Lemons 02 A Touch of Danger (18 page)

I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling. The sarcastic-asshole inside of me was too powerful to keep caged. This whole scenario was all just so ridiculous. This guy was an asshole actor. A wanna-be tough guy. He had been playing pretend for too long and gotten way too full of himself.

“Give me a break, man,” I said. “You do realize this isn’t a movie, right? You’ve been playing dress-up for far too long. Just because you can murder a few women in cold blood doesn’t make you a real life tough guy. In fact, I bet you’re pretty goddamn big poontang. What do you think, E?” I turned to look at her.

“Yeah,” she said. “A huge vagina.”

“See, dude,” I said. “Even this pretty little lady right here thinks you’re a vagina. And hanging around that guy who drives the New-Bug…give me a break! Just how gay are you?”

I could see the anger start to form in his face. His smile was now completely gone and his eyes began narrowing at me. I think I had crossed the line. I could tell the gun in his pants was real, but I was trying to give him false confidence in making him think that we thought it was a prop. I think my plan worked. I saw him make a move for the gun. It was now or never.

As he looked down at the weapon tucked into the front of his pants, I threw Elise’s phone directly at his face, striking him square in the nose. His instinct caused him to raise both hands up to his injured face. I gently tossed my phone on to the grass where I knew it would be safe, then jumped on to the bench that seperated us from him, stepped on the backrest and flung myself over and onto Brad Jackson, knocking him and myself to the ground. Both of his hands began punching me in the sides as we wrestled around on the grass.

I had to get to the gun, or at least remove it from his reach. I don’t think my body could survive being shot again. I began to feel water dripping from me. It had begun to rain. Oh no!

“Elise! My phone! Don’t…let it get…wet!”

Brad’s hands had worked their way up to my face. He was trying to push his thumbs into my eyeballs, another classic movie-fight move. And another stupid thing that doesn’t really work in real life. As long as the person has free range of his head, it is quite easy to avoid having thumbs pushed through your eyes.

I had lost sight of Elise and didn’t want to turn away to locate her. I still had the upper position on Brad and didn’t want to risk losing my advantage in the fight. But, my phone. Was it safe?

Brad had managed to wrap his hands around my neck, forcing me to arch my back away from him and lose my advantage. My brain was quickly optioning my various ways of escape. If I knew what Elise was doing, I could work her into some of these scenarios and actually take advantage of this two-on-one thing. I hoped she had gotten my phone!

I had settled on trying to hold my breath, take the choke, and do my best to smash my head into his face. A move that I was familiar with, already. Before I could make my trademarked move, though, I saw a size eight, black Converse shoe stomp down directly upon the nose of Mr. Brad Jackson. It was Elise. Of course.

The blow had caused him to release his hold on me and I quickly rolled off him, grabbed the gun from his waistband and stood up, ready to go.

“Do you have my phone?” I asked Elise.

“Yeah, asshole, and I have mine, too, with the newly cracked screen.”

I grabbed her by the arm and we took off running towards safety.

I looked at the gun I was holding while we were making our break for it. Wouldn’t ya know it…

“Son of a bitch! This is a prop gun!”

30.

We ducked into a side street between a grouping of houses to catch our breath and slow things down a little. The car had left Brad Jackson’s house less than five minutes ago, but there was still no way for us to try and track it down. If that was their getaway plan, then they succeeded. The car was long gone and we didn’t even have one for ourselves to attempt to follow.

We assumed that Brad Jackson was back on the prowl, so going back to the park seemed pointless. We stood there in the rain and weighed our options. We really had nothing and it sucked. Badly. Calling the police again would be completely pointless and probably do nothing else but get us arrested for assault. All Brad did was show us a plastic gun, which cannot even be proved he really even had since I am currently carrying it, and I assaulted him. Shit.

We decided to head back to the Palomar Inn and work on a new plan. The pregnant clouds above us had erupted, fully giving birth to a hard downpour of rain, and by the time we reached our room, we were completely soaked. While stripping off our wet clothes, I wondered if the recording on my phone was still going. I asked Elise where the phones were and went and retrieved them from her bag. Sure enough, the recording was still on. It had been less than twenty-five minutes since we made the first call to Captain Gibson. I hit stop, then played the recording from the beginning. It was of no use. You could barely hear Brad talk, and even when you listened really closely, he didn’t say anything incriminating. It was a total bust.

Speaking of busts, I pulled Elise’s phone out of her bag next. The screen was shattered and she was none-to-happy with me.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Elise.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t have thrown your precious phone, huh? It had to be mine.”

“Well, my phone is my baby; I couldn’t stand to see it get hurt. And please, like I won’t just buy you another one when we get back home. Christ, this trip has already cost me ten times as much as it should, what’s another three-hundred bucks?”

“Darn right, you’ll buy me another one.” She gave me a little sarcastic laugh then closed the bathroom door, leaving me alone in the room. I decided to make a call. Why the hell not?

“Detective Steve Gibson, please.”

“Detective Gibson is out of the…Oh wait, he must have just arrived back,” the woman’s voice responded. “I will transfer you to his office. Please hold”

“Thank…” More muzak.

“Detective Gibson,” he answered.

“Detective Gibson. Archie Lemons. Remember me?”

“God, yes.” I could feel the air of annoyance rushing through the receiver. “I didn’t think you would be calling back. So soon.”

“I just wanted to tell you that your boyfriend Brad Jackson just tried to assault me and my sister-in-law in the park.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yeah, it’s a fact. And if you go check on him, you’ll find him with a broken nose, because that’s how we left him when we got away. So consider this an official report, complaint, or whatever the fuck you call it. If you don’t start doing some goddamn police work on this case, I’m calling the detectives from my town to show up and do it for you. I can’t imagine that looking very good on your end!” I was soaking wet but getting hot again. I could feel blood rushing into my face. I hated this pathetic excuse of an officer. “If you would have just done your goddamn job in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. His accomplice got away while we were being assaulted. He’s probably halfway back to Hollywood now and God knows if we’ll ever see him again! If these guys get away with murder, it will be YOUR fault! I have never seen a sorrier excuse of…” He cut me off.

“Listen! Shut up! I will look in to it! I need to be able to get hold of you. What is your cell phone number?”

I gave it to him.

“Okay, give me a few minutes, I will get some men on it and be in touch. Have your phone on you.”

“I always do.”

He hung up.

I felt pretty good about myself. My attack was starting to subside and I could feel the blood leave my face and my anger slowly disappear. Yelling at that thumbdick really helped calm me. I needed to go tell Elise the good news about maybe actually have some cops on our side.

I went to the bathroom and gave a little knock on the door. No answer. I could hear the shower running so I decided to duck my head in real fast and tell her.

She was gone.

Nah, I’m just kidding. She was in the shower. How cliche would that have been if she really was gone, though? Snoozers.

Trying to talk to her while she was showering proved to be quite difficult and I gave up rather easily, like usual.

I went back to the bed and flipped on the television while I waited for Elise to finish up and get ready. Adam 12 was on RTV. I was happy.

Elise exited the bathroom about ten minutes later and I told her about my phone conversation with Gibson.

“Do you think he’s actually going to do something about it,” she asked, “or ya think he’s just blowing smoke?”

“Well, hopefully he’s being serious. Otherwise I am calling Anderson and Enzite; get them down here and do some real police work.”

“Why don’t you just call them now?”

“I don’t know why. I feel like I am really close to figuring things out. All the pieces are scattered throughout my brain, I can’t just seem to put them into place.”

“Like a puzzle.”

“Yes, it’s exactly like a puzzle. My brain absorbs every bit of information I see. It’s just scattered about in a haphazard way. Shit that I don’t even realize is important is stored in there. Just because my self-conscience doesn’t think it’s important, my brain knows and kind of keeps it filed away. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I think so. Like you said, it’s just like a puzzle.”

“It’s because my memory is so good. I remember the most ridiculous shit, like where I left the remote control when we left for LA, and the exact patterns of puzzle-games and stuff. It’s why I can solve those stupid Rubik’s Cubes so easily.”

“So, what are you telling me? That you’ve solved the case but haven’t solved the case?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I can feel it in my body that I have the answers. I know that sounds stupid, but it’s the truth. Do you ever get anxious about something, and your body can’t seem to rest, and it’s kinda like you have the heebie-jeebies?”

“Yeah, quite often actually. Not so much now, but when I wasn’t working…”

“Well that’s how my body tells me that I’m close. I just have to fit it together. Make everything right. I just cannot seem to concentrate. Ever since I got shot, I’m telling ya, I haven’t been the same.”

“Is it fear?”

“It might be, actually. I don’t want to go through that again. It’s as if my brain has conflicting messages for me. I don’t even know how to describe it.”

I looked away from Elise and back to the TV. Adam-12 was receiving a distress call at a rundown project building. It made me think of the Kool-Aid Man, which lead to my too-tight Something Corporate t-shirt, which lead me to the moment when I purchased the shirt. With my wife. We were at one of their concerts in Ventura. I bought that shirt for myself and a light blue one for Marianne. And just that easily, from one episode of a television show shot in the 1960’s, I am back to thinking about my wife and the depression I had fought so hard to keep hidden flooded my body like the hallway of blood in Kubrick’s Shining.

Elise must have noticed my sudden mood change.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I miss Marianne. I keep trying to push the pain aside and move on, but just the slightest stupid thing will bring it all back to me.”

“I know how it is. She was my sister, ya know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m being stupid.”

“No you’re not. She’s always going to be with us. No matter what happens, she’s always here. Whenever we need her. And besides, we have each other now, too. Rememberrrrrrr? We’re going to be okay.”

“I know. I know.”

“Come on, we need to stay focused. We can reminisce about the good times later. Right now, we’ve got a prettyboy to nail.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“You’re best? Losers always whine about their best.”

“Okay Sean Connery, lets solve this fucker.”

I hate to admit it, but I said that last line in what was quite possibly the world’s worst Sean Connery impression. Impressions are not my strong point. In fact, the only one I can pull off halfway decently is the Crocodile Hunter, and even then, I can only say “CRIKEY!” and “Oy! He’s really pissed off now!” Pathetic. I also have a Russell Crowe one, too, but it sounds eerily similar.

“Hey. Snap out of it.”

“Oh” I said. “My bad. Okay, let’s do this.”

“Okay, lay out the facts for me. We can start by getting everything organized and then just start making up scenarios that could have happened. That’s what the lawyers do on TV.”

“Right. Okay, so I see prettyboy Brad Jackson murder…” My thoughts trailed off. My mind went completely blank. “Hold on.”

“Ya got something?”

I ignored the question and closed my eyes to focus on whatever my brain was trying to tell me. As a sick joke, it once again started playing the theme song for Too Close for Comfort. I shut my eyes tighter and began saying every goddamn curse word I knew repeatedly in my mind. Why is it doing this to me? I’m fairly certain that Jim J. Bullock is in no way involved in this, nor is the rotting corpse of Ted Knight, so why is my brain torturing me with this terrible music?!

Outside, the thunder was growing louder and louder and I could hear the rain splashing into puddles outside the door.

I began rocking myself back and forth on the bed.

“Holy shit…”

“What?”

Before I could answer, my cellphone rang. I answered it on speaker phone. “Hello?”

“Archie?” a gruff man’s voice asks me.

“Yes, this is he.”

“It’s Captain Gibson.”

Elise shot me a quizzical look and I returned a shoulder shrug.

“I think you were right,” he says. “I think we might have some proof that Mr. Jackson is up to something. I need your help.”

“Wow, okay. Sure Captain. What do you need?”

He was silent for a second as we heard the flick of a lighter, followed back a deep inhale, then long exhale.

“I need you with me. I’m in the car right now, where are you?”

“We’re at The Palomar Inn in Shell. Room nine.”

“Be outside. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

He ended the call.

“I’m not dressed to go out,” Elise says.

“Give me a break, girlfriend. Trust me. This will be worth it.”

31.

We each grabbed a sweatshirt and walked out front. We tried to stay under the small ledge of the roof to avoid getting wet, but it wasn’t working out too well for us. I checked my phone for the time. It was only a little after 5pm, despite being nearly dark outside due to cloud cover.