Pleasuria

by John J. Jessop

  Lucy squealed, “Whee! Here I come, Daddy!” as the toy locomotive launched into flight, Lucy at the wheel. Then Lucy yelled, “Aaaah. Help me!” as the locomotive went one way and she went the other.

  Jason almost blacked out as the heavy plastic locomotive hit him in the head then continued to roll down his backside on its way to the basement floor. “Oh, my head! . . . Lucy, where’s Lucy!”

  He got his answer when Lucy landed hard on her hands and knees in the middle of his back where she grabbed hold for dear life and was able to stop her rapid fall. Jason said, “Umph! Ouch! Sonova . . .” He felt several vertebrae move in odd directions. He lay there for a few seconds, trying to catch the breath that Lucy had knocked out of him and said, “Lucy, are you okay?”

  Lucy, now crawling up Jason’s back, sharp knees poking him in the kidneys, giggled, “I’m fine, Daddy. Let’s do it again. It was fun! And you need to put a dollar in the cuss jar.”

  When Jason was able to push his body off the stairs and stand, he noticed that Lilly had disappeared and Lizzy was also nowhere in sight. He yelled, “Girls, where are you? Lizzy, you’re supposed to be watching your sisters. And, Lilly, you are not supposed to throw your little sister down the stairs. Where are the two of you?”

  A moment later, Lizzy appeared at the top of the stairs. “What the heck happened? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, but Lilly threw your little sister down the stairs. You’re supposed to be watching them. Where were you?”

  Lizzy said, “I watched them for a while, but I got bored, so I went to my room to play video games on my laptop. Sorry!”

  “Where’s Lilly?”

  Lizzy responded. “I saw her run down the hall to her room. I think she’s hiding in there, probably in the closet. That’s her favorite place.”

  The front door opened and Chelsea came in, headed for the kitchen with an armload of groceries. She saw Lizzy and Lucy standing there, looking up at Jason. Chelsea looked at him too, top to bottom.

  “Jason, really? Still wearing those slippers? I thought you threw them away.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The plane crash that happened several weeks back in North Carolina had been tormenting Jason. There had to be a connection.

  “I need to go to North Carolina to investigate an airline pilot that was reported to have died in a crash under strange circumstances. I need to search the guy’s place for clues to try to figure out a motive for his murder and see if it’s tied to what happened to Joanne Shipley and Wendy Thompkins.”

  Chelsea said, “So, you’re going to take leave from your government job again? You’re going to get fired screwing around like this. I don’t know what you hope to prove. And how the hell do you plan on getting into this guy’s house? For that matter, how are you going to get to North Carolina? Are we going to have to spring for gas and a motel room again for this folly?”

  “Well, dear, for your information, I just bought a set of illegal lock picks from a guy who knew a guy who sold stuff out of the back of a pawn shop in Vienna. I’m anxious to give them a try.”

  “So, now you’re going to North Carolina to get arrested on a B and E charge. Don’t count on me to come bail you out. I think you’ve lost your mind”.

  He ignored her snide comment. “As to how I’m getting to North Carolina this time, I’m going to take the red rocket. I’m looking forward to the drive, top down, wind in my hair.”

  Jason was aware that his venture into the private eye business was probably motivated by his current midlife crisis, and it was a really big crisis. So, in addition to deciding to quit the government and become a full-time private detective, he had also bought a shiny new red sports car. A couple of weeks previously, he had told Chelsea, “Honey, I need a new car. I’m tired of my 4Runner. It gets sucky gas mileage, and it’s no fun to drive. I want a fun little sports car. How about we go to the dealership this weekend?”

  “Are you out of your mind? You’re thinking about quitting your job with the government, you don’t know anything about being a private detective, and now you want to buy a new car? Where’s the money coming from? Do you have a screw loose?”

  But Jason had been determined, and his OCD kicked in. “Come on, Chelse. Go to the dealership with me. I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant if you’ll come with. Please, oh please!”

  She finally said, “Oh, all right. I give up. You won’t shut up until I go with you and you have a new car. This midlife crisis is going to be the death of both of us; you for sure.”

  They left the girls with a neighbor and headed to the Mazda dealership to trade in his Toyota 4Runner for something sporty. On the drive, Jason said, “I’ve been reading about the new Mazda Miata. It’s an awesome little car with six-speed manual, convertible, rear-wheel drive, good gas mileage, and fun to drive. I can just see myself tooling down the road in one.”

  Chelsea just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. But isn’t a Miata a two-seater? Where are you going to put the girls? And just how much do these things cost?”

  “Sometimes a guy just wants to hit the road so he can clear his head and find some peace. And sometimes you and me could take a ride by ourselves, leave the girls with the neighbors or a babysitter. Just think about it, Chelse, top down, warm sunshine on your face, hair blowing in the wind. Besides, when we need to take the girls, we can drive your SUV. It’s plenty big to haul everyone.”

  “When the hell do you think we’re going to find time to take these rides, with our two jobs—or three, if you count ‘Detective Doofus’—and three daughters. We barely have time to sleep now.”

  “Don’t be such a downer, honey. I’m just trying to have some fun, for both of us.”

  Chelsea rolled her eyes again, a clear message—she thought he was being ridiculous. Before she had a chance to respond, they arrived at the dealership. Jason pulled up in front of the showroom, and they went inside. A slick-looking young man in Dockers with a button-down shirt and tie greeted them at the door and introduced himself.

  “The names Pete, Pete Carlson. What can I do for you?”

  “Hi! I’m Jason, Jason Longfellow, and this is my wife, Chelsea. I’m here to look at sporty cars. I’m interested in a new Miata.”

  Chelsea thought, This salesman must be pissing his pants. Jason is way too eager. No way he’s going to get any kind of deal acting like a kid in a candy store.

  Pete Carlson said, “Step right this way. I have several new Miatas in stock, including a bright-red one parked out front.” He led them through the front door. Pete continued, “The new Miatas are really nice. This one has a cloth top that raises and lowers with the push of a button. We also have one with the mechanical convertible hard top. It’s entertaining just watching that sucker in action, like watching a robot flip its lid. Would you like to take a test drive?”

  “Oh, hell yes!” Chelsea rolled her eyes, and elbowed him in the ribs.

  When Pete Carlson left to get the keys, Chelsea sighed and said, “Jason, calm down. This guy saw you coming a mile away. You’re acting like you’d give anything to get hold of one of these cars. That’s no way to negotiate a deal. You need to act casual and be willing to walk away if he doesn’t give you the deal you want.” She really did want him to walk away, but she knew Jason, and this was already a lost cause.

  Pete returned with the key, put a license plate on the back of the car, got in and put down the top. Then he got out, held the door open and said to Jason, “Go ahead, get in. Since there’s only two seats, you and Chelsea can take her for a spin around the block. I’ll wait here and do a few numbers while you’re gone.”

  Jason walked around the car, opened the door for Chelsea. “After you, madam. Your chariot awaits.” She shook her head in frustration and got in the passenger’s seat.

  Jason walked around the car and struggled his way into the driver’s seat. His head extended above the top of the windshield, and he could barely get his legs into the car. He looked at Chelsea. “Wow, this is
comfortable. I’ll bet it’s a blast to drive. And just smell that new car aroma. How sweet is that?”

  Chelsea tried to roll her eyes, but this time she was so frustrated and stressed that they crossed instead.

  “Babe, are you all right? What’s wrong with your eyes? Is something wrong?”

  “Uh, Jason, I can’t help but notice that your head is higher than the windshield. Is that a good thing? How are you going to put the top up if it rains?”

  “No worries. It’s fine. I’ll show you.” He turned the key to the accessory slot and pushed the button to raise the top. As the canvas top swung up behind them, completed its apex over their heads and began to descend to the point where it would attach to the windshield, Jason realized that his head did, in fact, extend above the windshield. As the top came down towards its connection point to the windshield, Jason was forced to lower his head until his chin was touching his chest to allow it to finish its descent. He said into his chest, “Might be a little snug, but it’s fine.”

  “You look comfortable. And you can smell the new car smell a lot better with your nose pointing down like that. So, how are you going to drive while looking at your crotch?”

  “Ha, ha. Funny woman. This is no problem.” He managed to find the button on the dashboard and push it again to lower the top. As the top traveled back into its resting place in the trunk he said, “Damned car manufacturers. They all discriminate against tall people. But no worries, I’ll just drive the car with the top down, when it’s not raining, kind of like I would a motorcycle. That’s it—I’ll consider this my little red motorcycle.”

  Chelsea rolled her eyes yet again. “Idiot. What’re you going to do about the bugs that you get in your teeth because most of your head is above the windshield?”

  But Jason was having none of it. He was determined to drive this little red sports car home. He started the Miata. “Okay, Chelse. Get ready for the ride of your life.” To the salesman he said, “We’ll be back in a while. I’m going to take my new baby, here, for a spin.” He put it in first gear and rolled out of the parking lot for a test drive.

  As he struggled to drive the car, Chelsea said, “Jason, be careful. I don’t know how you are working the brake and clutch pedals, since your big feet barely fit in the footwell. And is your left knee supposed to hit the steering wheel every time you depress the clutch? Honestly, you look like you’ve been stuffed into a sardine can. Please, just get us back to the dealership alive, and let’s go home and forget this insanity.”

  “Chelse, it’s fine. This thing is a blast to drive, and eventually I’ll limber up some and be able to shift without banging my knee on the steering wheel.”

  “Limber’s got nothing to do with it. You would need to shrink by half in order to fit in this damned car.”

  Pete met them at the front door, and Jason handed him the keys. “So, how’d it go? Ain’t that a sweet ride?”

  “Yes, it’s great. I had a blast. How much?”

  Chelsea’s jaw dropped as he said it; this was not going to go well. “Jason, I would like to speak to you alone for a moment.”

  She took him by the arm and forcefully pulled him several feet away from Pete. “Are you out of your freaking mind? You don’t fit in that thing. You looked like a very large child sitting in a toy car. That car’s not safe for you to drive, and again, no room for the girls. Let’s just get out of here.”

  But cars were Jason’s weakness, at least one of them. He also liked tight black dresses, but that was an issue for another day. “Chelse, honey, what’s your problem? I can drive the car just fine. It’s a little tight, and I admit I can’t get the top up. But I told you, I’ll only drive it when the weather’s nice, just like I would a motorcycle. It’ll be my little red sports motorcycle. I’ll call it the red rocket. It’ll be fine. Now, let me make a deal, so I can drive the thing home and have some fun.”

  As Chelsea had predicted, it did not go well. Jason ended up paying the full MSRP, and the cute and curvaceous young saleswoman that sold the add-ons talked him into buying the seven-year, 100,000-mile extended warranty, the undercoating, and the paint sealant. And Jason had forgotten to look up the current value of his 4Runner, so the salesman really lowballed him on the trade-in value. Chelsea was very close to a stroke, or to killing her husband, by the time they headed for home.

  After they got home, Jason asked, “So what do you think, Chelse? Ain’t it a beauty? I mean, we are gonna have some fun with this baby.”

  “Yes, it’s a beauty, all right. And you only paid the full price, bought all the useless add-ons and paid over two thousand for an extended warranty when you’re going to be crippled and have to sell the car within a month. I love you, dear, but frankly, right now I’d like to run over you with your little red sports motorcycle; problem is, it’s so small it probably wouldn’t kill you, just maim you a little.”

  • • •

  So, Jason drove the red rocket to North Carolina. When he got there, he stealthily drove past the address for the dead pilot to make sure that no one was home. He parked a block away to avoid detection and walked to the house. He approached from the rear, sneaking in through the backyard, intending to enter through the back door. “Now for the new lock picks,” he mumbled softly so no one would hear. “I can do this. Piece of cake.”

  Forty-five minutes later he mumbled, “Ah, screw it!” as he jammed his elbow through the small glass windowpane at the top of the door, reached in and unlocked the deadbolt.

  Once inside, Jason mumbled, “So, what am I looking for? I need to find out why someone would want to kill this guy. I guess I’ll just search the place and see what turns up. That’s what Jessica would do.”

  He started in the kitchen and found a lot of old, spoiled food, some dirty dishes and a can of coffee on the counter. He opened the refrigerator, gagged, and mumbled, “Jesus, that’s bad. I guess no one’s come in to clean up since the guy’s death. You’d think he would have a relative that would take care of the place now that he’s gone.” He swallowed several times and said to no one, “This really stinks. I’m afraid I’m going to barf.”

  He fled the kitchen and searched the bathroom. He looked in the medicine cabinet and found the usual—Zocor for cholesterol, Nexium for gastric reflux, Xanax for anxiety. He pocketed the Xanax; Chelsea was still causing him a great deal of anxiety over his new red rocket. He mumbled, “I don’t see any prescriptions from CureStuff Pharmaceuticals. Damn! I thought sure this guy would have a prescription for one of their antidepressant drugs.” He also found a hand mirror, which was strange for a man to have.

  “Well, this sucks,” he mumbled. “Nothing useful here. Why would he have a hand mirror? Maybe he used it to look at a bald spot on the back of his head? Maybe he had a girlfriend. Who knows?”

  He didn’t find anything in the bedrooms either, except a bunch of dirty clothes in a hamper and several pilot uniforms hanging in the closet. Then on to the living room, where he searched bookshelves, the guy’s CD collection, under the couch cushions, and found nothing. He whispered, “I have an idea. Lucy used a hand mirror to search under the couch and found her lipstick. I’ll try her trick. Maybe there’s something useful under there.”

  He retrieved the hand mirror from the bathroom, used it to check if he had a bald spot on the top of his head, and then he got down on his hands and knees and used it to look under the couch. To his surprise, he saw what looked like a pill bottle, located as far back as he could reach. “Well, I’ll be damned, somebody must have dropped this and it rolled under the couch,” he grumbled. “This idea from my five-year-old turned out pretty well. I’ll have to look to my daughters for ways to solve all my crimes. Unfortunately, this means that I’m no smarter than a five-year-old, but I won’t tell anybody, especially Chelsea.”

  With some effort, he was able to retrieve the pill bottle. The label on the bottle was not from any pharmacy. It read, Investigational Drug, Happiness, Dose: 200 mg; Take as Directed. The label also listed Cure
Stuff Pharmaceuticals as the manufacturer.

  “Well, this is interesting,” Jason mumbled. “It looks like this pilot may have had a connection to CureStuff Pharmaceuticals after all. I wonder if he was a patient in the clinical trial for their new antidepressant drug.”

  He heard noises outside, looked out the front window, and saw the garbage truck, men collecting trash from cans placed in front of all the houses on the street except that of the pilot. “I better get out of here.”

  While sitting in his car, Jason thought he might give Jim and Mary Hutchinson a call to see if they were home before paying them a visit. Mary was one of the other people in North Carolina that had been in the news recently with a strange affliction that seemed to fit the pattern of the other victims in his case. He had gotten their address and phone number from the internet—at least, he hoped he had the right Hutchinson. He dialed, the phone rang several times, and then he heard a recording of an old man’s voice.

  “Hello, this is the Hutchinson residence. Mary is out of the hospital, and after her health crisis, we have gone to Hawaii to rekindle our relationship. We still don’t know what happened to her, but the emergency room doctors gave her a strong sedative that seemed to do the trick. They ran some tests, found nothing unusual, and one of the docs suggested that someone may have slipped her something in her food or drink that caused her strange reaction. If you are the one who did it, I’d like to thank you, because whatever you did has awakened something in Mary, something very good. I’m not sure when we’ll be back, but my vote is that the something stays awake for a long time, in which case don’t look for us anytime soon. Please leave a message after the beep.”