P.J. Morse - Clancy Parker 01 - Heavy Mental

by P. J. Morse

  Shane, Wayne, and I looked at each other. If his chants were short, then we might have played, but he kept going on and on. Wayne looked at his watch and mouthed, “Six minutes.”

  Shane, who had been fidgeting through the chanting, asked, “Are you okay, dude?”

  The man pulled his head out of the corner and shook it violently. “No, no. I get bad vibes. Bad vibes!”

  “All righty, then.” Wayne walked out of the room. He came back with some members of the funk band that practiced down the hall. The members of Black Ice were always willing to do Wayne favors because he kept them stocked with pot. “Buddy, you have to go,” he said, nodding his head at the guys behind him. Black Ice, all five of them, stood as a unit and nodded on cue.

  Then the funk band’s vocalist yelled, “Damn! This smells like asparagus piss!”

  The auditioner stood there. The funk band stood there. The other Marquee Idols stood there. I decided to act. The guy started into the tongues again, but my screaming at Dr. Redburn’s office gave me good practice, and I was much louder. I advanced on him, shouting “Out! Out! O-U-T OUT!” and he backed up toward the door until I could slam it in his face. Then I leaned back against it.

  “Why, oh, why can we not find a bassist who knows our music, who is sane and who doesn’t smell like asparagus piss in this city?” I asked. I could see that precious gig at the South of the Slot slipping through my fingers, and I knew I had to think of a way to get Shane back in Muriel’s good graces.

  “It’ll get better,” Wayne said.

  It didn’t. Our next arrival was yet another angry fan of the Steve Miller Band. After that, we gave up, got stoned, and jammed with Black Ice. Their bassist even offered to play with us, but they had a gig scheduled in Sebastopol on the same night we were going to play at the South of the Slot.

  After a long session and the consumption of multiple large pizzas, Shane, Wayne, and I loaded up our equipment into Westy, and Wayne headed over to South Park first to drop me off.

  From the passenger seat, I could see Larry and Dad sitting on the steps of the apartment. Harold was, as usual, in his lawn chair. “What the hell is this? An intervention?” I asked.

  “Oh, this is gonna be good!” Shane called out from the backseat.

  “That your Dad? Oh, shit!” Wayne asked.

  “We’ll save you!” Shane declared.

  Wayne pulled up, and I hopped out. I looked right at Larry. “What are you doing here?”

  Dad spoke instead. “You gave me his number for emergencies. And I thought it might be a good idea for you to talk.”

  “Regular Dr. Phil over here,” Harold muttered.

  “Stay out of it,” Dad said.

  “This is awkward,” Shane said, climbing out of the van.

  “You’re telling me,” Harold chimed in.

  “Would you do this if I were a boy?” I asked. “For real?”

  “Jesus, Clance! We’re just trying to help you. Your dad said you and Harold almost died at the ball park!” Larry stood up. “We’ve been waiting here an hour. I just think maybe you should transfer this case to Pinkerton or somebody. They can handle it. You don’t have to do it.”

  “You think I can’t handle it?” I asked.

  Wayne sat down on the steps and looked up at Larry. “Hold on loosely, but don’t let go, dude.”

  Larry replied, “I’ll take that under consideration, philosopher-king.” Then he took another look at Wayne, who was still glassy-eyed. “What are you smoking these days? Asparagus? You smell terrible!”

  Shane, Wayne and I went into a stoner-fit of laughter. “Are you high?” Dad asked.

  “You don’t have to answer that,” Harold muttered. “He’s not a cop.”

  “You, sir, are a terrible example!” Dad yelled.

  I stepped up to where I was about a foot from Larry. “You left, remember? So, why do you care?”

  Larry leaned in and replied, “You didn’t seem to like me much anymore.”

  “So why are you up in my business?” I asked.

  Then Larry started shouting. “Most of the shit you do is illegal! Do you even remember half the rules private investigators are supposed to follow? You don’t even take it seriously!” He was turning red, and even Dad leaned back.

  “I do too take it seriously!”

  “You’re half-assing being a detective, and you’re half-assing being in a band. Make up your mind! Someday, you’ll mess up, you’ll trespass on someone’s property or something, and you’ll get arrested!” He wielded his finger, aiming it at me like Dad would.

  “Get your finger out of my face!” By this point, I was yelling at Larry and Dad.

  “Uh, how did the two of you get together in the first place?” Wayne asked.

  “It’s called desperation,” Shane explained. He noticed Harold’s bucket of snacks. “Hey, can I have some of that?”

  “Shut up!” both Larry and I yelled.

  Shane looked at Harold and said, “See, they agree on some things!”

  Harold raised his beer in acknowledgment. Then, to Shane’s visible disappointment, he put the lid on his snack bucket and started to fold up his chair. “Everyone, this sideshow is starting to get on my nerves. I strongly recommend that all of you regain your focus.” He gave me a hard look to indicate that I, too, had lost focus. Then he walked past the small crowd on his steps and calmly entered his apartment.

  One of the homeless guys in the park yelled, “Get off my lawn!”

  Harold threw open his front window and stuck his head out. “I second that! With the exception of Ms. Parker, who has a legal right to be on this property, the whole lot of you get off my lawn!” Then he added, “Or what there is of it.” He then slammed the window shut.

  As the group broke up, with Dad promising he’d be back tomorrow and Larry having trouble looking me in the eye, I felt ashamed. Larry was right. I wasn’t taking my job all that seriously. And Harold was right, too. I had lost focus, and I was going to regain it by finding that necklace.

  CHAPTER 24

  YOU’RE DIFFERENT

  MY VOCAL CORDS WERE SORE, especially after my primal scream therapy, the auditions gone awry, and the shouting match I had with the men in my life. I was drinking hot tea with lemon from a thermos when I arrived for my second session with Dr. Redburn.

  The secretary, the crabby little guy with his tie still knotted too tight, still didn’t ask for any cash. I presumed that the doctor would hit me up later, but I wondered why the little guy wasn’t at least getting an address so the doctor could get paid. Maybe Dr. Redburn was holding off because either he genuinely liked me, or he was waiting to reel in the big fish—Mom.

  Even though Mom wasn’t the self-reflective type, she was Dr. Redburn’s ideal client since she had plenty of spare time and money. However, he would have a tough time handling her. She didn’t take direction from anyone.

  Right at 10:00 am, Dr. Redburn emerged from his office, and Peggy followed. I actually smelled her baby powder before I saw her. She was wearing a robe with a swirly pink and black pattern that was even uglier than the silver number she had on at the museum, and her curls sprang out in all directions.

  Dr. Redburn was looking pretty good in a sport coat and slacks. He walked right up to me and extended his hand. I tried to keep my eyes on the receptionist, who, based on what I saw earlier, was the only person who had a chance to steal a necklace while Sabrina was in the soundproof room, unless Peggy had been in the office for her usual appointment.

  “Craig!” I responded, shaking his hand and holding on to my satchel.

  “Craig?” Peggy asked. Then she turned to Dr. Redburn. “She calls you Craig?”

  Dr. Redburn shrugged. “Peggy, everyone calls me Craig. But we can be more formal, if you like.”

  I cringed. Peggy was mighty territorial when it came to her psychiatrist. Since Peggy already thought Sabrina hogged the doctor’s time, I didn’t want her wrath to turn on me. “Sorry about that,” I said. “I jus
t lost my manners. Dr. Redburn, good to see you.”

  Dr. Redburn grinned. “Good to see you, Ms. Parker.”

  The receptionist let loose with a little smirk, but he stopped abruptly when the doctor turned and glared at him. As soon as Dr. Redburn looked away, I looked at the receptionist and attempted a smile, but I could have sworn that he gave me a little bit of his middle finger while pretending to scratch his eye.

  When I was safely inside Dr. Redburn’s consultation room, I declared, “Your receptionist is an interesting guy!”

  “You mean you actually got Jorge to speak to you?” Dr. Redburn asked, his eyebrow wrinkling slightly in concern.

  “A little.”

  “I think that’s a record. Let me assure you that Jorge isn’t here for his people skills. He’s here to keep people out, not to welcome them in.”

  “Keep them out?” I thought the only way this Jorge person could be an adequate bodyguard is if he were carrying an automatic weapon and were backed by the members of Black Ice.

  “Oh, life changes after you publish a book. Let’s just leave it at that. Speaking of …” He turned the deadbolt to the office. “I hope you don’t mind, but Jorge is new on the job, and I don’t quite trust him yet.”

  That was fine by me. I could still get out, and that odd little guy couldn’t get in.

  After turning the bolt, Dr. Redburn moved a little closer, within a distance that could become awkward quickly. He indicated that I should sit down on one of the recliners. When I did, he sat down at the end, near my feet. “Today we’re going to sharpen the focus on your emotions,” he said.

  As I adjusted myself in the recliner, I set my satchel in my lap. For the second appointment, I threw in a piece of costume jewelry in a small pocket as bait. If it had been disturbed after I went into the soundproofed room and started screaming, then I had more evidence that someone stole Sabrina’s necklace instead of her losing it.

  I told the doctor, “Let’s do it. I’m ready.”

  “It’s only the beginning. But you’ll get used to it.” He recited another theme of his book. “Embracing your feelings makes you stronger.”

  “What if I’m afraid of my feelings?” I asked.

  “That’s what we’re going to work on today.” He took my hands and held them for a moment. He was quiet. “Why don’t we just go straight to the room?”

  We went into the soundproofed room, and I left my handbag on the recliner. He closed the door behind me and switched on the light.

  “Good. Now close your eyes, and concentrate on the feelings in your hands.” I tried, but instead of concentrating on the feeling in my hands, I thought about the costume jewelry in my satchel.

  Dr. Redburn kept talking. “Sometimes your emotions bring you pleasure, and sometimes they bring you pain. You just have to know how to use them and take complete control of them.”

  I tried to peek a little bit, just to see if Dr. Redburn had moved himself around at all during this lengthy speech. His voice was mesmerizing, and it would have been easy for anyone to be distracted. It seemed like he was moving closer to me.

  But he caught me and said, “No, no, no. You have to trust me now, and then you can fly on your own. If you trust me, you’ll eventually be able to trust yourself. Now, let’s start off with a good memory. Talk about a time when you felt great.”

  I closed my eyes completely and smiled. “My first show. I was playing in a band called Famine, Pestilence, Death and War.”

  Dr. Redburn laughed. “That’s a terrible name.”

  “Yeah. The ‘Four Horsemen’ was taken. We weren’t a very good band, either, but you have to start somewhere,” I replied. “And we got a gig to play a party in Santa Cruz. It was in someone’s living room. It was my first time on stage, technically. And I had a guitar solo. So I started on my solo, and I just let loose. I went for, like, five minutes.”

  “Were your eyes closed?” Dr. Redburn asked. “Like they are now?”

  “Yeah!” I said. “And when I opened them, everyone was applauding me. The band even stopped the song. That’s when I knew I wanted to be a musician, forever —”

  Then Dr. Redburn kissed me. My eyes popped open, and the pressure of his body pushed me back against the wall.

  I wish I could say that I pushed him away, slapped the hell out of him and took off.

  But, no. I responded with even harder kisses. Since he was about a foot taller than me, my feet dangled from the floor, so I wrapped one of my legs around his waist, and he hoisted me up. I hadn’t had sex since Larry walked out, and Larry never kissed me with that kind of urgency.

  Unfortunately, once I thought of Larry, the spell was broken. Dr. Redburn’s lips were moving down my neck, and his hands were moving up my shirt, but I fell out of the mood. While Dr. Redburn’s moves beat Larry’s, Larry trumped him in every other way—mostly that he was age-appropriate and that he wasn’t my shrink.

  Muriel’s words replayed in my head: “Just be careful if you’re crushing out on a shrink, okay?” If Muriel, who was prone to bedding any male with a pulse, would draw the line at a shrink, then maybe I should draw a line, too.

  “Wait … hold on …” I said, grabbing his hands and sliding down to the floor. “I can’t. And you can’t, right?”

  “These are your feelings, right?” Dr. Redburn asked.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “Yes, but no. I have to get out of here.”

  Avoiding eye contact, I exited the soundproof room, but he followed me. The bright light pouring through the office window stung my eyes. I saw my satchel sitting on the recliner. I reached for it, and Dr. Redburn reached for me.

  “Clancy, this isn’t normal for me, either, okay?” he said. “We have so much in common. You’re different.”

  Dr. Redburn seemed sincere, so much so that he moved in on me for another kiss. This one was softer than the one in the soundproof room. I was just as tempted to kiss him back, but as he guided me toward the recliner, I accidentally knocked over my satchel. The costume jewelry fell out, clattering on the floor.

  The sight of the jewelry brought me back to my job, which was finding Sabrina’s necklace, not getting laid.

  I grabbed the necklace, threw it back into the bag, and stood up. “I have to go.”

  Dr. Redburn sat down. “You can come back any time, you know. Any time.”

  Part of me wanted to, but I wasn’t about to listen. I turned the deadbolt to the office door and let myself out.

  CHAPTER 25

  CAFTAN ATTACK

  AS I RUSHED OUT OF the office, I heard the creep working the desk giggle.

  “What are you laughing at?” I asked.

  I hurried down the stairs and almost broke into a run just to get away from there. Then I remembered why I’d been there in the first place. I felt the fog lifting, at least slightly. I opened my satchel. The costume jewelry was still inside and undisturbed. Then I walked to Fillmore, just so I could be surrounded by witnesses if someone came at me with a car, lest I end up like Rosa.

  As I walked, I called the Cozy Corner Cafe in hopes of advice from Muriel. She would know what to do. But whoever picked up said Muriel had left for the day. When I called her phone directly, all I got was her voice mail.

  So I called Mom and asked her to pick me up in Pacific Heights, near the coffee shop. “Mom … I really need to talk to you.”

  “About what?” she asked. “I can’t speak for long. Hans wanted me to take him to his next appointment. His car is in the shop.”

  “Something weird happened.” I paused. I thought about how doctors had to respect their patients’ privacy. I didn’t know if I had to respect Dr. Redburn’s privacy in return. “I think I had my trust violated.”

  “You had your what violated?” Mom’s voice became a shriek. “Hans is making a smoothie. Hans! Turn that off! Clancy’s been violated!”

  Lest Mom become completely hysterical, I decided to simplify. “No! I need girl talk!” I yelled into the phone.

 
“Oh!” Mom yelled. “I am picking you up right now. Hans, make that smoothie to go! Where should I get you?”

  I told her I would be at the Cozy Corner and hung up. Then I approached the main drag and looked both ways at one last light. Too bad I didn’t look behind me because I was attacked by what I thought was a circus tent. “I saw you! I saw everything! You lying bitch!” I heard a voice scream.

  I managed to push away the flaps of the tent, which happened to be pink and black. It also smelled like baby powder. As I dug deeper in the pink and black folds, I felt a person, and I grabbed at the body. “Peggy? Jesus! Peggy, are you on your meds?”

  “He’s mine! Stay away from him!” Peggy roared.

  “Get your hands off me!” I yelled. “Peggy, stop it!” I almost yelled, “This is the last thing I need!” but I didn’t want to make her angrier.

  “I saw you!”

  “Saw what?” I asked.

  “He kissed you!” she wailed. “You’re not going to take him from me!”

  The idea of Peggy spying on me and Dr. Redburn was horrifying. I wondered how she did it since Dr. Redburn and I kissed in the soundproof room.

  Then I remembered that he kissed me not once, but twice, when I was trying to leave. That was in his office, right in front of a window. So I ran with the typical line of defense for someone who’s been busted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  She responded by pounding on my back. “You’re the one who said I should see him!” I screamed.

  “Well, I take it back!” she screamed back, jabbing me in the shoulder. I guess she was trying to whack me in the head, but her aim was terrible. “He can’t take you to coffee! He can’t kiss you!”

  As I tore at some fabric and tried to grab at her middle, I asked, “Who says?”

  “Oh, my God,” Peggy replied. “You’re selfish! Selfish! You’re just like Sabrina! You want to steal him from me!”

  “Just like Sabrina?” I repeated. I finally threw an elbow, which might have been cruel given her mental state, but force was going to work better on Peggy than rational thought would.