‘He gets like that sometimes,’ said Rolly. ‘He won’t bother you again.’
‘The boogie man stuck him with the bad frequencies.’
‘There’s someone else out here?’
‘I am affirming.’
‘Is he a friend of yours?’
‘I am denying. Not a friend.’
‘He didn’t come here with you?’
‘I am denying.’
‘Who is he then?’
‘A villain. He brought the negative frequencies.’
Rolly didn’t like the idea of any villain lurking about, let alone one with a stungun bringing negative frequencies. He needed to get out of here. But he needed to ask the man about Daddy Joe and the photograph first.
‘The photograph, on the back of the diddley bow – who is it?’
‘The big chief must tell you. That is agreed.’
‘You mean Daddy Joe, don’t you?’
‘That is affirmed.’
‘Why can’t you tell me?’
‘The Waters must practice,’ said the voice. ‘The Waters must read the diagram.’
‘What diagram?’ said Rolly. ‘Does Daddy Joe have the diagram?’
‘Daddy Joe is a dead man,’ said another voice, from behind him. The electric woodpecker rattled. A negative frequency shot through Rolly’s body and his brain exploded into a bright bolt of pain. He twisted away from the stinging woodpecker and collapsed, almost hitting his head on the crocodile.
‘Teotwayki!’ the bird called again. Soft footsteps padded away from him.
‘Rolly!’
‘Uhnn,’ grunted Rolly. He pulled his head up and rested it on the crocodile’s neck. A gob of drool fell from his mouth. He heard footsteps approaching, someone walking up from below.
‘He got you too, didn’t he?’ said Moogus.
‘Uhnn,’ Rolly said.
‘Take it easy,’ said Moogus. He leaned down and lifted Rolly’s head off the stone crocodile, slipped his shoulder in behind Rolly’s back for support and helped him sit up. In the distance Rolly heard the sound of a car starting up.
‘Someone …’ said Rolly, ‘… gettin’ away.’
‘Yeah. I hear it.’
‘Uhnn,’ said Rolly.
‘You’ll be OK,’ said Moogus. ‘Might take a minute or two.’
‘Uph,’ Rolly said, waving his hand towards the sky.
‘What’s that?’
‘Ged up. Look car.’
Moogus furrowed his brow as the sound of the car’s engine floated through the rocks.
‘Look, look, lithenth,’ Rolly said. Moogus finally seemed to understand. He dropped Rolly against the crocodile and stood up.
‘I see it,’ he said. ‘Over there. What the hell is that thing? It looks like a spaceship or something.’
The sound of the engine faded into the distance.
‘He’s gone.’
‘Lithenth?’
‘No license. I could only see the top half. It’s a Volkswagen van. I could tell that much. You remember Old Zeke?’
Rolly nodded. ‘I remember.’
‘Old Zeke sounded just like that,’ said Moogus.
‘I wrote a song about Zeke.’
‘We used to get the whole band in there and a couple of girlfriends sometimes too. What was the song?’
Rolly leaned his head back against the crocodile. He rubbed his temples, trying to access the memory. One verse. That was all he could remember. And the melody. His voice cracked as he sang it.
Old Zeke’s got a number, stashed in his glove box
A number he’s waiting to play
She gave him her number, the day that he met her
A wahine from Hanalei Bay
‘Oh, man, that sucks,’ said Moogus. ‘A wahine from Hanalei Bay? Really?’
Rolly shrugged. ‘I was going for a surf-rock kind of thing.’
‘Zeke deserved better than that.’
‘That’s why I never played it for you.’
The fuzziness in Rolly’s head began to clear. He stood up and dusted himself off.
‘We sure got our asses kicked, didn’t we?’ said Moogus.
‘Yeah.’
‘I shouldn’t have jumped that guy.’
‘You should have stayed by the truck.’
Moogus laughed. ‘I guess I’m not much of a bodyguard, am I, buddy?’
‘I wouldn’t give up your skin-beating job.’
‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’
‘Yeah.’
They walked back down the path. The boulders looked smaller now, less foreboding.
‘As I was saying,’ Moogus continued as they wound their way down the trail, ‘all those Volkswagen vans, they got the same sound. Once you own one, you’ll never forget it. That’s useful, right? Knowing what kind of car the guy drives.’
‘What did you mean, it looked like a spaceship?’
‘I only saw it for a couple of seconds. There was this gap in the rocks. It looked like a spaceship to me.’
‘How so?’
‘It had these little wings on the side, kinda like the space shuttle wings, and some more things jutting out of the top that looked like old TV antennas. There were these round cones, like rocket engines or something, stuck to the back. Just some shapes I could see.’
They reached the bottom of the hill and walked to the truck. Moogus pulled out his keys. They opened the doors and climbed into the truck.
‘I’d know that sound anywhere,’ said Moogus. ‘A VW van. That helps, right? You just gotta find a VW van that looks like a spaceship. How hard can that be?’
‘It helps,’ said Rolly. ‘A license plate would be better.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not sure I could have read it anyway, in this light.’
Moogus turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. He tried it again. There was a small click but no engine sound.
‘What the hell?’ Moogus said.
‘Did you leave the lights on?’ said Rolly.
‘No, I turned ’em off,’ Moogus replied, looking over the dashboard instruments. He tried the key one more time and got the same result. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a flashlight. He climbed out of the car, popped the hood and inspected the engine.
‘Shit dammit,’ he said.
Rolly got out of the truck, went to look at the engine with Moogus.‘What is it?’ he said.
‘Somebody pulled my relay fuse.’
‘Can you fix it?’
‘Not unless you happen to have one in your pocket.’
As they stood staring at the truck’s engine, an old blue Toyota pulled out onto the road a hundred feet down from them.
‘Hey,’ Moogus called, waving his arms. ‘Over here.’
The Toyota turned and drove away.
‘Asshole,’ said Moogus.
Rolly pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘I don’t get any signal here,’ he said.
Moogus walked to the truck cab, pulled out his phone and tossed it back in the cab.
‘Me neither.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘Walk back to the freeway, I guess. See if I can get a signal there, find a call box.’
‘How far is that?’
‘Mile. Mile and a half.’
Moogus turned and pointed back towards the Desert View Tower. ‘You think somebody lives in this place?’
‘It says they don’t open until eight-thirty,’ Rolly said, pointing at the gate. ‘You want to wait that long?’
‘What time is it now?’
Rolly checked his phone. ‘A little after five,’ he said.
‘Sign says it’s only a quarter-mile. Let’s go wake ’em up.’
They locked the doors of the truck, walked around the gate and headed towards the tower.
‘I wish you’d stayed with the truck like I asked you to,’ Rolly said.
‘Yeah, I do too,’ Moogus said. ‘This detective stuff is really starting to suck.’
NINE
The Cop
They got home around eight the same morning. Rolly unloaded his gear from the truck. He didn’t bother to wave as Moogus pulled out of the driveway. They’d spent longer and more exhausting nights together, but not since their youth.
Rolly’s mother opened her back door and stepped onto the stoop. She looked concerned.
‘Is everything OK?’ Rolly said, walking over to greet her.
‘I’m not sure,’ she replied. ‘Aren’t you home rather late?’
‘Car troubles. Moogus’ truck wouldn’t start.’
His mother sighed.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘Is everything OK at the hospital?’
‘Oh, everything’s fine there. We talked to the doctors.’
‘What’d they say?’
‘They expect him to recover, but they’ll want to keep him a few more days.’
‘He won’t be too happy about that. How’s Alicia?’
‘The police were here. That friend of yours, the blonde woman.’
‘Bonnie?’
‘Yes. I don’t know why I can never remember her name.’
‘What’d she want?’
‘She wants you to call her.’
‘Did she say why?’
‘I told her about your father. Just so she’d be aware, if you were acting peculiar.’
Rolly sighed. Those who knew him, like his mother or Bonnie, were always on watch for suspicious behavior, looking for clues that he’d slipped off the wagon. He hadn’t been sober long enough to slacken their vigilance. He didn’t know how long it would take.
‘I just want to say,’ his mother continued, ‘it’s quite disconcerting to come home and find a police car in the driveway. Especially when you’ve returned from the hospital at seven in the morning and your son is missing.’
‘I wasn’t missing. I was working.’
Rolly’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. It was Bonnie. He answered.‘I just got home,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’
‘I talked to your mom,’ said Bonnie.
‘Yeah. She said you’d come by.’
‘How’s your dad doing?’
‘It looks like he’s gonna pull through.’
‘Glad to hear it. Listen, you got any idea why tribal police might be looking for you?’
‘You mean, like Indians?’
‘That’s usually what tribal means.’
‘Um, no. I don’t think so.’
‘Did you play any of the casinos recently?’
‘We were at the Jincona reservation last night.’
‘Any problems?’
‘No. Not that I’m aware of.’
‘You usually get home this late?’
‘We had some car trouble. Moogus’ truck wouldn’t start.’
‘You were up there with Moogus?’
‘He’s our drummer, you know. We sound better when we have a drummer.’
‘Don’t get smart with me.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m tired.’
‘I’m gonna stop by.’
‘I need to sleep.’
‘It’ll only be ten minutes. I’m still in the area.’
‘OK. Fine,’ said Rolly. He hung up. Bonnie didn’t like Moogus. She had her reasons, besides his ex-con status. Moogus had talked Joan into going to bed with him once. Joan was Bonnie’s girlfriend. All these years later, Bonnie still didn’t like him.
‘Is everything OK?’ asked Rolly’s mother.
‘Hmm, oh, everything’s fine. That was Bonnie. She’s coming over.’
‘Well, at least I’ll expect her this time.’ His mother crossed her arms and pursed her lips. ‘Are you feeling all right?’ she said.
‘Me? Oh sure. Just thinking about some things.’
‘Do we need to talk about your father?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘I thought perhaps you might want to discuss things. When something happens like this …’
‘The doctors said he’s going to be OK, right?’
‘They said he’ll be fine. He’ll need to make some life changes, I expect.’
‘I expect so.’
‘I thought maybe you could advise him on that.’
‘Me?’
‘You’ve had your own experiences – you could talk to him.’
‘What? About his drinking?’
‘Well, yes, that, and your brush with … mortality.’
‘You want me to talk to Dad about dying?’
‘I’m just saying it’s something you can share now: getting a second chance. You were able to make positive changes in your life.’
‘I’m not talking to dad about his drinking unless he apologizes to me first.’
‘Apologizes for what?’
‘Something, anything.’
‘This kind of life event might change him.’
‘I think you’re too hopeful. We’ll see.’
‘You don’t drink anymore.’
‘I kind of wish I had a drink now,’ said Rolly, under his breath.
‘What’s that?’
‘Nothing,’ said Rolly. ‘I’ll think about it, but let’s wait until he gets settled at home.’
‘Don’t let this get you upset. You can talk to me if you need to.’
‘Thank you. I will. I’m not upset.’
‘All right, dear.’ His mother gave him a peck on the cheek and turned back into her house. Rolly grabbed his guitar and amplifier from the driveway, opened the door to his house and walked in. He stashed his equipment, plugged in his phone to recharge it then dumped the contents of his pockets on the kitchen table: wallet, guitar picks, keys and a postcard of Desert View Tower.
As Moogus had surmised, the proprietors of the tower lived on the premises. A young married couple, they had been awake by the time Rolly knocked on their door, more than happy to help out and share a cup of their morning coffee with marooned strangers. The woman had been awakened earlier by the sound of something being dropped through the mail slot on the front door. It was a gift for Moogus, a brown paper bag containing his truck’s relay fuse. Both she and her husband seemed relieved to have the mysterious incursion explained.
As it turned out, they’d seen a VW van decorated like a spaceship. Many times. It was a regular visitor, at least once a week, in the parking lot and along the service roads. They knew little about the owner. Someone had told them the man lived in Slab City, an unincorporated enclave of hippies and retirees camped out in an old army base near the Salton Sea. The woman gave Rolly a brief history of Slab City, describing its genesis as a training ground for troops during World War II. The army demolished the camp soon after the war, leaving only the concrete foundations of buildings behind. Years later, a vagabond traveler happened on the abandoned slabs and decided they made a perfect place to park a mobile home for the winter. There were no fees or rents to pay, no rules to obey. Word soon got out and others followed. Before long, an offbeat, off-the-grid community of like-minded nomads had bloomed in the desert.
Rolly heard a car pulling into the driveway. A car door opened and shut. Footsteps scrunched across the gravel. Rolly’s front door swung open. Bonnie Hammond walked in.
‘Aren’t you supposed to knock?’ Rolly said.
‘Door was open,’ said Bonnie. ‘And you invited me here.’
‘Not exactly invited.’
‘Is there anything you need to tell me about? Before you get in trouble? You need help with one of your cases?’
‘I don’t need any help. I just need some sleep.’
Bonnie picked up the postcard from the table. ‘Desert View Tower, huh?’ she said, reading the back. ‘Teotwayki. What’s that mean?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You got any clients you want to tell me about?’
‘Not really.’
‘No lights going on yet? About why the tribal police want to talk to you?’
‘No.’
‘Aside from yo
ur casino gig last night, have you been in the back country lately, on the reservation?’
‘Moogus and I stopped at Desert View Tower this morning after the gig. That’s the only other place we’ve been.’
Bonnie looked at her watch. ‘Sounds kind of early for you.’
‘Moogus and I wanted to see the sunrise.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘We’re sentimental that way.’
Bonnie put the postcard back on the table. She picked up Macy’s flyer. ‘DJ Crazy Macy,’ she said, reading the flyer. ‘Doesn’t sound like your style.’
‘I like to keep an open mind.’
Bonnie pulled her phone out of her pocket and tapped on the screen. ‘Take down this number,’ she said.
‘Who is it?’
‘Her name’s Kinnie Harper. She’s chief of police for the Jincona Tribe.’
‘You’re working with her?’
‘No. Luckily for you, this is just a personal call. Kinnie wants to talk to you.’
‘Why?’
‘Originally she just wanted to find out if I’d ever heard of you. She had your name, for some reason.’
‘How’d she get it?’
‘She’s trying find a woman named Macy,’ said Bonnie, waving the flyer. ‘Ring any bells?’
‘Why didn’t this Kinnie woman just call me directly?’
‘I said I’d talk to you first, make sure you called back, which you will now.’
‘Is this Macy in some kind of trouble?’
‘I don’t know. Not my business. Not yet, anyway. Kinnie’s dad has gone missing. He used to be chief of police up there. Kinnie grew up in the business.’
‘Daddy Joe?’
‘I see you’ve heard of him. Kinnie said it’s not the first time he’s gone missing. He’s gone a bit non compos mentis, now that he’s retired.’
‘She was adopted. Macy, I mean. She told me she grew up on the reservation. Why is Kinnie looking for her?’
‘I don’t know. Kinnie just mentioned her name. Like I said, she wants to talk to you.’
‘How did Kinnie get my name?’
‘You’ll have to ask her that when you call. Listen, this is not official business on my part. I got no skin in the game. I’m just doing a personal favor for Kinnie. She’s part of a professional group I’m in. I thought it’d be easier for both of you if I talked to you first. So you wouldn’t start freaking out.’
‘Appreciated. Thanks.’
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