Lemons 02 A Touch of Danger (16 page)

“Believe me, Elise. I wish I still hadn’t ever heard of it.”

I changed the channel. I had had enough. I was lucky, though. It turns out Nick @ Nite was having an Urkel marathon. Things were finally coming up Milhouse!

“The vampire show is gay and retarded,” Elise says, “but Urkel is the greatest thing ever?”

“Ya goddamn right, girlfriend,” I answer as I chucked the remote onto the other bed, making changing the channel damn near impossible for her, unless she were to actually get up. I was hoping she was as lazy as I was.

“Anyway,” I add, “even though that place was a gay bar, my money is on Daniel not being gay himself. I’m sure straight dudes work in gay bars all the time. Money is money, right?”

“And why do you think that?”

“Well, I peaked in his bedroom and saw some women’s clothes on the floor in there. The room was a mess but I saw them plain as day.”

“So, what? You think he’s got a girlfriend?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. It would be nice to find her, and even nicer, seeing as I don’t know her, if she were the goddamn murder victim.”

“That’s terrible!” Elise says and she throws a pillow straight at my head.

“Well! Shit, dude. We need a victim here and she’s a girl and her boyfriend is involved somehow, in a murder of a girl, so, unless she turns up somewhere, I’m thinking our best bet is to assume the dead woman is Daniel Mayweather’s girlfriend. Hopefully.”

“Okay, well then where do we go from here? We have absolutely no idea who this girl is, what her name is or anything. How do we locate someone without knowing who it is?”

“Good question. Ugh, I feel so off my game, lately. Ever since I started back on that stupid medication, I haven’t felt like myself. I feel like I’m doing a shitty job.”

“Don’t say that. We’ve closed every single case we’ve gotten.”

“I know, but I still feel off.”

“Archie, you found a missing girl just by being in her bedroom for thirty seconds. You call that being off?”

“That was easy. This one, though…this is bothering me. I’m positive of what I saw, but yet, can find nothing to support it. No wonder the Pismo Police laughed at me. I have absolutely nothing except some guy’s car in some other guy’s garage.” As I said this I giggled like a child. Parkin’ in some other guys garage. How gay. Ha!

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, ya know, nothin’. I’m just being stupid. Anyway, like I was saying, I know what I saw but have no way of proving it. Our only lead is in the wind and our victim pulled a total H.F. Saint and vanished with no trace and with no one seeming to miss her. No wait, that’s not fair. I miss H.F. Saint. I would totally love a sequel to Memoirs of an Invisible Man, actually.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Sorry.” Yeah, that joke doesn’t exactly play to a very broad audience.

“And you’re wrong. Our lead isn’t in the wind. He’s just not at his home. You haven’t even thought of the most logical answer.”

“Which is what?”

“That he is still in Shell Beach. If he’s not at his home, and his car is at the beach, wouldn’t it stand to reason that he, too, would be at the beach.”

“Yeah, but I saw no sign of him anywhere. When we broke into the house, only Brad left, yet no one was in the house. Shell Beach isn’t very big. No one with a car available would walk to Pismo or any other beach. I just don’t think he is there.”

“Well, let’s go back and stake it out some more.”

“Are you joking? He knows we’re on to him, remember. He filed a complaint against me….”

“Oh stop, we’ll think of something. We’re two smart people here. We can figure this out, no problem. Let’s leave first thing in the morning.”

“You’re forgetting one thing. I still want to go back and see Emma Ricks. I want to make sure this is the same guy she saw leaving Brad’s Hollywood house and in the courtroom.”

“Man, you must really feel off your game. We don’t have a picture of him, remember?”

“Shit!”

***

Brad Jackson was getting very frustrated as he sat on one of the beds in the motel room of Archie Lemons. After finally figuring out which room was the right one, (a painstakingly boring process of sitting out of sight for hours and watching people enter and exit every room except one. His amazing math skills, along with his brilliant sleuthing mind deduced that the only room left would be Archie’s.) Now to break in and start phase one of Operation: Badass, as he had dubbed it.

Brad was slowly beginning to realize that real-life didn’t exactly play out the way it would in a movie. After breaking in through the small bathroom window in back, he figured that Archie would soon be arriving home, where he could follow through with his plan to exterminate him, and whoever else was unlucky enough to be with him.

Granted, Brad’s plan wasn’t the best in the world. He found it extremely hard to do anything without a writer and director telling him, even though he often tried to convince himself otherwise. If this were one of his movies, the action would have already taken place, all problems would be solved and he’d have another one-hundred-million-dollar blockbuster.

But alas, reality was a hard lesson to learn. He sat there on the bed for hours, wearing his ridiculous OJ gloves and thinking of huge plot holes in his plan. What seemed so perfect this morning was now a total shit idea and he knew it.

This is what happens when Brad Jackson tries to think for himself. He needed a writer to help him come up with a plan. He decided to talk to his associate. Together they would think of a much better plan than sitting here in the dark like a fucking moron for hours upon hours. After watching an info-mercial for a product he would actually end up ordering when he returned home, he turned the television off and stood up.

“God damn it,” Brad said out loud. “Fuck this. I’m Brad Motherfuckin’ Jackson! I don’t need this!”

He made his way back to the bathroom and attempted, once more, to squeeze through the tiny little window above the toilet and out into the dark alley behind the motel. While trying to squeeze through, he hit his head twice, ripped his three-hundred-dollar shirt and scraped his hands and left knee on the asphalt below, after losing his balance and taking a rather comical fall, complete with a rather girly, nancyboy scream. He quickly sat up and looked around to make sure no one heard the pathetic noise that escaped him during his embarrassing four-foot fall. He was in the clear. While sitting in the alley, rubbing his knee like a child with a rug burn, it dawned on him that he could have just walked out the front door.

“Damn blast it!”

27.

When I was little, I remember my dad bringing me to the beach every summer. I used to love it. I would play out in the water for hours, riding the waves on my boogie-board, playing in the sand and getting dirty. I don’t understand it. My condition made me a lot worse when I was younger. Since I have grown up I have learned to deal with much of the stuff that would afflict me so badly when I was a kid. I have learned to deal with certain aspects of my personalities and my fears, but at the same time, I’ve lost a lot along the way.

I’m thinking about this now as the ocean comes into view from the freeway we are currently traveling on. The sea looks never-ending and I know that my younger self wouldn’t be able to contain his excitement about getting in there and playing, while the current me is scared to death of it. It’s funny how things work like that, I guess.

We actually got an early enough start leaving LA so we arrived back at the motel before noon. On the way back in, Elise and I decided that we would give ourselves two more days to come up with a solid lead on the case, and if we couldn’t do it, we would simply walk away. She had been away from her kids now for too long, and she felt bad for saddling Jamie with the responsibility. We had been taking turns charging our phones with the car charger, so Elise removed her phone and plugged mine back in so she could call and check in, and while Jamie insisted she wasn’t being put out by watching them, Elise still felt bad and assured her it would only be two more days. Even if we had to drive back home and work from there for a while, we would. All this case was doing was frustrating the piss out of me and costing me way too much. The sad fact was, again, that even if we nailed Brad Jackson, chances are he would walk and it would be all for nothing and I would have a new mortal enemy to add to my list. It’s sad to have to think of it like that, but it was the hard truth. American celebrities can do no wrong. They were untouchable, for the most part, especially in big cases like this one would sure to be.

We got out of the car at the motel and headed for our room. I was still feeling defeated and was pretty down on myself. I was missing something and I knew it, but I couldn’t even figure out what it was. Usually, some dark area of my brain would flash me images of something that sometimes seemed totally random, but would somehow make the puzzle pieces fit. This time I had nothing. All my brain was willing to do was drive me crazy with that goddamn Too Close for Comfort theme song…over and over and over…

I took the keycard from my wallet and slide it into the door, waiting for the unlock sound, that came after the fourth try. Ugh, nothing is going to go easy for me. I stepped inside the room and immediately knew someone had been in there. I checked the outer doorknob to make sure the Do Not Disturb sign was still there. It was.

The remote control was sitting on the edge of the bed when we had left. I remember putting it there specifically when I had turned off the television before we left for LA. Now it was sitting on top of the TV. Something I never ever do…but I know who did.

I did a quick spin in the room, which probably looked ridiculous to Elise (I’m pretty sure my arms flailed a bit too wildly to still be called a man), just to make sure no one else was in here. I peeked my head in to the bathroom and noticed the window above the toilet was opened just a crack. Another thing that was not as we left it.

“Someone was in here”

“What, who?”

“I think it was Brad Jackson. Holy shit!”

“Wait. What? Slow down.”

“Seriously, I think Brad Jackson was in our room. Probably waiting for us to get back.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Look,” I said. “I left the remotes on the edge of the bed. I remember this. Right here.” I pointed to the exact spot. “I remember it as plain as day. Now, look. They are sitting on top of the television.”

“Okay, so what? Maybe the maid did it.”

“Come on, Elise. If the made did it, don’t you think she would have made the beds and straightened up a bit.” I was now finally able to return the eye-roll and head-shake look that she had given to me so plentifully over this past week. I must admit, it felt pretty good. Not gonna lie.

“Okay okay, good point. But why was it Brad Jackson?”

I explained to her about how he kept his remotes on top of his television at home. He must have sat down on the bed on top of them, waiting for us. Then he just moved them to the TV out of habit. Or maybe he was watching TV because he got bored waiting. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

“And look, the window is open a crack. We haven’t touched that window all weekend. I didn’t even think it opened!”

I could tell by the look on her face that Elise was finally starting to think that strange things were afoot here at the Circle K.

“But why would Brad Jackson break in to our motel room?” she asked.

“Because he knows we’re on to him! You know this! Holy shit! We’ve got to get out of here. We’re not safe here anymore.”

I grabbed a few clean clothes, but left all my dirties and the suitcase there. Elise grabbed all her stuff. As long as we left something in the room, if he came back, it would appear we were still staying here. I ran up to the front desk, (And by ran, I mean Walked Briskly,) and told the manager that we would be staying for two more nights. I handed him my credit card, he ran it and thanked me as he handed it back. I walked back towards Elise.

We got in the car and drove up the street a little way and checked in at a small place called The Palomar Inn. This trip truly was costing me a fortune. Dislike!

Anyway, our room was eerily similar to the room we just left at the last place. Two beds, a TV, fridge and a bathroom. Just the basics, but it suited our needs perfectly.

I grabbed the remote and was pleased to discover that they, too, had the RTV channel. Dragnet was playing. Exactly what I needed to help me think.

As I sat there and watched, I could feel my adrenaline start to flow again. I could feel my heart beating and a smile form on my face. It was exactly what I needed. Hands down proof that I was not insane and that I was barking up the right tree. And with the fact of Brad Jackson knowing we were on to him just made it that much better. My touch of danger. I don’t care how stupid that sounds.

“Okay, first things first,” I said to Elise. “We have to figure out our starting point. We can go one of two ways, I think. We can go back to the old motel and stake it out. See if he returns. If we do, we call the cops and tell him we have a break in. I cannot imagine the cops busting Mr. Hollywood would be very good publicity for him and I’d imagine he would have a lot of explaining to do. Especially since he was breaking into the room of someone he just filed a formal complaint against.”

“Sounds like it could be fun.”

“Or! We go balls deep in this thing and stake out his house again. Try and find Daniel Mayweather and any other shit we can uncover.”

“That sounds like a pretty flimsy plan. Got anything to go along with that one?”

“Actually no. That one we would just play by ear and see where it takes us. Could be fun. I’m just sick of waiting around and doing nothing. We have hit one dead end after another and I’m sick of it. Somewhere out there, someone is missing a wife, mom or daughter, because of this asshole Hollywood prick. We have to find out who she is. Soon. I assume it’s Daniel’s girlfriend, but we have to be sure. We have two days before we have to be back home, remember? It’s your call.”

Elise stood against the wall for a few seconds deciding which course of action we should take. Finally, she spoke up. “How about we do a little of both?”