Desert City Diva

by Corey Lynn Fayman

  ‘What about the rest of the family? Wouldn’t they know?’

  ‘My client was adopted.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘She’s estranged from her adopted family. They’ve got some issues, I guess.’

  ‘Where’d she get this … what do you call it, diddley bow?’

  ‘She’s not really sure of that either. Someone left it for her. Possibly her adoptive father.’

  ‘Did she say anything about me?’

  ‘As far as I can tell, she doesn’t know who you are. She didn’t recognize you in the photo, anyway. She never mentioned your name. I didn’t tell her – thought I should wait until I’d talked to you first.’

  ‘I appreciate that. How old is this woman, your client?’

  ‘Twenty-one, almost twenty-two. That’s what she told me, anyway.’

  Ozzie considered the photo for a moment, calculating his past. ‘You say this girl in the photo is supposed to be her aunt?’ he said.

  ‘Aunt Betty. That’s the name she remembers. As I said, she’s not sure. She doesn’t know her mother and father.’

  ‘I guess I know where you’re going with this,’ said Ozzie. He looked out towards the field, then back at the photo, then over at Rolly. ‘I’d be in a lot of trouble if I’d slept with this girl, don’t you think?’ he said. There was a slight modulation in Ozzie’s voice as he spoke, the barest hint of vibrato. ‘How old do you think she is here?’

  Rolly shrugged. ‘Somewhere between fourteen and eighteen, I’d guess.’

  ‘I don’t know about eighteen. She looks younger than that.’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind my asking.’

  ‘Well, you haven’t really asked yet. But I’ll answer anyway. I appreciate you not telling your client about me in case she figures out who I am and gets ideas, but really, I don’t remember this girl. I’m damn well sure I never went out with her or nothing.’

  Ozzie stepped back into the dugout and handed the diddley bow back to Rolly.

  ‘Thanks for your time,’ said Rolly.

  ‘No girls,’ said Ozzie.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Rolly.

  ‘That was the last thing my momma said to me, before I went to Hawaii. No girls.’

  Rolly smiled because he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

  ‘She made me promise,’ said Ozzie. ‘Like it was going to ruin my career if I started having sex. She thought those island wahines were gonna lead me into temptation, that I’d end up like my daddy. That first year, in Hawaii, I was good. I was all about baseball. She died around the time I got to the majors, my mom.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Rolly.

  ‘Well, she was pretty messed up. She got me as far as she could. I guess maybe I was the only thing she had any hope for in her life.’

  ‘She must’ve taken pretty good care of you.’

  ‘Not really,’ said Ozzie. ‘But that’s a story for another time. I know you got work to do.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ said Rolly.

  Jerry returned with the glasses. Ozzie put them on.

  ‘Show me the picture again,’ he said. Rolly showed him. Ozzie reviewed it, then took off his glasses. He tapped them against the palm of his hand, looking thoughtful.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember her.’

  ‘Thanks for taking another look,’ Rolly said.

  ‘We’re trying new flavors today,’ said Ozzie, ‘with the kids. I always enjoy this event, having the kids in, giving back something. I spent some time in the shelters growing up. I know what it’s like. You really remember days like this. It’s something special. You carry it around for a while. It really does help.’

  ‘I’m sure it does.’

  ‘You’re welcome to join us.’

  ‘I probably should get going,’ Rolly said. ‘I’ve got a gig tonight.’

  ‘Where you playing?’

  ‘Out at one of the casinos.’

  Ozzie looked thoughtful again, as if he might say something. But he didn’t.

  ‘Well, it was nice meeting you,’ said Rolly, extending his hand. ‘And getting to sit in the dugout.’

  ‘Yes, nice to met you, too, Mr Waters,’ said Ozzie. ‘If you need anything else, just give me a call.’ He reached in his pocket, pulled out some coupons and handed them to Rolly.

  ‘Two for ones,’ he said. ‘Use ’em next time you and Max come to the ballpark.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Ozzie stepped out on the field. Jerry led Rolly back towards the clubhouse.

  ‘Hey,’ someone called. Rolly turned. Ozzie had ducked his head back into the dugout.

  ‘What is it?’ said Rolly.

  Ozzie waved Rolly’s business card. ‘I can call you, right, at this number, if I remember something?’

  ‘Sure. Anytime.’

  ‘I was thinking … I just wanted to make it clear. Just so you don’t think I’m trying to get evasive or nothing.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘You were in that band, right? You probably had girls hanging around, chasing after you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘That stuff I said about being good, my first year in Hawaii, that was all true.’

  ‘I believe you.’

  ‘But later, you know, in the majors, that was, well, like they say, that was a whole ’nother ball game.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Rolly, not sure if Ozzie was confessing or bragging. He could only imagine how his own behavior might have been in the majors.

  ‘My momma was gone. I had a lot of girlfriends in the majors. And, you probably know this, I guess, but I do have a couple of kids out there. I paid for ’em, though. I mean, I’m supporting them. They’re good kids. I’m doing my part, doing right by their mamas, taking responsibility.’

  ‘I appreciate your telling me.’

  Ozzie stepped into the dugout and moved closer. ‘I just want you to know that I’m not trying to evade anything,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember that girl in the photo. But if you find out something, let me know. If there’s a child out there that’s mine, I’ll take responsibility. That’s all I’m trying to say.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘This girl, your client, what’s her name?’

  ‘I can’t tell you, not without her permission.’

  ‘Sure, well, I’d be willing to talk to her if you want, if she remembers anything else. I’d like to help, if there’s anything I can do. That’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind. Is it OK if I tell her it’s you in the photo? I’ll let her know I talked to you, that you don’t know anything.’

  Ozzie nodded. ‘Sure. You tell her I hope she finds her aunt or her momma or whoever that girl is.’

  ‘I will,’ Rolly said. Ozzie shook his hand again and dashed back on to the field to take care of his kids. Rolly saw something when he shook hands with Ozzie, something he’d never noticed in any photos or on the TV ads. Eric Ozzie had flecks of gold in his eyes.

  SIX

  The Collection

  The Alien Artifacts store on El Cajon Boulevard didn’t look otherworldly. It looked like any other neighborhood storefront, except that the shades had been drawn, presumably to block the late afternoon sun.

  ‘Looks closed,’ said Moogus as he parked his truck in a metered spot half a block down the street. They had carpooled to save gas on their way to the casino engagement. Rolly had talked Moogus into taking a detour. The shop wasn’t far from the freeway.

  ‘Give me a minute,’ said Rolly. He opened the passenger door. ‘I wanta’ take a look.’

  ‘OK. Don’t take too long.’

  ‘We’ve got plenty of time.’

  ‘You’re the one who’s always worrying about being late.’

  ‘We’ll be fine.’

  ‘Whatever you say, boss.’

  Rolly climbed down from the cab of Moogus’ truck and walked down the sidewalk. The sign in the window of the store said it was closed. There was a light on inside. He tried th
e door. It opened. A bell tinkled above his head as he walked in. ‘Hello?’ he called.

  ‘We’re closed,’ someone answered from in back.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry. I was looking for Randy Parker.’

  A door in the back of the shop opened. A woman appeared. ‘Randy’s not here,’ she said.

  ‘I was hoping to talk to him. He gave me his card.’

  The woman walked out towards Rolly. She wore a long purple dress with loose, translucent sleeves. Long white hair fell down past her shoulders. A barrette of gold stars kept the hair out of her face. She stared at Rolly for a moment, attempting to drill into his brain with her eyes. Rolly smiled and deflected her gaze, keeping his eyes impermeable. She turned her head and looked at something on the counter.

  ‘Randy’s gone for the weekend,’ she said.

  ‘Can I leave a message? I tried calling his phone.’

  ‘That’s his phone over there, I’m afraid,’ she said, pointing at the counter.

  ‘Is there any other way I can reach him?’

  ‘He went to the desert. I don’t know how long he’ll be gone. Who are you?’

  Rolly pulled one of his own cards from his wallet. ‘Roland Waters,’ he said. ‘Rolly. I’m a private investigator.’

  The woman took the card and adjusted her hair band as she read it. Her white hair made her seem older at first, but Rolly decided she might only be a few years older than he was.

  ‘How did you meet Randy?’ the woman said.

  ‘I haven’t met him yet. A friend of mine gave me his card. He thought I could help Mr Parker.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘He was looking for something – Mr Parker was. Do you work here?’

  ‘Yes. I’m Randy’s full-time assistant. You can call me Dotty.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Dotty.’

  ‘What was Randy looking for?’ said Dotty.

  ‘I’d like to leave a message, if I can.’

  ‘Is it about that guitar?’

  ‘You know about the guitar?’

  ‘Oh, yes. It’s an important artifact. From the Yoovits.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about the … what’s it called?’

  ‘The Yoovits. U-V-T, for Universal Vibration Technologies.’

  ‘You’re saying the guitar belonged to them?’

  ‘Randy didn’t tell you?’

  ‘I didn’t actually speak to Randy,’ said Rolly, making a mental note to ask Norwood if Randy Parker had said anything about UVTs. ‘Perhaps you could explain it to me.’

  ‘Well, Mr Waters, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Annunaki theories, about the space travelers who arrived on our Earth from the planet Nubiru in 6000 B.C.?’

  ‘Afraid not,’ Rolly said. He pressed his lips together, feeling uneasy about the direction the conversation had taken. Norwood hadn’t told him Randy Parker was nuts.

  ‘Well, of course it’s not true,’ said Dotty. ‘It’s just one of the early alien theories. I simply use it as an example. The UVTs also believe that aliens are among us. We have interbred over the epochs of time, so we have alien DNA inside us – in varying proportions, of course.’

  Rolly remembered the DNA tattoo Macy had inked under her jugular notch. Do Not Ask. A coincidental awareness. Perhaps.

  ‘I see,’ he said, debating how much longer he felt willing to listen. ‘I still don’t understand what this has to do with the guitar Mr Parker is looking for.’

  ‘Oh, everything,’ said Dotty. ‘You see, the Universal Vibration Technologies began as a healing system, combining color vibrations and the ancient musical frequencies. It was discovered that these frequencies could release the alien energy within each human being. It was easier for some, of course – those who already had high levels of cross-pollination.’

  ‘Uh huh,’ Rolly said.

  ‘You’ve heard of the chakras, of course?’ said Dotty. ‘The Kundalini?’

  ‘Yes,’ Rolly said, surprised he’d heard of anything the woman had to tell him. After the car accident, in his first year of recovery, his mother had insisted on teaching him meditation techniques, including the chakra vibrations. He’d gone along with it. He’d chanted the mantras. It hadn’t stuck. As far as he knew, his mother still practiced her chants.

  ‘There was a young man who lived among them, highly skilled in the craft of instrument making …’

  ‘Do you mean Buddy Meeks?’

  ‘Yes, that was the man’s name. It was said that he had a strong alien component. He designed the instruments for the Conjoinment.’

  ‘What’s the Conjoinment?’

  ‘In the astral year 4017, Saturn and Jupiter aligned. The Ancients approach the Earth at the peak of the alignment. This is known as the Conjoinment. The UVTs gathered together to signal them, so that they might be taken up.’

  ‘You mean like in that movie, Close Encounters?’

  ‘The Ancients do not need a physical spaceship. Their approach is more nebulous. There are portents. The Conjoinment occurs approximately every twenty years.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about this.’

  ‘I am well versed in alien theories. As is Mr Parker. That’s why he started this shop.’

  Rolly looked around the room, scrutinizing the items on the tables and shelves. There were all sorts of strange things on display, from little green men to ray guns to models of spaceships.

  ‘That’s an X-Files lunchbox, isn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘We buy and sell popular culture items, as well as more authentic artifacts of human interaction with the alien existence,’ said Dotty.

  ‘Very interesting,’ said Rolly. ‘Do you have any items related to the UVTs?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Quite a few. Would you like to see them?’

  ‘Definitely,’ Rolly said. He wondered if Moogus was getting antsy yet, then decided not to worry. Moogus always got antsy before a gig.

  Dotty led Rolly to the back corner of the shop. She stopped in front of two paintings that hung on the wall. In the top corners of the first painting were images of Saturn and Jupiter. Energy beams flowed out from the planets in orange and yellow bands, curving into the foreground where a pyramid shape enclosed a naked, sexless human form holding both palms outward.

  ‘Very nice,’ Rolly said, attempting to show his appreciation. The painting was amateurish, bordering on hideous.

  ‘This is a representation of the Ancients,’ Dolly said. ‘They come from the Oort cloud, as it passes between Saturn and Jupiter.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Rolly, fairly confident there weren’t any clouds passing between Saturn and Jupiter, but not entirely sure. He wasn’t up on his astronomy. ‘They look friendly.’

  ‘The human form you see represented is referred to as a Gentling. We are all Gentlings, to one degree or another. The pure form of the Ancients is astronomical and terrifying to human beings. So they must appear to earthlings in Gentling form. The frequency waves you see are more like the Ancients’ true nature, but even so, it is just an artistic representation of the forces within them.’

  ‘You mentioned something earlier about vibrations.’

  ‘You are very astute, Mr Waters. This represents the Universal Vibrations.’

  ‘Uh huh. And this other painting? Is that the guitar Mr Parker is looking for?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dot. ‘That is the one.’

  A man stood in the foreground of the second painting playing a one-string guitar, a diddley bow. The diddley bow was plugged into some kind of box. Orange and yellow bands of energy, similar to the ones in the first painting, flowed out from the box.

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing at the box.

  ‘It is known as the Astral Vibrator.’

  ‘Is it an amplifier, for the guitar?’

  ‘We have not divined its true use.’

  ‘Isn’t Mr Parker looking for one of those, too?’

  ‘Yes. The UVTs were highly musical, you see. They were known for their euphonics. We have some CDs if you’d like to
hear.’

  Dotty pulled some CD cases off the shelf next to the paintings and handed them to Rolly. He flipped through the covers. Intuition Modulations. Quantum Perceptions. Codon Transmutation. The titles reminded him of some of the music his mother listened to, stultifying New Age drivel. He hated it. There were no blues notes, no rock and roll rhythms, no jazz harmonies. He handed the CDs back to Dotty.

  ‘What’s that?’ he said, noticing something else on the shelf, next to the CDs.

  ‘It is a representation of the Sachem,’ said Dotty. She handed the doll to him. It was a baby doll, painted gold, with blonde hair and gold eyes.

  ‘What’s the Sachem?’ said Rolly.

  Before Dotty could answer, the bell tinkled on the front door and someone entered the shop. Rolly turned, expecting to see Moogus. The man who’d walked in saw Rolly and stopped. Overdeveloped biceps stretched the sleeves of the man’s gray T-shirt. His hair was jet black. It looked unnatural, like a dye job or rug.

  Dotty crossed in front of Rolly and walked towards the man. ‘Randy,’ she said, ‘you left your phone here, didn’t you?’

  The man nodded. He kept his sunglasses on.

  ‘This is Rolly Waters,’ said Dotty. ‘He’s a private investigator. He says he can help us find the guitar.’

  The man nodded again. Rolly joined them at the front of the store.

  ‘Hello, Mr Parker,’ he said, offering his hand. The man nodded again, then shook his hand. He had a strong, aggressive grip. There was a tattoo of a watch on the man’s right wrist. The face on the watch had no hands.

  ‘Rob Norwood gave me your card,’ said Rolly.

  ‘Who?’ said the man.

  ‘He’s got a guitar shop downtown. You were there asking about a one-string guitar?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s right. What’s his name again?’

  ‘Rob Norwood. His shop’s called Mostly Guitars. I think I might be able to locate this guitar you’re looking for.’

  ‘You know where it is?’

  ‘I’m a private investigator.’

  ‘You want money?’

  ‘I have some questions about the guitar.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘It’s not actually a guitar. It’s called a diddley bow.’