Don Scribner’s Blog Actor, Screenwriter, Songwriter, Singer

Without the orbs of the optimist we must be content with drought

Suddenly I was extremely restless and took my thoughts on a walk toward Missey’s just to check out the area.  If Robbie was involved in Teri’s death it would be in the arena of hiring someone to do it.  Consequently, I was totally alert… almost to the point of expectation… of anything.  It was a heightened sense of awareness.  I then realized that I probably looked suspicious walking in my favorite shade of attire… black including the boots.

There were people meandering tonight.  Parking attendants were filling up the initial spaces on Carpenter Street… jumping out and running back.  A young couple, arm in arm, was walking down toward Ventura.  Another couple was walking up with their little yapper of a dog.  He tried to show me his superiority and I marginalized him by saying:  “Hi puppy.”  Guess it worked.  He stopped yapping.  It seemed like a longer walk tonight, but eventually I got to a point where I could see her place and someone else walking a dog and incidentally dressed in dark clothing.  I didn’t want to appear dangerous and lechy, but I had to walk faster to be able to maintain pace with the woman.   Everything about her was black including her dog.  Then she turned toward me, her eyes opened wide as if in fear.  She was black.  I quickly smiled, said:  “Hi, didn’t mean to scare you.”  She smiled back as I whisked by.

A few minutes later and with Ventura Boulevard in view, I stopped.  It was as if I had gained fresh eyes.  What was I thinking?  If this is all connected it’s not Robbie.  It was all in front of me just waiting to be seen.  I thought of what I had recently written.  “The orbs of the optimist… the seer… without that we have little… we must be content with drought.  But, fresh eyes watch the rainfall and see the blossoms of tomorrow.”

The sound of my phone shook away any thoughts.  It was Whitey.  “Robbie confessed.  Actually, he didn’t confess, he admitted guilt, but not to murder.  The son-of-a-bitch is a hell of a lot more than he appears.  Sam calls him the definition of slime.  We can’t touch his alibi and have nothing on him except theft and you aren’t pressing charges for that.”

I interrupted him.  “So, what did he admit guilt to?”

“Get this… he created a scenario.  What if the person that the old woman reportedly saw get in the car with Teri wasn’t the murderer….  It’s possible it could have been someone she knew and was having a disagreement with.  Perhaps that person was kicked out a few blocks later and Teri drove up to your place.”

“My place?”

“I asked the same question and he responded ‘Why not, she loved him.’ Although, he said that with a huff.”

Those words of love hit with impact and then hovered ever so gently.  “So who was the person she knew according to his scenario?”

“He didn’t say, but it was him.  I’ll bet my ass on it and we can’t prove it and he knows it.  I don’t know if he’s rubbing that in our faces or what, but I’ll tell you this… it comes back to you buddy boy just like I felt.  And, she married him for the money.  Sam’s working on tying him into that.  He was their attorney and still is.  He had to be aware of the arranged marriage.

Reality set in

Then reality set in.  Whitey is absolutely right.  I am involved in this somehow.  Someone could have been jealous that she gave me so much money.  Thoughts just started to swirl and I jumped up and let out a primal scream and tore into the heavy bag.  After about a minute I started to think about Robby and I stopped.

He was her attorney.  He had to know about this.  Was that a reason to kill her?  What’s going on here?  I had to call Sam and Whitey.  My thoughts were heavy and I seemed to move weakly over to my desk and phone.  I opened it and saw that I had a new voice mail.  I had forgotten I’d missed a call.  It was Missey.  ‘I didn’t want to dance with you when we first met.  I knew you want to make it too personal.  Now it is and I’m afraid.’

Oh my God, besides weakness, I now felt nervous and immediately told myself to just smile, be an adult and realize that there is now someone in my life I can worry about.  I hit the speed dial number two.  It went to her voice message and I realized it was late enough for her to be sleeping if she had an early day.  And, I have no idea of when her day actually begins.  I left her a message.  “Sorry if this awakens you, but I wanted you to know how happy I am.”  My urge was to add poetic loving innuendos but I didn’t.  “You can call me at any time… any time.  Goodnight.”

Two seconds later I’m speed dialing Whitey and told him the story.  His sounds of realization were mostly guttural.  “I always liked that broad.”

someone reached in and removed my reasoning…

My phone rang and I couldn’t answer it… matter of fact I couldn’t move. I was numb and felt like someone had reached in and removed my reasoning.  About a half hour passed before I stirred.  However, I was thinking… deeply about how her true goodness and love finally shone… ‘the good is oft interred with their bones’. Shakespeare at a moment like this… appropriate… timeless.  She was concerned about me… the headaches.  Where was she getting her information?  Oh God, her doctor friends, she has people of influence and information.  Fuck!  What if she got the results of my test somehow?  What if something really is wrong with me?  There isn’t.  If there was they would have called.  End of story…  I’ll call them tomorrow to verify.

Then reality set in.  Whitey is absolutely right.  I am involved in this somehow.  Someone could have been jealous that she gave me so much money.  Thoughts just started to swirl and I jumped up and let out a primal scream and tore into the heavy bag.

rewrite and a touch more

I slit slowly and carefully and pulled out a note card.  I opened it and a smaller envelope was inside that.  Alright, enough drama.  I began to read.

‘Little Babies before you open the small envelope take a deep breath then don’t freak.  It’s a little thank-you, for being you, as you would say.  I hope you came to the wedding Little Babies because it was really our day… you and me.  Thank you for taking care of me.  You were my Gift From the Sea Little Babies.  My love was permanent… it just wasn’t able to be possessed.  And I did love you from that first moment on.  We are apart but we have each other… don’t we?  I love you Little Babies.  Teri’

I slit open the smaller envelope… another card and a folded check.  I read the card.  ‘Don’t let your stupid pride interfere with this.  I KNOW you need surgery.  At least now you won’t have additional headaches trying to figure out how to pay for it.  You remember how you used to tell me it made you feel good to be able to take care of me.  Well, don’t take that away from me because this is one of the best feelings I’ve ever had.’

It was a cashier’s check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

My phone rang and I couldn’t answer it… matter of fact I couldn’t move. I felt like someone had reached in and removed my reasoning.  I was numb.

more of the book

Crush his pants?  I decided not to ask.

I was home in minutes and did my routine… checked my email, etc.  While sitting at the desk I noticed Teri’s card and decided that now was the time to open it.  My stomach was nervous and I turned the opening into a process.  I located my little silver letter opener and put it into the corner of the envelope while looking at the color scheme of the apartment… her design… warm deep red, soft gold and striking white.  It didn’t help, but it did make me feel loss, which validated my queasy unsettled stomach.

I slit slowly and carefully and pulled out a note card.  I opened it and a smaller envelope was inside that.  Alright, enough drama.  I began to read.

‘Little Babies before you open the small envelope take a deep breath then don’t freak.  It’s a little thank-you, for being you as you would say.  I hope you came to the wedding Little Babies because it was really our day… you and me.  Thank you for taking care of me.  I love you Little Babies.  Teri.’

Whitey was out front having a cigarette.  He doused it and we walked in together.  The Ranch was packed.  It was later than I thought.  I should have realized that by the color of night, but I was operating on the energy of thought.  Melanie spotted us and immediately, came around the bar arms open and hugged Whitey.  His smile was infectious.  She also hugged me.  It was nice, but not quite as dear.   She did enjoy Whitey and she was like a dart quickly setting an upside down shot glass in front of a customer and asking him to move down a stool to make room for us.  The guy nodded his appreciation for the free drink, moved and acknowledged us.

Two beers arrived in post haste and without hesitation Whitey produced his list of names from Barbara Jean and Tuffy.  I pulled out mine also.  “I told you I didn’t recognize anyone, but maybe it’ll be like a crossword puzzle.  Pick it up later and see something you didn’t before.”  This time I noticed they were all female.

We went over each one.  Whitey would say it and I’d repeat it.   We were trying to stimulate memory or simple recognition.  After the third pass at it I finally told him I felt like a kid staring at a ceiling discovering images that weren’t there.  Just by repetition I began to sense recognition.  We chose to drop it at least until we had more information about them.

Melanie was back asking if we needed anything.  We hadn’t even touched our beers so we just smiled and shook our heads like little kewpie dolls.  Then Melanie spoke, “My car was scratched last night… probably after I got home.  It’s the first time in months I parked it on the street.  Damn kids.  That’s almost as personal as my art.”

Whitey suddenly vented loudly enough that patrons turned.  “It is as personal as anything.”  Melanie was a little taken a back, but Whitey didn’t apologize as he continued.  “Hell, maybe I should be happy, without criminals I’m out of a job.”  He took his first sip of beer and stood.  “You have that car here?”  She nodded.  “Guess I should have a look.”

“White Land Rover out back.  Can’t miss it.”

The scratch, on the passenger side, looked like a huge 7, which is two-thirds of the Z on Missey’s car.  Whitey squatted and as he looked.  “She said she didn’t hear her car alarm go off, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t.  It went off.  That’s why this isn’t finished.  I’m calling Sam.  He’ll have someone check her neighbors.  Maybe someone saw something.”  Whitey stood as he continued to stare at the damage.  “This is connected buddy boy, which means you are connected and I knew it.  Sensed it.  It’s coming together I can feel it.”

I didn’t know what I was feeling, but I knew I didn’t like feeling connected.

We went back into the bar and Whitey questioned Melanie.  She was adamant that she didn’t see anyone or hear anything.  She was vegging out with her surround sound.  She also said she brought out her shotgun and quickly added “And, yes I can use it.”

Whitey turned to me just as someone called a woman to the stage.  It was karaoke night.  “I give people a hell of a lot of credit for getting up there.  And if it’s bad you can still always talk.  Just like anywhere… there’s always something else going on.  Take a look around and tell me anything suspicious.”

I looked and quickly responded.  “Guy on the corner of the bar reminds me of the Unabomber with that hood.  The biker at the pool table makes me think cautious just because of his tattoos, rings and that scary woman he’s with.  But only the Unabomber makes me suspicious… the flower of deception.”

“That’s right poet, everyone is suspect even the cute little flower.”  Whitey’s phone rang.  He read the name and raised his eyebrows.  “Yo.  Fax came in right?  No, we’re not there.  Hold on a second.”  He motioned to Melanie who came bounced right over.  “Melanie, you have a fax here that we could use here?”

Melanie jotted down the number.  “Sure, here.”

Whitey nodded thanks.  “Okay, here we go.  Yes, it’s a bar.  Yes, I want you to fax something to a bar.  If it will make you feel any better we’ll order food.  Jealousy gets you no where.”     He gave him the number.

It was interesting to hear one side of their little respectful banter and thought I’d be able to use some of it in my writings.

We were sitting close enough to the office area that we could hear the fax already arriving.  Today’s technology still dazes me.  I can’t even imagine investigating crime fifty years ago.  We were still on the dial up telephone in the 60’s and the push button didn’t come into play until the 70’s and computers… it’s like they’ve replaced lungs… we can’t live without one.  It’s all about information and information is what we need right now.

A minute later Melanie set a pile of pages in front of Whitey.

“Look at this.  She starts out with guys.  There weren’t any on the list.”

Somehow looking at male names and pictures seemed more appropriate, however there were only four and none were familiar, but Whitey spoke each name aloud to try to spur my recognition.

“They seem pretty efficient.  This first guy, George Smith is a friend of the family an Arapaho Indian from Sheridan, Wyoming… flew out to do a seminar and rode back with Barbara Jean.  They included him because they must be thorough.”  Whitey put the picture out while talking.  “You tell me if anything hits.”

I nodded in agreement and added:  “Arapaho… that’s a strong word… makes a statement.”

The other three pictures and names of boyfriends meant nothing.  All I was doing was shaking my head.  “They all look like nice guys.”

“And so will the killer or thief… probably.  Don’t forget Ted Bundy or Andrew Cunanan.  Hell, they were considered nice and handsome as hell.”

“Cunanan was gay and killed only gays… Versace for one.”

“ Your point?”

Guess I didn’t have one so I just shrugged and looked at the pictures of the women.  Nothing sparked.  Several pictures were missing and Barbara Jean stated she would continue the search and if located, fax them.

“Alright we gave it a shot.”  He picked up the papers.  “You have these at your place.  I’m running over to see Sam.  Your buddy’s going to be there and I want to listen in on that.  It’s going to crush his pants.  Although he’s coming in on his own free will again.

Crush his pants?  I decided not to ask.

more of the book

Whitey and Sam exchanged acknowledging, respectful and humorous glances.  I had the feeling that we all liked Tuffy.

We all greeted Barbara Jean and Sam took over.  “This 22 had to be stolen sometime in the last eight years.”

Tuffy interrupted.  “Sorry Sam, but I made a mistake when speaking with the detective that initially called me.  I actually won the Rod and Gun Club tournament with an identical 22… different serial number.  I kept the one that was stolen in another cabinet.  You see, I bought two of them hoping Barbara Jean would one day enjoy shooting.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Twenty years… for her eighteenth birthday.  The 38 was in the same cabinet.  I hadn’t opened that cabinet since I put the 22 in.  Those two guns could have been stolen anytime since then.”

The looks of disappointment were evident, but not in Sam’s voice.

“Barbara Jean, could you write down a list of names and contact numbers of the friends who visited with you at your dad’s?”

“I can do that Detective, but be aware that I lived in Los Angeles for fourteen years, until I was thirty-two.  And during that time I visited Dad at least twice a year and always brought someone along for the experience.  Even a few days here can enlighten and rejuvenate a person.  There’s so much to enjoy.”

“Well, that’s a lot of years so, let’s see… did you ever drive?”

Tuffy jumped in quickly.  “That’s the problem Detective.  Barbara Jean always drove.  I wanted her to fly because driving took some of my time to see her.”

“Okay Dad, enough.  Yes, I always drove.  That was part of the experience.  So often I felt like a tour guide.  And, Dad always kept me in a new car.  I’m one of the lucky ones.”

“Isn’t she sweet gentlemen?”  Tuffy didn’t wait for a response.  “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.  Barbara Jean and I are going to sit right down and get that list together and we’ll fax it to you.  And my deductive thinking tells me that my gun thief was once my guest.  And, that disappoints me.  So, why don’t you patch me through to your front desk so I can get that number and we can get thinking.”

I could see that Sam was fine with Tuffy ending the meeting but tossed out a question.   “Barbara Jean does anyone pop into your head as a possibility?”

“No, but I’ll include notes with the list.  I always brought people I instinctively trusted and who I thought would be appreciative.  The list will be comprehensive.  We better get busy.”

Meeting over.  She hung up.  She was her father’s daughter.

Sam hit the table in frustration.  “Goddamn it!  Fourteen years of suspects… what’s that, twenty-eight, thirty… how many… how many trips each year?   I thought we were getting lucky here.“   He took a deep breath, exhaled and relaxed.  “Hell, maybe we are.”  He looked at Whitey and out of the blue asked:  “Where’s Leslie?”

“She got tired of me.  Said it worried her that I made no advances.”  I wasn’t sure I believed that or not, but I didn’t want it to be true I liked seeing him with a woman.  Then he continued.  “Her mother took her to Prague.  That’s a fact.  I don’t even know where that is.”

“Czech Republic?”  It brought back instant memories.

“That’s right, you were there with Teri.  Showed me pictures.”  Whitey eyeballed me writing in my notebook.  “Yeah, yeah, right Prague it’s old… very old.    What’d you write?”

“Eternity is in love with the productions of time.  It’s from William Blake.  He could have written it with Prague in mind.”  Then I added a quick thought.

Whitey was still interested.  “Alright, humor us.”

“There is nobody going to think that you are more beautiful or your hand is more soft or that your heart is more deserving. I told her that in our rented flat in Prague.  I want to use it in my book.”  Then I remembered the letter from Angel and wrote that.

Sam looked at the blank walls of the room almost grunted.  “What is this, a murder investigation or a writer’s conference?”

“No, Whitey told me to write down unusual occurrences.  Not long ago I got a letter with a return address that was from Angel, Simi Valley, ah… Lookout Lane or Drive or something like that.  Anyway, the letter was blank.  I figured it was concerning one of my sex cartoons.  Now I’m thinking it’s connected with the panties.”

That stopped Sam’s movement.  “What am I missing?  What does this have to do with anything?”

Whitey interjected.  “I’ll tell you Sam, from day one something itched at me and you know what I’m talking about… that cop intuition.  Something stinks about this whole fucking thing and part of this involves him somehow.  First it’s a car jacking that’s not.  A couple of his lady friends get vandalized.”  He looked at me.  “What else Harley?”

I was processing what I just heard and immediately thought that Whitey may be right because I had a sense also and explained.  “Okay… I appreciate the unexplained or spiritual occurrences in life… you know spirits, etc.  And, I’ve had many and thought that maybe the glass that fell from my cupboard was just an unexplained happening.  Now I’m not so sure.”  Sam had a confused look.  “I opened the cupboard door and a glass fell out and nothing else was disturbed.”  I gestured how it tumbled down and I caught it.  Now, they were processing my words.  “Someone could have carefully placed it near the edge, you know, a joke.”  Sam’s nod indicated he was attentive but not sure where this was headed and I added more.  “I’ve found panties on my truck antenna and not long ago the antenna was broken off.  My gas was siphoned… almost forgot about that.  I didn’t write down some things, but I know there were more.  Plus I get the feeling that I’m being watched sometimes.  Oh, the ice cube tray was on the wrong side of the freezer and the match in my door was missing.”

Sam now seemed zeroed in.  “Let’s get back to that letter.  “Lookout Drive or Street or whatever the hell it was…  now that interests me.  Do you still have it?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t think so, but I’ll look.  If I do it’s probably on my desk.”

Whitey clasped his hands on top of his head.  “What interests me are those panties.  Is that one or more?”

No wonder why English is considered so difficult to learn.  Panty’s one of the inconsistent little touches of our language.  Can you buy a panty, or must you buy a pair of panties from the panty section or from the line of panties.  Must have something to do with the word pant… To purchase one, you must buy a pair.

Whitey dropped his hands off his head and brought me back into his world.  “You mean you have to think about that.”

“No, I don’t.  It was a couple of times.”   I could easily tell from Whitey’s expression that he wanted me to elaborate.  “They happened in the carport.   Once Teri was with me.  I was opening the door for her and we simultaneously noticed a pair of red panties hanging from the antenna.  At first I thought she may have put them there, but her reaction told me no.  She said almost accusatorial, ‘Little Babies who put those there?’  I told her I had no clue and asked her to take them off.  She said, ‘Yuck!  I’m not touching those.’  Then she added her theory.  ‘Someone’s flirting with you Little Babies.  Kinky.’  In the next few days she told enough people that I was sure she didn’t do it even for humor.”  Whitey didn’t move a muscle as I went on.  “It was an interesting scenario.  On one hand it was provocative and I was kind of excited… like a teenager.  You know what I mean.”  His eyes and an almost imperceptible nod indicated he did. “And, it happened again not that long ago.  Both were red and small.  That was another reason I thought Teri may have done it… her size and one of her favorite colors.”

Sam broke into my story.  “Don’t suppose you have those either.”

“No I don’t.  I took them off the antenna with a stick and tossed them in the trash.  They looked new although I didn’t do a smell test, but the size tag stuck out.”

Sam shook his head while talking.  “He didn’t do a smell test.”

“Don’t you smell panties Sam?  Teri said:  ‘Smell them Little Babies, see if you recognize her.’  I loved that about her.”

We all laughed and Whitey added:  “I always liked that broad.”  He then changed his physical demeanor into a ‘what can I say’ look directed to Sam.  “That guy Baron, Robbie stopped over to Harley’s some time after he left here and we had a nice long talk.”

Sam began to snarl.  “You telling me you interviewed him there after you left here?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m telling you I guess.”  Sam was fuming as Whitey tried to soften the situation.  “I knew you’d want to be there, but the process was already in process.  And I do have some skills you know.”

“You pulled a goddamn MacClaine on me.”  Whitey was unsure of exactly what that comment meant, but he certainly understood its intention.  Sam clarified and vented.  “Out On A Limb.  You put me out on a limb.  What am I supposed to say if he comes in here and complains to the Chief.  I know you’re one of the best, but you’re not licensed in California and you are certainly not on the force.”

Whitey gave me a ‘told you so’ look and then turned his attention to Sam and spoke calmly.  “You’re mad at me.”

Sam laughed.  “I’m not mad at you.  Fuck… I expected it, maybe not exactly that, but  something.  So, tell me about it.  How’d you get him over to Harley’s?”

The familiarity of that comment made me feel like part of the team.  “He came on his own volition Sam.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t want me to press charges for the sex tapes.”

Sam jumped on that.  “He admitted he stole them?  That’s good.  That’s good news.  Not that it’ll do any good because it wasn’t here and recorded and he could deny saying it.  But, it’s good.  It gives us another step.”

I stepped back because I could see that Whitey had much to say and I was surprised at the speed of his delivery… these comments had to be heard.  “The way I got it figured is that this son-of-a-bitch is scared and that means he is in this deeper than he wants us to think.  He’s willing to admit theft… off record of course… because he doesn’t want to be investigated.  Now what’s that tell you?”

“Let me think… First he could have hired someone to kill her because of jealousy that she was still screwing Harley.  Secondly, he doesn’t want his wife to know that he had some secretive interest or thing with her.”

Sam looked at me as if I was an unexplainable phenomena.  “Don’t tell me how you know that.”  He seemed to try to hide a hint of a smile.  “As I was saying, he doesn’t want his wife to know… especially now.  And, third… he just has some sexual needs he privately explores.”  Sam looked directly at me.  “In other words he stole the tapes just to see you two in action.”

Whitey directed his attention to me.  “You do make a cute couple.”

Of course Whitey was making humor, but it touched a nerve giving me an uneasy feeling that somewhere within there was a core of truth.