Lemons 02 A Touch of Danger (17 page)

“How so?”

“Well, let’s call the Pismo police again, tell them we saw Brad Jackson break into our motel room. It probably won’t get us anywhere, and they’ll probably laugh at us and tell us to go F ourselves, and that’s fine. As long as we make the complaint, it will have to be filed. If you don’t trust them that much, we can always record the conversation, just in case.”

“Not bad. Keep going.”

“Okay, well, after we file the complaint, then we go stake out his house. By filing the complaint we kind of cover our asses a bit incase anything happens with the complaint filed against us.”

“How do you figure that?”

“God, I don’t know. It just sounded good. You’re the detective. You tell me.”

“Okay, fine. Here’s the deal. You call and make the report of him breaking in here. Call the captain. Steve, whatever.”

“They were all named Steve.”

“Yeah, you’re right. What was that assholes last name? Gibson?”

“That sounds right.”

“Okay,” I continued. “Call Captain Gibson and file you’re report. We’ll record it since he probably won’t take it seriously. That way we’ll have proof of it in case it comes in handy somewhere down the line.” I barfed out another immature little giggle. “Handy.”

“Stay focused, Arch.”

“Okay, we make the call. Then we head down to the cliffs and watch his house. We need to find any sign what-so-ever of Daniel Mayweather being there. We have to leave Brad alone for now and focus all our attention on finding Daniel. He is the link. If we can get to him, I think, we can get to the bottom of this shit-heap we’re in.”

“Okay, then what do we do when we find him?”

“We’ll think of something. A few months ago, I broke a guy’s nose with my gun and threw him in his trunk. I think we’ll be fine. I’m getting pretty good and pissed off over this whole goddamn case, too. Somebody is going to have to face my wrath eventually. It may as well be this pretty boy.”

“Be careful, though. He might enjoy it.”

“Hey now, what do you mean by that?”

“You know exactly what I mean, big stud.”

“Oh come on! No I don’t.”

“I’m just saying, the guy does work in a gay bar…”

“We’ve gone over this. Just because he works in a gay bar doesn’t mean he’s gay.”

“Well, I don’t know too many straight guys that would even know to go in there and apply for the job in the first place. Just sounds a little fishy to me, is all.”

“Fine, your point is well taken. Let’s go pick up some lunch and eat it at the park on the cliff. Grab the binoculars, too.”

“Got ‘em. Let’s go.’

We grabbed our stuff and headed out the door.

As we walked out to the car, I got a feeling flowing through my body that I hadn’t had for over half a year. It felt like bugs were crawling under my skin, my vision began to tunnel and I felt light-headed. It was usually a sign that something was very close, that the puzzle was soon to be completed, (or that I was a meth-addict…pretty sure it was the first choice, though.) I just needed to figure out what I was missing. As I closed and made sure the door was locked, I knew that tonight, regardless of the outcome, would be our final night on this case.

PART THREE:

DEATH AND ALL HIS FRIENDS

28.

We picked up a couple of eggplant sandwiches from a tiny deli on the main drag through town and brought them down to the little park on the edge of the cliff, where all of this started. It proved to be a mistake, as the food was extremely difficult to eat on a park bench. Shit kept falling out of my sandwich on to my lap. It wasn’t a very proper sight. I looked like a bum. Oh well.

We finished our sandwiches and decided it was time to make the call to Captain Gibson. Elise got the number for the police department on her phone, dialed, then set it to speakerphone so I could listen in and record the conversation with my phone. I hit the record button as we listened to Elise’s phone ring.

“Pismo Beach Police Department,” a female voice answered.

“Yes, I need to speak to Captain Steve Gibson there. Is he available?” Elise asked.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but he is out of his office right now. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I’m afraid not. I have important business with the Captain that I need to clear up as soon as possible. My name is Elise Reynolds and we took a meeting with him the other day, about a homicide…”

“I see,” the lady on the other end of the line said. “Would you like me to patch you through to him?”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“There is no guarantee that he will answer, but it is worth a try. You say this is about a homicide?”

“That’s correct, yes.”

“Very well. Please hold the line.”

“Thank…” Elise said, but she was cut off by some crappy music. I can’t believe police stations have music on their hold lines. Seems funny to me.

A few seconds later the music cut out and the line started to ring.

“This is Captain Steve Gibson,” the man answered.

“Captain. This is Elise Reynolds. We met the other day. We came to you with a homicide and you blew us off. Remember.”

A loud sigh came through the speaker towards us. “Yes, I remember, we’ve got a complaint against you, you know. It seems you broke…”

Elise cut him off. A ballsy move, if I do say so myself. “Captain, that is why I am calling, kind of. We have a complaint to file against Brad Jackson. We saw him break into our motel room yesterday, right through the bathroom window!”

“Oh brother, look, I don’t have time for this shit. I have real police work to do and this is…”

Again, she cut him off. Awesome. “Look, CAPTAIN,” She said the word captain with more sarcasm than I could even muster up if I were to say the latest Sandra Bullock shitfest was GOOD. I was impressed, again. Elise continued, “I don’t care if you think it is a waste of time. A man broke into our motel room and you need to take this seriously. You are the police for God’s sake. And you probably should have taken our homicide report seriously, too, because when we solve this thing, like I said before, we will make sure your entire department catches shit for it. Got it?!”

You know she was pissed when the dreaded S word comes out.

“You are still working this?” he asked.

“You’re goddamn right we’re still working this!”

Woah. S and GD. Shit was getting real, here.

“Look,” she said, “we have a dead woman floating somewhere in the middle of the ocean, and your little Hollywood boyfriend Brad Jackson put her there. We tipped our hand a little too early and now he knows we are on to him. Why else would he go through the trouble to find out our names, file a report, then find out where we were staying, and break in to our room? Doesn’t any of this seem a little odd to you?”

“Very well, Miss…”

“Reynolds.”

“Miss Reynolds. Tell me this; if you are going to solve this all by yourself, what are your leads? How are you going to solve a murder without a body? Please, Miss Reynolds, enlighten me.”

God damn, this is like dealing with Warden Norton from Shawshank. Obtuse asshat.

“Fine. We’ve got a car belonging to someone other than Brad Jackson, parked in Brad Jackson’s garage.”

“And how would you know that, Miss Reynolds?”

“Because we saw it. Because we are actually doing some detective work on this homicide case, unlike you and your actual detectives.”

“Very well. Please, by all means, continue.”

“Fine. We thought the car may have belonged to the victim, but we ran the plates and figured out it belonged to a man named Daniel Mayweather. A man, we believe, to have been at Brad’s Hollywood home around the time of Brad’s wife’s murder.”

“And do you know that, Miss Reynolds?”

She had bluffed. We actually didn’t know that at all, it was just a guess. I hoped Elise would come up with the right answer.

“We have our sources, Captain. And besides, we talked to the woman who was wrongly convicted of killing Brad’s wife.”

Not bad, E. Good job.

“Oh, that’s right,” the captain said. “You went to pay a little visit to the convicted murderer of Annette Jackson and, let me guess, she told you exactly what you wanted to hear?”

“No, she didn’t tell us shit, actually. We have these things called brains and we use them often, unlike you and your crew. We figured it out all by our lonesome.”

“So what else? You are telling me nothing that would get me to even consider opening up a murder investigation. Especially against someone like Brad Jackson.”

I took the phone from Elise. I was sick of fucking around with this moron.

“Captain, its Archie Lemons. I’m sure you remember me. We have reason to believe that not only did Brad Jackson kill a woman here a few days ago, but also that he had a hand in killing his wife.”

“Such nonsense. Again, the murderer for that is in jail. What makes you think Brad Jackson had anything to do with it?”

“Well, for one, I SAW HIM MURDER SOMEONE!!! Fuck! Do you not listen?!”

“I am through with this conversation, Mr. Lemons. Good day to…”

“Listen man, we’re sitting here at the park where I witnessed this goddamn thing, just waiting for something to happen. We don’t have the law on our side. If you just helped us out here, we could solve this thing. I know it! Why are you so dead-set on hindering us and helping a murderer?”

“There was no murder, Mr. Lemons. Please leave me alone before I arrest you myself. Good day.”

That was it. He hung up. I sat there holding on to both phones so tightly that I thought I might shatter them. I felt my temperature start to rise. I could feel my whole body getting hotter by the second as I became feverish and began to sweat. I closed my eyes and dropped my head in a lame attempt to calm myself down. I kept expecting Elise to put her arm around me and comfort me, but she had gotten up and walked towards the end of the cliff. She knelt down and pick up a rock, then yelled MOTHERFUCKER as loud as I have ever heard her yell, then she threw the rock into the ocean.

Quite unexpected to say the least. It actually cheered me up and helped to calm my nerves and fend off my first post-pill attack. I wasn’t out of the woods yet, but I was on the right path.

Elise turned around and headed back for the bench to take a seat.

“Is that how you feel all the time? Like you’re right on the edge of having a breakdown?” She asks me.

“Yes. Pretty much every second of my life.”

“Why won’t anyone listen to us, Archie?”

“I don’t know, Elise. But, I promise you, we are going to solve this thing. Tonight.”

We sat there in the silence for a little while longer, enjoying the view of the ocean ahead of us. I glanced up at the sky and noticed a large grouping of dark clouds heading our way. I gave Elise a little nudge and told her to look.

“Looks like a storm’s a-brewin’.”

“Great. Just great. And I wanted to go to the Drive-In, tonight.”

I felt my body start to cool down a bit and it brought a lame-looking smile to my face. We sat there in silence for a few moments more until I happened to glance up at the house we were supposed to be surveilling. The garage door had opened up, and backing out was none other than the motorized ovary of an automobile, the New-Bug.

“Holy shit! That’s him! Let’s go!”

As we both quickly stood up and turned to run back to the car, we were startled damn near half-to-death by the man standing directly behind us.

“Hello, friends.”

Just as if we were in a movie, we heard the crackle of thunder, far off in the distance, as the man standing before us magically made his stealth-like appearance.

It was Brad Jackson.

Obviously.

29.

We were both spooked quite severely just by the presence of him, before we even realized who it was. We both took a few quick steps backwards out of pure fright. I even did the ol” Frank Constanza move of stopping short, uh!, and instinctively throwing out my left arm across Elise’s chest. A pathetic and lame attempt at keeping her safe, which was originally created as a cheap, even lamer and pathetic attempt at copping a hot boobie feel on a woman while driving. Ya see, you quickly apply the brakes and reach over, because that arm will totally stop someone from flying out the front window of your car. No, of course it won’t, but if you’re lucky and in to that kind of thing, hello boobies! I’m getting off track.

“What the fuck, man?!” I yelled at him.

“Nice day for a walk, don’t you think?”

“It’s about to rain, asshole.”

“Woah, settle down there, Fatboy. What are you guys doing? Keeping an eye on my house?”

“Actually, that’s exactly what we’re doing,” Elise said.

“Oh,” Brad said, “planning on catching a murderer or something?”

“We’re GOING to catch a murderer, actually,” Elise said. What a set of testicles she grew all of the sudden. I was still scared shitless, half-expecting Brad Jackson to just pull out a gun and kill us right then and there. The park was deserted. Not a very good sign for us.

“I saw you kill that woman, dude,” I said to him, even though I can’t imagine it having sounding the slightest bit threatening. Dude? Really? Ugh!

“That’s cute that you think you saw me kill a woman. But unfortunately for you, you are wrong.”

“Then why go through the hassle of filing a report on us?” I asked.

Elise chimed in with her own question, “And breaking in to our motel room?!”

“I must admit,” he said, “my plan was pretty shoddy. I wasn’t really thinking very clearly. My plan now is quite foolproof.”

I glanced towards the street where our car was parked. I wanted to make a mad dash for it. Even if we couldn’t escape, there had to be something in there I could use as a weapon. My fighting skills without a weapon of some sort were quite laughable. He must have seen my glance and he gave us a broad smile.

“Don’t even try for the car,” he said. “It seems like you have a flat tire. I don’t know how that could have happened though.”

God damn it. This asshole pretty boy must have slashed one of the tires. This trip truly was costing me a fortune. I mean, if we survive this little encounter.

“So, do yourselves a favor,” he continued. “Just come with me peacefully. Don’t make me use this.” He pulled aside the front of his zip-up hoodie to reveal a small gun tucked in the front of his pants.