”More frequent flyer miles. Because I wasn’t a full-time FBI employee, I got to keep my mileage. Health insurance would have been nicer, but I’d...take what I could.Unlike my earlier visit to Ft. Payne, I could now be more open with the Alabama SBI agent, Sarah Richardson.I said, “First off, your biker — Gustav Hindenburg was an on-again, off-again snitch for the DEA.”She sighed, “They never tell us anything.”“There’s more. The FBI arrested this man while he was up in Chicago.” I handed her. " Close the door. I'm not going to tell her that I'm leaving her alone with a man in the house. As they say, she's a mite gun-shy about men right now. Can't blame her, but she's asleep and won't know about your being here, anyway. It should only take about an hour to pick up the things she'll need." I won't bother her if she won't bother me," Luther said stumbling toward the bed, his belly full.Wainwright mock staggered into the kitchen, grabbed his chest and fell into a chair. "Feed me. Feed. It was getting late, I was pretty wasted drunk and the crowd began to thin out and decided it was time to call it a night, head back to my motel room, sleep it off and head home in the morning. I fumbled with my keys to unlock my car and knew I shouldn’t even be driving, but the DUI laws back then were not as strict as they are now. So I pulled out of the parking lot, made a U turn and drove very carefully, trying not to attract the attention of any police cars knowing I would be safe at my. The beach. The sandcastles. Each night I would show Simone a different set of faces in my collection. Some, like Gertie and Mac, she liked and she would try to touch them with her fingers. Pieces of the sand from them would cling to her delicate fingers and she would scurry back to her own castle and brush the tiny shiny grains into her own mixture of faces, mixing in the sands of my memories of them into her sandcastle. I would watch her as she would sit and watch the grains fit together. Her.