Golden Throat

by James P. Alsphert

  My business was beginning to take off pretty well and I stuck with simple cases that included tracing down errant husbands, wives, girlfriends and lovers and snapping the all-important Kodak shot of the tryst in action. A few protection and escort cases came in, a missing persons case now and then but nothing I couldn’t handle. I was doing okay and making a living from my happy little office on Franklin near Cahuenga Blvd. Honey and I were doing great and despite an occasional slip with Adora Moreno, who I was still somehow addicted to, I was playing it straight against the line. I even went out and bought some new sheets and blankets for my childhood bed in the back, a new toothbrush and some large towels so at least I’d feel dry after my showers in the morning.

  Honey’s recordings were doing well on the radio. This hot August morning, I was listening to her Brunswick recording of “Blue Skies” cut with her new great trumpeter, Chet James. She had become smooth, professional and her records sold at sheet music and piano stores very well. I was trying to find a phone number when the phone rang. “Yeah, Cable Denning Agency here…”

  “Cable? Is—is it really you?”

  A young female voice was at the other end. “Yeah, it’s me, who’s this?”

  “Ginny—Ginny Fullerton—remember me? I finally made it, Cable—I’m living and working in L.A. now, I finally got away from Big Bear Lake and my Mom and Dad and all…you know. I think Dad will miss me most. He was furious when I told him, but I’m old enough to be my own woman now, right?”

  “It’s good to hear your voice, Ginny,” I said, actually glad to hear the fresh, youthful energy exuding from this lovely young woman. “How in the hell did you find me?”

  “Well, when I went downtown to your old police headquarters, a nice sergeant said you had quit to become a private ‘dick’—” she snickered. “Isn’t that rather offensive—I mean that he called you that?”

  “Well, not really, Ginny. You see, ‘dick’ has come to mean detective. I was curious myself and read up on it. It might’ve started before the turn of the century with British underworld slang meaning to watch…or maybe even from a series about Scottish detective, Dick Donovan from around the same time that was popular here in America.”

  “Oh….uh huh. Well, I was probably thinking of something else. And, by the way, I haven’t forgotten you or that wonderful afternoon at my aunt’s place.”

  “That was a long time ago, Ginny. I’m—I’m getting married in December—to a gal named Honey Combes, a famous singer…”

  There was a long pause. “I didn’t know. That was the girl you talked about when—when we did it.” Then she brightened up. “Well, you always told me there wasn’t much of a future for me in your life. I guess a girl can keep trying, huh? It’s just not that easy…I mean having the best, Cable, and then settling for less. Are you sure you can’t see me now and then? Do you live with your fiancée?”

  “Not until the wedding. But, Ginny, I don’t mean to throw a wet blanket on things, but—but—it’s just not gonna happen. I’m an older guy, remember, and you’re looking for a stud who’s twenty and horny all the time.”

  “No, I’m not, Cable. I’m looking for you. Please…? Sometime soon? How about just going out for a drink some night—like we’re friends or something? You know, I do think of you as a friend, too. You’ve always been so respectful—and good to me. Damn…I’m droning on like a pussycat in heat, aren’t I? I’m sorry…”

  I really liked the kid. And she was a fine young woman, certainly not a sleep-around. “I’ll tell you what, Ginny. I’ll take you out to dinner some night soon to celebrate your arrival in L.A. We’ll carry on like two old pals with a couple of drinks and some good food, how’s that sound?”

  “You’d do that for me? Oh, Cable, I can’t wait! When?”

  “Do you have a phone?”

  “Well, not exactly. I’m living in a rooming house with seven other girls. There’s a community phone downstairs and anyone will take a message and give it to me. The number’s HOllywood 4441. I live on Virginia near Wilton Place.”

  I jotted the number down. “Well, you’re not that far away. I’ll give you a call soon—I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to it, Cable. I can’t wait…..bye…”

  We hung up and I looked around my office. Why in the hell was I always getting myself in deep shit with women? I was remembering that young, supple body of Ginny Fullerton’s, those firm stand-up breasts, a fresh, warm pussy that gave so willingly, maybe even innocently. I was reflecting on the pleasure of it all when the phone rang again. “Yeah, Cable Denning here…”

  A man’s deep, dark voice said, “Cable Denning…I want to kill you…”

  “What’s that?—I’m not sure I heard you right.”

  “I want to kill you…you must be dead to my eyes. If I permit you to live, all will be lost. You are a carrier…vermin…a pestilence that haunts the world. You are a disease and must be controlled.”

  “Look, Mister, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’ll tell you this. I don’t scare easy, and if you’re bluffing, it’s a cheap bluff. So why don’t you quit wasting my time and just go away, I’m a busy man.” I hung up.

  Immediately the phone rang again. “That was rude, Cable Denning. You treat people unkindly. You’re a taker, and that’s what takers do. You ruined the only thing that was ever precious to me. Now you must die for it. If I permit you to live, you will keep on taking again and again. If no one stops you, your evil will spread like the Devil’s poison. You do not respect the sacred. You have no sanctity in you for the pure and good.”

  “So, assuming I’m this evil piece of shit you’re describing, just who am I supposed to have done this to—certainly not you…some female most likely…someone you knew…remember, buster, I’m a detective and I can usually put two and two together pretty damn quick. So, you’ve got a grudge and you wanna settle it by killing me, right?”

  “It’s the evil that you are—that makes your heart corrupted. You are born cursed and those you touch die because you are cursed. I cannot allow this. Where you go, death and evil follow.”

  “Well, I don’t think my mother would agree with you, Mister. Those of us who came up the hard way remember the school of hard knocks and what it’s like out there. So creeps like you are just another layer of crap that’s accumulated on the road.”

  There was a slight pause. “Your mother was innocent. Your father came as the Devil and inseminated her that you should be born with lust through fornication and rootless pleasure. Through your wanton lusts, you have left a pile of broken souls, hearts cursed by your touch in the name of wanton pleasure, nothing more than wanton pleasure.”

  I thought for a minute. If I hung up he’d just call again. I’d have to bring it to a head somehow. “So…in the old days, if someone offended you—”

  “—if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, Cable Denning…”

  “As I was saying, in the old days if someone offended you, you challenged them to a duel. Are you willing to honorably face up to a fair fight—or are you also a slinking, cowardly piece of slime riding on the coat-tails of Prophecy?”

  That seemed to stop him for a minute. “What do you know about Prophecy? What you must know is that you shall not sustain when the Rapture comes and the dark, evil ones will be left to rot in the forbidden places of Hell and Damnation.”

  “You know, buddy—I have no use for Bible-slingers. I’ve never been religious, so if you want my attention for the next thirty seconds, you’re gonna have to do better than that. So, forget the Bible shit and tell me why you want me dead.”

  “The depraved can never embrace God. They have turned the worm and through their abominations have caused disgrace upon the world. That is why I must kill you.”

  “So…when is this event supposed to take place? Will you make an appointment to kill me—or will it be a slimy, cowardly act that smacks of the same evil intent that you accuse me of. Don’t forget the
do unto others as you would have them do unto you…and let him who is without sin cast the first stone, Mister Self-Righteous.”

  Again, there was a long silence. “You are admonished henceforth unto blasphemy, for your lack of contrition has sealed your fate.”

  “You know, I have one more thing to say, and then I’m going to hang up, buster. Somewhere there is a statement that says, ‘I love you just the way you are, and I love you too much to leave you the way you are.’ You see, buddy, I love whatever is good in me just the way it is. And if someone wants to change something in me that isn’t all that great, then the only way it can be done is through love. Now, you can take all the rest of the killing and murder crap and shove it!” I hung up. The phone didn’t ring back.

  In some ways life is like a walk on a tightrope, you never know when you’re going to lose your balance and fall off. The recent experiences of my life had left me battered inside, in a place where your vision of reality and fantasy merge—what’s real—what isn’t? How do we know the impact of those “thousand natural shocks to which the flesh is heir,” as Shakespeare said. But little traumas add up, things popping up out of the ordinary that take you on an adventure you didn’t count on. From the time the God of Our Fathers entered my life, nothing would ever be the same. Nor would it be calm and cool and predictable like many people exist—by rote and habit, one day pretty much like the one before it. Meeting Lei-tao still sat inside my head like something I dreamed last night, one dimension removed from the commonplace reality I had come to expect as human existence. But it taught me something very powerful…i.e., never expect anything and believe only half of what you see. For most of life was an illusion pasted together by governments and religions to contain their populations. God knows what they knew and weren’t telling.

  Mario’s death hit me hard as well and I still missed him. The women who came into my life blessed me like a kaleidoscope of beautiful colors, each a different flower in a field named ‘Call Me Lucky.’ From Honey to Adora to Ginny Fullerton to Rusty Wilson, I had tasted the sweetest and most intimate moments humans can share. I’d always be grateful for that. Every once in a while someone so unique comes along that you become addicted to the sight, sound and feel of her. That was how I felt about Adora Moreno. But I knew also, if I lived to be five-hundred years old, I’d never be able to put my finger on the ‘why’ of it all. Maybe beautiful women like that were sent into my life to help balance out and heal the darkness and violence that are always in the middle of things like a monkey wrench thrown into the mix to make sure you don’t get too comfortable with this life. So this unsettling, unaccountable thing roared out of the unexpected, shooting up like a black geyser of evil—that flip side of God’s coin in the universe. There was something perverse about that, I thought.

  I was as restless as those winds from the Santa Ana Mountains and knew I couldn’t stay in my office, waiting for the next phone call that could be anything from a distressed lover to a mysterious stranger threatening my life. So I made my way to Bronson Park, a place I would go for natural sanctuary through the years. There was a nicely maintained trail meandering through oak trees, tall grasses and a little brook that babbled its way down toward a huge culvert and then disappeared somewhere under the city. Further up, there was another road that was well traveled. It was just about a quarter of a mile from that point where one could find the Bronson Caves, probably man-made from an old rock quarry a few decades ago. Many scenes for movies were shot in and around the caves. Damsels in distress, rowdy miners, cowboy chase scenes and the like showed up time and again on the silver screen with that familiar background. But most of the time it was a peaceful quiet walk. There was one place I liked particularly well. If one didn’t turn right to go to the caves, but continued straight up the canyon, soon the thickets, wild purple thistles and fallen trees were joined by the sounds of birds and crickets.

  I found a nice old rotting log and sat, the Santa Ana’s whipping up the grasses and whistling across the tall hills above. And then a vision appeared in my head. I was being transported to a penthouse somewhere in the city. On its highest point sat an apartment with a lovely patio emptying out onto a terrace with dozens of strategically placed potted plants. It was nighttime and that sexy, lonely sax was playing as I looked over the edge at the city far below. I turned to light up a cigarette and my eye caught a woman in a white negligee holding a champagne glass in her hand, leaning up against the outside of her door, looking at me. She gazed at me with that ‘come hither’ look, her head slightly tilted down, her eyes boldly looking into mine. “Come…come over here, lover man.” I walked over to her. She was a doll, medium long auburn hair, pouting red lips, probably about five-foot four with a great shape. She was wearing nothing under the negligee and her full breasts stood out at attention, pink sensual nipples protruding through the silk, a dark, welcoming mound between her legs. Her eyes were molten amber and began to fill with tears as she spoke. “I’ve waited for you so long to come and dry my tears. At midnight I come out here and wait…telling myself that someday you’ll come and dry all my tears, and whisper to me the promise of love I see in your eyes.” I wanted to speak but couldn’t. She took my hand and tipped her champagne glass to my lips. I took a sip and she smiled. The sound of the sax began to burn into my brain, getting deeper and breathier as it wove an erotic spell around the two of us. “I go to bed every night with a prayer that you’ll make love to me…but it must only be you…will you whisper to me that it’s you? And when you do, I will take your hand and lead you to my warm, waiting bed.” I walked into her open arms. My lips made their way to her ear. But I couldn’t say it—I couldn’t open my mouth!

  Suddenly I was shocked out of my reverie by a strange yet somehow familiar voice. “Just frolicking in that sperm-filled brain of yours…I always wanted to know what young mortal men were pre-occupied with besides sexual conquest. Now I know…nothing…”

  There sitting on a small log in back of me sat Toggth! “Damn it, man, you scared the shit out of me. And what’s the big idea of breaking up that great fantasy I was having?”

  “Well, since I created it in your busy head, I thought I’d enjoy it with you for a couple of minutes. I conjured up a beauty for you, didn’t I?” he laughed and jumped off the log and came around to look at me.

  I laughed along with him. “You rascal, Toggth! Good to see you. But why was she crying?”

  “Ah, just a little extra touch of mine. You see, human desire desires itself—it’s you that you love. But you maintain the illusion that happiness is found in another person. That poor, wretched beautiful woman will wait out her lifetime, thinking that a physical union with a man will bring her happiness. At best, it will take the edge off of her desperation until the day she realizes she is complete within herself.”

  Something in what Toggth said rang a truth-bell in me. “So…man is complete without woman…and woman complete without man?”

  “Well, as your saying goes…almost a cigar, Cable. But not quite. You see, if you are in possession of your whole self, then those sensual intimacies and saying you love someone, fulfills the wonderment of companionship, but not from a place of need or desperation. It is natural for man to seek woman, and woman to seek man. You mortals are programmed that way…mostly, I might add, for procreation as the slave-race you came from.”

  I responded with a dour expression. “I’d rather not discuss that, Toggth. So, tell me, what brings you by to break the peace of my sanctuary?”

  “Sorry…but I have three things we need to talk about.”

  He stood in front of me, those warm eyes of his looking into mine. “Okay, shoot, mister, I’m all ears.”

  “First, you might be pleased to know the Tone of Creation has been restored within the Fen de Fuqin and all hums well in the upper dimensions.”

  “That’s good news. And how is the beautiful Lei-tao?”

  “We’ll get to that in a minute. Second…I feel through the
forces of energy, there will soon come a disturbance. I suggest the Oculus Pyramis Mandatum will discover our little trick on them and retaliate with a vengeance.”

  “Oh, that’s swell. I just lost my best guy friend to murdering thugs, my first client in my new P.I. profession turns out to be a victim of the lizard people and gets killed on an airport runway in Monterrey, Mexico, while turning into a green, snake-like monster—and now you tell me all hell is about to descend upon us once the so-called ‘Order’ discovers our ruse—is that all that’s bothering me today, Toggth?”

  “Not quite, Cable. Or at the very least, it’s bothering me.”

  “So, now what? Something I did or am about to do?”

  “It’s our sacred Red Dragon Lady. She’s been depressed. Completely unlike her. When I asked her about it, she confided in me that she missed you and wished you wouldn’t have kissed her with your usual sexual intent and appetite. Remember, she’s very sensitive to vibration—and she allowed your desire vibration to enter into her. Now she’s confused and somewhat obsessed with—with—how you might say, I fear, following it through.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “It means she wants to experience being a sexual, mortal woman with you. This can never take place, Cable. It would unbalance the entirety of her jurisdictional dimension. Don’t you see? In all her thousands of years, this threatens to be her undoing, a trespass we can ill afford.”

  “So what can I do to prevent it? Remember, Toggth, I’m just the lowly mortal here—and you guys are the all-powerful—why can’t you handle it from your end?”

  “It’s not that simple. Here’s how I suspect it will work. In realizing her obsession, Lei-tao’s wisdoms will tell her she cannot appear to you in an absolute physical form—unless she has powers of which I have no knowledge—to modify her vibrational make-up. If that is so, she must enter into your psyche in a dream state. Now, if she does that, you must prepare your psyche before you go to sleep each night to visualize a golden gate at its entrance. She will try to enter there, you must tell her, ‘no,’ and she will leave. She cannot force the uncooperative will.”