Chutes and Ladder

by Marc Jedel

  Meghan parked near me and got out of the car, walking toward me with a smile and a shake of her head.

  I was happy to see her too.

  I held her for an extra moment as we kissed before we broke apart. “Really?” She sounded incredulous. “That’s what you wear after you haven’t seen me all week?”

  I pouted. “I got it for you. It’s got a Renaissance Faire motif with the arrows and all the leaves and stuff.” I waved my hand across the pattern.

  She leaned in and pecked me on the cheek. “That’s sweet … I think.”

  Pout over. “Let’s go eat.” I was starved. “That place fills up quickly. Afterwards, I was thinking maybe we could go to the Stanford football game?”

  She hesitated, giving me a very sweet smile. “I have an idea. How about if we go somewhere else instead of that brunch place today?”

  I was game, as long as food was involved. It was hard to resist her smile. Kickoff wasn’t until 1:00 p.m., so we had time for another place.

  “In the airline magazine, I saw an ad for something that looked fun,” she said, leading the way to her car. “Let’s go to the Half Moon Bay Art and Pumpkin Festival.” Noticing my reaction, she stepped back to where I had stopped in my tracks and added a kiss on my other cheek. “Oh, come on, it will be fun.”

  Traffic, crowds, street food—all things I didn’t enjoy. Sure, I put up with them if there was a sporting event involved, but not for a silly art festival. I steeled myself to tell her this was not going to happen. I looked her in the eyes, took a deep breath, and, with a calm voice, said, “Okay.” My dad didn’t raise no fool. This was a new relationship, and we hadn’t seen each other all week.

  She clapped twice in excitement. “Good. I was afraid you were going to say no.”

  No was an option?

  *****

  The drive was as long and painful as I had imagined. The search for parking was even worse. We finally lucked into a parking spot when a man wearing a San Jose Sharks hat with a cigar in his mouth jumped into a pink cheetah-print Mini Cooper and accelerated away from the curb right in front of us. Meghan giggled at the image. Hopefully she wouldn’t share that visual with Laney as a suggestion for her new car’s paint job. Ridiculous. Although, I did approve of the guy’s hat.

  We pushed our way through the crowds. The festival was every bit as annoying as I’d expected and without the reward of a football or baseball game to follow. I felt another pout coming on. Then Meghan grabbed my hand and I relaxed as I took in the beautiful, warm day. To quote a certain barista friend of mine, it was “chill.” Hand in hand, we wandered back and forth past enough rows of artist booths to last me a lifetime.

  The smell of the nearby ocean mingled with fried food and sunscreen. All that sniffing made me even hungrier. One big positive of coming here—funnel cakes. The brunch place didn’t have those bad boys on the menu. After winding our way to the food area, we split up to get through the lines faster. I bought us some sausage links, and for some inexplicable reason, the funnel cake line was empty. I got my pick of the lot before snagging a table while Meghan stood in a long line for our drinks and a taste of some pumpkin smoothie concoction.

  While I waited, I took a bite of my sausage. Just one. It wouldn’t be polite to finish my meal before Meghan showed up with our drinks. A little quality control was acceptable, however.

  “Why are you so cute?” came a woman’s playful voice from my left.

  I shifted on the bench and prepared to answer her. A young woman was crouched in front of her baby stroller, cooing at her baby. I closed my mouth, glad that I hadn’t blurted out that if she thought my left profile was cute, she should check out my right side.

  Meghan walked up holding her smoothie and two glasses of wine on a tray and sat down next to me.

  “Oh. They didn’t have beer?” Then, before she could answer, I corrected myself. “Thanks.”

  My appreciation must not have sounded too sincere, as Meghan’s face tightened a little. She handed over a wine glass without saying a word.

  The band started playing, so I didn’t have to speak for a while as we ate and listened. Putting the sausage in my mouth sure tasted better than my foot.

  After a few minutes, I felt someone staring at me but noticed no one nearby looking at me. I’ve never understood how you could feel a stare. Was that some remnant of powers from long-ago human evolution that had faded? What other superpowers had we lost? Were we ever able to fly? I got excited about this possibility and almost mentioned it to Meghan until I felt the stare again.

  Wary, I glanced to the side. A person painted all in gold was staring at me while he stood like a statue outside a store named Southern Treasures. I stared back, careful not to blink. Performers like him entertain the crowds by freezing long enough for a new fool to walk by before scaring them with a sudden movement. I was not going to be that fool. Not today, at least.

  I couldn’t hold it any longer. I blinked. This guy was good. He hadn’t moved or blinked in over a minute, unless he timed his blink for right when I did.

  “Why are you staring at that mannequin?” Meghan leaned over me to get a better look.

  Startled, I double-checked that she was looking at the same thing. “Are you sure that’s a mannequin? It looks like a real person painted in gold.”

  Meghan scoffed. “It’s missing ears.” She stood up, brushing off any crumbs, and tossed her trash into a nearby container. “Anyway, it looks like a cool store. I want to go in.”

  I kept the groan to myself, although the whine leaked out on its own. “It’s an antique store. Aren’t we here to see the art?” Even the art booths would be more interesting than that. Everything in an antique store was old.

  I followed Meghan into the store, careful to give the mannequin a wide berth in case she was wrong. The mannequin’s creepy-looking, almost human eyes and realistic body painted all in gold would give me nightmares. Was Samerson’s gold bathroom just a good paint job too, or did it really have any gold? What was he hiding in his office that he was worried Samantha and I had found?

  Still pondering these points, I stepped into the store. Being away from the noisy street was a relief, of sorts. An older man wearing a cowboy hat over long, ponytailed white hair, tight jeans, and cowboy boots approached us. “Howdy and welcome to Southern Treasures.” He whipped off his hat and bowed slightly to Meghan. “Can I get you some coffee while you browse?” He winked at her. “I add a little extra Southern Comfort to it to make you feel right at home. In fact, that’s what I was going to name this place before my lawyer gave me some nonsense about trademarks.” He never glanced in my direction as he took Meghan by the elbow and guided her deeper into the store.

  Meghan looked from side to side at all the crap. “Oh, you have such lovely antiques here.” She patted him on the arm, and he beamed in response.

  “Well, ma’am, I tell people it’s my Cowboy 401k plan. I collected all these beauties over the years. Once I retired and moved here, I opened up this place. Now I sell a little here, a little there, and I get by.”

  Meghan stopped in front of a small wooden stool with carvings in the legs. “Oh, this is adorable. Would you take $100 for it?”

  The owner held his hat in both hands as he glanced sheepishly at the floor. “Well, you know I surely did fell off that truck. But it weren’t yesterday. It would be downright criminal to let it go for less than $200.”

  They both laughed. I cringed.

  They continued wandering and talking. I had to admit the owner had good taste, at least in women. He seemed to enjoy haggling with Meghan while he ignored me and gave scarce attention to the other patrons in his store.

  We circled back to the small stool.

  Meghan twinkled her eyes at the old man. “It would stroke my ego if you’d let this go for $145.”

  He nodded. “Well, honey, let’s not stroke it quite so much and do $175.”

  She bought it for $150. Meghan wasn’t a pushover, even when flirting
.

  As they haggled over what Meghan told me was “one last item,” she said to the owner, “You know, if you keep charming me like this, we might end up married before we’re done.”

  The old man slapped his knee like this was the funniest thing he’d heard in years. “I don’t know, hun, you spend too much money. I don’t think I can afford you.”

  They laughed together again, but I noted that he hadn’t turned her down.

  My phone rang. Neither noticed as I excused myself to take the call outside. Although it was noisier outside with a band at the corner, the call gave me a perfect excuse to escape.

  Raj had granted me a temporary reprieve from more faux cowboy nonsense. “Hi, Marty. When will you make it into the office today for the special project?”

  Today was Saturday and we didn’t have any urgent releases coming up. What was he talking about? “What special project?”

  “Oh.” He hesitated. “I assumed the boss called you too because Larry was your friend.”

  “Larry was my friend but the boss didn’t call me. What are you talking about?”

  “Sorry, sorry. The Santa Cruz Sheriff’s Office asked Rover to do a search of our records to see if Lawrence Cohen used our service. The deputy said it is important, it is part of their murder investigation. I will go to the office in an hour or so.”

  Why didn’t my boss ask me? In fact, why didn’t the deputies ask me? I was part of this investigation, practically on the team. Larry was my friend. My longtime friend. I’d been at the campground, discovered his body, annoyed the sheriff’s deputies, and then spoken to them more politely while Mace sat next to me. I’d discovered the connections to Gloria and Sean Peters. My annoyance grew. It was time to call Mace and get to the bottom of this.

  “Marty? You there?” Raj asked, interrupting my internal fuming.

  “Yes, sorry. I’m here. And, yes, thanks, I definitely will help. I’ll call you right back.”

  I hung up and frowned at the mannequin. He frowned back. I swear he did. While I paced in front of the store, I called Mace.

  He answered after a few rings. It was hard to hear him with all the music playing in the background.

  “Mace … Sergeant Jackson?” I shouted as I cupped my hand over my ear.

  Wait. The same music was coming from the phone.

  “Are you here in Half Moon Bay, too?” I yelled into the phone.

  “Umm,” was all I could make out from him.

  He was here. I heard the same announcement in stereo, from the loudspeakers and via the phone’s speaker. “Where are you? I need to talk to you right now about this search warrant for Rover.”

  Mace told me to meet him by the side of the stage. I promised to be there as soon as I grabbed Meghan.

  I burst back into Southern Treasures, almost flinging the door open against the wall. “Hey, Meghan, we gotta go. I’ve got to talk to Mace. He’s here, at the festival.”

  She was standing at the counter with the owner.

  “Now, son, don’t pitch no hissy fit. We’re fixin’ to finish up right soon.” The owner didn’t increase his pace or seem at all concerned about my urgent issue.

  What was that saying about how your emergency wasn’t my crisis? I watched the embodiment of that saying as he fiddled with his credit card machine. I reached over to help him.

  He pulled it farther away from me. “Okay, okay, hold your horses. This here machine ain’t no faster than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking competition. It’ll finish when it finishes.”

  Meghan asked, “Mace called you?”

  I didn’t appreciate the incredulity in her voice. He called me sometimes. Once before this. This time, I was going to help out on a search warrant. We were going to figure out who killed Larry, together. I didn’t want to talk about the details in front of the store owner. Civilian.

  Before my head exploded from anticipation, the owner finished the transaction and handed Meghan her receipt. We walked out of the store, me carrying the stool and Meghan holding her other smaller purchases.

  I started to explain what had happened when an attractive, well-endowed woman wearing a belly dancer outfit walked by right in front of me. If her clothing, consisting of not much more than a bikini, wasn’t distracting enough, she was carrying a long horizontal pole that created the stoop for two large, colorful birds. They were attached to the pole via a chain through their beaks. Meghan stumbled into me as I slammed to a halt and waited for the spectacle to pass.

  Meghan recovered from her stumble, noticed the scene in front of us, and demanded, “What are you gawking at?”

  “Her toucans.”

  “Sure you are.”

  I didn’t notice the dangerous note in her voice as something else caught my eye. “Do you see the EpiPen pouch on her hip?”

  “So, which is it? Her hips or her ‘toucans?’” She gave a disgusted snort. “Men.” She walked off, away from the music.

  How was it my fault that such a spectacle walked right in front of me? There had to be a joke starting with “two toucans walked by with a belly dancer.” More important was her EpiPen pouch. Had the police found any fingerprints or other evidence on Larry’s bag in his car? Was his EpiPen in there? Why had it been in Larry’s car instead of with him? If a bikini-clad belly dancer could walk around with an EpiPen on her hip, there was no way he’d go out on a hike without his.

  I hurried to catch up to Meghan before I lost sight of her. “I’m sorry. I almost ran into that woman and then she had those two …” Seeing the expression on her face, I adjusted mid-sentence. “… birds. Were they parrots or toucans?” I spoke faster as I noticed her frown hadn’t disappeared and her pace hadn’t slowed. “They were really beautiful. I hardly even noticed the woman. And her EpiPen made me think of Larry. Besides, I don’t find her anywhere near as attractive as present company.” I held my breath.

  Meghan finally slowed her pace, looking over at me and taking pity on my befuddlement. After narrowing her eyes briefly to send home her point, she relaxed and actually chuckled. “Yeah, those birds were pretty. She really was too much, wasn’t she?”

  I let out my breath. “Yes, she was way too much.” Agreeing was the wisest course. Besides, who found so much coconut oil attractive?

  Meghan asked, “What did Mace want?”

  Mace! I’d forgotten he was waiting for me by the music stage. I turned us around and we made our way there as quickly as we could.

  Mace’s displeasure was visible from a distance. He sat on a chair at the back edge of the crowd with his arms crossed against his chest. Why was he here?

  He glared at me as we approached. “That was ‘right away?’ You know, I have a life too.”

  His normal life disguise disappointed me. Most superheroes looked quite different out of their costumes, but Mace’s civilian clothes looked much like his police uniform—tight-fitting, dark, and sharp-looking. I’d have to help Mace develop a better disguise; perhaps Hawaiian shirts would hide him in plain sight as well as keep him looking stylish. Like me.

  Mace didn’t care about my disappointment. “I don’t want to be standing around waiting to talk to crazy people. I have to do that when I’m working.”

  Meghan sat down in the last empty seat next to him, her arms full with her packages. “Hi, Sergeant Jackson, how are you?” Her slight emphasis on his title and the extra twinkle in her eyes highlighted that she hadn’t forgotten meeting him last month.

  Mace’s frown was overtaken by embarrassment sweeping over his face as he remembered their first meeting as well. He tried to remain professional. “Fine, thank you. How have you been?”

  I jumped in before anything could go sideways. “I’m sorry. The store owner was flirting with Meghan and then—”

  She interrupted, “We weren’t flirting. We were negotiating.”

  “Then, a belly dancer walked by with these two beautiful—”

  “What do you want?” asked Mace. He’d lost patience with both of us.

&
nbsp; I swallowed the rest of my explanation and got to the point. “Did you know there was a search warrant served to Rover? I have to go look for any use by Larry? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “First, I am not your messenger service. Second, I only heard myself a little while ago. Santa Cruz filed the request and they notified the different companies directly.” His eyes flickered over my shoulder and back, but his face remained impassive. “Look, if that’s it, then you better get going.” He stood to walk away.

  “Wait.” I was confused. While his dismissal of me wasn’t unusual, it typically took me doing something irritating before he ended our conversations. “What about Larry’s EpiPen? Was it in his pack? Were there any fingerprints on it?” Then a possible reason behind the search warrant dawned on me. “Do the deputies think he took a self-driving car and met someone at the park?”

  “I don’t know. I’m only the liaison officer. I’ll let you know if anything turns up.” Mace hurried his response, clearly eager to be away from me.

  “Dude! You’re here. Totally righteous stool.” Brody clapped me on the back, pulled the stool out from my arm, and sat on it, running his hands across the carvings on its legs.

  After our discussion at Starbucks, Brody’s presence here in Half Moon Bay didn’t totally shock me, but I was surprised to run into him right after seeing Mace. After all, thousands of people were milling around this crowded mecca of pumpkin unpleasantness.

  Brody’s eyes and smile widened as he noticed Meghan. “Cowabunga! You and him?” He gestured back and forth between the two of us before stretching forward to hug her when she nodded. He didn’t have to look so surprised.

  Brody handed the water bottle to Mace while keeping the beer for himself. “Dude. It’s Kona Longboard. Still sure you don’t want some?” He offered Mace some of his beer.

  “No thanks.” Mace looked at Brody and smiled. At least that’s how I interpreted the unusual expression on his face. “I’m on duty this evening.”

  I looked back and forth between them. “You and him?” I asked Brody, mirroring his tone and hand gesture.