Lemons 02 A Touch of Danger

by Grant Fieldgrove

  Shit. Shit shit! Shit goddamn-it! She was right. This was a dead end. I gave my eyes a rub and tried not to get frustrated. It was a lot easier now with my medication. My stupid, wonderful medication. The same medication I tried so hard to overcome a decade and a half ago and have already fell right back in with after a mere six months. It was like an abusive relationship, tailored made for the Jerry Springer show. No matter how hard I tried to leave my abusive boy-frin, the pills, I couldn’t…“Cause I loves him, Jurry…ugh!

  “Okay, I don’t know what else we can do tonight. Let’s just go back to the rooms and start fresh in the morning. I’m thinking about calling Detective Anderson tomorrow to see if he can give me any info on Brad Jackson from old police reports or anything. I really want to talk to that housekeeper. I guess I could call Max too, over at the records department.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “I have my moments,” I tell her.

  “We can always take a road trip up to Hollywood if we need to. It’s not too, too far.”

  “I still haven’t even seen a picture of this guy yet.”

  “Who, Brad?”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t IMDB’d him yet on your phone.”

  “Me either. Geez. I’ll do it when we get back.”

  “Shall we?” She extends her arm and I hook mine around it as she leans her head on my shoulder and we start walking back up the hill at a leisurely pace.

  11.

  The next morning, the three of us decided to finally take the kids down to the beach, where they could play and I could make a few calls. We managed to get a fairly early start because I didn’t get much sleep last night. When my excitement and adrenaline were kicked in, it was hard to for me to relax.

  When we arrived in Pismo, the main street by the pier was packed with people, young and old, and I instantly remembered why my vacations usually never include large gatherings of assholes I don’t know. We parked in the lot and Elise and Jamie got the kids ready while I paid the meter. When everyone was situated, we gathered up our things and headed for the least populated area.

  I have never really been a fan of sitting on the sand, but I guess since I had to be here, sitting was better than standing. Laziness wins again.

  I entrusted Wrecker to the kids and they all ran off towards the water, with my fat dog trailing way behind. Jamie and Elise followed them down to supervise. I took my phone out and dialed Detective Anderson’s cell phone.

  “Hello,” he answered.

  “Hey Detective, it’s Archie.”

  “Hey Lemons, what’s up?”

  “Well, I’ve kinda stumbled in to shit here. I’m at the beach with my sister-in-law and nephews.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well,” I said, “I was taking a walk along the cliff on the shoreline, and stopped to check things out through one of those telescope things they have set up.”

  “Oh yeah, what’d ya find?”

  “It’s not what I found, it’s what I saw.”

  “Right. Well, what’d ya see?”

  “Yeah so, I’m checking out these huge houses right on the cliff and below they have little stairs that go down to the beach. It is the only way down to this specific place, so I assumed I saw the owners of one of the houses. The closest house to where I was, I’m guessing. It was the only one with the lights on and any sign of life.”

  “Alright,” he said, and I could tell he was getting impatient with my leisurely telling of the story. I decided to get to the point.

  “So down below, on the beach, there is a man and woman. So I just kinda watch them for a second, not really expecting anything, just out of boredom. Well, after a few seconds it looks like they start getting into a little fight. The woman gets pissed and starts heading back for the stairs, but the guy picks up a rock and beats the woman to death.”

  “What the fuck? Archie, are you shittin’ on me, here?”

  “No!”

  “So, what did the cops say? Are you in trouble or a witness or what?”

  “That’s the thing. The police don’t believe me. I had stayed up all night the night before and was pretty tired. And I stood at the telescope and watch the man drag the body out into the ocean. Then he saw me.”

  “The murderer saw you?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Oh shit. What happened?”

  “I backed up and took the frak off! He was too far away to catch up but he knows someone saw.”

  “So what’s with the police down there?!”

  “Get this. Apparently the guy I think did this is some big time actor or some shit, who is so god-like and perfect he couldn’t ever do any wrong.”

  “What’s the name?”

  “Brad Jackson…?”

  “Not Brad Pitt?”

  “I was hoping, but no. Brad Jackson.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Well, join the club. Apparently every woman knows who he is though.”

  “Oh,” he said. “One of those Hollywood prettyboys, huh?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking.”

  “Okay, so tell me what you need. I’m assuming you hired yourself for this case, right?”

  “You believe me, yeah?”

  “Man, if Archie Lemons says he saw something, I sure as shit am going to believe it.”

  “Thank you, Detective. Tell that to the assholes in charge down here.”

  “I will call them, actually.”

  “Um,” I said. “That may not be a good idea. We kind of got into it with them down there and Elise blew up at the captain and told him we were going to solve this case and embarrass the fuck out of him in the process.”

  “Well, right on. That’s what I like to hear.”

  “But, I need your help.”

  “Anything you need.”

  “Apparently this guy’s wife was murdered a few years back.”

  “No shit?” he asked. “Did he do it?!”

  “Apparently not. He was out of the country filming some movie. He had this stalker that was really causing him trouble. Made death threats and everything. I guess when he left for his movie she broke into the house and murdered his wife. The housekeeper saw the woman on the property and went to go call the police, that’s when she discovered the body of the wife.

  “So what I need from you, Detective, is everything you have on this guy. It was a huge case four or five years ago. All I have is what is on the internet. But, what I’m really interested in is talking to this housekeeper.”

  “You think she is lying?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, but this shit is way too hinky to not investigate every goddamn little nook and cranny of.”

  “I agree. I’m actually still at home right now but when I get down to the station, I’ll start working on it. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something.”

  “Thank you Detective. Tell The Bone I said what’s up, too.”

  “Will do. See ya, Lemons.”

  “Bye, Detective.”

  Apparently we both forgot about tough guy hangs up and been reduced to proper, polite farewells. Gettin” shot changes you, man. It changes you! But seriously, tough guy hang up fail number one-million.

  I ended the call and immediately called Max from the records department.

  “Cocks!” he answered. “What can I do ya for?”

  “Dolla fitty! Lub you long ti’!”

  “What a bargain!”

  I laughed and finally gave a proper greeting.

  “Hey Max. How ya been?”

  “Been good. How ‘bout you, Killer?’

  Ugh!

  “I actually need a favor from you again.”

  “Right on. Another case? This one’s not going to get you almost killed is it?”

  “God, I hope not. Fingers crossed, please.”

  “Ha, so whatcha need?”

  “There is some actor named Brad Jackson…”

  “Sure,” he interrupted. “Hunky vampire
s of the Hollywood Hills, and countless rom-com chick flicks.”

  “You’ve heard of him?”

  “Sure,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Who hasn’t?”

  “Well, me for starters. But anyway. I guess this guy’s wife was murdered a few years ago.”

  “Sure. By that crazy bitch stalker of his. You didn’t hear about that?”

  “Guess I must have missed it.”

  “Okay, well, whatta ya need?”

  “I need a background check on him. And his housekeeper that was the eyewitness. And the crazy stalker bitch who did it.”

  “You want a background check on Brad Jackson?” He seemed shocked. “What in the hell for?”

  “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one”

  “Yikes. Okay, man. You’re not crappin’ in someone else’s litterbox again, are ya?”

  “Pretty much, man. I’m not even diggin’ a hole.”

  “Awesome. You should have hung up after that.”

  Damn-it. “Damn-it.”

  “I’ll call ya back when I get them, okay. The stalker’s name is Emma Ricks. I remember that from the trail. Do you know the housekeeper’s name, though?”

  “Yeah, Inez Valenzuela.”

  “I’m sure there can’t be too many of those in LA.” We laughed and I said thanks then concluded the call.

  Now I had nothing to do but sit here in this lice-infested sand and wait.

  12.

  So, I saw this little huddle of baby flies swarming near the sand by where I was seated and decided that was about enough for me. I had a better idea, anyway. I stood up and walked towards the water.

  “Hey Elliot,” I called out. He turned and looked. “Come here for a minute, please. Grab Wrecker, too.”

  Elliot grabbed my dog and ran over to me.

  “Hold on to him for a second okay, I just want to get a picture.”

  “Okay, Uncle Archie!” He gave me a big smile.

  “Okay, now I want you to put your head down. Don’t look at the camera.”

  “Umm okay?”

  He did as he was told and looked down at Wrecker so the picture didn’t capture his face. I told him thanks then yelled out to Elise that I was going to steal her car for thirty minutes. She didn’t seem to care. She was probably impressed I lasted this long.

  I grabbed the keys from her bag and headed back up to civilization. On the way to the car I stopped in at Poncho’s, the local surf shop, where I quickly purchased a large straw beach hat which I would be billing to…shit…myself. Backfire.

  I cruised up to the beach area’s local Wal-Mart and printed out the picture I just took and turned it in to a cheap looking Lost Dog flyer, made a few copies and returned to the car. I was going to pay Mr. Jackson a little visit.

  I got to Ocean Boulevard in less than ten minutes and I parked a ways down from the house and walked the rest of the way. I was running a scheme and couldn’t be seen pulling up out front. I put on my stupid hat and took off on foot.

  I knocked on his door.

  No answer.

  I tried again.

  This time the door opened slightly. The chain was still locked.

  “Yeah, what do you want?” the voice from behind the door asked me.

  “Sorry to bother you, sir. My son’s dog ran away in this area yesterday and we’ve been searching all over for him.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  “I’m sorry, the gate was unlocked and I just came up the walkway here.” Total bullshit! I picked that bitch and broke in! Booya!

  “It’s unlocked?”

  “Yes sir, I’m sorry. I’m just desperate to find this dog. My son is heartbroken. Do you mind taking a look? We’re just here on vacation for a couple days and we’re running out of time to find him. If you could…”

  The door closed and I heard the chain being unhooked. The door opened slightly wider this time and I saw half of a man’s face peak out.

  “Here you go. His name is Montyburns. My kids were walking him in the neighborhood last night and he got away. They’re in a panic. You haven’t happened to seen him sniffin’ around, have ya?”

  He reached out and took the flyer from me. I did a quick study of his hands and noticed his right one had several small cuts on it, and one small gash in the palm that looked like it had been recently bandaged. Wounds from killing with a rock. I had my man. That was easy…and rather cliche.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t seen him around. I’ll keep my eyes peeled though.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s amazing what you see when you just stop and take the time to look. All sorts of fascinating and interesting things. Thanks for your time, Killer.”

  His gaze upon me turned icy and emotionless as I backed up and gave him a little wave, thanking him once more when I hit the street. I could feel him watching me as I went up to the next house and pretended to knock. When I felt I was out of site, I quickly took off back towards the car.

  I imagined that right about now he would be calling the phone number I put on the flyer I left with him and having the Wal-Mart photo department answer. If that were the case, he would know I was on to him. Just the way I wanted it.

  When people get scared, they get nervous, and when they get nervous, they’re more likely to fuck up. These fuck ups help me solve cases.

  My phone rang as I got back into the car. It was Max.

  “Perfect timing man. Got anything for me?”

  “Yeah, nothing really unusual. Brad Jackson is clean, apart from the normal minor violations. The housekeeper is documented with a spotless record. I’m working on the stalker lady right now but, uh, what I was calling for was, ya remember that old TGIF show where the family was an old sitcom family from the fifties and they had that magic remote that would turn them back into black and white. It was really cheesy and it didn’t last very long…?”

  “Yeah sure, Hi Honey, I’m Home. What about it?”

  “Wow, never mind. I couldn’t think of the name.”

  I let out a chuckle. I really needed to get a life. “Yep, Hi Honey, I’m Home. The family’s name was The Nielsen’s, named after the TV ratings system and the remote control that turned them from black and white to color was the Turnerizer, named after Ted Turner. The show didn’t last very long though. Hey, you remember that shitty Look Who’s Talking rip-off called Baby Talk?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, wasn’t Danza the voice of the baby?”

  “What a turd that was. Wait. I’m actually in the middle of something here. Shit. Hold on, I’ve got to get the hell out of here. Sit tight.”

  I started the car and headed back towards the beach. I picked my phone back up once I was a safe distance from Brad Jackson’s house.

  “Ya there, Max?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. What did you get yourself in to?”

  “I’ll tell you later. I promise I won’t get myself killed.”

  “Best not.”

  “Do you have the address for the housekeeper?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got it. It’s the same as one of Jackson’s addresses, just ‘and a half.’”

  “Can you give it to me?”

  “Okay man, but if anyone asks you where you got it, you don’t know me. Capiche?”

  “Have mercy!”

  He gave me the address in Beverly Hills and I scribbled it on my arm and concluded our phone call. Looks like I would be taking a road trip today.

  ***

  I got back to the beach and explained to Elise and Jamie what was going on. Poor Jamie seemed so excited she could hardly contain it. She was more than happy to watch the kids as Elise had insisted on accompanying me to Los Angeles. After some car swapping, some car seat re-arranging and a quick stop at the gas station, Jamie’s car was at the beach with the kids and Elise and I were in Elise’s car headed down the 101 South towards Beverly Hills to pay a little visit Inez Valenzuela.

  We made the hundred and ninety-mile drive in less than three hours, and pulled
out the GPS on my phone once we reached the Beverly Hills area. The neighborhood wasn’t gated so we had no problem reaching the house. Unfortunately, neither did Emma Ricks.

  We found the house, parked on the street out front and made our way up to the door. A Spanish woman answered and I assumed it was the housekeeper.

  “Inez Valenzuela?” I asked

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “My name is Doug McKenzie and I’m a reporter with The Desert Sun newspaper out of Palm Springs. We actually wanted to do a quick follow-up story on the Emma Ricks case. Do you have a quick minute to speak to us?”

  “I am very busy, sir. What is it you want to know? I haven’t given an interview about this in years.”

  “I understand. It is just a follow-up. You were the one who found the body of Mrs. Jackson, is that correct?”

  “Yes. That is correct, sir. I have told this story many of times.”

  “I understand. As I said, it’s just a follow up. Kind of a slow news week, ya know?”

  “Ms. Valenzuela, my name is Chris Parker,” Elise said. “I’m also a reporter with the Sun. You said you saw the suspect, Emma Ricks, on the property the night Mrs. Jackson was killed, correct?”

  “Yes, I see her in the backyard. I panicked. She has re’training order here. She not to be anywhere nears this house. I see her, go inside to call cops. That is when I find Mrs. Jackson on the ground. She had been stabbed many time. I scream and call cops. They tell me I have to go with them. Later I testify in court, Ms. Ricks go to jail.”

  “And you are one-hundred percent sure it was Emma Ricks, right?” I ask.

  “Of course I am sure.”

  “Of course you are, ma’am. I’m just getting my facts straight. Do you know how she got into the house?”

  “Yes sir, there was a broken glass square out of the back door. She open door, walk in, kill Mrs. Jackson, leave the way she come in.”

  “Great. Thank you so much for your time, Miss. We’re just going to go back to the car and write down what you said and then we will be on our way. I hope we didn’t inconvenience you too much. Have a wonderful day, ma’am.”

  She gave us a little nod then closed the door.

  “Well,” Elise said. “What do you think?”