‘Where you been, Brother Waters?’ said Marley.
‘Talking to cops,’ said Rolly.
‘Having an enlightened conversation with our local constabulary?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Everything copacetic?’
‘We worked some things out. I’m at home now. What’s up?’
‘I found a patent abstract for the Astral Vibrator thing. There’s a couple of names listed; thought you might want to hear them.’
‘This would be the guys who invented it?’
‘There’re two names on the filing. I think the first one’s the real inventor. I searched on his name after I found it. He’s got three other patents.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Buddy Meeks. Ever heard of him?’
‘Yeah. He was a guitar tech at a shop here in town. He made the diddley bow I told you about.’
‘Well, other than the Astral Vibrator, the guy has patents on something called an Astrotuner and something called a Melodylocker.’
‘Sounds like they might be guitar effects.’
‘Irie, my friend. It’s in the patent abstract, that’s like the general description you have to fill out when you’re filing a patent. You have to provide an abstract. All of this guy’s patents are for processing audio signals. Let me read you the one for the Astral Vibrator.’
‘Wait a sec,’ said Rolly. He moved to the table and grabbed his notepad and pen. ‘OK.’
‘Here goes,’ said Marley. ‘The Astral Vibrator is a physical locking device for security systems. It utilizes a pitch-based system for encoding and decoding physical locking mechanisms via vibration-tuned tumblers.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘My best guess is it uses special frequencies to unlock things. Could be a padlock or a deadbolt. So maybe you’d use this system instead of a physical key. Like instead of a keypad, you maybe have a beeper or something, and it opens the lock for you.’
Rolly made some notes. Locks. Frequencies.
‘What’s the other name on the patent?’
‘I think the other guy’s his business partner or something. Not a techie.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Well, on the Astrotuner, which is the patent previous to the Astral Vibrator, this guy only shows up on the revised patent. He shows up on all the revised patents, actually.’
‘Revised patents … that’s like a new version?’
‘Could be. Or it could be you’re just re-assigning the patent, if you sold it or something. Like if you sold half your company to somebody, you might give them fifty percent on all previous patents.’
‘Is that what the other guy gets, fifty percent?’
‘Ninety percent.’
‘Ninety?’
‘Guess he drove a hard bargain.’
‘Did you find this guy’s name anywhere else?’
‘No. That’s it. This guy never shows up on anything else. That’s what I mean about this Buddy Meeks being the real inventor. This other guy’s money, or management.’
‘What’s the guy’s name?’
‘Parnell Gibbons.’
‘Say that again?’ Rolly said, making sure he’d heard Marley correctly.
‘Par-nell Gib-bons,’ said Marley, accenting each syllable. ‘You heard of him?’
‘Yeah. I’ve heard of him,’ Rolly said. ‘He just got out of jail. The police showed me a photograph.’
‘What was he in for?’ said Marley. ‘Embezzlement? Larceny?’
‘He was part of an alien cult,’ Rolly said.
‘Loopy-Doopy and Crooky, huh?’
‘Worse than that,’ Rolly said. He rubbed his temples. ‘They got him on manslaughter. Seventeen people died.’
‘This wasn’t that Rancho Bernardo thing, was it?’
‘No, this was out in East County. In the mountains. Twenty years ago.’
‘Before I arrived in this fair land.’
‘I don’t remember anything about it.’
‘You could probably Google it.’
‘Yeah. That’s what everybody keeps telling me. I haven’t had time.’
‘I downloaded a .pdf of the Astral Vibrator patent. The schematic looks just like the one you gave me. You want me to email it to you?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘You sound kinda beat.’
‘I’ve felt better.’
‘Stay strong, bredren.’
‘Thanks.’
Rolly hung up his phone. He looked out the kitchen window to his mother’s house and decided he should check in with her – let her know he was home. The last time they’d spoken he was about to be locked up in jail on the Jincona reservation. He needed to check in with Alicia, too – perhaps visit his father in the hospital. It was hard to keep up with family obligations when you were getting arrested all the time.
His phone rang again. There was no name displayed but the number looked familiar. His stomach tightened. He tapped the answer button and held the phone to his ear. The beeping tones played, followed by silence. The tones played again.
‘Who is this?’ he said. The tones continued to play, over and over, in the same order. He counted them: nine notes in the pattern. He hung up and checked the phone number again. He called Bonnie and left a message, telling her what had happened. He gave her the phone number for the beeper. If she hadn’t looked it up already, it might prompt her to move it up on her priority list. Randy and Macy and Daddy Joe had all received calls from that number before they went missing. He didn’t like being next one on the list.
Someone knocked on the door. Rolly jumped. He looked for something he could use as a weapon. He picked up his phone, ready to dial 911. There was another knock. The door opened.
‘It’s me,’ said his mother, peeking around the door. ‘Are you here?’
‘Come in, Mom,’ said Rolly, dropping his shoulders. ‘I made it back.’
His mother closed the door and stood looking at him. She gave a weak smile. ‘I talked to Max earlier,’ she said. ‘He said you got out this morning.’
‘They let us both go.’
‘I thought you’d be home sooner.’
‘Sorry I didn’t call. Still had some work to do.’
‘How’s your leg?’
‘Better. I don’t think I’ll need the crutches tomorrow.’
His mother looked at the room for a moment, then back at him. ‘How old is that Macy woman?’ she said. ‘She seems rather young for you.’
Rolly rubbed his forehead. ‘She’s in trouble, Mom. And it’s my fault.’
‘Is she pregnant?’
‘No, no. I think she’s been abducted. And I led her right into it.’
‘Oh my goodness? Did you call the police?’
‘I’ve just had a long talk with them. Bonnie was there.’
‘I’m sure Bonnie will take care of it,’ said his mother, as if finding a kidnapper was like paying off an overdue bill. ‘It’s been a quite a week.’
‘Yes, it has.’
‘Do you plan on getting arrested again?’
‘I don’t really plan on it. That’s just the way it works out sometimes, depending on the case. I wasn’t really arrested.’
‘What do you call it, then?’
‘Just having a conversation with our local constabulary,’ he said, repeating Marley’s line. ‘Being held for questioning, maybe. Not arrested.’
‘Do you remember how you used to say you were “just having a drink”?’
‘This is different.’
‘I hope so,’ she said. She sat down at the table. His mother was at least four inches shorter than Rolly but she always seemed taller when she put on her concerned face.
‘I’d hate to think you were developing a weakness for jailhouses,’ she said. ‘Or anything else.’
‘I haven’t been drinking. Or “just having a drink”.’
‘This job of yours seems rather stressful, and, well … dangerou
s.’
‘It’s not usually like this.’
‘You had that man in your house a few years ago, remember? The police had to come. And there was that little Mexican girl who showed up last year. I had to stay with the neighbors that night. I worry about you.’
‘How’s dad doing?’ said Rolly, trying to change the subject.
His mother furrowed her eyebrows and smoothed her dress. ‘Your father is about as I expected,’ she said. ‘Back to his old unpleasantness.’
‘He’s feeling better then?’
‘Alicia’s beside herself. You really should talk to him.’
‘I will,’ said Rolly, hoping to end the conversation. ‘After I get through this.’
‘I like her, you know,’ said his mother.
‘Alicia’s OK.’
‘I meant your girlfriend. What’s her name?’
‘Macy. She’s not …’
‘Those tattoos, I don’t know about that. All the young people seem to have them these days. But that Macy’s got spirit. There’s a sparkle about her. I read her flyer there, for the nightclub. I hope it’s OK. I came in and cleaned up for you.’
‘You didn’t have to do that.’
‘Things have changed so much from when I was a girl. I married your father so young. I never blamed him. We were both young. I thought it would be romantic, being a Navy wife.’
Rolly slumped into his chair. He’d heard the litany before. It was the Navy. It was the times. His mother stopped herself. Macy’s flyer was still on the table. She picked it up and read it over.
‘Is that her real name?’ she asked. ‘Macy Starr?’
‘As far as I know,’ he said. ‘She was adopted. That’s why she hired me to find her parents. She grew up on that reservation.’
‘Yes, you told me.’
‘The woman who arrested us, Kinnie Harper, was like her older sister. They grew up together. Kinnie’s parents adopted Macy, but the mother died. Kinnie took over the household.’
‘That must have been rather difficult, for both of them.’
‘Macy hated it out there. She says she never fit in.’
‘You really think she was kidnapped? Who was it?’
‘There’s this ex-con involved. His name’s Parnell Gibbons. The police showed me a photo. He just got out of jail.’
‘Why was he in jail?’
‘It’s got something to do with this cult that lived up there near the reservation. Some people were poisoned. This was about twenty years ago. They think he did it.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said his mother. ‘I was afraid of that. I had an intuition, driving through the reservation, when I had to leave you in jail. It felt like I’d been there before.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It was the Universal Vibration people, wasn’t it?’
Rolly sat up in his chair. ‘You know about the UVTs?’ he said. His mother inspected the fingernails on her left hand.
‘Of course, dear,’ said his mother. ‘I went and visited them. I thought you and I might live there for a while.’
‘When was this?’
‘After your father and I separated, of course – after we moved out of the house. I needed something. I had no one to turn to.’
‘But Mom, I mean … aliens?’
‘It’s not that far-fetched, you know, dear. I was just reading today about these new planets the scientists have discovered with that Hubble telescope. There are thousands of them out there that could support life. And it’s science people, real scientists, you know, saying this now.’
‘Instead of crackpots.’
‘They were nice people, the ones that I met. I thought you might enjoy the musical aspects of their teachings.’
‘They were a cult. Everyone died.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that, dear. I’m alive. I didn’t join them. I just stopped by to find out what it was all about. I didn’t stay.’
‘Did you ever want to?’
‘I only went up to their camp that one time. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know exactly – something unhappy I felt there. I had you to take care of. I wanted to make sure you got to live your own life. It didn’t feel right.’
They fell silent. Rolly’s phone rang. He checked the screen. It wasn’t Bonnie. It wasn’t the beeper. The phone number had a local area code but there was no name. His mother gave him a wan smile, indicating it was OK for him to take the call. She looked tired. He answered the phone. ‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Mr Waters?’ said a man’s voice.
‘Yes, who is this?’
‘This is Eric Ozzie, Mr Waters.’
‘I talked to Kinnie Harper,’ said Rolly.
‘Who?’
‘Daddy Joe’s daughter.’
‘I want to explain.’
‘OK. I’m listening.’
‘In person. Can we meet?’
‘Now?’
Ozzie didn’t respond. Rolly waited.
‘Max Gemeinhardt is here,’ said Ozzie. ‘He tells me you live close by.’
‘Why is Max at your house?’
‘Max is my lawyer too.’
‘Oh.’
‘She’s my sister, Mr Waters. The girl in the photograph is my sister.’
TWENTY-FOUR
The Sneaker
Eric Ozzie lived at the end of a cul-de-sac overlooking the wide end of Mission Valley, where the San Diego River widened into saltwater marshes and surrendered its meager waters to the Pacific Ocean. The house was an early twentieth-century mansion set in the hills behind the Spanish Presidio, as large as you might expect for a retired professional baseball player, but no larger. Max Gemeinhardt sat at the head of the table when Ozzie escorted Rolly into the dining room.
‘Hey,’ said Max.
‘Hey,’ said Rolly. ‘What’s going on?’
‘All in good time,’ said Max.
‘Have a seat, Mr Waters,’ said Ozzie. ‘Can I get you a drink? I’ve got a Macallan 18.’
‘Club soda if you have it,’ said Rolly, not exactly sure what a Macallan 18 was. It sounded expensive. People with money never served bourbon, Scotch or vodka. It was always a brand or a label, sometimes a year.
‘Pellegrino OK?’ said Ozzie. Rolly nodded. Rich people used proper names for their carbonated water, as well.
Ozzie retreated to the kitchen to retrieve Rolly’s drink. A large photo album sat on the dining-room table in front of Max. Rolly took a seat to the right of Max and resisted the urge to open the cover of the album and leaf through it. The album was there for a reason. It would be part of the show.
Ozzie returned with Rolly’s Pellegrino and some sort of brown liquor on ice for himself. Max already had a beer. Ozzie sat down on Max’s left, across the table from Rolly. He took a sip of his drink and placed the glass back on the table. He looked at Rolly, then stared down at the table as he spoke. ‘Thank you for coming,’ he said. ‘Max is here as my lawyer, but also as a witness to what I’m about to tell you.’
Rolly turned to Max. ‘You knew about this when I called you?’
‘Yes and no,’ said Max. ‘I was afraid it might come to this.’
‘You could have saved me a lot of trouble.’
‘I couldn’t say anything,’ said Max. ‘Not without Eric’s permission.’
Rolly knew Max had done the right thing. He turned back to Ozzie. ‘Why didn’t you tell me she was your sister?’
‘It was a shock, Mr Waters, to see that photograph. I couldn’t understand how you were able to get it. Why it was on the back of that instrument. Joe Harper and I had an arrangement, you see.’
‘Daddy Joe’s in the hospital. The police are involved. Another man died.’
‘What was his name, the man who died?’
‘His name’s Randy Parker. He runs a shop called Alien Artifacts.’
‘That is disturbing,’ said Ozzie. He took another sip of whisky and set his oth
er hand on top of the photo album.
‘Mr Parker was here,’ he said. ‘About a month ago. He claimed he was writing a book. It’s been so long now, I wasn’t sure I could tell him much. I never knew all that much, really. He insisted.’
‘He wanted to talk to you about the UVTs?’
Ozzie nodded. ‘My mother and sister were there,’ he said. ‘My mother died with the rest of them.’
‘I saw her name on the memorial. I’m sorry.’
‘It was my first year in the majors. My first real money. I was so focused on making the team. It was overwhelming. I couldn’t save either of them – my mother or sister.’
‘What was your sister’s name?’
‘Can I show you something?’ said Ozzie as he opened the photo album. Rolly glanced over at Max. Max closed his eyes, scratched his beard. He didn’t object.
‘OK,’ said Rolly.
Ozzie found the page he wanted. He slid the album back across the table to Rolly. The page he’d selected had a photograph of a group of teenage girls. They were standing on the porch of a house. It was the house Kinnie had driven him by only yesterday.
‘This is Beatrice House, isn’t it?’ said Rolly.
‘That’s right,’ said Ozzie. ‘Beatrice. Betty, we called her.’
‘It’s named for your sister?’
Ozzie nodded. Rolly studied the faces of the girls, searching for Betty’s face. Or Macy’s.
‘Is Betty in this picture?’ he said.
‘No, but she’s the reason it could be taken.’
Rolly rubbed his forehead, just above his right eyebrow, massaging his head to keep his brains from falling out. Betty had appeared again, and vanished as quickly.
‘What happened?’ he said.
‘I grew up around here, you know,’ said Ozzie. ‘In San Diego, but not in this part of town. I grew up in a hard part of the city. My parents were pretty messed up. We never had a home for long. My father couldn’t keep a job because of his drinking. Both of my parents were alcoholics. We lived on the streets for a while.’
Rolly nodded.
‘My father was killed one night, by some junky. He’d taken our spot under the overpass. I was twelve when it happened.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘In a weird way, it saved me. My mom cleaned herself up after that. For a while. She took us into social services, got us lodging at St Vincent’s. They found her a job, got me enrolled in school again. That’s when I started to play baseball. I was always good at sports, you know, but I only played pick-up games before that. Someone at the shelter gave me a new glove, that Christmas, when they gave all the kids toys.’
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