Murder and Mayhem (50 page)

Danny slept fitfully as the storm moved inland,
turning the dawn from inky black to purple and then gray, and then the morning
birds competed with the sound of chainsaws that echoed across the valley.

Danny lay waiting for his mind to empty of dreams that
had no connection to the waking day while he watched Nicola sleep. The early
morning light washed in through the windows bathing their bodies in pale light.
He saw a smile play across her lips and wondered what she was dreaming about.
He reached over and brushed a lock of hair from her face, leaned down and
kissed her tenderly on the mouth.  Nicola stirred and flung an arm across his
chest.  He gently removed it and slipped out of bed.

He pulled on his jeans and stepped into the bathroom.
When he looked in the mirror, he groaned at the image that looked back. Danny
rubbed his hand across his face and scratched the blond stubble of three-day
growth. He was not used to having hair on his face. When he inspected the marks
on his cheeks, he saw they were no longer red and raw, but covered with a thin
line of scab. He debated on whether to shave now or later. He opted for the
latter.

He brushed his teeth and splashed cold water on his
face then wandered through the house checking each room for power and damage.
While he waited for the coffee to brew, he walked over to the window and looked
out. The garden didn’t seem to have suffered any major damage. There were a few
fallen branches, and the ground was littered with leaves and debris. He watched
a squirrel scamper over a frayed piece of rope where a swing used to be and
disappear in the lofty canopy.  When he heard the sound of bare feet on the
floor
boards he smiled.

Nicola came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his
chest and breathed in the familiar smell of his body.

“Hello, sleepyhead,” he said as he reached behind and
ruffled her hair.

“Morning,” came the breathy reply as she clung to him
like a limpet, not wanting to let go.

When Danny turned around he noted Nicola was wearing
one of his T-shirts–but nothing else. He grabbed her backside with both hands,
pulled her to him and kissed her, playfully at first. Then suddenly his hands
were all over her. He swept her up in his arms and carried her down the hall.

Danny laid her across the bed, tugged the T-shirt over
her head, unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the floor. The aroma of
coffee, now forgotten, wafted through the house.

* * *

While they sat drinking coffee at the small table
overlooking the garden, the buzz of chainsaws echoed across the valley.

“What time does your flight leave?” Nicola asked.

“Flights to Australia always leave in the middle of
the night. Mine is due to depart at 10:20.”

“What time will you get in?”

“We should land around 7:50in the morning the day
after tomorrow. Because we cross the International Date Line, we gain a day on
the flight over but lose a day on the flight back,” he explained.

“Fourteen hours is a long flight.”

Danny shrugged. “A flight is a flight. It’s just a
means to an end. It bought me to you, didn’t it?” he said trying to make light
of the subject.

“And now it’s going to take you away.” Tears welled up
in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

Danny put his cup on the table and knelt on the rug in
front of her.

“Nic, it’s only going to be for a short time. And then
I’ll be back.” He wiped her cheeks with his hands.

“But you might not come back.”

“I’ll be back if it’s at all possible. But there are
some things we can’t always control. Everything in this life is a gamble, Nic.
If it’s meant to be, then it’s meant to be.”

Danny knew that people make choices and even though
there are signs along the way to make their path easier, it’s up to them to
read the signs and choose the path they take. 

“It’s our actions and the consequences of those
actions that decide our fate. It doesn’t always work out the way we want.”
Danny had learned that lesson the hard way. If fate steps in and takes hold of
the reins, all you can do is endure the best way you can. 

Nicola nodded, she knew he was right. 

Danny patted her on the knee and stood up. He walked
over to the window and looked out. “I’m going to miss this place. Why don’t you
tell me some more stories about Mill Valley?”

“And me? Are you going to miss me, Danny?”

He turned around. “More than you’ll ever know.”

*****

“I can tell you some stories about Mill Valley?” I
heard Rosie say.

I stopped typing. “I’m all ears.”

“Drew once told me the actor, Robin Williams, used to
live on Millside Lane, not far from the Dipsea steps.”

Being a big fan of Robin Williams, I gave her my
undivided attention.
“That’s just up the
road, isn’t it?”

Rosie nodded. “Apparently, not far from his home was
an S & M brothel and people who lived nearby used to see limos parked all
along the street at odd hours and wondered if the owners were visiting Robin
Williams… or the brothel.”

“But he doesn’t live here anymore, does he?”

“No. He lives somewhere in San Francisco. Tiburon, I
think. He often does one-man shows at the Throckmorton Theatre, to a packed out
house. Drew and I tried several times to get tickets−but always seemed to
miss out. Do you remember Grace Slick?”

“Wasn’t she the singer in those seventies psychedelic
bands, Jefferson Airplane and Jefferson Starship?”

“Yes. Grace used to live on Fern Canyon Road near the
‘open space’ and one day someone from the open space district was welding a
gate and set the hillside on fire. Grace’s house was destroyed and when the
firemen arrived they found all her gold records were missing. The culprit was
eventually found and the records returned but Grace never came back to the
area.”

“How did you know about it?”

“Drew told me. Don’t forget he’s lived in Marin most
of his life.” Rosie shuffled back against the headboard, and added, “I’m sure
you’ve heard of David Crosby.”

I nodded. “From the folk rock
band,
Crosby, Stills and Nash that was formed in the sixties?

“And Neil Young joined the group and they became
Crosby Stills Nash and Young,” Rosie added, and then said, “Well, apparently
David Crosby used to live around here some time in the eighties and one night
he’d been drinking and drove into a wall.”

“A wall?”

“Yep. Wham, bam, thank-you ma’am. Straight into it.
Just like that.” Rosie brushed one hand over the palm of the other in a quick
gesture. “Lined the car up, hit the accelerator and slammed straight into the
wall. Well duh, of course the wall won. What did he think was going to happen?
Harry Potter wasn’t around back then so he couldn’t have gotten the wall
confused with Platform Nine and Three Quarters now could he?”

“Not much chance of that,” I said.

“He left the scene but the police arrested him a short
time later. It wasn’t too hard to find out who owned the car. Not what you
would call rocket science!” She gave a dismissive shrug of the shoulders and we
laughed. “This is all in the records, by the way, if anyone wanted to check.”

“I’m sure there are lots of
musicians who have done things they shouldn’t. Hell, who hasn’t?”

“Such as growing weed,” Rosie said, her blue eyes
bright with amusement.

I looked at her not sure where this side-step was
leading.

“What do you mean, growing weed? You’ve never grown
weed–have you?”

“No. Of course not! But recently the biggest pot-patch
in Marin County history, valued at around fifty million dollars, was found
growing on land that belonged to the Marin Municipal Water District and
National Park Service in Point Reyes.”

“Apparently it was a pretty sophisticated set-up.
However, the thing that bothered the Park Service more than anything else was,
and I quote,” she said holding her fingers up in the universal quotation
gesture, “‘... the total lack of regard for the natural surroundings, water
resources and wildlife…’ Well, hellooo!! If you’re growing fifty million
dollars worth of marijuana you’re not going to be too concerned with the flora
and fauna.”

We rolled around on the bed, laughing.

Finally I got up. “I’ll go have a look in the
refrigerator and see what Ross has left for us to eat. Would you like me to
make you some Milo?”

“I’ll need to go to the bathroom
first,” Rosie said. “We’ve been laughing so hard I think I wet my pants.”

*****

Nicola watched Danny pack his bag. “What time do we
need to leave for the airport?” she asked.

“I need to check-in two hours ahead of departure. So
allowing an hour and a half for traffic we probably should leave here around
six.”

Nicola looked at everything laid out on the bed. “How
do you fit it all in, you only came with one bag?”

Danny produced another smaller, softer bag from inside
the large tote and said, “I’ve got it down to a fine art. As you can see, I now
have two bags. I put the motorbike parts in the large one wrapped in T-shirts
and underwear to stop them from banging together and moving around. That bag
goes in the hold. Then I pack my sneakers, clothes and toiletries in the
smaller bag and take as carry-on.”

“Doesn’t it ruin your clothes wrapping them around the
bike parts like that?”

“No. The parts are all individually wrapped in black
plastic bags. I just use the clothes as a buffer. When I get home I’ll throw
everything in the wash. I’m not too worried about the clothes getting damaged,
I’ve got four pairs of blue jeans and around twenty white Hanes T-shirts, some
not even out of the packet, about a dozen black T-shirts and three pairs of
black jeans,
one pair is so full of holes
they’re actually in fashion, but they’re comfortable so I can’t bring myself to
get rid of them. And besides, all the young chicks love to see me wearing them,
so hey, it costs me nothing to give them a thrill!” He laughed and ruffled her
hair.

“It’s still a couple of hours before we have to leave.
Would you like something to eat or some coffee?” Nicola asked as he placed his
bags by the door ready to load in the car.

“Nothing, thanks. They fill you with so much food on
the plane.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. “There’s
only one thing I want before I leave.”

THIRTY-ONE

When we headed to where Daphne
and Susannah were sitting, I noticed Daphne had her arm wrapped around the arm
of a short, overweight, balding man who had one of those comb-overs that said,
I’m
not going bald,
and a wayward eye that seemed to have a life of its own.
Daphne was acting all shy and coy, like a love-struck teenager, as they huddled
together whispering.

I walked up and said, “Hey girls, how are you doing?”

Hi, Bee, Hon, we’re doing just fine,” Susannah
replied.

Daphne jumped up and pulled her friend to his feet.
“This here is my fiancé, Henry,” she said then turned to the man who barely
came up to her ear lobe, and added, “Henry, these are the friends I was telling
you about, Bee and Hon.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Henry,” I said, and
held out my hand.

When Henry took hold of it I noticed he had a sluggish
grip… and a crooked, self-conscious smile.

“Hello, Henry. It’s so nice to meet you,” Rosie said.

Henry’s wayward eye shot off to the left. “Hello,” he
said, and patted his comb-over.

“Henry and I are going to be married when my divorce comes
through,” Daphne informed us.

“Why, Daphne–that’s great news. I’m so happy for you
both.”

“That’s wonderful, Daphne. Congratulations to the both
of you,” Rosie said and gave them a hug.

I leaned into Susannah and whispered. “I see
everything’s worked out for Daphne after all. She seems to have gotten the
problem with her husband sorted out and is back with her boyfriend.”

“Hell no,” said Susannah, inspecting her nails. “That
didn’t work out at all. Henry is boyfriend number two.”

I think I must have missed something in the
translation. “Boyfriend, number two? I thought Daphne was going to find herself
a new boyfriend and use him to get her husband back, then dump them both and
marry her current boyfriend.” Forgive me if I sound confused–but I am!