the pillars.

I went inside, and found the tables empty. I thought that Doyle would've been here already.

Then there was a voice from behind me.
"Mr. O'Neill?"
I turned around, quickly. The young man that I'd seen outside was standing there holding out a folder with a DHS badge.
"Sorry about the change, sir. Special Agent Doyle sends his regrets but something has come up. My name is Cummings and I'm here to brief you on what has changed."

I looked at his credentials, but I couldn't find anything wrong with them.
"So...Cummings?...Why am I here? what did Doyle want to tell me?"
He put away his ID and took out a notebook. He flipped through some pages. He wasn't as young as I'd first thought.
"Special Agent Doyle wanted you to know that a Mr. Gordon created some sort of Event in Freehold on Saturday night."
"Saturday night? Wasn't that when they got hit by that terrible storm?"
he looked at his notebook, flipping back and forth between pages.
"I don't have anything to suggest that. I was only told to tell you that Mr. Gordon was still active, and that you should keep an eye out."

"OK...So where is Doyle now? Why isn't he here?"
"I don't know, sir. All I know is that something came up and, apparently, I was the the only agent close enough to make the meeting."
I looked at him for a minute or two, I could only shake my head.
"Thanks, Cummings. Let Doyle know that I got the message and that I expect to hear from him soon."
I stuck out my hand and, after some hesitation, he shook it.

I walked away.

There are some things that I just don't understand.