Where Fools Dare to Tread

by David William Pearce

  “Like he’ll live forever. Maybe we should have stayed on the farm?”

  “Maybe.”

  “And your family? How are they?” I was surprised by the interest.

  “They live back east, in Virginia. They’re all fine, all married to good Christian men.”

  “You see, it all works out.”

  Yeah, it all works out. We’d reached his car.

  Benitez turned his attention to the car’s door handle, once more lost in thought. I could feel his discomfort, his unease. Strange, the two of us had been as close as people could be; even now it was easy to talk to him, to see him as the boy he once was, the friend for life he told me he would always be before he put the blade... I knew he was right about James and what happened, but it blew the two of us apart. Odd how the years didn’t take away the ache or dulled the memory of that day? I had put faith in the idea that it would.

  “There’s no need to stay away, or to be careful. He misses you.”

  “I know.”

  He found his keys and unlocked the car. “We shouldn’t be strangers.”

  “We shouldn’t be.” He looked me in the eye and smiled.

  “Take care, Sunshine. Hopefully, we’ll talk again soon.”

  “Take care, Miguel.”

  The car started, and just as he had popped in, seemingly out of nowhere, he popped out in much the same fashion. Out of sight, but not out of mind. I made a mental note that I’d probably see him before another twenty years came and went. I returned to my bungalow. On the table, next to the chair, was a small lamp with just enough light to keep me from tripping over what little furniture I had. It was quiet. I had time to try and make sense of the last three days.

  Instead, I fell asleep.

  The next day began with a bang on the door. Sometime during the night I had slinked off to bed. The pounding was insistent enough to wake me. I put my pants on and made it to the door. I had no idea what time it was. Jones was standing there in full regalia, black everything from shades to shoes. A cool breeze worked its way around him.

  “Time to get active, Buttman. I ain’t got all day to play. This Dahlia woman is expecting us in thirty minutes, so let’s go. I got the impression she ain’t too happy to have to talk about our little tattooed thief. So we need to get there before she changes her mind.”

  “I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t want to talk to two delightful characters such as ourselves.” His expression didn’t change. “Alright, just give me a minute.” A quick rummage through the closet and I was set other than rinsing out my mouth and voiding my bladder.

  “Let’s go, Buttman; you drive.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Hollywood.” Great, the one place in this town I had no interest in.

  The LGBT outreach center was a storefront in West Hollywood. Other than a small sign and a number of posters, there was nothing to distinguish it from the other tract buildings lining the street. The woman at the front desk took our names and asked us to sit. Here in a land neither of us knew anything about or understood, we sat waiting to talk to the transgendered Dahlia about the glum Desiree. Even on the farm, where everyone was free to be whatever they wanted, provided they pulled their weight, the sexes and their roles were well defined. We had no individuals with gender issues, at least none that I knew of. Jones was stone-faced as we waited. He uttered not a word. Three women came in and talked quietly to one another. They looked over at the two of us, whispered to the person at the desk, and then sat in the chairs across from us. Nobody made a sound. I tried to find something to look at. There were a few fliers on the counter. Dahlia arrived just as I was getting up to read one.

  “I’m Dahlia. You wanted to talk to me about Desiree?”

  Jones and I rose. “Yes, we did,” I said.

  Dahlia was a tall slender woman with soft blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a flowery summer dress. She didn’t smile and it was easy to tell she wasn’t thrilled to see the two of us.

  “I’m pretty busy today, so I don’t know that I can give you much time…”

  “We appreciate whatever time you can spare.”

  “Fine.” She turned to the person at the desk. “Marlee, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Gentlemen, there’s a coffee shop two doors down, we can talk there.”

  We followed Dahlia to the coffee shop. We stood in line saying nothing till it was our turn to order and then found a small table in the corner next to a guy on his computer, and two women talking about another woman, someone named Jackie. We sat there staring at our caffeinated confections, waiting for them to cool, when Dahlia became a different person.

  “So who the fuck are you two? You’re not the cops; they came by yesterday?” Her earlier quiet careful demeanor was gone and I could swear her voice changed.

  “Mallory and Descartes?”

  A smirk came to Dahlia. “You know those two? Seems they’re looking for Desiree too. Again, who are you, and why should I say two fucking words to you, and you better not be one of those creepy rider freaks?”

  “I’m Monk Buttman, and this is Mr. Jones.”

  Dahlia burst out laughing.

  “Those are your names? Really? What are you, a former porn star and a Superfly?” The two women at the table next to us took a moment to glance our way.

  “No,” Jones stated matter-of-factly, “I’m a music promoter and Buttman’s a nobody.”

  “A nobody?”

  “Yeah, before that I was a farmer,” I added.

  “A Farmer?” She slid back in her chair. “So what do you want with Desiree and what makes you think I’m going to help you?”

  “She took my money, and I want it back. I don’t particularly care whether or not she killed that dude. I’m just looking for some helpful information.” Jones took a turn.

  “And you, Mr. Buttman, what’s a nobody want with her?”

  “There are people who want to talk to her and they gave me the task of finding her.”

  Dahlia was more intrigued by my answer than Jones’.

  “And you think I know where she is?”

  “You lived with her, didn’t you? I know she’s frightened, and we think maybe you might know where she’d lay low while the heat’s on?”

  Dahlia continued laughing at my feeble attempt at sleuthing. “Maybe. Let me ask you something? Have you ever done this before?”

  “Done what?”

  “Track people down.”

  “No, I’m new to the game.”

  “Really? How shocking. I was sure you were one hard-boiled private dick.” She let that last phrase linger in the air, allowing it to filter across the room. “Listen to me, cause I’m only going to say this once, I don’t know where she is, and I don’t care to. If you’ve met her then you know what she’s like. Throw in the fact that she’s a liar and thief, and I don’t care if she ends up dead in the street. Last time I saw her she was running off with some guy she said was going to finally treat her right. I don’t know who he is, what he does, or where he lives. Now I’ve got a job to do, and that doesn’t include you two.”

  She got up and took one last sip of her latte. Jones and I stood. He extended his hand and a card. “Here’s my number. If you change your mind or you hear something, let me know.”

  “Why, so you can turn her over to the police or rough her up?”

  “I thought you didn’t care what happened to Desiree?”

  She took the card from Jones’ hand. “I don’t. Goodbye, gentlemen; thanks for the coffee.” The woman who was once a man, or maybe still was, or wasn’t turned and left us. We sat back
down to consider our options. The two women next to us were still complaining about Jackie.

  10

  “It’s a different world now, Buttman,” Jones removed his sunglasses and placed them in his pocket.

  “In what way?”

  “As with our friend, Dahlia. When I was a kid, men were men and women were women. That’s the way it is, or was, but it’s not that way anymore. I see it all the time in the entertainment business, but I don’t understand it. I don’t remember it being like that. I don’t want to be judgmental, but it don’t seem right. I guess you got to be who or what you are, but I don’t get it. Do you, Buttman?”

  “I don’t know. I think maybe it’s always been like this, we just didn’t see it. People held back to stay out of trouble. Maybe now they feel more secure, at least enough to be more open about it. I’ve found over the years that people are into a lot of different things and always have been. We just didn’t know about it because it was safer to keep it hidden. Sometimes it surprises me, but I’ve become more live and let live over the years. Besides, they’re not going to change one way or another on my account.”

  “Maybe so.”

  We sat there enveloped by the cacophony of coffeemakers, yakkers, and people hunched over computers. Like a flock of birds together, but in their separate cages, an aural and visual testament to the private/public miasma of the western materialist zeitgeist. I didn’t care for it and wanted to leave. Jones, unlike the day before, appeared to be in no great hurry regarding Ms. Marshan. He had found his phone and was enmeshed in its many timely messages.

  “So what’s our next move, Superfly?”

  At last, a smile. “I’m more a Shaft than a Superfly.”

  “Alright, I’ll give you that, and I’ll play along, so what do we do now, Mr. Jones?”

  “Maybe we shadow this Dahlia woman, see if she’s on the up and up.”

  “I don’t know.” I didn’t find the idea of waiting around and spying on Dahlia appealing. There had to be something else. “If as you say, you know people in the police department, maybe you should ask what they think is going on here.”

  He returned the phone to his pocket. “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, don’t you think this whole thing is a little off? Why are the two of us doing this? Neither of us has any compelling background in finding people. A guy is brutally murdered and you and I are after the killer for a measly twenty-five grand?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Yeah, so maybe there’s something else going on. Yesterday, you were all worked up about how this is fucking up your business model, that maybe Dulcimer was poaching your talent. Yet today you seem not to care. Makes me think that after I dropped you off, you had a little heart to heart with Dulcimer. If you did and you got your money, what’s your interest now? Keeping an eye on me, a nobody? Or maybe you’ve realized a lot of people are looking for this woman and there might be some real money to be had in finding her.”

  “Yeah, maybe…”

  “So maybe the cops have some ideas that can help us.”

  “In what way?”

  “Like in whether we should get the hell out of it.”

  Jones let the wheels spin. At some point this silly little enterprise would either get serious or burn out and that depended on our willingness to play our cards. Mine made no sense, and I had the sinking suspicion I was a patsy doing nothing more than busy work until my usefulness as a patsy ended at which time I might be squished like a bug. Jones was tighter with his motives, which considering how little we knew each other made more sense to me even if it didn’t help.

  “I know a few people downtown who hear a lot of things. I can ask around. And you, what are you going to bring, Monk Buttman, private dick?” He said this as condescendingly as he could. I couldn’t blame him for seeing me as an unhelpful appendage.

  “I have some ideas. I’ll start with Agnes. She might know why Dulcimer would care about this former porn queen.”

  “That’s some idea, but I guess it’ll have to do.” He pulled the sunglasses from his coat. “Might as well get to it.” We left the bustling hive of the caffeinated. I glanced over at the LGBT outreach center. Dahlia watched as we were leaving. I considered waving, but thought it too soon. We weren’t that close.

  I moved here for the anonymity, to get away from the stultifying conservatism my mother and former wife had fallen into. I didn’t mind the church stuff so much as the demands that I join them in this new calling; one I didn’t find all that different from the old calling, other than what you were now for or against. From freak to fascist as the old man would say. I didn’t care for his rigidity in fighting the Man any more than my mother’s rigidity in embracing her particular brand of religious conservatism. I was tired of them, ruralism, and wanted to live in the city where no one knew your name. My idealized vision did not include traffic and every moment out on the freeway reminded me of this. Jones, laconic and dismissive, had fallen into a kind of vehicular narcoleptic state leaving me to the least attractive feature of urban living. Mercifully, his phone went off.

  “Yeah, this is Jones.” He turned to me with what I perceived to be a withering expression mostly hidden behind the shades. “It’s for you, Buttman!”

  I took the phone. “Monk Buttman.”

  “Mr. Buttman, this is Taylor Lagenfelder.”

  “Yes, Ms. Lagenfelder, what can I do for you?”

  “We’d like you to go to the Delashay house and pick up some documents for us. Apparently, she’d rather not come down to our offices, and if I may anticipate your next question, Mrs. Delashay, and I quote, specifically asked if that nice Mr. Buttman could come up.”

  The patsy party was gathering company.

  “Really?”

  “We’d appreciate your taking care of this, Mr. Buttman. You can drop off the documents at the front desk.”

  “No back door drop offs anymore?” I was sorry I couldn’t see her face as she responded to my question.

  “No, for now that position is vacant. If you have any questions, please give me a call.”

  “I’ll do that.” I returned the phone to Jones. He was still giving me the look. “It’s on the list, I promise.”

  “Yeah, no doubt.” I had reached our exit, coasting easily to the curb. I let Jones out and watched as he walked away shaking his head.

  Good times.

  Judith was waiting at the door. An attractive young Hispanic woman stood by her side. Her name was Theresa and she was on her way out.

  “Goodbye, Mrs. Delashay, I’ll be back on Tuesday.”

  1“We’ll see you then.” The young woman had a beautiful smile. I watched as she walked along the curved driveway paved with stone. Judith slipped her arm around mine and pulled me close to her as Theresa disappeared behind the Bougainvillea, “Come have a drink with me, Monk, it’s another glorious day and I could use the company.”

  We went into the house, round the kitchen, and out to the pool. It was indeed a glorious day. Judith wore a white dress that fit her lithe figure as you would expect of an expensive piece of clothing, neither too tight nor too loose. The material had an almost hypnotic quality as she brushed against me. It was soft and cool and seemed to demand that it be caressed. Her fingers ran along the cut of my jacket sleeve as she led me to the bar in the cabana by the pool. The pool itself sparkled in the sunlight as a light breeze kissed the trees that bordered the north end of the yard. I took off my jacket and placed it on the back of a recliner. I had time before my other pressing engagement.

  “I hope you’re not in any particular rush,” she said as she handed me my drink.

  “I have an appointment later this ev
ening, but my afternoon is open.”

  “I’ll try not to spoil it then.”

  There was a divan along the north side of the pool just off the wind kissed trees. Having collected our drinks, we sat down to enjoy the weather, the surroundings, and each other.

  “Ms. Lagenfelder told me you had some documents for me to pick up.”

  Judith lay back on the divan. A playful smile curled her lips as she spoke. “I do, but mostly I had a desire to see you again. Our talk the other day got me thinking, and with Martin having run off, it occurred to me that we might have an opportunity to continue where we left off. I hope you don’t mind the pretext.”

  “A beautiful day with a beautiful woman, I can’t imagine a better way to spend the afternoon. I might be a little surprised that you’d think of me, but I’m not going to think too hard about it.” She moved next to me, our shoulders together. Her hand found the edge of my slacks with her fingers moving in a slow circle.

  “I don’t judge men solely by their material status if that’s your concern. I like men who appeal to me intellectually and physically regardless of whether they can, quote, afford me as my delinquent husband might say. For me, it’s enough that I find you attractive, like what you have to say, and we’ll let the afternoon take us where it will.”

  I leaned in. Her lips were soft as she pressed them to mine. A long kiss and the scent of her perfume and I couldn’t help but put my arms around her.

  “It’s good to see that you share my enthusiasm for the sensual pleasures,” she said as her hand caressed the edge of my erection.

  “I’d be a fool not to. Should we move inside?”

  “No, I like it out here. It’s quiet and secluded. If someone wants to watch us that badly, I say let them.”

  Whether a smart move or not, and at this point who was I to judge, we undressed each other and pursued our sensual passions. Judith was a woman who knew what she liked and knew what men liked. I caught on quick that it had been a while since she’d been with a man. Evidently, life with Martin was a sexual dead-end, but given his outburst the other day, that didn’t surprise me. Just because they looked good together didn’t mean they were good together. The sex had an easy flow to it with an undercurrent of need. I liked that she wasn’t shy about what she wanted me to do. I preferred not to guess, but it’s not like I didn’t know what I was doing. I felt a little self-conscious with my naked butt for all to see. Out in the great wide open wasn’t where I normally enjoyed sexual activity. Judith enjoyed it, liked being naked. When we were finished she stood before me in all her glory.