more of the book
Jan0
You don’t become confrontational with a gun unless you know who’s behind it and then you rarely do. You think she would?” I shook my head no as he bobbed his as if he knew that.
He stared straight ahead now. “Let’s play a game. You’re the killer. We’re right off Rodeo Drive here and you could hop right on Beverly and take it to Coldwater Canyon, and straight up to Magnolia, but it ends up being a little out of your way and you’re going to dump a car and body on Bakman. So, maybe you want to go up Laurel Canyon… except you’d have to go down Sunset at some point and it’s a Friday night with plenty of cops around and traffic slows in that area and it could be risky for the you, the bad guy. What do you think?”
“Get out of this area immediately and go up Coldwater.”
“How’d you get here?”
1-27-10 more of the book
Jan0
On the way back to my apartment Whitey was fervent. “They pulled up most of the serial number on the weapon… Goddam amazing what they can do today. It wasn’t that long ago that shit was impossible. Sam said he’d give me a call as soon as they tap out… you know… as far as they can go. He also said they talked to her husband again… took him off the person of interest list altogether… witnesses up the ass for his time and they didn’t even find one of his prints in her car. And, they can’t nail down the gang banger as a shooter, but they’re close to pressing charges… they feel they have almost enough circumstantial crap. Now I like getting that punk off the street, but no way he shot her. He found that fucking gun.” We were headed west on Ventura Boulevard. turned left on Laurel Canyon and started going over the hill. I had the feeling we were going to the scene of the crime and kept listening to Whitey. “I think I’m backtracking. This seems the only logical way to get from point A to point B. Let me know what you think. You know this city better than me. Right?”
“Yeah.”
In about ten minutes we were parked behind Amor and Whitey was looking at the tiny and elegant sign. “Amor. Why would a South African name his store with a French name?”
“It’s Spanish or Portuguese. French is Amour and Italian is Amore. I think it works. You know: Where’d you buy that? I bought it at Amor. It has a nice ring to it.”
“She knew the fucking guy. Look at this area… lit up like Las Vegas. If this was a stranger she may have run. Remember that old woman, the eye-witness said that she saw the driver get out and begin yelling and that the bad guy pushed the driver back in… got in and drove away. She knew the guy. Had to know the guy. You don’t become confrontational with a gun unless you know who’s behind it and then you rarely do.”
On the way back to my apartment Whitey was fervent. “They pulled up most of the serial number on the weapon… Goddam amazing what they can do today. It wasn’t that long ago that shit was impossible. Sam said he’d give me a call as soon as they tap out… you know… as far as they can go. He also said they talked to her husband again… took him off the person of interest list altogether… witnesses up the ass for his time and they didn’t even find one of his prints in her car. And, they can’t nail down the gang banger as a shooter, but they’re close to pressing charges… they feel they have almost enough circumstantial crap. Now I like getting that punk off the street, but no way he shot her. He found that fucking gun.” We were headed west on Ventura Boulevard. turned left on Laurel Canyon and started going over the hill. I had the feeling we were going to the scene of the crime and kept listening to Whitey. “I think I’m backtracking. This seems the only logical way to get from point A to point B. Let me know what you think. You know this city better than me. Right?”
“Yeah.”
In about ten minutes we were parked behind Amor and Whitey was looking at the tiny and elegant sign. “Amor. Why would a South African name his store with a French name?”
“It’s Spanish or Portuguese. French is Amour and Italian is Amore. I think it works. You know: Where’d you buy that? I bought it at Amor. It has a nice ring to it.”
“She knew the fucking guy. Look at this area… lit up like Las Vegas. If this was a stranger she may have run. Remember that old woman, the eye-witness said that she saw the driver get out and begin yelling and that the bad guy pushed the driver back in… got in and drove away. She knew the guy. Had to know the guy. You don’t become confrontational with a gun unless you know who’s behind it and then you rarely do.”
On the way back to my apartment Whitey was fervent. “They pulled up most of the serial number on the weapon… Goddam amazing what they can do today. It wasn’t that long ago that shit was impossible. Sam said he’d give me a call as soon as they tap out… you know… as far as they can go. He also said they talked to her husband again… took him off the person of interest list altogether… witnesses up the ass for his time and they didn’t even find one of his prints in her car. And, they can’t nail down the gang banger as a shooter, but they’re close to pressing charges… they feel they have almost enough circumstantial crap. Now I like getting that punk off the street, but no way he shot her. He found that fucking gun.” We were headed west on Ventura Boulevard. turned left on Laurel Canyon and started going over the hill. I had the feeling we were going to the scene of the crime and kept listening to Whitey. “I think I’m backtracking. This seems the only logical way to get from point A to point B. Let me know what you think. You know this city better than me. Right?”
“Yeah.”
In about ten minutes we were parked behind Amor and Whitey was looking at the tiny and elegant sign. “Amor. Why would a South African name his store with a French name?”
“It’s Spanish or Portuguese. French is Amour and Italian is Amore. I think it works. You know: Where’d you buy that? I bought it at Amor. It has a nice ring to it.”
“She knew the fucking guy. Look at this area… lit up like Las Vegas. If this was a stranger she may have run. Remember that old woman, the eye-witness said that she saw the driver get out and begin yelling and that the bad guy pushed the driver back in… got in and drove away. She knew the guy. Had to know the guy. You don’t become confrontational with a gun unless you know who’s behind it and then you rarely do.”
On the way back to my apartment Whitey was fervent. “They pulled up most of the serial number on the weapon… Goddam amazing what they can do today. It wasn’t that long ago that shit was impossible. Sam said he’d give me a call as soon as they tap out… you know… as far as they can go. He also said they talked to her husband again… took him off the person of interest list altogether… witnesses up the ass for his time and they didn’t even find one of his prints in her car. And, they can’t nail down the gang banger as a shooter, but they’re close to pressing charges… they feel they have almost enough circumstantial crap. Now I like getting that punk off the street, but no way he shot her. He found that fucking gun.” We were headed west on Ventura Boulevard. turned left on Laurel Canyon and started going over the hill. I had the feeling we were going to the scene of the crime and kept listening to Whitey. “I think I’m backtracking. This seems the only logical way to get from point A to point B. Let me know what you think. You know this city better than me. Right?”
“Yeah.”
In about ten minutes we were parked behind Amor and Whitey was looking at the tiny and elegant sign. “Amor. Why would a South African name his store with a French name?”
“It’s Spanish or Portuguese. French is Amour and Italian is Amore. I think it works. You know: Where’d you buy that? I bought it at Amor. It has a nice ring to it.”
“She knew the fucking guy. Look at this area… lit up like Las Vegas. If this was a stranger she may have run. Remember that old woman, the eye-witness said that she saw the driver get out and begin yelling and that the bad guy pushed the driver back in… got in and drove away. She knew the guy. Had to know the guy. You don’t become confrontational with a gun unless you know who’s behind it and then you rarely do.”
more of the book 1-22-10
Jan0
On the way back to my apartment Whitey was fervent. “They pulled up most of the serial number on the weapon… Goddam amazing what they can do today. It wasn’t that long ago that was impossible. Sam said he’d give me a call as soon as they tap out… you know… as far as they can go. He also said they talked to her husband again… took him off the person of interest list altogether… witnesses up the ass for his time and they didn’t even find one of his prints in her car. And, they can’t nail down the gang banger as a shooter, but they’re close to pressing charges… they feel they have almost enough circumstantial shit.
Brings back thoughts of Mike Tyson
Jan0
Pure Knockout (Microsode #3 of the “Leonard Who?” show)
One of my favorite Leonardwho episodes… I had a good day.
1-22-10 more of the book
Jan0
“There are things going on, but honestly I don’t know what. Maybe I’ll have more information after I talk to Whitey.” She gave me that I don’t believe you look. I reached out and took her hand, held it for a moment and ever so gently kissed her fingers. “Whitey thinks this is personal. So do I, so think about what he asked you. “ She looked truly concerned now and I wanted to just hold her. “Do me a favor, put my number on speed dial. Just for security… I can be here in five minutes if I jog, but, two if I drive.”
It was easy to see that Missey was uncomfortable. “I don’t like this.”
“I’ll come back.”
“No you won’t. I’m a big girl and I’ve lived alone for a long time. Why am I telling you this? Somebody scratched my car. This kind of stuff happens every day. Maybe he felt he didn’t do a good enough job the first time.”
I didn’t think it was right to kiss her good-bye and settled for a hug that I loved. What I didn’t like is she patted my back. It felt dismissive. And, I walked to the door. “Lock this. And, I’m glad you called me… very glad. Call me before you go to bed.”
“Okay, look… go. This whole scene is going too fast and in an area I’m not ready for… and…” Trying not to interrupt I just listened and watched her soften with a beautiful vulnerability. “Okay, I’ll call.” Suddenly she leaned in and gave me a quick kiss.
I was like a little kid and acted it. “Thank you thank you thank you. You don’t know how much I loved that.” She had a little unbelievable stare as I opened the door, stepped out and said: “Lock the door.”
Jan0
“Sometimes, yes and no, pretty much, not always… depends on who I’m talking to.” Just then I noticed a police car below and pointed to it. “We better go down.”
The police took the report and indicated they would be in the area more often and looking for anyone dressed in black. They gave very little hope of success, but did tell Missey to report any suspicious behavior and to be careful and that it was unlikely this was gang related. Two big Z’z seemed to indicate a Zorro fixation. I mentioned that it could be a marking for sleep. The cop agreed. He took several pictures and left.
Whitey pulled up at that time… parked… hopped out and came right over. He nodded to me and held his hand out to Missey. “Angel Eyes.” She appeared a bit embarrassed and didn’t take his hand. “It’s a compliment, not a come-on. Harley told me you have the most incredible eyes he’s ever seen and I agree. That’s one of the things that draws you two together.”
“We’re not together.”
“Oh yes you are. You just don’t know it yet.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m a detective. I know these things. Oh, I’m sorry we haven’t been formally introduced… My name is Mike… used to be Red, but now It’s Whitey to my two friends. Call me Whitey please.” Oh what a charmer he could be.
“I will if you don’t call me Angel Eyes. It’s Missey.”
“Okay Missey. Mind if I take a look at your car?”
Missey looked at me for reassurance. I put my arm on her waist and walked with her. She hadn’t seen the additional etching so was affected by the sight of it and turned to me shaking her head in disbelief. Whitey was inspecting the Z markings and tilted his head to Missey. “I’d like to say don’t take this personally, but it’s your property so it becomes personal. It pisses me off when I hear comments like it’s just kids… just vandalism. No, when it happens to you it’s criminals and it’s personal.” He stood up and gave me a something is wrong look and spoke to Missey. “I’m not a cop, at least anymore. I’m retired, so to speak… just playing around at detective stuff, but you mind if I ask you a few questions?
“You want to go inside?”
“That would be nice.”
On the way back inside Missey asked Whitey if he cared for a drink and he declined saying he was working. We all sat in the living room by the bay window. Missey and I hadn’t even dented our drinks.
Whitey complimented her on her color scheme and said it was nice, familiar and made him feel good and that it reminded him of my apartment. Then he got down to business. “You know any people that don’t like you… that you’ve had arguments, disagreements with… neighbors… people you work or worked with… old friends… you know, that sort of thing?”
“No. I get along with everyone and don’t get into other people’s business. Why are you asking me this?”
“Because this is personal. On the way over here I checked on other reports of car vandalism around here in the last couple of days. None. Only yours and twice. Now, that’s not meant to scare you, but it is said to keep you alert. So, if you can think of anyone that might have a reason… grudge… stole her guy… you know, anything… it might help us, or I should say the police catch the guy.”
“No, but I think I saw him.”
Whitey turned to me with a ‘you didn’t tell me that’ expression.
“Okay Missey, tell me about it.”
She went through the entire story about watching from the bay window and Whitey was completely attentive.
“So, how tall do you think he was… age…. weight… anything unique.”
“He was stooped over; his head was down and he didn’t look that tall, maybe my size or a little bigger. And, he was dressed in black with a sweatshirt I think, so it’s hard to say how much he weighed, but he didn’t look heavy and he just kind of moved.” She made a gesture with her arms and hands moving by and her fingers going up and down.
“What is that? Floating or dancing?”
“I don’t know. Just moving I guess. Then he disappeared under the house and that’s when I called Harley.”
“Thanks Missey, that helps. And, I’m sorry but I have to take Harley away from you right now.”
“He’s not with me. He just came over to…”
“I know, it was more of a figure of speech, but I do need him. I’ll let you two say good-bye.” Whitey walked to the door. “You do lock your doors, right.”
She gave an almost imperceptible nod and watched him leave and immediately looked at me. “Harley, what’s going on here?”
“Sometimes, yes and no, pretty much, not always… depends on who I’m talking to.” Just then I noticed a police car below and pointed to it. “We better go down.”
The police took the report and indicated they would be in the area more often and looking for anyone dressed in black. They gave very little hope of success, but did tell Missey to report any suspicious behavior and to be careful and that it was unlikely this was gang related. Two big Z’z seemed to indicate a Zorro fixation. I mentioned that it could be a marking for sleep. The cop agreed. He took several pictures and left.
Whitey pulled up at that time… parked… hopped out and came right over. He nodded to me and held his hand out to Missey. “Angel Eyes.” She appeared a bit embarrassed and didn’t take his hand. “It’s a compliment, not a come-on. Harley told me you have the most incredible eyes he’s ever seen and I agree. That’s one of the things that draws you two together.”
“We’re not together.”
“Oh yes you are. You just don’t know it yet.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m a detective. I know these things. Oh, I’m sorry we haven’t been formally introduced… My name is Mike… used to be Red, but now It’s Whitey to my two friends. Call me Whitey please.” Oh what a charmer he could be.
“I will if you don’t call me Angel Eyes. It’s Missey.”
“Okay Missey. Mind if I take a look at your car?”
Missey looked at me for reassurance. I put my arm on her waist and walked with her. She hadn’t seen the additional etching so was affected by the sight of it and turned to me shaking her head in disbelief. Whitey was inspecting the Z markings and tilted his head to Missey. “I’d like to say don’t take this personally, but it’s your property so it becomes personal. It pisses me off when I hear comments like it’s just kids… just vandalism. No, when it happens to you it’s criminals and it’s personal.” He stood up and gave me a something is wrong look and spoke to Missey. “I’m not a cop, at least anymore. I’m retired, so to speak… just playing around at detective stuff, but you mind if I ask you a few questions?
“You want to go inside?”
“That would be nice.”
On the way back inside Missey asked Whitey if he cared for a drink and he declined saying he was working. We all sat in the living room by the bay window. Missey and I hadn’t even dented our drinks.
Whitey complimented her on her color scheme and said it was nice, familiar and made him feel good and that it reminded him of my apartment. Then he got down to business. “You know any people that don’t like you… that you’ve had arguments, disagreements with… neighbors… people you work or worked with… old friends… you know, that sort of thing?”
“No. I get along with everyone and don’t get into other people’s business. Why are you asking me this?”
“Because this is personal. On the way over here I checked on other reports of car vandalism around here in the last couple of days. None. Only yours and twice. Now, that’s not meant to scare you, but it is said to keep you alert. So, if you can think of anyone that might have a reason… grudge… stole her guy… you know, anything… it might help us, or I should say the police catch the guy.”
“No, but I think I saw him.”
Whitey turned to me with a ‘you didn’t tell me that’ expression.
“Okay Missey, tell me about it.”
She went through the entire story about watching from the bay window and Whitey was completely attentive.
“So, how tall do you think he was… age…. weight… anything unique.”
“He was stooped over; his head was down and he didn’t look that tall, maybe my size or a little bigger. And, he was dressed in black with a sweatshirt I think, so it’s hard to say how much he weighed, but he didn’t look heavy and he just kind of moved.” She made a gesture with her arms and hands moving by and her fingers going up and down.
“What is that? Floating or dancing?”
“I don’t know. Just moving I guess. Then he disappeared under the house and that’s when I called Harley.”
“Thanks Missey, that helps. And, I’m sorry but I have to take Harley away from you right now.”
“He’s not with me. He just came over to…”
“I know, it was more of a figure of speech, but I do need him. I’ll let you two say good-bye.” Whitey walked to the door. “You do lock your doors, right.”
She gave an almost imperceptible nod and watched him leave and immediately looked at me. “Harley, what’s going on here?”
“Sometimes, yes and no, pretty much, not always… depends on who I’m talking to.” Just then I noticed a police car below and pointed to it. “We better go down.”
The police took the report and indicated they would be in the area more often and looking for anyone dressed in black. They gave very little hope of success, but did tell Missey to report any suspicious behavior and to be careful and that it was unlikely this was gang related. Two big Z’z seemed to indicate a Zorro fixation. I mentioned that it could be a marking for sleep. The cop agreed. He took several pictures and left.
Whitey pulled up at that time… parked… hopped out and came right over. He nodded to me and held his hand out to Missey. “Angel Eyes.” She appeared a bit embarrassed and didn’t take his hand. “It’s a compliment, not a come-on. Harley told me you have the most incredible eyes he’s ever seen and I agree. That’s one of the things that draws you two together.”
“We’re not together.”
“Oh yes you are. You just don’t know it yet.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m a detective. I know these things. Oh, I’m sorry we haven’t been formally introduced… My name is Mike… used to be Red, but now It’s Whitey to my two friends. Call me Whitey please.” Oh what a charmer he could be.
“I will if you don’t call me Angel Eyes. It’s Missey.”
“Okay Missey. Mind if I take a look at your car?”
Missey looked at me for reassurance. I put my arm on her waist and walked with her. She hadn’t seen the additional etching so was affected by the sight of it and turned to me shaking her head in disbelief. Whitey was inspecting the Z markings and tilted his head to Missey. “I’d like to say don’t take this personally, but it’s your property so it becomes personal. It pisses me off when I hear comments like it’s just kids… just vandalism. No, when it happens to you it’s criminals and it’s personal.” He stood up and gave me a something is wrong look and spoke to Missey. “I’m not a cop, at least anymore. I’m retired, so to speak… just playing around at detective stuff, but you mind if I ask you a few questions?
“You want to go inside?”
“That would be nice.”
On the way back inside Missey asked Whitey if he cared for a drink and he declined saying he was working. We all sat in the living room by the bay window. Missey and I hadn’t even dented our drinks.
Whitey complimented her on her color scheme and said it was nice, familiar and made him feel good and that it reminded him of my apartment. Then he got down to business. “You know any people that don’t like you… that you’ve had arguments, disagreements with… neighbors… people you work or worked with… old friends… you know, that sort of thing?”
“No. I get along with everyone and don’t get into other people’s business. Why are you asking me this?”
“Because this is personal. On the way over here I checked on other reports of car vandalism around here in the last couple of days. None. Only yours and twice. Now, that’s not meant to scare you, but it is said to keep you alert. So, if you can think of anyone that might have a reason… grudge… stole her guy… you know, anything… it might help us, or I should say the police catch the guy.”
“No, but I think I saw him.”
Whitey turned to me with a ‘you didn’t tell me that’ expression.
“Okay Missey, tell me about it.”
She went through the entire story about watching from the bay window and Whitey was completely attentive.
“So, how tall do you think he was… age…. weight… anything unique.”
“He was stooped over; his head was down and he didn’t look that tall, maybe my size or a little bigger. And, he was dressed in black with a sweatshirt I think, so it’s hard to say how much he weighed, but he didn’t look heavy and he just kind of moved.” She made a gesture with her arms and hands moving by and her fingers going up and down.
“What is that? Floating or dancing?”
“I don’t know. Just moving I guess. Then he disappeared under the house and that’s when I called Harley.”
“Thanks Missey, that helps. And, I’m sorry but I have to take Harley away from you right now.”
“He’s not with me. He just came over to…”
“I know, it was more of a figure of speech, but I do need him. I’ll let you two say good-bye.” Whitey walked to the door. “You do lock your doors, right.”
She gave an almost imperceptible nod and watched him leave and immediately looked at me. “Harley, what’s going on here?”
“Sometimes, yes and no, pretty much, not always… depends on who I’m talking to.” Just then I noticed a police car below and pointed to it. “We better go down.”
The police took the report and indicated they would be in the area more often and looking for anyone dressed in black. They gave very little hope of success, but did tell Missey to report any suspicious behavior and to be careful and that it was unlikely this was gang related. Two big Z’z seemed to indicate a Zorro fixation. I mentioned that it could be a marking for sleep. The cop agreed. He took several pictures and left.
Whitey pulled up at that time… parked… hopped out and came right over. He nodded to me and held his hand out to Missey. “Angel Eyes.” She appeared a bit embarrassed and didn’t take his hand. “It’s a compliment, not a come-on. Harley told me you have the most incredible eyes he’s ever seen and I agree. That’s one of the things that draws you two together.”
“We’re not together.”
“Oh yes you are. You just don’t know it yet.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m a detective. I know these things. Oh, I’m sorry we haven’t been formally introduced… My name is Mike… used to be Red, but now It’s Whitey to my two friends. Call me Whitey please.” Oh what a charmer he could be.
“I will if you don’t call me Angel Eyes. It’s Missey.”
“Okay Missey. Mind if I take a look at your car?”
Missey looked at me for reassurance. I put my arm on her waist and walked with her. She hadn’t seen the additional etching so was affected by the sight of it and turned to me shaking her head in disbelief. Whitey was inspecting the Z markings and tilted his head to Missey. “I’d like to say don’t take this personally, but it’s your property so it becomes personal. It pisses me off when I hear comments like it’s just kids… just vandalism. No, when it happens to you it’s criminals and it’s personal.” He stood up and gave me a something is wrong look and spoke to Missey. “I’m not a cop, at least anymore. I’m retired, so to speak… just playing around at detective stuff, but you mind if I ask you a few questions?
“You want to go inside?”
“That would be nice.”
On the way back inside Missey asked Whitey if he cared for a drink and he declined saying he was working. We all sat in the living room by the bay window. Missey and I hadn’t even dented our drinks.
Whitey complimented her on her color scheme and said it was nice, familiar and made him feel good and that it reminded him of my apartment. Then he got down to business. “You know any people that don’t like you… that you’ve had arguments, disagreements with… neighbors… people you work or worked with… old friends… you know, that sort of thing?”
“No. I get along with everyone and don’t get into other people’s business. Why are you asking me this?”
“Because this is personal. On the way over here I checked on other reports of car vandalism around here in the last couple of days. None. Only yours and twice. Now, that’s not meant to scare you, but it is said to keep you alert. So, if you can think of anyone that might have a reason… grudge… stole her guy… you know, anything… it might help us, or I should say the police catch the guy.”
“No, but I think I saw him.”
Whitey turned to me with a ‘you didn’t tell me that’ expression.
“Okay Missey, tell me about it.”
She went through the entire story about watching from the bay window and Whitey was completely attentive.
“So, how tall do you think he was… age…. weight… anything unique.”
“He was stooped over; his head was down and he didn’t look that tall, maybe my size or a little bigger. And, he was dressed in black with a sweatshirt I think, so it’s hard to say how much he weighed, but he didn’t look heavy and he just kind of moved.” She made a gesture with her arms and hands moving by and her fingers going up and down.
“What is that? Floating or dancing?”
“I don’t know. Just moving I guess. Then he disappeared under the house and that’s when I called Harley.”
“Thanks Missey, that helps. And, I’m sorry but I have to take Harley away from you right now.”
“He’s not with me. He just came over to…”
“I know, it was more of a figure of speech, but I do need him. I’ll let you two say good-bye.” Whitey walked to the door. “You do lock your doors, right.”
She gave an almost imperceptible nod and watched him leave and immediately looked at me. “Harley, what’s going on here?”
nearing the conclusion of my book… 50-60- pages to go I believe
Jan0
I was on a creative flow and picked up my book, but instead of writing I decided to proofread. I have to feel creative for that, also. “After staring for miles at a remarkable cloud that turned out to be a fire, he discovered ‘nothing was as it seemed’. The beauty was disaster. Then he realized why he was driving. He also, had been reduced to ashes. She was right. He was in love with a ghost and now he was experiencing the pain, trying to salvage what he positively thought was, but may have never been. The ache was new and severe.
Mesmerized, he parked and watched the burning change of life while words of a friend entered his head, “The way she looks at you… My God, I wish someone, just once would have looked at me that way.” He had that look for six years. All he knew was that she tore his heart out… left him with a hole… an emptiness he’d never felt.”
My own words ‘what he positively thought was, but may have never been’ stuck with me. It’s as if the truth is not an absolute. Everything is only a moment. Everything is relative. The loss of a child is devastating. The loss of a headache is relief. Yet, the loss of life could be relief. Just then I heard the ring of my cell phone and read the caller ID. I was thrilled. “Hi Missy.”
“Harley, I’m sorry to call you, but I’m…” Her hesitation caused me concern. “I’m uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I saw someone outside. It’s probably nothing, but they were walking and somehow disappeared under my house near the carport. I know this sounds weird, but I was sitting in the dark and just looking out my bay window. I can see so much of the city and it’s lights. Then I saw this guy in black and, oh God, I didn’t want to call the police and I thought of you.”
She thought of me. I loved that, however it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. It could be for many reasons such as I live nearby. What was I doing? Of course it was a good thing. She thought of me! “I’ll come over right now and I’m going to walk, so watch for me. When I get there I’ll check out your carport and I’m keeping you on the phone.”
“Be careful. It’s probably nothing, but maybe it’s the same guy that scratched my car.”
I had already put my blue tooth on, grabbed a flashlight, locked the door and was on my way. It was that euphoric rush of adrenaline that I’ve felt many times and it is definitely not always a good thing, but it sure makes you realize you are alive. I made reassuring conversation as I began to jog down the alley and up to Ventura while Missy continued to rationalize and justify not calling the police. By the time I got to Carpenter and the hill I was already short of breath and it was only about three blocks.
“It sounds like you’re panting.”
“I am. Listen, I’m almost to your house now and I’m not going to talk until I decide that the area is safe … so listen to my silence Sweetie.” I couldn’t believe how easily the Sweetie slipped out.
I slowed down and tried to control my breathing and as soon as I saw Missey’s house I stopped, watched and listened. I wondered if she could hear my heart pounding because I heard her breathing. I decided to casually walk past her place as if it was part of a nightly routine. As soon as I was in view of her front window I could see her dark image. Had I not been aware of her being there I don’t believe I would have noticed, but it gave me more courage to search thoroughly, yet covertly. I made it down and past her carport and didn’t see a soul but my old childhood sensation of pending confrontation was heavy and I wished I had a club or something.
After making it a hundred yards past her place I returned to her carport to look at her damage. Something was different. Son-of-a-bitch it was scratched again! It was as if someone had gone over the original markings and deepened them… opened the wound. Someone dug with intention and was unable to keep the lines close, but not straight as if in a hurry. This was personal. I checked the area again… behind and under every thing. Nothing. As a matter-of-fact the only movement I saw was a car a block or so away.
I finally spoke. “There’s no one here.”
“Oh. Good I guess.”
“It’s not all good Missey.”
“Oh.” Her pause was questioning and I didn’t respond nor did she continue. It was then that I took in the sounds of vehicles from Ventura Boulevard. They were more muted than typical harsh motor noises. The hills and lower buildings must absorb so much that Missey and her neighbors reaped the benefit of being fairly quiet. She broke it with a cautious whisper. “Would you care to come up?”
“Yes, of course I would.” I didn’t like my following thought. Her pain is my gain… another example of something good coming out of the rot. This was a good feeling for a man, at least this man. I felt needed and valuable… a protector. “You’re upstairs I know… on the right. How do I get up there?
“The door’s on the right. I’ll buzz you in.”
A surge of excitement belied the reason I was there. There was something special about this woman and I believed my life would be forever changed. I opened the door at her buzz and walked up a lit hallway of soft green walls to Missey… standing there like an angel wearing a blue sweatshirt that seemed to pop forth her eyes even with a flight of stairs between us. I couldn’t take my eyes off hers until I reached the top and was quickly embraced. I held her until she broke it off. “We should go in.”
The door was open and she led the way into an alcove with walls of soft tan. A single hanging picture of what looked like a young Danish girl looking at the clouds near a windmill caught my attention. It looked like her. It was precious. On the right was the dark living room evident by the bay window. Missey led me into the lit kitchen. It looked fresh from a timeless designer magazine with utensils, pant, etc. hanging and a center counter of white tile… I loved it but didn’t comment.
“Would you like a drink?”
I nodded and held my finger up as if there was more to add, but I didn’t want to alarm her and spoke calmly. “Missey, your car was scratched again. We have to call the police.” Her eyes seemed to be caught in a trap of light much like a frightened deer. I held her and tried to be reassuring. “It’ll be all right. I’ll make the call.” Then I whispered. “Vodka on the rocks would be nice.”
Obviously organized, she immediately handed me her landline and a post-it that was the number of the police, the investigating officer’s name and the report information that I relayed back to them and was told an officer would be stopping over to take another report. I had it on speaker and Missey listened. I handed her the phone when done.
“I’ll make the drinks. Is Stoli all right?”
“My new favorite.” She dropped her eyes a touch at my hint of a smile. “I have to make another call.” I walked into the living room that was still only lit by the lights of the night. The bay window drew me toward it and I would call Whitey from there.
“Harley?” Before I could answer she turned on the lights and dashed back to the kitchen. The beauty of the living room struck me… a soft, warm, deep red. I loved it and wanted to stay. It reminded me of home, my apartment. With that feeling I punched in Whitey’s number.
He picked up on the second ring and was polite enough to hear my story without interruption.
“Where are you now?”
“In Missey’s living room.”
“Cozy.” A hint of irony was felt. “Enjoy it, but be careful… understand?” I didn’t need to respond. He knew. “Listen, we’re sitting here with Sam and it looks like they’re pulling up more on that serial number.” There was a huge pause. “Keep me posted on… anything.”
It was a quick good-bye. Something more was happening.
Missey entered with our drinks. “Your detective friend? I couldn’t help but overhear.” She continued as I nodded and smiled. “Why would he be concerned about my car?”
Again, I didn’t want to worry her and circumvented my answer. “He’s concerned because I know you.” I wasn’t sure that she fully accepted that, but she didn’t say more and I quickly complimented her inviting living room and convinced her to sit in the dark looking out the bay window… intimate yet uncomfortable, comfortable yet nervous, right and wrong, up and down… you get the idea. Every feeling of heaven’s reality was juxtaposed with hell’s potential and every emotion in my head seemed to be retasted.
“I saw him walking and suddenly he disappeared somewhere below… it had to be the carport or somewhere… I don’t know. It just didn’t look right. He had his head down all the time… with some kind of cap on and that was black too. I just didn’t like the feel of it.”
I wanted to hold her, kiss her, comfort her… all the guy/girl desires, but iI remained objective. “I think you’re wise. We live in a world where we have to be observant.” That sounded just a tad frightful and I didn’t want that so I tempered it with poetry. “So still the night till the flutter of owl awakens the senses.“
“You always talk like that?”
“Sometimes, yes and no, pretty much, not always… depends on who I’m talking to.” Just then I noticed a police car below and pointed to it. “We better go down.”
