Bill Harvey Collection

by Peter O'Mahoney

  That was when she heard it again.

  He was sobbing, hiding his head in his hands.

  She had never seen him cry before; never seen him be anything other than tough.

  Before long, the sobbing stopped. She moved back into the darkness, hiding under her blanket. With the blanket pulled up to her eyes, she pondered the future.

  If he was crying, then things must be changing for the worse.

  And she should really practice more boxing.

  Chapter 16

  “A vegan café?”

  Private Investigator Jack Grayson was not one to be seen in such places. His muscular arms looked more at place in a burly gym full of grunting men than a hipster coffee joint. The shop was dim, cold, and there were posters on the wooden walls expressing how evil people were for daring to eat meat.

  “It’s on trend.” Harvey shrugged. “It’s always good to try something new. Expand your horizons, Jack. Don’t be stuck eating barbequed steaks for the rest of your life. These sorts of places are all the rage.”

  “Lentil tacos with spinach and avocado, lightly covered in pumpkin and fennel salsa? That’s all the rage? I tell you what, I’ll be raging after I eat that.”

  “Admittedly, that’s probably pushing it too far.” Harvey looked around the café, studying the hipster that walked up to them—dreadlocks, lip ring, glowing healthy skin.

  “How can I help you men? Are you lost?” The waitress stared at the two men sitting wide-legged and stoic in their stools, not the sort of male domination that she was used to in her subdued café.

  “We’ll take two coffees, the vegan spinach and potato pancakes, and one of the crispy breaded tofu steaks, and a side of kale and quinoa,” Harvey stated confidently.

  The waitress tucked a loose dreadlock behind her ear, moving to process the order.

  “You know I went to the doctor the other day.” Jack smiled as the waitress walked away. “Told him I was scared that I was putting on too much weight. So he said to me, ‘Stop eating anything fatty.’ And I said, ‘Really? No more cheeseburgers? No more bacon?’ And he replied, ‘No, you didn’t hear me right. I said—stop eating anything, fatty!’”

  “Ha!” Harvey laughed, maybe too loud for the quiet vegan café. “Why didn’t the chicken cross the road?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I ate it.”

  “Haha!” Jack laughed equally as loud, slapping the table.

  The waitress scoffed as she returned and placed two jars in front of them, both filled with organically sourced coffee. Jack was all for recycling, but he would much prefer his glass went through a recycling plant first.

  With ripping biceps, and scarred knuckles, Jack Grayson had been by Harvey’s side for years, helping him solve case after case. Slightly mentally unstable, the role of investigator suited him perfectly—from quietly breaking into homes to finding a small piece of information hidden on the Internet, Jack flourished in his job.

  Standing as tall as Harvey, he dominated most situations through pure intimidation. Tattoos covered his arms, his hair was cropped short, and his shoulders were wide enough to have to turn sideways when he walked through narrow doorways. Not the sort of person you would expect to see eating at a vegan café.

  He had his first drink of alcohol at twelve, started using hard drugs at fifteen, and was locked up at eighteen, but it wasn’t the life that he wanted for himself. He came to Harvey’s hypnotherapy office as a twenty-one-year-old who wanted to change his future and leave a different mark on the world other than a trail of devastation.

  Harvey taught him that change was about acknowledging and accepting his current circumstances, and recognizing that his choices and mistakes were a part of life. Under Harvey’s guidance, Jack learned the value of gratitude, mindfulness, and appreciation, and the change to Jack’s life was powerful. He started a job as a security guard, kicked all his addictions, and went back to part-time school to study fine art. He started painting, and for the first time, he found peace in his life.

  Their paths crossed again ten years later when Jack was looking for another job opportunity. When Harvey saw Jack’s name on the application form, he stopped the employment process and hired Jack as his investigator on the spot.

  “So, what are your options heading forward?” Jack focused on the case at hand.

  “My only option is to fight the case. If I don’t, my career is over. Even if this case gets to court, my career is done. The damage is going to be done through the media coverage, and Kevin knows that. I’m going to have to play hard and make sure that the case doesn’t get to court.”

  “You know that your work makes up most of my income. Without you, my career is over as well. We can’t have that.”

  “No, we can’t.” Harvey’s face grimaced slightly as the vegan spinach and potato pancakes were placed in front of him. He never knew that pancakes could be that green. “Kevin Wu was an avid note-taker. He took notes of everything, and I mean everything. He always carried a small notebook with him everywhere he went—little black book with spiral binding down the side. He used to pull it out before we would have a meeting, and he’d be writing notes the whole time.”

  “Sounds intense.”

  “It was something that his father taught him—life was to be recorded, reviewed, and learned from. He wrote about everything. I would hate to think about how many words he wrote. That man was obsessive.” Harvey ran his hand through his hair. “When he came to me for the hypnotherapy sessions, he had early signs of OCD. It was his way of keeping control after losing his daughter. He was very compulsive about some things and quite strange about other things. There was always something a little left field about him.”

  “So, you’re suggesting that he took notes about the hypnotherapy session.” Jack’s eyebrows rose as the crispy breaded tofu steaks were placed on the table. “And where does he keep the old copies?”

  “He said that he burnt them.”

  “But you don’t believe him?”

  “No more than I believe that you love kale.”

  Jack laughed as two more plates were placed in front of them.

  “This is kale,” the waitress stated informally, but disinterested. “And this one is quinoa.”

  “Kale?” Jack asked as the waitress walked away. “What’s that good for?”

  “Your heart. Or your skin. Or your chakras. Maybe your beauty stone. I’m sure it’s good for you in some way.”

  “But what does it taste like?”

  “Grass.”

  “Yum.” Jack smiled as he ate a fork full of kale. “How does yours taste?”

  “Like grass and dirt.”

  Jack laughed out loud again, placing his fork down onto the bowl full of green pasture. “Look, I’m sure that one day our bodies will thank us for taking care of it.”

  “Your liver will never thank you.”

  “Maybe not.” Jack laughed again. “What other options do you have?”

  “Kevin Wu is implicated in the murder of a young girl, Tiffany Lee. The cold case team in the LAPD recently received a tip-off stating that they saw Kevin and the girl near a local reserve. After two hours, Kevin returned without the girl.”

  “The person watched Kevin for two hours?”

  “That’s what they claim.” Harvey sipped the coffee ethically sourced from the highlands of Papua New Guinea. “Now, it’s not impossible, but it’s a lot harder to sue someone if you’re locked up for the murder of a young girl. Not many people will give you the benefit of the doubt if you’re wearing cuffs in their courtroom.”

  “Will that work?”

  “I think so. He’ll be so busy trying to stay out of prison that he won’t have time for this case.” Harvey placed his fork down, taking an extra-long time to chew one of the vegan spinach and potato pancakes. “The guy is a prick, but the evidence is plentiful, and his theory is solid. He’s a very cunning and well-planned man, and he wouldn’t be pressing on with this case if he didn’t think
he could win.”

  “You think he really stands a chance?”

  Harvey shrugged. “Who knows what happens in the court of law?”

  “You should. That’s your job.”

  “But this is something different. Something new.”

  “What’s your gut feeling?”

  “Like it’s just eaten a whole bowl full of grass.”

  “Ha!” Jack laughed. “I meant with the case, what do you think?”

  “Without a conviction for another crime, I think I’m in trouble. If he can demonstrate that his behavior clearly changed after the sessions, then it’s trouble. He has brain scans that indicate that his brain patterns changed after the hypnotherapy sessions, and even I found it convincing.”

  “But you think that if he’s convicted of another crime before the case gets to court, he’ll withdraw the case?”

  “Exactly. It makes it very hard for him to win from behind bars. But the cold case team aren’t scheduled to make a move in this case for the next few weeks, which is after my case is due to be heard. And the LAPD has given up on the prostitution charges.”

  “So if we find the evidence that he’s guilty of another crime—”

  “Then we save our jobs.”

  Chapter 17

  “Lunch arrived for you.”

  As Harvey entered the office, Kate smiled at the man she adored, pointing to the plastic bag sitting at the end of her desk. After she spent the morning reading with her son at school, Kate was greeted at the office door by a delivery man, waiting patiently next to his scooter.

  As a single mother, juggling work and family was a constant battle. She knew her son needed her time and attention, but she also had to work to put food on the table. Although she was paid well for her time, the costs of raising a family continued to rise. And having a deadbeat ex-husband didn’t help her financial situation.

  “Lunch?” Harvey questioned. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know, but it smells like some sort of curry. Whatever you ordered smells good.”

  He looked at her confused, apprehensively walking over to the plastic bag. “Who delivered it?”

  “A young delivery guy. He was waiting at the front door when I arrived and said it was an order for Bill Harvey. I thought it was unusual for you to order lunch at the office, but then again, nothing you do would surprise me.”

  He moved towards the bag. “Was the man Chinese?”

  She nodded. “Is there a problem?”

  “I didn’t order lunch.”

  Muscles tight with anxiety, he reached into the bag and removed the white cardboard box, placing it on the table.

  “It smells like regular Chinese food.” Kate stood close to the box, curiosity outweighing her need for safety. “I’d guess it’s fried rice and some sort of chicken.”

  Guardedly, Harvey opened the white lid.

  “Oh my.” Kate gasped as she held her hand to her chest, moving away from the box.

  “Lock your doors, Kate. Don’t walk alone at night. Call me the second that you see anything unusual in any situation.” Harvey took a deep breath. “Things are going to get nasty.”

  After closing the lid, he took the box out of his office, down the stairs, and threw it into a trashcan on the street.

  He had no need for a box full of bloodied sheep eyeballs.

  Chapter 18

  Stepping into the front yard of the Montecito Heights home, Bill Harvey resisted the temptation to hold his nose. The L.A. heat wasn’t good for the trash sitting in the front yard. He wasn’t even sure what the smell was—dead fish was his first guess.

  Luckily, it didn’t take long to reach Terrance Marshall’s front door, and he wasted no time banging heavily on it, almost in a desperate attempt to escape the stench. Just off the road, lowered from street level, was the white brick house, sitting at the edge of a reserve. If it weren’t for the man inside, this would be a peaceful setting.

  “Alright, alright.” A muffled voice moaned. “I’m coming. Hold up, I’m coming.”

  The door swung open, and the man was clearly surprised to see a criminal defense lawyer in front of him. Law wasn’t his favorite topic of conversation, but that happened when you’ve spent a lot of time behind bars.

  “Hello, Terrance.”

  Terrance stared at Harvey for a few long moments before turning away, leaving the door open for Harvey to walk inside. Unfortunately, the smell inside wasn’t much better.

  The towering Terrance Marshall hobbled the short walk to the kitchen bench in his three-bedroom home, picked up an open beer can, wobbled it to check how much beer was left and then chugged down what little liquid remained.

  “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to tell me why you came here?”

  Bill Harvey closed the front door behind him, scanning his eyes over the mess of the house. Clothes on the floor, a hole in the plasterboard above the flickering television, a worn-out, dirty couch. This place wouldn’t find itself in the pages of a glossy home living magazine.

  “I thought I’d just check in on you, Terrance. See how things are.” Harvey looked to the piled-up pizza boxes on the floor next to the fridge. “And by the looks of things, you’re doing great.”

  “I haven’t got time to play games, man. The Young and the Restless is on in ten minutes. You’d want to be finished talking by then.”

  “I always took you for more of a Day of Our Lives type of guy.”

  Terrance stared at him with the look of a man that was about to crush him. He was well aware that his life had slowly fallen apart, and he didn’t need a lawyer to judge him for it. Only a few years ago, he wouldn’t have even been able to name a daytime soap, but now, the crazy twists and turns of Genoa City were the highlights of his lonely days.

  Despite age starting to deteriorate his enthusiasm for activity, Terrance still looked like he could wrestle a bear in the woods. His immensely large hands, wide shoulders, and dominating height had always made this African American man a formidable figure on the streets. And although his stomach had expanded over the years, he still had the look of someone that would bust heads if he was served the wrong drink.

  “Kevin Wu,” Harvey stated. “What can you tell me about him?”

  “Kevin Wu?” Terrance raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I haven’t heard that name in a while. We used to be close, I used to run a lot of jobs for him, but I haven’t done that for years. He’s dangerous, he’s smart, and he’s not a nice guy. Kevin Wu didn’t come around here very often, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I don’t imagine many people come around here.”

  “It’s been a while.” Terrance shrugged, slumping his body back down onto the well-worn position on the small, faded couch. As he fell into his slotted position, the couch creaked. If he ate too much more pizza, the couch was going to collapse under his weight. “Sorry, Harvey. I can’t help you today.”

  Terrance turned his attention back to the television flickering in front of him—another piece of dulling distraction to fill his days.

  “A criminal like you must know the ins and outs of Kevin Wu’s life.”

  “A criminal? No, no. I’m an innocent man.” Terrance smiled broadly, showing off his missing teeth. “Always have been an innocent man. I was always wrongly convicted, you know. The justice system just didn’t work for me as well as it could have.”

  Harvey drew a long breath, studying the yellow in Terrance’s eyes. “When was the last time you saw a doctor?”

  “A doc? Saw one of those guys last year—said I was dying of something. I don’t know what; I wasn’t really listening to all the medical talk coming out of his mouth.”

  “You don’t look well, Terrance. You need to go and take some health tests.”

  “I can’t afford tests, man. In case you never noticed, my chosen profession didn’t come with health benefits. All I’ve got is this home. That’s all I own. And I’m not going to sell it to take some tests. If my time has
come, then it will come here, not tied up in a hospital bed wearing one of those gowns with an open back.”

  Harvey stood near the door, staring down at the man he once respected, liked, and challenged. For all of Terrance’s faults, for all of his criminal activity, there was always an element of honor to the way he conducted himself.

  That was hard to do in his chosen profession.

  When he first started practicing law, Harvey took on just about every case that came through his door. With his cheap fees, he attracted many unsuccessful offenders. Terrance was one of the men that kept reappearing at Harvey’s door, seemingly arrested every month for one minor charge or another.

  But even when pressed, he never lied, never avoided the truth.

  He enrolled in the military at eighteen years old, went to Vietnam towards the end of the war, saw things no man should see, and came back within a year more damaged than he was when he left.

  Becoming street muscle was an easy way to earn money for the troubled soul.

  Despite the lawless path that was laid before him, Terrance Marshall was raised with good morals by his grandmother, and he had held onto that.

  On the street, Terrance stopped physical attacks on people and risked his own life to save others. He should’ve been awarded for his bravery, but they didn’t hand out medals to men with long criminal pasts.

  Not that Terrance was without his faults.

  He had a long list of criminal activities that almost defied belief. And they were just the ones he was caught for.

  “I need your help, Terrance.”

  “I can’t help you today, man. I’m out of that world. I’m done with complicating things. I just have to do what I have to do now. There’s no use trying to avoid it. Death is coming for me, and it’s almost here.” He looked away, out his window to the large reserve that backed onto his yard. “I see it sometimes. It feels so cold but comforting at the same time. Sometimes, I feel death is just there, and all I have to do is reach out and take it. I can’t be involved in those games anymore. I’m out, man. I’m out.”