by David Chill
We shook hands. "I take it you fellas play football somewhere in the region?" I asked.
"Yeah," one of them said. "Up in Ventura. We've been offered full rides here. Coach Cleary's been pushing us to decide early."
"Coach is a great guy, known him forever. And this is a great university," I said, knowing anyone who has a relationship with the school needs to be very careful when speaking with recruits. I turned to Roper. "And you just met these fellas?"
"Would I lie to you?" he said, not bothering to answer and providing only a wink instead. "How about you introduce me to your pals. Couple of them look like they're ready to go out for their high school team. Don't know about the pudgy one, though."
Juan Saavedra laughed and introduced himself and his two sons. "My older kid may go out for varsity football next year. Need to work on his mom. She's worried about concussions."
"Women," Roper said, "that's why we love 'em. You a coach?"
"Nope. I'm a captain with the LAPD. Rampart Division."
Roper eyed him carefully. "You got a card? We should talk sometime."
I shook my head. "You have any outstanding warrants you need him to fix?" I asked. "Or just a pile of speeding tickets?"
"Always with the wise cracks, this one," Roper said, his comments interrupted by the stunning young blonde who slipped past him and turned to smile at me. I looked at her with surprise, and probably with a measure of awe. A few other guys were looking too, and not bothering to sneak glances, but rather staring extensively. Honey Roper had that affect on men.
"Well, hello there, Mr. Burnside," she beamed. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"It has indeed," I said and watched for her father's reaction. "Too long."
"How is Gail? I spoke with her a few weeks ago. I've been meaning to stop by."
"She's good. And I'm sure she'd love to see you."
"So," she said, the radiant smile still pasted on her gorgeous face. "How are you doing with all of this?"
"With impending fatherhood? Scared to death. People say I'll do fine, but in my line of work, I usually see the parents who messed up somehow. Or maybe just had bad luck. Either path makes me nervous."
"You know, I think you're going to be a good dad."
"Aw, you're just saying that," I teased her.
"Nope," she shook her head definitively. "I know you well enough. And believe it or not, I actually know what a good dad is."
"Really?" I said, eyebrows arched. When your father's been arrested numerous times for major felonies, it doesn't set the best example. The fact that Cliff Roper had never been convicted didn't change the fact that he was not up for father of the year.
"I know what you're thinking," she said. "My dad has, um, an unusual background. But in the end it comes down to how your dad treats you, how he looks after you, whether he puts your needs first. Believe it or not, my dad has been pretty good. Not perfect, but pretty good. I know others may think differently, but he's not their dad. He treats me as if I'm special. And as a result, I think I am. Can't ask for too much more than that."
I glanced at Cliff Roper, who was nodding intently as he listened to his daughter lavish praise on him. He had a pleased look on his face and slipped an arm around his daughter. I looked over at Juan, who was pointing to the eternal flame at the top of the peristyle end of the Coliseum, and explaining that USC always lit the flame in the 4th quarter to commemorate the Coliseum's two Olympiads. I thought about my own father who I never knew, and I wondered what he had been like. My mother had rarely spoken about him, the subject had just been too painful for her.
My thoughts were interrupted by the Trojan Marching Band beginning their rendition of the national anthem. A few minutes later, the teams lined up for the opening kickoff. Both USC and Stanford were cautious at first, neither team taking many chances, each one scoring a touchdown after long, time-consuming drives. Xavier Bishop started at cornerback for USC and played exceptionally well. On one play, Xavier's receiver got behind him and was about to reel in a long pass, but Xavier recovered and surged forward at the last moment to tap the ball away. The defenses dug in and the first half ended with the score tied 7-7. It may not have been the most exciting first half, but I enjoyed watching the strategy unfold, and seeing good defense played by both teams.
Stanford received the kickoff to open the 2nd half and started on their 20 yard-line. After a pair of running plays garnered only a couple of yards, they were faced with a 3rd down and long. They needed to gain 8 yards or else punt the ball to USC. The Stanford offense lined up with five wide receivers, which meant there were no runners in the backfield to pass block. In fact, the only player in the backfield was the Stanford quarterback, who was lined up in a shotgun formation, five yards in back of the center. I usually watched the defensive backs, this was my position, and I probably did it more out of habit. On this play I was glad I did.
Xavier Bishop wore jersey number 1, so he was easy to spot. He was lined up on the right side. As the quarterback barked signals, Xavier began to creep closer to the middle of the field. He shuffled away from the receiver he was supposed to guard and danced closer to the quarterback. When the ball was snapped back to the quarterback, Xavier exploded toward him at a dead sprint. Johnny had called for a corner blitz. This meant Xavier's receiver would be covered by a slower defender, if he was even being covered at all. The entire play was predicated on Xavier getting to the QB before he could throw the pass.
A blitz in football has its roots in the German war tactic called the blitzkrieg. It involves a quick, powerful, unexpected attack that uses speed and might to disable an opponent and unhinge them. It is a commonly used play in football, but normally employed with linebackers rushing the quarterback. Occasionally a safety will blitz, but it's rare that a cornerback would be sent in this way. The element of surprise was a key component.
The Stanford quarterback caught the snap from center and began going through his progressions downfield. He saw an open receiver and began to move his arm back into a throwing position. But the quarterback couldn't see Xavier Bishop flying toward him from his blind side. And when Xavier Bishop crashed into him from behind, the ball popped out of his hand and shot straight up into the air.
Xavier fell on top of the quarterback but then looked around wildly for the football. It took him a second, but he picked up the arc of the ball and saw where it was going to come down. Without even getting up, he launched his body, twisted around and stretched out his right arm. In a prone position, falling on his back, the ball landed in his hand, but you could see it bobble as he tried to maintain control of it. Xavier pulled the football into his belly and pressed it there tightly with his right hand. He then wrapped his left hand around the ball as the referees blew the whistle. The ref closest to him signaled USC had gained possession. It was one of the most unique and brilliant interceptions I had ever seen.
The crowd cheered wildly and Xavier's teammates raced over to celebrate with him. They slapped his helmet joyously as they ran off the field. The entire USC team was jumping up and down and the Coliseum felt like it was shaking. It literally felt like an earthquake was happening. Fans in our section, people who never met each other before, were high-fiving and hugging. Juan grabbed my shoulder and yelled into my ear. It was a spectacular interception and it was a true game-changer.
USC scored on the next play, their tailback taking a handoff and running up the middle, untouched, into the end zone. It was as if the Stanford team was too stunned to respond. They did regain their composure, but the 2nd half was similar to the 1st half. It was a defensive struggle, and neither team scored again. USC came away with the win, 14-7.
As the seconds ticked down on the scoreboard, I bade goodbye to the Ropers and to Cliff's new friends. I brought Juan and his sons down into the Trojan locker room to meet Johnny and a few players. Xavier Bishop, drenched in sweat and smiling expansively, saw me and gave me a big hug.
"I owe you, man," he whispered into my ear. "I don't
know what you said to Desiree, but she did the right thing. Told me all she wanted was what's best for me. By the end of our talk, I had tears in my eyes."
I looked at him. "Does that mean you're getting back together?"
Xavier Bishop answered me with a little shrug. But he was still smiling as he did it.
Chapter 16
California's gubernatorial election was held on the Tuesday following the USC-Stanford game. Rex Palmer, like his Stanford alma mater, went down to defeat. Unlike his alma mater, the election wasn't even close. While the polls showed Rex to be trailing by five or six points prior to the election, the results were nowhere near that. Justin Woo won by almost 20 points and was elected governor in a landslide. It was the most lopsided win over a sitting governor in this state since Ronald Reagan was elected many, many years ago.
I waited a few weeks for the dust to settle before going and talking to the one person who might provide closure on some lingering issues. I knew from experience that certain cases simply end and you don't always get resolution on things. But I generally tried to unearth whatever details I could before moving on to the next case. My natural curiosity had led me into this field, and had served to help me become successful at it. Leaving questions unanswered was not something I liked to do.
It was a Friday around 10:00 am, sunny and lazy. It was the type of day that makes being outside a joy. I lowered the windows of my Pathfinder as I drove up Tigertail Road, enjoying the warm breeze lapping softly on my face. I approached Buster Palmer's home and was reassured to see the street fairly empty. No media, no paparazzi. Just a couple of gardeners, one mowing a small lawn, the other using a leaf blower to corral leaves from a nearby silver maple tree.
The housekeeper remembered me and escorted me through the house, past the parlor and onto an outdoor porch overlooking a rustic canyon.
"Come on over, young man," Buster boomed. "Have a seat. Take a load off."
I sat down on a bentwood rocking chair. "Thank you for seeing me again, sir. Much appreciated."
"Oh, I figured you'd be back. You struck me as the type. And I figured you had a few more questions for me. Your kind always does."
"You seem to have figured me out," I smiled. "Glad you're in the mood to talk."
"Talk. That's about all I do these days," he responded. "But I like to think I'm quite adept at it."
"Yes. I'm sorry to hear about Rex. Tough to lose an election in such a big way."
"Disappointing, I would agree," Buster said. "But you take the good with the bad in politics. I've been around long enough to know most people can make a comeback. I just don't know if Rex should bother."
"Why's that?"
Buster shook his head, maybe a little sadly. "He's not cut out for politics. Doesn't have that instinct. You have to know when to compromise and when to dig your heels in. He was too quick to cut deals with the legislature. And sometimes you have to ask for a favor without promising anything in return. Offering merely the thanks of a grateful governor may not sound like much, but it demonstrates strength."
"Seems like sound advice. Why didn't Rex follow this?"
"Ah, Mr. Burnside. You've yet to have children. They have their own constitutions and they are their own people. As much as you want to help them, they have to carve out their own path. There are times that will lead them straight into a ditch."
"Speaking of children," I said. "I wanted to ask you about Molly. That whole situation confounded me. I was hired by Rex to find a daughter that wasn't really missing. Can you shed some light on what happened?"
"Yes sir, I believe I can. Now anyways," he said. "I was the one who suggested Molly go stay with her friends, although I certainly didn't suggest she go into the barrio. She needed to be away from the campaign and away from that poor excuse of a mother. Nicole was a huge liability in this campaign. Carrying on with a woman was just one example. The lack of discretion was even worse. Throw in the drinking and you have a toxic stew. Thankfully, the media didn't focus on Nicole. The Times tried to, but I was able to quash it."
"Oh? So much for freedom of the press."
"Yes, you'd be surprised at how little freedom there really is in America. And I know I'm old, but I know about social media and how things can get out. But I also know that if you pay enough money, you can keep many things quiet. And secret. Everyone has their price, Mr. Burnside. Everyone."
"So how is it that Rex seemed to think Molly was missing?" I asked.
"Oh, that was Nicole. For whatever her crazy reasons, she and Rex had grown estranged to the point where they despised each other terribly. So when Molly went off with that Mexican kid after the football game, she told her mother. But Nicole told Rex that Molly had gone missing. Guess she wanted to mess with Rex's head during the final throes of the election. Evil woman, that one. I tried to tell Rex that things were being handled, but as I said, some kids don't like to listen to their parents. You'd think they'd grow out of it when they become adults."
"So why didn't Molly let her father know? Or is this more of the kids-and-parents thing."
"No need to be smart with me, Mr. Burnside. Molly hadn't been happy with Rex for quite a while. Didn't fully understand the important position he had. She felt he had one job and one job only. To be her father."
"So all of this came down to a bunch of important people not liking their family members, and not talking honestly to one another. Sheesh."
"I can see how it might sound dysfunctional to an outsider," Buster Palmer sighed. "And I can't say as I'm proud of it all. I'm the patriarch of this clan and I bear some responsibility. But you know, the world does what the world does. Hopefully Rex will find his way. Maybe one day he'll hold the world in the palm of his hand. Like I used to."
"All right," I said. "I can't say as I fully understand the inner machinations of being a parent yet. Maybe one day. But I do have another matter to discuss with you."
"Oh?"
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the $10,000 check Molly had handed to me. "This was your payment to provide Molly with a safe place for a while. I didn't really need to spend it. I'm sure you know, she's been staying with a friend of mine."
"Yes, yes, Mrs. Fairborn," he said, nodding approvingly. "Quite an impressive woman. Molly loves her. And I might add, I think Rex may, too."
I stared at him. "You're kidding."
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Burnside. Apparently since the election, Rex and Crystal have been seeing a lot of one another. And for once in her life, I think Molly actually approves of what her father is doing."
"If that don't beat all," I said, shaking my head.
"I'll bet you never thought of yourself as Cupid, now did you?" he smiled.
"No, sir. Never, to be quite honest."
"I know that wasn't your intent. But you showed remarkably good judgment in placing Molly with Crystal Fairborn. So if you're all right with this, I'd like you to keep the check. I'm sure with a child on the way, you'll be able to put it to good use. Lord knows, I have plenty of money. Consider this a bonus for a job well done. Even if much of it was earned being a matchmaker."
"That's quite generous of you," I said. "Sincerely, it is."
Buster waved a hand. "It's nothing, really. And if things work out the way I expect them to, we'll invite you and your wife to the wedding."
"Rex may not be too crazy about that idea."
"I'll insist. I still have some juice around here."
"Well, if they do wind up tying the knot, I'm sure you'll be relieved about one thing."
"What's that?" Buster asked.
"She won't be marrying Rex for his money."
*
Gail and I moved into our new home the Sunday after Thanksgiving. We spent much of December setting up the nursery, painting, wallpapering, figuring out where to put furniture and on which walls to hang pictures. Or I should say, Gail decided and I followed her suggestions. And oddly, while my sleep was no longer being interrupted by Ms. Linzmeier, I still found m
yself waking up at 5:00 am.
I took on a few small cases, mostly insurance fraud I could handle without much incident. Our next-door neighbors, The Conways, welcomed us during our first week with a homemade apple cake. They invited us over for dinner the following week and they were a friendly couple. They also had a dog, a feisty little dachshund who would yap occasionally, so a few play dates were arranged with Chewy. And it didn't take long for our quiet puppy to begin picking up some new, and less-than-delightful habits. While we were convinced that back in Santa Monica she didn't even know how, after two weeks in Mar Vista, our little dog had finally learned how to bark.
USC made it to the Rose Bowl game and was scheduled to play Michigan State on New Year's Day. One of the oddities of Southern California weather was that we normally get a lot of fog this time of year, and an occasional rainstorm. But it rarely ever rained during a Rose Bowl game, and it looked like this year would be no exception; the forecast was for sunny skies and warm temperatures. I visited Johnny during one of the team's practices and wished them good luck. Johnny didn't bring up his casual offer of a coaching job again and I didn't ask him. I still hadn't settled on an answer for that. I did have an answer for Arthur Woo, however. I provided him with a polite and gracious decline of his offer to head up security for his brother, now the governor-elect. While the job had a certain appeal, I had more important responsibilities now, and flying back and forth to Sacramento wasn't going to be one of them.
While the doctor had told Gail that her due date would be right around Christmas, Shelly Busch had proved to be a better prognosticator. It was New Year's Eve and we were still expecting. Shelly herself would remain busy with politics; her husband, Landon Busch, had announced the formation of an exploratory committee for his candidacy to become the next U. S. Senator from California. The election was almost two years away, but I imagined Shelly would already be knee-deep in fund raising. And after badly mismanaging Rex Palmer's re-election campaign, working for her husband was most likely the only job in politics she could get.