The Diapered Detective – Chapter Two
No one told her it was going to be an easy career path. But she was beginning to wonder if wishing for a solid year of crack babies, hoarders, drug addled veterans, and violent drunks in exchange for one week without a complaint about her current client wasn’t just a little unprofessional.
“A Clean Room is the sign of a Deranged Mind.”
The sign on the door was written in calligraphy on a blank canvas and the frame was handmade. Both were done by Aiden when he was twelve. When the director of the group home, a woman named Wendy, opened the door letting them into the room, the subtlety of the sign became clear. The room was uncomfortably cold but it was clean and meticulously organized. Except for a blanket which had been neatly folded and placed on the chair next to the desk, the bed was made so neatly that no drill sergeant would find fault with it.
“We have to wash about four or five blankets a week,” she said. “You might want to talk to him about that.”
Although Wendy did nothing to hide the frustration in her own voice, Genessa kept a reign on her own. To be fair, Wendy and the other staff had to deal with him every day. Genessa at least got a respite.
“Is that why he was grounded?” She hated to ask, but part of her job was making sure her client was being treated well.
“Of course not,” Wendy answered, with the expected level of annoyance. “Kids wet the bed all the time. We wouldn’t punish a child for something he couldn’t help. Keeping his own room and laundry clean is the only aspect of dealing with him that I don’t have a complaint about. But if he just woke up one day and was even the slightest bit more pleasant to deal with then I swear would go out and buy him a car.”
Genessa looked around the room. There wasn’t even a mark on the walls or a stain on the window. The sign might as well have been a drawing of a middle finger. And knowing her favorite client (insert all intended sarcasm) as she had come to know him over the last few weeks, it wouldn’t surprise her to find out he had been planning to do just that if he could afford the art supplies.
“The other day, Trisha asked him to sweep the hallway,” Wendy explained. “She got his name wrong, called him Allen. I’m sure she wasn’t doing it to be mean, but he insisted that she didn’t even apologize when he corrected her. I would have spoken to her about it had he come to me but instead he proceeded to tell her that it was no wonder her boyfriend left her. I know he did his little “psychic Sherlock” thing to figure it out because we don’t talk about our personal lives to the residents. But the fact that he was so… malicious about it over such a trivial thing.”
“It wasn’t right,” Genessa agreed. She hesitated before asking the other question she was starting to hate. “Anything else I should know about?”
Wendy nodded. Genessa was mentally planning a trip to the nearest Walgreens for ibuprofen.
“Last night, it was cold. We understand he likes it cold. We’ve stopped asking him to wear a jacket ever since he tore up the sweater that Mike gave him back in October. But last night it dropped to about ten degrees and Jim, who was the night awake counselor on duty thought it would be alright if he came in to close the window.”
Genessa noted the bed and it’s strategic position in front of the window, which was still wide open. This story wasn’t going to end well.
“What did he do?” She asked.
“He shouted ‘boo’.” Wendy paused to let it sink in before adding, “The man is in his sixties.”
Forget Walgreens. After this, Genessa was buying stock in Advil.
“Is he alright?”
“We sent him home early,” Wendy said. “But he’ll be fine, physically. He’s on temporary leave until Aiden is out of here.”
“Where’s Aiden now?” Genessa asked, trying to keep her voice level.
“That’s the other thing. He seems to think being grounded is optional. We don’t have a clue where he is.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Apparently they think it’s optional too. All I get from them is, ‘we’ll find him’. But he still comes and goes as if he owns the place and if that police sergeant he’s friendly with ever speaks to him about his behavior, I haven’t seen any evidence of it.”
Genessa raised an eyebrow at that. She knew that Aiden sometimes called the police with tips when he had a hunch. Was he really that good that the police turned the other way over something as serious as possibly giving a sixty year-old man a heart attack?
“Alright, I’ll see if I can find him.”
“See about finding another home for him as well,” Wendy said, bluntly. “We’ve given you plenty of time and frankly, we’re tired of waiting.”
* * *
The drive gave Genessa plenty of time to feel like she had just had salt rubbed into an open cut. She stopped at a gas station for a bottle of water and gave the Advil a chance to do it’s work before heading into town.
There was only one coffee shop within a hundred miles of the group home and there were no buses or train stations close by. Kids who had permission to go out and about on their own often went into town, but as there wasn’t much to do there was very little incentive to leave the house. Aiden managed to find something to do.
I bet they would appreciate a social worker who wants to help them, Genessa thought, as she stopped at an intersection.
As Main Street came into view, she considered stopping off at the local sheriff’s department to find out if what Wendy said was true. But if she was going to get a truthful answer from anyone it would be Aiden. And if she wound up strangling him as a result of it well, lets see the police cover that up. If he wasn’t at the library across the street, or wandering aimlessly, Aiden would be at the coffee shop. She found a space in front of the shop and tried to see through the glass window, but the late afternoon glare was making it impossible.
Genessa really didn’t want to go inside. A combination of the cold breeze and the brightness from the sidewalk that was bleached from rock salt was making her headache worse. But Aiden was her responsibility. She gritted her teeth and put on her most professional face as she got out of the car and walked into the shop.
The coffee shop was busiest in the afternoon since it served a full lunch menu and many of the small business owners met clients here. The tables in the center of the dining area were mostly full, with only one or two people sitting alone, eating, drinking, or reading. In the far back there was a raised section with a comfortable sofa, a book shelf and a coffee table. Aiden usually went up there if it was free, but he didn’t appear to be in the shop at all.
“Can I help you?” The barista asked.
Genessa took another glance around the shop before turning to the woman. A college girl, by the looks of her, Genessa wasn’t sure if she was around long enough to recognize any of the regulars. She decided to take a chance.
“I’m looking for my client,” she said. “Tall kid, about my height, blond, probably under dressed for the weather. He’s kind of a know it all.”
“Oh, Aiden?” The girl said, in a surprisingly cheerful manner. “Yeah, he’s in here a lot. I think he just stepped out.”
Genessa frowned.
“Um… so do you know him well?” She asked.
The girl nodded and smiled.
“Yeah, I talk to him every now and again. He seems like a nice guy. At least he’s always sure to tip. Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Genessa turned to leave and saw a cop standing outside the shop, writing a ticket. She’d forgotten to pay the meter! Trying to keep as much of her dignity as possible, she ran outside and was surprised to see the officer placing the ticket under the windshield wiper of the Audi next to hers.
She watched the officer, expecting him to start writing the ticket for hers. Instead, he just smiled, got into his car and drove away.
“You really should put some money in next time. Even if you don’t think you’ll be long.”
Genessa clenched her fists and turned around, slowly. Sure enough, there he was, leaning against the sliver of brick wall that separated the coffee shop from the row of shops along the street.
Wearing a dark blue long-sleeved t-shirt that couldn’t have kept him any warmer if it had been painted on, Aiden gave her a shit eating grin as he fidgeted with some quarters with one hand while the the thumb of his other hand was hooked around the pant loop of his gray khakis. Since leaving the hospital, he was keeping his hair shorter, cutting it himself every month. Genessa looked from him, to the meter she was parked at and saw the digital timer counting down from five minutes. The thoughtfulness of the gesture wasn’t lost on her and it eased her frustration. A little.
“Why aren’t you at the group home?”
“I had things to do.” That shrug returned.
“You were grounded.”
“And yet…” Aiden made a sweeping gesture to the world in general.
Genessa had to clench her fists again to keep from raising her voice. Knowing it was a silly move out of the gate, she decided to see if guilt would take him down a peg.
“Does it even bother you that you might have put someone in the hospital last night?”
Nothing. If anything, the grin only downgraded to a smirk.
“Jim is a high school track and field star who only eats red meat once a year. He goes for a jog every morning before he goes to sleep and his day job is as a part time personal fitness trainer. His heart is fine.”
“Well… what about Jessica? Did you have to be so cruel with her because she forgot your name?”
“Several times, Genessa.” Aiden shook his head and started digging through his pockets for more change. “And I tried to do it your way, politely reminding her that my name isn’t Allen, Alex, Aaron, or John. Yes, she called me John once. When we first met. And I’ve confronted both her and Wendy about this lapse and neither one of them seemed to think it was important, so I nuked Jessica. To be quite frank, the bitch had it coming. She’s a control freak with no regard to others’ feelings and I’m surprised her boyfriend didn’t leave her sooner. If I knew how to get a hold of him, I’d set him up with Ashely there.”
Aiden nodded towards the coffee shop indicating the barista who thought he “seemed like a nice guy”. What would she think if she ever wound up stepping on Aiden’s toes, Genessa wondered.
“Look, don’t pop a vein,” Aiden said. “Lets go for a walk.”
With a heavy sigh, Genessa went into her car for a sweat jacket. When she slammed the door shut, he was putting more money into the meter.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes I do. We’re going to be here for a while.”
How did she lose control of the situation? Genessa never let any guy tell her what to do, yet here she was, falling into step beside Aiden without the slightest resistance. It gave her so much more respect for Doctor Keating, who at least managed to keep Aiden in the same hospital for six months. Then she heard some shouting and a bit of cussing from the direction of the coffee shop. No one went out of their way to keep the Audi driver from getting a ticket.
“Thank you,” she said, halfheartedly.
“Don’t mention it.”
Genessa stopped when she realized Aiden was behind her. Because he was leading the way, she wasn’t really paying attention to where they were going and realized they were on a narrow side street. At first, Aiden seemed to be lost, looking across the street at the buildings which were mostly the back doors of several businesses as well as a few BFI bins and exhaust fans. Then he turned to the large yellow brick wall that ran the length of their side of the street, gazing thoughtfully at the roof. Then he took an interest in a few of the cars parked along the street and stopped at one of them, giving it a long look before he turned to see the loading dock at the end of the brick building.
“What are you doing, casing cars?” Genessa asked.
“Not me,” he said, with a grin. “The entrance is around front. Come on.”
Get his name wrong or get into his personal space and pay the price. But Aiden was capable of taking a joke. Or maybe that was his funny way of showing that he liked Genessa, she couldn’t tell. They turned the corner and Genessa recognized the store front of Light House thrift shop. She knew about the place because it raised money for the group homes and homeless shelters, but she had never been here.
Inside, the atmosphere was warm and cozy. There were a few shoppers, looking at some of the funiture on display or going through the bins of toys and the stacks of board games. There were scattered bits of chatter and a radio played soft music, but otherwise it was as quiet as a library. Aiden went to a bookshelf, running his hand over the spines and appearing to take an interest in the titles, while sneaking discreet glances at different parts of the store. Genessa managed to follow one such glance to a glass counter, where an older woman sat on a stool behind the register, reading a book.
There was no point in interrupting him while he was in this mode, so Genessa went to the racks of clothes and looked at dresses. The activity got her mind off of trying to find a new placement for Aiden and her headache eventually disappeared.
“Aiden!”
“Peter, how’s it going?”
Genessa looked up and saw a man leaning out of a doorway into a room marked by an “Employee’s Only” sign. Peter was almost baby faced, except for a bit of stubble on his face and a strange looking goatee that may or may not have been the result of a broken razor. Aiden shook his hand and they started chatting casually. Without wanting to seem like she was hovering, Genessa pretended to be interested in a rack full of silverware so she could hear their conversation.
“We just got a shipment in,” Peter said. “Did you want to take a look and see if they’re the right ones?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Carole, I’m just going to show Aiden something real quick.”
Carole, the old lady at the counter, looked up and nodded. Aiden glanced in Genessa’s direction and mouthed “be right back” before following Peter into the backroom and Genessa tried to be as discreet as possible as she looked inside. The adjacent room was a warehouse of sorts and she could see the loading dock that was visible outside. There were piles of clothes on tables and men and women were sorting through them. Boxes of books and other donations were organized agains the walls and in the center of the room.
Genessa didn’t see where Aiden had gone to, but a few seconds later he emerged from the room.
“Yeah, those will definitely work,” he said.
“I can make you a deal,” Peter said. “Five dollars a bag?”
“That’d be great. How long can you hold them for?”
Peter shrugged. “As long as no one else is looking for them, we don’t have any room on the floor for them just yet. I’ll let you know when I need a definite decision.”
Aiden made eye contact with Genessa. There was a rare moment of vulnerability in his eyes as he as he thanked Peter and told him he’d get back to him. When Peter went back inside, Aiden said,
“I can wait outside if you’re still shopping.”
“Nope, I’m all set.” Genessa followed him outside and waited until they crossed the street before she added, “So what was that all about?”
“Do you have your phone with you?”
“What?”
Aiden stopped and held out his hand.
“Your phone. I need to make a call real quick. Please.”
“Who do you need to call?”
“Sergeant Gregson,” Aiden said, impatiently. The name sounded familiar.
“What, from the police department? Why do you need my phone to call them?”
“Because Carole is about to have her car stolen.” Aiden pointed to the thrift shop. “There is a two time felon hiding in the warehouse and he’s going to make his move in about two hours, when they’re getting ready to close the shop.”
Genessa groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She took her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it before handing it to Aiden. He quickly dialed and put the phone to his ear. As it rang, he gently guided her to a place where he could see the loading dock of the thrift store without being seen by anyone who left the rear entrance.
“Hi, Scott? It’s Aiden. Are you in plain clothes? Can you meet me by Victor Street as soon as possible? That guy on the poster is here. If you get hurry up and get here fast enough you can catch him in the process of grand theft auto. Don’t flash the lights or you’ll scare him off.”
Aiden hung up and handed the phone back to Genessa.
“Now we wait,” he said.
“Okay, Aiden, I need you to explain some things.” Genessa said in a slow voice. “Like what are you up to?”
“I told you, there’s a felon hiding in the donations warehouse. He’s probably been there for the last two weeks at least. There’s a rewards poster down at the police station matching his description and I can confirm that he’s in there.”
“Okay…” Genessa pressed. When he didn’t continue she ventured a guess. “Was it, Peter?”
Aiden snorted.
“Of course not. Why would I be so stupid? I met Peter a few weeks ago when I stopped by the thrift store and saw that they were selling a package of my…” Aiden glanced down. “Something I needed. It wasn’t the right size, but Peter was on the floor when I asked him if they frequently carried those products.”
He paused. Genessa nodded to show she understood.
“Well he told me they do get things like that on occasion and he’d let me know. Today I just got lucky and he took me back to see if they were the ones I needed. That’s when I saw the prospective car thief folding clothes in the corner nearest the door, where he could easily escape if someone came looking for him.”
“You just looked around at the dozens of people working back there and thought, ‘oh yeah, he’s a car thief’?”
“No. There was a scar on his neck that just barely noticeable from where I was standing. Probably from the tattoo he had removed as a condition of his first release from prison, but I’m just guessing there. The scar was in the description though so I knew I was right all along.”
Before she could say anything else, there was a squealing sound as the back door of the thrift shop opened. Genessa jumped and watched as a man stepped outside, cautiously glancing all around him. A bit of adrenaline made it’s way into her bloodstream. What did he just get her into?
In the shade of the building it was hard to make out any features, except for the short dark hair that was cut in army fashion, but the guy had to be at least three hundred pounds of sheer muscle. The guy took a cautious look around before letting the door close behind him and making his way to the row of cars they has passed earlier.
“Dammit,” Aiden cursed. “They’re taking too long.”
“What-”
Aiden ran across the street and went down the alley, falling into step behind the man. He had the keys in hand and he reached for the door of the ’93 Plymouth.
“Hey, that’s not your car!” He said in a falsely cheery tone. The man stopped and turned around, glaring.
Genessa’s heart pounded, but she refused to stay frozen in one place. Aiden was her responsibility and she had to get him out of there before he got himself killed. She ran across the street, dialing the last number Aiden called.
“Fuck off.” The man said, simply. “It’s none of your business.”
“Well…” Aiden held up his hands. “See, it kinda is my business. Twenty-five grand’s worth of my business to be exact. So I can’t let you take the car.”
“Aiden get out of there!”
Aiden didn’t let himself get distracted. But Genessa forced the man to panic and he took a swing. Aiden jumped to the side and wrapped his own arm around the man’s underarm. He brought his knee up into the man’s crotch, twice. Stunned by the movement and the pain, the man was slow to react as Aiden grabbed hold of the man, sticking his left leg behind the man’s calves and forcing him to fall back. The man slammed into the concrete dropping the car keys.
Genessa watched, stunned as the movement became a blur. Her hand was on the send button but Aiden shouted,
“The camera! The camera feature!”
Thinking quickly, Genessa turned on her phone’s camera feature. Aiden threw his weight down on the man, who was still in pain from the movement but struggling to get up.
“What the hell is going on here?”
The back door of the thrift store swung open and Carole and Peter stepped outside.
“Aiden, what’s going on here?” Peter asked.
“Peter give me a hand here!” Aiden shouted, struggling to keep the thief on the ground. “Put weight on his legs. Genessa, are you filming this?”
“I’m getting it.” Genessa confirmed, moving the camera from Aiden and Peter, who were both struggling with the thief to the keys on the sidewalk. Carole moved to grab them, but Aiden told her to wait.
A few minutes later several squad cars pulled up and in the fray there was some confusion. Aiden and Peter were pulled off and cuffed, while Genessa tried to reassure them that they were only trying to stop a car thief. They cuffed the guy on the ground and got him into a sitting position. An ambulance to make sure he wasn’t seriously injured.
Genessa took one look at the man’s head and saw that there was some bleeding. She pocketed the phone and went to the cruiser where Aiden was leaning along side Peter.
“This is just great,” Peter moaned, breathing heavily from the excitement. “I can’t believe this is happening. I’m going back to jail, I know it.”
“No you’re not,” Aiden confidently reassured him. He turned to Genessa, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Genessa crossed buried her hands into her pockets. The sky was growing darker and the temperature was dropping, but true to form, Aiden didn’t seem to mind. As if that was the only thing on her mind at this point. “I didn’t know you do that.”
“What, dropping Biggie over there?” Aiden tried to shrug, but the gesture was awkward while the cuffs were on. “That was nothing. Oh and finally he shows up.”
Genessa followed Aiden’s gaze to a man who was standing by the ambulance. He was in plain clothes, but the other officers recognized him and were answering questions. A female officer pointed in their direction and the man started towards them.
He had a confident stride, which she guessed was necessary if he was a police sergeant. Aiden threw his head back in greeting.
“What’s up, Scott?” He asked. “Can you get me out of these?”
“I think I like you better that way,” Scott replied. “You’re easier to handle.”
Genessa had to laugh at that. Scott flashed her a smile.
“You must be his social worker. I can tell cause you’re enjoying this as much as I am,” he said. “I’m Sergeant Gregson. Scott.”
She took his hand and introduced herself. His hands were strong and callused but his grip was gentle. He was probably close enough to her age, give or take a year and he’d be attractive if she he hadn’t been the other cause of her aggravation that morning.
“You know, I called about twenty minuets ago,” Aiden chimed in. “If this were Dominoes you could kiss your tip good bye.”
Gregson shot him a look.
“Here’s a tip. When you think there’s a criminal hiding in a thrift store, tell someone before you do something stupid.”
“I didn’t know he was actually here until tonight,” Aiden said. “I only suspected he was here. It was the only place he would hide.”
“Run that by me again, please.” Genessa asked. “Or at the very least find whoever sold you the crack you’ve been snorting so you can get your money back. I think it’s finally fried your brain.”
“Glad to, but first thing’s first. Sergeant Gregson, would you please take the cuffs off?”
Scott rolled his eyes, but he called over the officer with the keys. Aiden gestured to Peter when the bracelets were off his wrists.
“Could you also release Peter here? He assisted me and apprehending the criminal and for the record, I think that’s worth mentioning to his parole officer, don’t you?”
“Don’t push it, Wolfe.” Scott went to o Peter he said, “But yeah. As long as Aiden’s story is true I’ll put in a good word for you.”
Once Peter was out of cuffs Aiden explained,
“A couple weeks ago Leslie Martin failed to meet the conditions of his release. He seemed to go off the grid, which is why the wanted posters went out. That was just twenty miles north of here and he has a history of car jacking, on top of breaking and entering, and two separate accounts of possession of a class A substence with intent to sell.” Aiden took a dramatic deep breath, as if he were the funniest thing on Earth. When no one was laughing at his performance, he shrugged and moved on. “Well, I was on one of many errands into town when I noticed that the thrift shop never seems to have the same two people working there, with the exception of Peter, Carole and a few other paid employees. Everyone else working in the shop is either a volunteer or a group of trustees from the county jail.
“The men’s homeless shelter over on Dartmouth requires it’s residents to spend at least five hours a week volunteering at the shop, which is supposed to give them experience to put on a job application. When I found out Leslie was on the run, I learned everything I could about where he lived and what he had done to wind up in prison. I did some research. I made a few phone calls to the shelter and talked with a few of the men who ate at the soup kitchens and I figured out that no one bothers actually verifying where you’re from. If I were to show up and say, ‘Hey there, I’m from the shelter. What do you need me to do?’ They just point you in the direction of the warehouse and forget you’re there.”
“It’s true,” Peter added. “Sometimes a volunteer might need something signed, but other than that, so long as they’re working no one asks questions.”
“Add to that the pesky little tenancy shelter workers have for protecting their residents and a felon could hide out in the shelter all day until he could plan his next move.”
“But how’d you know about the car?” Genessa asked. “How did you know he was going to steal Carole’s car? There were a three cars parked on that street.”
“But her’s an older model,” Aiden pointed out. “From before the days when every car off the factory floor had a GPS in it. If Leslie over there was going to make a stupid move he would have made it long before now. He was waiting. Probably leaving town under the cover of darkness and hiding under a bridge, or in the woods. But every time he came back to volunteer at the shelter, he saw Carole’s keys right where she always left them.”
Peter sighed.
“On the little table beside the phone,” he said. Aiden tapped his nose to indicate he was right.
“They were there every time I stopped by and Carolee was working. She might as well have put up a big sign saying, ‘please come take my keys and drive off with my car’. So I made a habit of stopping by literally every single day over the past two weeks. When she was here, I noticed the keys. Today, when we went inside, the keys weren’t there and I was waiting for some kind of sign that he had them.”
Genessa shook her head in disbelief. “What was the plan if he drove off before we even got there?”
“Okay, I had no way of knowing when he’d make his move.” Aiden admitted. To Scott, he said, “The only reason I didn’t say anything sooner was that it was just a hunch. I would have drawn too much attention and I might have been wrong.”
“Or,” Scott held up one finger. “Or, someone could have gone in there pretending to be a volunteer from the shelter. Did you not just point out how easy that would have been?”
Aiden stared blankly.
“Yes I did.”
“You could have also told me,” Peter said. “I could have told my PO and made my situation slightly better. Or you could have volunteered to help out and found out sooner if you were right and called the police long before this.”
Aiden lowered his head.
“Alright, I’m not perfect,” he said. “Never said I was. But I found him and that should be enough to lead to the reward, right?”
“There’s some paper work to fill out,” Scott said. “You’ll also might have to testify in court. But yeah, that money is pretty much yours now.”
“Fortunately, Genessa got most of it on her camera, since there’s no surveillance anywhere on Victor Street,” Aiden said. “Also, I was sure to tell Carolee not to grab her keys so Leslie’s finger prints will be all over them. It’ll be hard for his lawyer to convince a jury that he didn’t steal them with the intent to take her car.”
“Is that what this was all about?” Genessa asked. “You risked your life for the money?”
Aiden nodded.
“I’m not exactly popular with the group home staff,” he reminded her. “My house belongs to me now and that money will be more than enough to tide me over until my 18th birthday.”
“What house?” Scott asked.
“His parent’s home,” Genessa said. Scott raised an eyebrow and since Aiden didn’t seem to object, she explained, “His parents willed the house to their kids.”
“So now I’m definitely moving back there,” Aiden said. “No way a judge can deny that I can handle myself.”
Peter, who had been mostly silent until now replied, “Unless you figure out there’s a meth lab near a school and get the whole place blown up.”
“That’s a good point.” Genessa said. “Don’t get me wrong, Aiden, on your best day you’re fun to be around and what you did with that guy was pretty impressive. But lets not forget that you’re the guy who ran from a psychiatric ward without changing your clothes first. Yeah, you’re financially set and you could probably make a really decent living doing what you do. But you can be absolutely brain dead when it comes to dealing with people you don’t like, or escaped felons that could be armed.”
“That’s why I’m inviting you to stay with me,” Aiden said, to Peter, surprising him. “It’s across state lines, but after tonight, I think that will be easy to finagle. Doctor Keating will have my back and I trust that if you want me to testify in court that you’ll have it as well.”
“I’ve always had your back,” Scott said. “You don’t need to give me altimatums, considering what I go through with that woman at the group home. That reminds me, don’t scare old men who are trying to close your bedroom window.”
“Understood,” Aiden said, in an offhanded way.
“What, no excuses?” Genessa quipped. “No ‘I didn’t scare him, he’s a Spartan god’?”
“He tried that with me once,” Scott said. “Aiden’s surprisingly obedient when you threaten him with a night in the drunk tank.”
Aiden snorted, showing that he didn’t take the threat seriously. Genessa turned to Scott,
“We need to talk at some point.”
“Yes we do. In the meantime, Peter, why don’t you give me your details and I’ll-”
Aiden let them trail off as he felt a more pressing matter to attend to. Genessa watched as Aiden sought out Carole, who was waiting to find out the fate of her car.
“Are you alright?” She asked.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I just have to… take care of something.”
Genessa knew what he meant from his tone. Her instinct was to try to help him at least find a bathroom, but Aiden valued his privacy when dealing with his condition. After a brief conversation with Carole – who was obviously tired, but grateful not to have lost her car – Aiden called Peter over to let him into the store.
“Carole’s agreed to let me have them for free,” he explained.
“Have what, for free?” Genessa asked.
Aiden turned to her, grinned, and shrugged.
“Oh whatever I want. You know, Depends.”
The End of The Diapered Detective – Chapter Two.
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index