Clarets of Fire

by Christine E. Blum

  Then I saw Augie standing in my driveway.

  Bardot was beside herself with happiness and I was gearing up for a fierce contest.

  When we got close he gave me a big smile, and I could see that he was holding a bag weighted down with something heavy.

  “Whatever evidence you think you’ve found on me, Augie, is just another one of your bumbling mistakes. I’ve done nothing wrong and I’m not in the mood for you. Can’t you see that the Santa Anas are blowing?”

  “This isn’t evidence and I’m not accusing you of anything, Halsey.” He looked crestfallen. “I just wanted to thank you for taking such good care of auntie Marisol, driving her to Emergency, and making sure she got help right away. She told me all about it.”

  Maybe that old witch does appreciate me.

  “It’s a big bag of candy; I’ll just leave it on your front steps. There is some chocolate in there, so I’d advise you to bring it out of the sun right away.”

  This had to be some reverse Devil Wind phenomena. Instead of people getting meaner, they were getting nicer. I looked at Augie and wanted to hug him.

  I didn’t.

  “You’d better come inside as well, Augie, and I’ll fix you something cold to drink. Are you on duty today?”

  “No ma’am.”

  “Excellent, then that something cold will have alcohol in it!”

  * * *

  “Wow, sour cherry rolls, Bit-O-Honey, saltwater taffy, Mary Janes—I love those—licorice bulls-eyes, peanut butter cups, gummy handcuffs? Never seen those before . . . you sure know your stuff, Augie. This is a great gift and I really appreciate it.”

  I really did. We were sitting in my living room because it was too unpleasant to be outside. Augie had a beer and I couldn’t let him drink alone, so I sipped on a Sancerre.

  “Where do you get this yummy, nostalgic stuff?”

  “There’s a place on the Venice Boardwalk where they have walls lined with filled bins and scoops, and you choose what you like, they weigh it, and you pay accordingly. You can find crazy stuff in there too like a five-pound gummy bear or a one-yard-long chocolate bar.”

  “And you went there just to get this for me? I’m touched, Augie. May I get you another beer?”

  “I’m fine for now, thanks. I didn’t just go there for candy. I’ve been working the parking areas and side streets for a group that have been ripping off people disguised as help when someone’s car won’t start. Or has been damaged or they have a flat tire.”

  “Ripping off how, if they’re getting the person back on the road?”

  “It appears that the same guys that offer to help are probably causing the trouble in the first place. They show up looking like they’ve just come from surfing, boards in tow and wet from the sea. One of the guys has some parts in his car and they make the repairs. The victim goes to the ATM and in spite of their refusals pays them handsomely. They mostly target the elderly and tourists.”

  Thoughts were stirring in my brain.

  “Wouldn’t this be something that falls under the jurisdiction of the Beach Patrol?”

  “Normally yes, but they’ve been able to trace some of the parts to a small distributor that sells only to the Westside, Mar Vista, the Marina, and Culver City. All my areas.”

  I weighed the up and down sides of telling Augie about Brandon’s beach rescue and lack of surfing acumen. But he’s supposed to have been surfing with Andrew and I don’t want to put a spotlight on Penelope and Malcolm until I know more. This could be nothing.

  “I hope you catch them, Augie. Preying on the elderly, that stinks, but tourists, not so much.”

  “Halsey!”

  “Sorry I said that; it must be the Santa Anas.”

  This time I did hug him. We were family after all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Despite the fact that I own a full-size SUV, Jack still looked a bit cramped driving my car. Although, good sport that he was, he didn’t seem to mind.

  We were driving east and north toward areas where the first settlers lived in Los Angeles and the surrounding areas. We left the cool ocean breezes behind and I shut my passenger-side window and adjusted the AC.

  I loved old Los Angeles and its rich history, and felt like a dry sponge wanting to sop up stories and points of interest that I could spend years exploring. Unfortunately, murders and websites kept getting in the way. And a wedding. Still I spent last night up late getting to know the place where we were headed.

  “Did you know that Richard Ramirez came from Eagle Rock?”

  “Who’s that?” I seemed to have awoken Jack from a Zen state.

  “The ‘Night Stalker.’ Back in the eighties he went on a killing spree, and they attributed fourteen murders to him spread all over the Valley.”

  We took the exit and then merged onto the 134 Freeway that cuts a C-section across the Valley.

  “Remind me again why we’re going to Eagle Rock, Halsey?”

  “To pick up this antique vineyard wine corker that I found on the Internet. It will be our gift as a group to Malcolm and Penelope to celebrate their first harvest.”

  “Are we going to someone’s house? Couldn’t they have shipped it?”

  “Jack, it is cast iron, so it would cost a fortune to send it. And no, we’re going to a wine-making supply outlet. And also, the ‘Night Stalker’ was caught.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  We had reached Burbank and passed first Disney and then Warner Bros. Studios. Where the magic happens.

  “For that case, yes.” I decided to string Jack along.

  “There are more?”

  “The ‘Hillside Stranglers.’ They go back to the seventies, when they raped and murdered ten people including two teenage girls.”

  “How do you know all this stuff?”

  “I like to read up on places that I’m visiting for the first time so that I know what to look for.”

  “And that was all you found about Eagle Rock? Murders and rapists?”

  “Of course not. Did you know that there is actually a rock there with indentations that cast the shadow of an eagle in flight?”

  “That makes sense. I need to take you on all my long drives . . . you are a wealth of entertainment, Halsey. What else can you regale me with?”

  The traffic thinned out a bit as we drove past Griffith Park and the Observatory and the LA Zoo. Kids were in school and supposedly everyone else was at work on this Friday, otherwise we might have sat on the blacktop for hours.

  I filled Jack in on my conversation with Augie and the interesting case he’s working with the Venice Beach Patrol.

  “Why has this captured your attention? Because of the auto parts angle? Just because Brandon owned one doesn’t mean that he’s behind these scams. He’d be too busy surfing.”

  Jack looked at me and I continued to stare straight ahead.

  “Halsey?”

  “What?”

  “You’re not telling me something.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not holding something back.”

  “You need to keep your eyes on the road.”

  “A marriage works best when there are no secrets between the man and the woman.” Jack grinned at me.

  “Who told you that?”

  Silence.

  “Okay, Jack.”

  I told him about Sally’s encounter with the paramedics and Brandon.

  “Wow, that sure throws a different light on things. And you didn’t tell this to your new best bud Augie?”

  “I didn’t want to throw shade on Andrew until we have all the facts. From what I know Brandon could be working this scam with any number of his beach bum friends. Plus, why would Andrew want to ever waste his time with this type of short con? I’m sure he makes good money at the winery . . . or will be soon.”

  “True, but you never know what lengths people will go to.”

  “Jack, you’re supposed to be Mr. Positive.”
/>   “I am. I said ‘people,’ not dogs.”

  The last leg of our journey took us through Glendale, and its famous Galleria shopping mega mall. Think back to the movie, Valley Girl, and Valspeak phrases such as: “As if,” “Fer shur,” “Whatever!” and “Gag me with a spoon.” Words that have seeped into Merriam-Webster’s dictionary like black mold into the walls after a pipe leak.

  Finally, we pulled off the main drag and into the town of Eagle Rock and took a windy road partly up a hill before Siri told us to turn off. The place was a big, metal warehouse with doublewide opened doors that led into the cavern. From the number of cars in the parking lot, I guessed that this place was a popular destination for oenophiles.

  The temperature dropped about ten degrees when we entered the space. If it hadn’t been for the signs suspended from the rafters, we would have had no idea what we were looking at. There were things called de-stemmers and crushers; they kind of looked like photocopiers with a vegetable scale attached to the top. We perused the presses, some of which looked a bit like a barrel with a broom handle in the middle and others looked like the kind of coffee urn that they would wheel into the ballroom at the Hilton for the CPA conference.

  By pure luck we wandered into the corkers and cappers section where I was to ask for a fellow named André. I looked around for someone in a green apron, which I’d noticed was what the helpers wore. Jack provided another set of eyes.

  “We’re in luck,” Jack said, using his redwood height to search in a much wider area.

  “You found help?”

  “Even better, I found Andrew.”

  Before I could stop him, Jack waved and called out his name. I’d hoped to get in some useful spying before we made ourselves known.

  “Jack! What on earth brings you here? You got Halsey in tow?”

  Jack picked me up and held me at shoulder height.

  “You do that again and you’ll be singing falsetto, Jack.”

  He quickly put me down.

  We met Andrew halfway. Today his long curly mane was held back in a low ponytail and his jeans and T-shirt made him look more like the boy next door rather than the lothario at the bar. He shook Jack’s hand and gave me a respectful peck on the cheek.

  “So what brings you out to this hidden emporium of all things viticulture?”

  “We’re picking up a gift to present to Malcolm and Penelope to celebrate the harvest. The entire Wine Club chipped in. But it’s a surprise so don’t say a word.”

  “That’s very kind . . . my lips are sealed.”

  “How’d you become so knowledgeable about wine-making, Andrew?”

  “It’s a bit of a story, Jack. What do you say we head over to the tasting room where we’ll be more comfortable and more quenched?”

  Jack looked at me and I nodded. Already this was more words than I’ve ever heard Andrew mutter.

  We perched on stools at a bar-height wooden table while Andrew arranged for a tasting. He returned followed by a green-aproned guy carrying a tray of wine flights.

  “I’ve had these before and they are all delicious,” Andrew said to the server. “Please allow me to introduce them to my guests.”

  The guy nodded and left.

  “This first one is from Los Olivos; it is a Syrah produced from the very fine Beckmen Vineyards. A very elegant wine.”

  “Lovely, Andrew.”

  Jack nodded and kept sipping.

  “You asked about my background in wine. To be honest I never really liked it in my youth. I was more of a beer and bong guy growing up.”

  This was a bit of a surprise to me, because in spite of his hair I never took him for a “Bill” or “Ted” type.

  “Where were you raised, Andrew?” Jack had finally come up for air.

  “Northern California, so getting into winemaking was pretty much inevitable. I was in foster care and wanted more than anything to get down here where the water’s warm and so are the ladies. Every summer I worked long hours at a local winery and did as much overtime as they’d let me so I could save enough to head out on my own. After high school graduation I took my diploma and my used Honda Element and pointed the car south.”

  “Wow, that was awfully brave of you. Did you know that Malcolm was down here at the time?” I asked.

  “Not at all. Shall we try the Bordeaux-style blend from the central coast?”

  “You didn’t know where Malcolm was or you didn’t know he existed?” Jack snuck in a probing question.

  “A little of both, I guess. We lived in the same neighborhood, more of a hippie enclave if you want to know the truth. After Malcolm’s parents died in a car crash, he came to live with us. We were already a blended family and one more wasn’t going to make a difference. That is until the money ran out, then we kids were parceled out to homes in the system. I lost track of Malcolm and everybody else.”

  “Oh, Andrew, I’m sorry. That sounds like a rough start to life.” I put my hand on his arm. He responded by putting his other hand over mine.

  Jack cleared his throat.

  “You still haven’t told us how you and Malcolm reunited after all these years.”

  “Ah, yeah. It was all his doing. I guess that Malcolm had been knee-deep in a project tracing his lineage. The same project that ultimately led him to his great-grandmother, Abigail Rose. He picked up a trail on me and ran it all the way to Venice Beach, where I’d been living.”

  “What must that have been like, seeing someone you hadn’t seen in what, twenty-five years?”

  “It was surreal. And then to learn that we were actually blood relatives, second cousins, that was crazy, Halsey.”

  “So you settled in Venice Beach, and what were you doing for a living? Something with wine?” Jack was like a dog with a bone . . . even though he’d released my hand, he was losing his patience with Andrew.

  “In Venice? Nah, I worked at a body shop on Lincoln Boulevard. And finally, let’s taste the port.”

  * * *

  For the first twenty minutes of the drive back we rode in silence. Jack had one hand on the wheel and the other scratching at his beard, the telltale sign that he was upset. I wasn’t exactly sure what the cause was; in the time I’d known him he’d never been the jealous type. And this was nothing but innocent empathy for someone who’d been dealt some lousy cards. If Jack was going to freak out any time a male laid a finger on me, then we have a serious problem.

  “Jack—”

  “Halsey—”

  “You go first,” he said.

  “Something is bothering you. Ever since we left the warehouse you haven’t said a word. And you’ve worn a bald patch in your beard.”

  He quickly flipped down the sun visor to inspect his face.

  “Are you going to tell me what it is, Jack? I thought you said no secrets.”

  “As you probably guessed, it’s Andrew. I don’t trust the guy and I think that he was trying to pull one over on us with that story today. I hate when people think that they can outsmart me.”

  “Why would he lie? He must know that we could verify everything with Malcolm.”

  “That’s what really galls me—he is so arrogant.”

  “Hmm, I actually thought that he seemed genuine and human today.”

  “I’ve never known you to be gullible, Halsey. Is it because he’s good-looking?”

  “What? You need to look at your face in the mirror again. You’re the one that’s good-looking, and you two couldn’t be more polar opposites.”

  I saw Jack’s shoulders relax and his face soften.

  “I’m sorry, babe. It’s just that there’s something about Andrew that isn’t right.”

  “Do you know what is right?” I asked as we turned onto the 10 Freeway heading west.

  “What?”

  “A shrimp cocktail, a martini, and a steak at Chez Jays.”

  “I love you.” Jack beamed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  You would wonder with all the shenanigans that I’ve bee
n up to how on earth I was able to finish up Liza Gilhooly’s website. Well, between us, I’d written some of the main components of the database years ago and just update it when needed according to operating system and browser upgrades.

  Liza had agreed to come to my office this time. She told me she felt guilty for the neglect and wanted to make it up. She was even bringing lunch. For the first time we were experiencing a real fall day, heavy misting marine layer, gray skies, and for us Angelenos—of which I now count myself—it was cold outside.

  It was mid-sixties but that presents a chill when you’re wearing flip-flops.

  This was the fun part of the process. I knew that she’d be dazzled by the functionality and all the bells and whistles. I’d taken all the specs and requirements she’d given me at the start, simplified them, and gave the site smooth, elegant functionality.

  There was one important aspect missing, however. The site had no personality whatsoever. Since she had wanted to hold off on adding a logo to the top of each page, I used a very generic illustration of an office building. The color scheme was pleasant enough in soft greens and yellows, but from looking at the site you’d never expect to encounter platinum Liza and her pink Cadillac. That worried me, but thankfully those cosmetic changes were fairly easy to make.

  I gave Bardot a quick refresher course in etiquette and manners when guests come to call, and she seemed willing to comply.

  “Knock, knock, helloooo?”

  Liza came bursting in, and I noticed right away that she was back to her cheery self both in mien and sartorially. She carried a picnic basket and was adorned in a leopard print, long-sleeved cat suit over which she had draped a khaki calf-length vest. And I must say that she carried it off pretty well.

  “Welcome to my humble office and Bardot’s pool house.”

  “Oh, Halsey, it’s beautiful, I wouldn’t change a thing! Hello, beautiful.”

  I opened my arms for a hug and saw that her salutation had actually been directed at Bardot. My girl responded in kind by shimmering on the wood floor and displaying her hoohaw in all its glory.

  “Don’t you love this weather? It’s getting me ready for Paris,” Liza said, finally turning to me for an embrace.