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First two chapters of my new book

The world may hate liars, cheaters and thieves, but not this gal. I have a job because of them. My name is Jackie Blue and I live east of East LA.

“That’s it, come to papa,” I muttered while shooting six pictures with my Sony Cybershot of Ronald Johansen playing golf with his buddies.

Dumb move by Ronald, who supposedly had what he and his doctors called a messed up spine due to a one story fall at a construction site near the LA airport. This joker had been receiving workers comp pay for seven months for that ‘injury’.

A bug landed on my head as I lay underneath a bush about 40 yards from Ronald’s group on the 16^th tee. My scent from no shower that morning wasn’t too bad but maybe the bug thought differently. A black dog suddenly bolted across the fairway and spotted me under the bush. He stood over the bush and began to bark excitedly.

“That’s enough for today,” I whispered to myself.

I slithered out from the bush and sprinted across the 15^th hole with the dog chasing for a hundred or so yards. Welcome to my sexy, wildly exciting life at its peak. The dramatic moment of six pictures needed several days of research of this yahoo, spent mostly in my thirteen year old Honda Accord.

I am a 26 year old investigator mainly dealing with folks who are cheating on their insurance. When these companies need someone to crawl under a bush or climb a tree to catch the cheaters, they call me. It keeps me busy almost every day, but, like I said, it’s pretty boring work. I live at Sunshine Trailer Park at 9563 East Garvey Avenue in South El Monte, CA. My trailer is owned by Alonsa Barbosa and his wife, Teresita, a sweet old couple who loves to have me over for dinner at their trailer down the street. Always the best meal of the week for me.

It started to rain a little, so I tucked my camera under my sweatshirt and began to dart toward my Honda in the parking lot. The car started making some funky noise this morning and I knew it was only a matter of time before the No Money God and I would have a little talk. My monthly rent on the trailer is $495 and most months I’m short. Damn.

My cell began to buzz as I started up the Honda. It was Rocky Venezuela, a probation officer for the LA County Courts.

“Rocky, what up, girl?” 

She and I had been friends since 16 and I offered my investigative services to her on a few occasions. Given that judges are so busy these days, Rocky is charged with striking deals with smaller crimes like domestic abuse, drunk driving and small profile white collar crimes.

“Crappy, crappy day,” Rocky nearly shouted into the phone. “A guy that stole a few hundred thousand from a software company agreed to a prison deal I set up yesterday.”

“Okay…”

“Well, it was late in the day and the judge had already left…”

“So, he couldn’t approve your deal,” I filled in.

“Right… so, since he was out on bail, he left for the night with instructions to report to the court the next morning.”

“So, what happened?” I asked. “He not show?”

 “Yeah, he disappeared,” Rocky responded. “Police found nothing in his condo around 9am this morning.”

“Did the company whack him for stealin’ the dough?”

“Nobody heard or saw anything…the police have zero clues,” Rocky whined. “Can ya go over to this guy’s house and check things out?”

“Hon, I’m no bounty hunter,” I let her know. “Hey, maybe they’ll assign Hugh to the case.”

Hugh was a very effective bounty hunter and we dated pretty intensely awhile back until he cheated on me and I told him to go to hell. We still see each other out and about in our line of work. Last month, I was investigating a guy up in Woodland Hills who got arrested and skipped on his bail all while I was looking at him for fraud. Hugh and I bumped into each other inside the guy’s house.

“I know that, silly!” Rocky yelled into the phone. “The guy was acting kind of cocky yesterday, though…like four years in prison wasn’t a big deal.  I just can’t shake the feeling that the money wasn’t the only thing he stole.”

After graduation, Rocky became a stripper at Flamingo’s for a year until a gun went off in the club one evening and she saw the light.  I couldn’t have been more proud of her for that, though it was kinda funny that she ended up in law enforcement. She lives on Brocton Avenue in West LA in an apartment building where UCLA students live, so every Friday night, we are out on her patio to check out the hotties.

“Was the money ever recovered?” I wanted to know as I made a reckless lane change.

“Only about thirty thousand,” Rocky told me.

“Hey, are we still on for drinks at your place?”

“Ya bet…I’ll see ya at six.”

We hung up and I zoomed out of the parking lot. My cell buzzed again and produced an unknown number.

“Jackie Blue,” I announced.

“Ms. Blue, Jim Collins here.”

Jim Collins was my boss at Allstar Insurance, one of the four insurance companies I do business with.

“Mr. Collins, how are ya?”

“Good, good…listen we have a jewelry theft project you need to look at.”

“Uh, sure,” I said. “That sounds good.”

This was a new area, maybe more lucrative than workers comp fraud, but also sounding like a ‘find it’ project which was totally new to me.  

“Okay. I’ll send you the file, but it’s pretty basic stuff. Mr. Stewart claims that $1.1 million of diamonds was stolen at his house last month and we need you to find it. We can stall payment to this guy for another month or two, but beyond that, we have to pay him. You need to dive into Mr. Stewart’s life. Heck, start dating him, I don’t care.”

“Should I interview him?” I asked while dropping my sunglasses on the floor.

“We’ve talked with Mr. Stewart twice through our official channels. But we need you to do whatever you have to do to get these jewels back. I shouldn’t say anything more, but you get what I mean.”

I gulped. “What’s the address?”

“879 South Bundy, just off Wilshire,” Jim informed me. “Andy Stewart is the guy’s name.”

“Okay, I’ll keep ya posted.”

Do what I had to do? That sounded illegal and dangerous. Not that I had a problem with that, but I didn’t even own a gun. When I saw the number on my cell I thought it belonged to Lucy, my 19 year old kid sister who I was trying my best to put through college. She would be the first Blue family member to graduate from college, so I wasn’t going to let her down. Rocky had been pressing me to ask my insurance bosses for more challenging projects like expensive, high profile cases that would involve less hiding in bushes.

The house seemed like a logical place to start, to make an introduction to Andy’s life. I had to dig deep into this guy, know every routine, down to when and where he takes a crap each day. His job, what he looks like, relatives, career history, recreational activities, friends, college, bank account size – I had to have it all.

I hopped onto the 10 and made my way to West LA. Traffic is always such a bitch anywhere in LA, but I managed to find the condo in 25 minutes. The number was painted on the curb, which was a good thing because overgrown brush and palm trees blocked most of the view of the condo from the street.

My Uncle Lou had showed me how to pick a door lock when I was nine, a lesson that came in handy a few times year. I carried what looked like large tweezers in my glove compartment for just such an occasion.

I followed the sunken walkway around the side of the house and noticed a small, low lying deck with access to the condo’s first floor. White stucco and black shutters were the notable features of the structure and something on the property smelled like fresh paint.

Knocking loudly on the deck door, I listened for anyone inside. My heart was beating like a mad man on crack. Another knock…no sound. The deck door felt remarkably flimsy and may have given in with a swift kick, but a loud noise was something to avoid. I worked the lock and entered the condo in under a minute. Not a record, but close.

Inside, all the drapes were closed and the place reeked of cigarettes. Holding my stun gun out, I flung on the lights to find the place surprisingly clean and orderly. No clear signs of a break in. The deck door lock wasn’t damaged and the molding looked unscarred.  A large painting of a naked woman hung over the fireplace and kinda fit with the art deco furniture. It was one of those paintings where it seemed like the woman was staring at me no matter where I was in the room. The drapes covering the windows were dark maroon colored and clashed with practically everything in the living room. Not that I’m the queen of interior design by any stretch, but it sure didn’t look like this guy was wealthy enough to hold over a million bucks of jewels. The interior also sported two huge bear rugs in the main living room and the hallway to the kitchen. It was a two story condo, with me entering the first story. This was the main living area. The basement looked like a game room, except there were no games, no furniture or anything. The furnace and water softener were in a small closet which I inspected. Then it was back upstairs, where I figured I’d start in the kitchen. A toaster was the only thing on the white counters and the near bare fridge held just a half filled grapefruit juice container and a package of cheese sticks. A cabinet in the island contained three pots and two pans. I saw a phone jack, but no phone or modem. Actually, I couldn’t find a modem anywhere in the house. How could he not have web access?

 Finally, something interesting: the drawer underneath the island had Val Pak coupons, two magazine solicitations, and water and cable bills postmarked three weeks ago. The strange thing was the name in the envelope windows of the two bills: Robert Larson. Who was that? Andy’s roommate? Hot steamin’ lover?

Nothing else in the kitchen caught my attention, so I decided to look upstairs where the bedrooms were. One of the rooms was decked out in LA Dodger colors, logos and posters.  All boy, right? The closet was bare as was the dresser, but the bed was made. The other bedroom was empty with light pink curtains. Time to move on to the master bedroom down the hallway as master closets sometimes have attic storage. A good place to hide ‘stolen’ jewels. A wedding picture of a man and a woman, both in their 20s, hung above the master bed. I stared at the picture for about thirty seconds. The young man had bleach blond hair and looked to be about 5’11. He also had a small gap between his upper two front teeth. The woman featured brunet hair and a very strong tan. Standing five or six inches shorter than her groom, she didn’t match the naked lady painting above the fireplace. 

I found the closet on the other side of the room from the hallway door. The door opened into the closet and would hardly move as something seemed to be blocking it. I opened it as much as possible and squeezed inside to hit the light. A body was staring right at me on the floor. A middle aged woman with a bullet hole in the forehead. Unable to even shriek, a guttural wail came out of me that would scare Ozzy Osbourne. It really would. I squeezed back outside and sprinted out of the room. Only then did I realize I had sharted. Damn.

Having just received a promotion of sorts from Jim Collins, I was left with a dead body in the bedroom and a mess in my pants. But, I was a big girl, so I sucked in some smoke odored air and found the master bathroom, where the usual toiletries lay in the drawers; I was happy to see toilet paper.

After inspecting the bathroom, I decided to take a few photos of the dead woman. I am no coroner, but she looked pretty fresh. And she wasn’t the lady in the photo above the bed or the painting in the living room.

As I suspected, the master bedroom closet had attic storage with ladder access. The light from the closet let just enough light into the attic that I could see entire emptiness. Nothing, nada, zippo. There were roughly 10 casual shirts hanging in the closet, as well as four pairs of pants and one suit. One of the shirts had an Evergreen Corporation logo on it. Maybe that’s where Andy worked. I’d hafta check that out later.

“That would have been too easy to find the diamonds here,” I muttered to myself.

Clearly, I couldn’t stay too long with a dead body in the house, but I had no intention of calling the police. Not for now at least. Maybe tomorrow. I left through the deck door, locked it, and walked back down the stone path to my car. If I decided to defraud an insurance company over expensive jewelry, I wouldn’t leave it in the house. I needed a different approach.  

The dead woman aside, not much in that house told me really anything about Andy Stewart. Maybe he worked at Evergreen Corporation, though he could have gotten that shirt anywhere. The place felt like it was a part time home, but the cigarette odor smelled fresh. And at least two people had been in that condo in the last 24 hours: the dead woman and her killer. Andy Stewart and Robert Larson...just what was this relationship? If it was a gay thing, why have a picture of you and your bride above the bed? Same thing if Andy was divorced. That’s the last thing he’d want over his bed. At least I had a good idea what Andy looked like. If he was the one in the picture, that is. Crap, I didn’t know anything!

It was 4:40 in the afternoon and I decided I’d wait for an hour to see if anybody showed at the house.  My cell phone found the number for the Evergreen Corporation in Santa Monica, ten minutes away.

“Yes, may I speak with Andy Stewart, please?” I asked the receptionist.

Just as I was saying this, two guys pulled up in a black SUV. They were arguing mightily about something, I could tell. Andy Stewart was not one of them. My car was across the street and one house down. From this vantage point, I could see the driveway through an opening in the heavy brush. The SUV pulled into the driveway and stopped before the garage. Both men came out of the car, still arguing, and entered the condo through the same deck door I had used. One of the men, bald and portly, was holding an empty hockey equipment bag. The other guy had dark slicked back hair and a goatee. He had a key to the house…maybe he was Robert Larson. I thought about shouting out, “Hey, Robert!”, but that might’ve gotten me shot at. They both looked like they were packing serious heat.

“Andy Stewart,” the voice in the phone said.

I panicked and hung up my cell. What the hell could I say to the guy? I got what I wanted to know which was that he was alive and he did work at the Evergreen Corporation.  Should I have told him that there were two thugs in his house right then? Maybe, but my job was not to be sweet and nice.

Ten minutes later, the two guys emerged from the condo, carrying both ends of a now full hockey bag. They were no longer arguing. The bald one opened the back of the SUV and the stuffed bag was thrown into the back. They took off toward Wilshire Blvd. At this point, it seemed to me that one of the dudes shot the lady and went off to find help in dumping the body where it couldn’t be found. One of them had to be Robert Larson. Sure, it was possible that Robert came home to find the body, meaning somebody else shot the lady. But, then he would’ve called the cops and there were no cops in sight. My head was spinning at this point; I needed a beer.

The knock on my driver side window nearly scared the crap out of me again. It was an old lady, so I stepped out of the car.

“Hon, are you lost? You’ve been sitting here for a while…”

“No, no,” I responded. “I heard there might be a house coming up for rent on this street and I just wanted to sit and take in everything here.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. “My name is Kay…I live five houses down that way. This is a lovely neighborhood.”

As Kay pointed up Bundy, I was praying she didn’t ask me which house I was targeting. Kay had short cropped white hair that she kept sort of spiked up at the top and she was wearing a US Army T shirt and shorts. Mid 60’s she looked. Probably a runner.

“Kay, it was a pleasure, but I need to take this call,” I said while putting the cell to my ear and faking an inbound call.  

Kay smiled and walked back toward her house. I thought about asking her about Andy’s house. Just who was living there, I wanted to know. She seemed like the kind of person that would be all over that information. Neighborhood busybody. But keeping the conversation going was too dangerous. Simple as that.

Chapter Two

Friday’s nights at Rocky’s place had grown legendary in our minds. She had lived there for nearly two years, and, since her apartment was a stone’s throw from the UCLA campus, she knew several college boys who loved to party.

We were on her deck grilling burgers and brats when three guys called up to tell us of a keg party in their pad. Couldn’t beat that with a stick.

“So you’re sure the body was in that bag they brought?” Rocky asked. “I mean, how big could this bag be?”

 “You’ve never seen a hockey bag? They’re friggin’ huge!” I held out my arms for emphasis.

“Well, I can’t blame ya for not wanting to go back inside there and it’s probably a matter of time before they spot ya on the street. That old lady had no problem seeing ya hang around on Bundy like the mangy stranger ya are.”

“Funny girl, ya bitch!” We toasted beer bottles.

Biting into a brat with mustard, “I dunno what I would have done if they came back when I was in the condo. It was hard to tell who is living there but I definitely saw two names on the mail coming to the home. Very confusing, hon.”

“Ya would’ve ended up like the lady you found, for sure! Even with your stun gun. Did ya grow some stones I don’t know about?”

“Yeah, ya know a thing or two ‘bout that, don’t ya? What were the names of the bouncers at Flamingo’s?”

Rocky laughed. “Danny and Robert. Danny saved my ass a few times. That girl that ended up dead there last year…that was pretty big news. All of South LA was shaken up on that killing. Well, maybe not all of South LA…folks we know.”

Flamingo’s was the strip club that Rocky worked at out of high school. I remember one guy with a knife, harassing Rocky in the parking lot one night after closing and Danny coming to her rescue, knocking the guy out cold. I started urging Rocky to quit that job after hearing of that incident, but it would take her several months to finally listen to me. That and a gunfire scene involving an idiot pro basketball player who accidentally set off a loaded gun he had brought to the club. The numb nut shot himself in the leg while fumbling for the gun in his sweatpants.

“Ya were lucky, girl!” I affirmed.

“Damn lucky. I heard that Danny and Robert aren’t there anymore and the place has changed completely.” Rocky put her bare feet up on a chair.

 

Rocky didn’t like to talk about the Flamingo much, and I knew to steer clear of that difficult memory, but she seemed okay with it tonight. Heck, it was so, so long ago and she was just a kid back then.

“Didn’t ya tell me Danny has started his own security company?” I thought I had seen Danny earlier that week driving in a security truck in Santa Monica, but it’d been a few years and I couldn’t be sure.

“Yeah…gosh…it’s been six months since I last saw him and that’s what he told me was up to these days.”

Rocky took the two burgers off the hibachi she bought from the guys upstairs from her. “Want another beer, missy?”

“Yeah,” I said while taking my buzzing cell phone out of my pocket.

“Hey, white trash, ‘sup?” My kid sister, Lucy, sounded drunk.

“Luce, where are ya?”

“On the way to a partaaaay! Hey, Mom called me…she wants us to go back home tomorrow for dinner.”

Our folks live in Northridge, where we grew up. My papa just moved in with them after my grandma died last August. The three don’t seem very happy with each, which I can totally understand, but my papa is too senile to live alone. Not to mention the horrible gas he has which my mom can’t stand. Maybe that’s what killed ‘ole grandma in the end.

“That’s good ‘cause I haven’t seen them in a while. Should I come pick ya up?” I asked my sister who was at Long Beach State. She couldn’t afford a car, yet.

“No…I’ll borrow Lauren’s…she’s cool with that. Anyway, do we need gas masks to enter the house these days? I saw papa a few weeks ago and the odor was nasty, but dad would’ve shot me if I said anything. He’s such a good peacekeeper.”

They were giving the poor guy gas pills but my mom doesn’t think they’re working. She has these plug in scent thingamabobs all around the house and I can’t tell what smells worse. My folks are also totally not used to caring for somebody else because it’s been over thirteen or so years since Lucy was a small child. My dad still works as a city trash supervisor and is nowhere near retirement, especially since papa arrived at the house.

“Okay…that’s cool. Kinda early for a college party isn’t it sis?”

“Getting the buzz on so it doesn’t sneak up on us later, know what I mean?”

I didn’t really know what that mean at all, but there wasn’t any sense arguing with her. She was having fun and that counted for a lot.

“Okay, sweetie…ya have a great night and I’ll see ya tomorrow with your gas mask.”

“Ciao Bella!” Lucy replied

Rocky came back out from a pee break.

“I shouldn’t eat that burger, Rock….it’s too much food.”

“Oh, believe me, you’ll be munchin’ for it in a few hours.”

“Yeah, after I hurl up the brat,” I told he before taking a swig of my Sam Adams. “Ya know, I’ve been wanting to get into the stealing part of this business…just didn’t account for the creepy angle. Couldn’t they ease me into this new gig? A murder on the first hour of the job? Come on!”

Rocky leaned into me. “I don’t understand how ya insure $1 million of diamonds. Don’t they make ya keep them at a bank or something?”

“That’s what I need to wrap my head around, ya know? I need to know everything Mr. Collins knows. ..find out just what their investigation show. And ya know the worst part of this, Rock? I’m beginning to feel like I can’t hack it, like I’m way over my head. The moxie is draining fast, babe!”

I started rubbing the back of my head with both hands.

“Relax, will ya?” Rocky asked me. “We’ll figure this out. I’ll bet you’ll find this whole thing involving the diamonds isn’t all that complicated.  For the insurance deal, I know ya need a decent police report and strong documentation that ya actually owned what ya claim has been stolen.”

“Well that’s a lot of mumbo jumbo!” I said with a crazy, nerve-filled laugh. “Let’s get loaded tonight!”

“Alright, alright…enough job talk for the night. You’re life has gotten a whole lot more interesting, that’s for sure. Hey, did I tell ya I saw Julie on Monday? She ran up to me outside of my building and I barely recognized her.”

“What? Why did she think ya would talk to her?”

“Dunno, but I didn’t act like I wanted to speak to her…didn’t even ask her a single question about where she was these days.”

Rocky and I used to be part of a trio with Julie Skarratt way back to the second grade until early junior year when Julie stole Rocky’s boyfriend, Tommy Flay. It basically ruined our junior year of high school and Julie acted like she couldn’t care less. The bitch. Then Tommy dumps her about six months later and she suddenly wants back into our lives. No way, Jose!

“Then how long did ya guys talk?” I asked.

“Thirty seconds…she got the hint.”

We finished our beers and went down to the first floor of the building where the party was at. I looked like crap, having accomplished a laughable swipe of lash-lengthening mascara in Rocky’s bathroom minutes earlier. Lance and Will were the hosts that had called up to us on the porch to inform us of the party. Lance was outside in the hallway talking with some girl.

“Hey, there you are!” he shouted. “A bunch of us is already in there.”

Lance opened the door to roughly 20 people. The steaming hot air poured out into the hallway as we walked inside. Rocky thought this was a three bedroom apartment, but only partly knew two of the guys. Walking toward the patio door, we noticed one person being held upside down over the keg by two people holding his legs in the air. The upside down guy was busy sucking on the tap where the beer came out.

“It’s an upside down tap suck!” one guy told us. “You want to give it a whirl?”

He was looking right at me. “Sure!”

They hoisted the upside down dude off the keg.

“Okay!” a guy in a UNLV shirt told me. “Put your hands on the keg and hold on.”

Before I could take the next breath, two dudes grabbed my legs and I was upside down. I put the tap of the keg in my mouth and pressed the release lever. The beer flowed into my mouth like it never had before. Absolutely sensational. Gravity and the beer gently smacked into each other as I kept sucking.

“Look at her go!” someone shouted.

I couldn’t have been on there for more than fifteen seconds but it felt like I was flying through eternity.  A beer goddess able to conquer anything.  My mind was emptied and my limbs soothed.

Once I was upright, it took a few seconds for my brain to adjust to standing again. I grabbed Rocky. “Ya gotta try that. It’s awesome…do it!”

She smiled and grabbed hold of the keg. Once upside down, she didn’t want to let go with the one hand needed to hold the tap, so a girl put the tap in Rocky’s mouth.  As the beer started flowing, she closed her eyes and farted loudly. Nobody cared or said anything, but I was on the floor in hysterics.

The beer nirvana began workin’ its magic and Lance reached for me, holding me in his large, sculpted arms. He stood 6’2, had blond hair and three day stubble on his face. Lance moved in for a kiss and we locked lips. Apparently, he had some breath mint action going on. Likey, likey.

“I’ve seen you around the building,” he whispered into my ear.  

Just then, the door flew open and two police officers walked into the apartment. They didn’t look to be too militant, but they spurred a mass exodus and near panic anyway.

Rocky grabbed me and we stumbled out through the first floor patio. She knew it wouldn’t look good for a probation officer to be caught at an underage college party.

“Oh, ya and Lance sure found each other. He’s a hottie galore!”

“I don’t know, he’s kinda young…he’s Lucy’s age. I call him a Legal Butt…”

“A Legal Butt?”

I laughed. “Ya know, silly. He’s legal, but….”

Rocky hugged me as we walked up to the second floor toward her apartment. This was not the first time the cops had broken up a party in her building, but we hadn’t seen them recently.

“I still have a six pack of Miller Lite in the fridge. Let’s hit that ‘till we can figure what else to do this lovely evening. Hey, have ya ever heard of an upside down tap suck? ‘Cause I definitely haven’t…”

“No!” I shouted out. “That was ‘friggin awesome, though.”

We got inside Rocky’s apartment and got the Miller Lite from the fridge.

“Fancy to see ya ladies here,” a voice from corner filled the air.

Rocky hit the lights to her living room and we saw Hugh sitting in Rocky’s red lounge chair.

“Hugh, ya idiot! Ya scared us half to death!” I shouted at my old beau. “What….did ya break in here?”

He laughed until he coughed. “Sweet cheeks, that is my life. I can pick any lock anywhere anyhow. I am sorry if I scared ya two.”

“I could have ya arrested in under ten minutes,” Rocky stated firmly. +

“Oh, ya won’t do that…I come in peace.” Hugh flashed the ocean blue eyes I used to adore for the over three years we dated. Hugh Barkley was 6’1 with dirty blond hair and a know how on how to treat a lady. He used to shower me with flowers and candies, and, being a fabulous cook, he dined me like no tomorrow. The last time I saw him, he was real sweet and charming, leaving me to wonder why I dumped him.  Oh yeah, the sucker cheated on me.

“Ya must want something to go through all this trouble…” I told him.

“It was no trouble…don’t insult me. Look, I came here ‘cause I need help…investigative help.” He looked right at me.

“Investigative help?” I asked. “And why should I help ya?”

“’cause ya need to broaden your skill base. Ya know it and I know…always whining about that when we were together. Which reminds me. Are ya seeing anybody these days?”

Rocky erupted, “Are ya kidding me with this joker? I thought, Jackie, that he was really smooth with the ladies. Where is all that smoothness here?”

Hugh stood up straight and looked right at me, trying his best to ignore Rocky’s attack. “Jack, someone has been following me, which normally wouldn’t be worth squat on my radar, but they left a thumb on my windshield this morning and that has me kind of spooked.”

I started to shake my head. “A thumb? Whose was it?”

“They left a note saying my hand was gonna be next. I’m telling ya, Jack, I’m sleeping with my shotgun tonight.”

“I don’t get it, Hugh,” I replied. “Is it somebody you’re chasing? Nobody has ever come after ya…they’re always running away from ya, right?”

Hugh must have really pissed somebody off. Maybe it was a dude recently released from prison. Maybe the thumb belonged to a cadaver or an inmate. Or maybe another bail bondsman is after him with access to a fresh looking thumb. Too many maybes.

“Well…yeah. That’s what I can’t figure out. I mean, everybody I capture is pissed at me, but this is a first and I’m wracking my brain trying to trace my actions the past few days. It’s definitely not as easy as it sounds. I’m a busy guy, ya know.”

Rocky came over with three beers. “Hugh, that is really creepy. Who would have access to a thumb that hasn’t decomposed? That’s where you’ve got to start. My guess is that it’s out of a morgue or one of the medical schools in the area. Come to think of it, I bet they don’t keep close watch over their cadavers. Maybe the guy after ya is from the mob, ‘cause…”

“Where were ya when ya found it on your windshield?” I asked.

“At my pad…so they must have found my car in the middle of the night. The thumb was under a wiper blade and I didn’t know what the hell it was at first. ”

A loud thud banged on Rocky’s apartment door. “Who is it?” she yelled while looking at Hugh who was reaching for his Walther PPS.

“It’s Lance!”

Rocky opened the door. “Lance, I’m sorry but I think we’re done for the night. Something has come up.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lance replied. “If ya change your mind, my older brother is having a party...887 South Bundy. We’re heading over there right now. Nobody got into trouble with the cops, but they’re still hanging around so…”

I grabbed Hugh. “We’re going to a party!”

 

  “That’s the house?” Hugh asked me as we drove up South Bundy. He slowed his truck down to a near stop for a few seconds. A few lights were on in the diamond house I was investigating. Whether that was from Andy Stewart or Robert Larson was anybody’s guess.

I had quickly gotten Hugh up to speed on the dead body/diamond investigation during the ride over to Lance’s brother’s place. Rocky warned me that his brother was in banking and we were likely heading to a fancy adult party, but we all agreed to check it out.

“And following up on the condo your investigating while you’re wasted is a bad idea,” Rocky asserted. “Ya hafta see that.”

“I’m not that wasted, girl!” I replied. “Anyway, it’s not like I’m gonna knock on the front door and ask to speak to Andy Stewart.”

Hugh laughed. “This whole mystery would be solved in less than a day if I were assigned to it. Ya can’t be gentle with these folks. Find this Stewart guy alone, shove a gun in his face and demand answers. Plain and simple. If that doesn’t scare him, shove a sack over his head and take him for a car ride. You’ll get the truth sooner or later.”

 “I don’t own a gun and I’m not that kickass…ya know that, Hugh!” I shouted back. For as long as we have known each other, he has been telling me to get a gun. Just plain stupidity, in my view, until this diamond assignment, that is.

“Well, if ya need my thug services in the end, ya know where to find me.”

We pulled up to Lance’s brother’s place which looked a whole lot like Andy Stewart’s. Two story, grayish condo with a lot of brush and trees around it. Lance was waiting in the driveway. There were roughly ten other cars parked in the street that looked belonging to party guests.

“This is way more mellow then my place,” Lance said. “Older people, too.”

The party looked to be centered on the back deck. Flood lights beamed out into a beautifully landscaped yard with a little gazebo in the back. We drew some stares from the guests, mainly because we clearly weren’t dressed for the occasion, but neither was Lance who made the introduction to us. Hugh had a dark leather jacket on and torn jeans, for Pete’s Sake. I smelled my pits before we arrived and it wasn’t noticeable. I was wearing what I had been wearing all day: light blue shirt, tan slacks and sneakers. The tan slacks had a slight dirt stain from laying under the bush on the golf course. Oh well.

The brother, Steve, couldn’t have been more nice and welcoming to us, though, and seemed thrilled that Lance didn’t bring over college buddies.

Steve seemed to point the conversation at Rocky and me. “So, you gals live in Lance’s building?”

“I do,” Rocky perked up. “We were at your brother’s party earlier, but that ended.”

Lance looked relieved she didn’t bring up the police.

“Well, happy you could make it,” Steve said. “Help yourself to drinks.”

The bar was self serve so we did just that. Hugh started talking with some guy in a sweater vest.

“So did ya all go to college together or something?” Hugh asked.

“No, no…we all work together at JLP…in investing,” sweater vest replied while scratching his wrist.

Hugh chuckled. “Then, I could give ya money to invest for me?”

“Perhaps…what is it that you do?”

“I’m a bounty hunter.”

Sweater vest’s mouth dropped and suddenly the entire party was peppering Hugh with questions about his job. He was a hit. They all wanted to know if he had ever killed anybody, was he currently tracking someone, who did he work for, what was his cut from the bondsman, did he have a partner…

I knew it wouldn’t take long before they all wanted to see Hugh’s Walther PPS. He pulled it out, took out the chamber and passed it around.

“The best place to shoot somebody is in the foot or lower leg area. They won’t bleed out and they will not be able to run.”

Everybody nodded in gullible agreement. It was like Elvis had come back from the dead and landed on this back deck of Lance’s brother, Steve.

“Can ya believe this?” Rocky asked me. “They’re only making his ego swell up huger, ya know!”

“Oh, relax,” I said. “He’s been through a lot today even for the world’s leading bounty hunter!”

Rocky laughed and took a large swig of her Dos Equis.

I glanced over at the backyard and, for an instant, saw the dude with the slicked back hair and goatee that carried away the dead body earlier; he flashed in the back corner of Steve’s lot and hurdled the back fence before disappearing. Like he was being chased. But who was chasing him? I looked intently to see if I could spot anyone following him, but didn’t see anything.

“What are ya looking at?” Rocky asked me.

“I can’t believe it…I just saw one of the guys that I witnessed carrying the hockey bag this afternoon. He appeared right over there and hurdled over the back fence. In the back corner, for maybe two seconds.”

I pointed over to the back corner of the lot and noticed that I was sweating in the excitement.

“C’mon, Jack, your drunken ass is making ya see things,” Rocky laughingly said. “They wouldn’t be so stupid as to have a gun chase right in front of a party.”

Lance walked up to us. “Who’s having a gun chase?” He put his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, she was just making fun of Hugh, that’s all,” I told him. “Your brother sure has nice friends.”

“Well, he certainly approves of you,” Lance said while putting his arms around me.

“Uh, bud…see that bounty hunter over there?” Rocky asked. “He and Jackie dated for a long time, so be very careful with her around him.”

Lance looked over at Hugh and then Jackie. “You and him dated?”

I nodded and my cheeks got red, which sucked because Hugh was right – I needed to be way more hard ass and hard ass folk don’t have their cheeks blush. What I really wanted to do at that moment was not hang out with Lance, but, instead, walk up to the diamond house and see who answered the door. Shake things up a bit.

“Well, that’s just the cat’s friggin meow, isn’t it!” Lance yelled out. Nobody noticed on account of Hugh showing off a tattoo to the party.

Four other guests showed up at the back deck. Three women, one man. All four knew everyone at the party it seemed, except us of course, and they innocently managed to steal the spotlight away from Hugh. He listened briefly to the chat involving the new guests, before looking at me and raising his eyes. If cocktail party talk is Hugh’s strong suit, then I’m a jet setting runway model. Hugh stood up from his chair, put the chamber back into his Walther PPS, and headed for the bar. He was a whiskey man by nature, so Hugh appeared a tad out of sorts until he spotted the Johnny Walker bottle in the back, against the house. Two ice cubs, no water, and a red plastic cup with Johnny Walker Red. Hog heaven for any bounty hunter.

“No am I crazy or did I see a guy briefly appear in that corner over there and then scale the back fence? Hugh asked us, while pointing to the southeast corner of the lot.

Lance was still hanging around me and looked thoroughly confused by this comment of Hugh’s.

“How could ya see anything over your huge ego?”  Rocky loudly asked before taking a drink.

“I’m telling ya, I saw…”

“Probably some teenage kids,” I inserted. “So, Hugh, have ya been able to figure out how all these folks know each other?

“They all work together,” Hugh replied.

“Not all of them!” Lance pointed at a couple with matching pink shirts. “Those two are high school buddies of Steve from a long, long time ago. And I don’t think that guy over there in the blue blazer works for JLP…”

“Hugh, I can’t believe ya showed everybody your gun,” I interrupted. “Acting like a child over there.”

“Jack, they love me…sorry if I embarrassed ya. I dunno what came over me, but I did pull out the chamber, so it wasn’t dangerous or anything like that. Anyway, why do ya care so much how I behave?”

“Relax, Hugh, she really doesn’t care…don’t flatter yourself.”

Hugh glared at Rocky and clenched his fist. “I’ve had enough of ya for tonight, missy! You’ve grown quite a mouth on ya.”

“Okay, enough, ya too!” I said.

Lance grew tired of our bickering and decided to talk with the new guests.

“So, ya saw that fella over there too?” I asked Hugh.

“Yeah, it was wild…someone in the group peppering me with questions moved over a bit and, all of a sudden, I had a view of that corner of the yard and this guy appears out of nowhere for maybe a few seconds.”

The couple in the matching pink shirts approached us and I gave Hugh the look to shut up about the backyard bandit.

“Hugh, introduce us to your friends,” the woman in pink said.

I smiled as nicely as I could, but it wasn’t easy. My mind was about 4 houses away, down Bundy. Was Andy Stewart the one chasing the slicked back hair dude we saw? Was he pissed about that woman in his house being dead? Was I falling back in love with Hugh? The questions were flying around my head like some Cirque du Soleil act.

Before I could even respond to the woman’s request, a police officer appeared on the deck to the shock of everyone.

Steve rushed up to the officer. “I’m sorry, is there a problem, officer?”

“We responded to a noise complaint a few houses down and I am here to ask any of you if you saw anything suspicious in the past half hour.” The officer quickly scanned the group, but maintained no expression on his face.

Standing near the edge of the deck, I could see part of the street and noticed that lady, Kay, the neighborhood busybody that had interrupted my watch of Andy’s house earlier that afternoon. I turned away quickly because I didn’t want her to spot me.  

For all I knew, she could have mentioned our strange meeting that afternoon to the officer and, suddenly, I’d be looking suspicious. And that’s the last thing I needed. I looked directly at Hugh, and, as we connected our eyes, I gently shook my head to indicated the need to shut up around the officer. He smiled in agreement.

“I don’t think anybody here has heard or seen anything unusual,” Steve told the officer. “We’re just having a small work gathering here.”

The officer looked away from Steve and tried to examine the group. My guess was that it was a little more than a noise complaint the officer was responding to. Maybe Kay heard gunfire. I didn’t hear any of that and Hugh definitely would have sensed someone firing a fun a few house away. I had tagged along on enough of this ‘stakeouts’ to know that the boy had ears like a cat, forcing me to be extra careful with my farts.

“Okay, what’s your name?” the officer asked Steve.

“Steve Morgan, I live here.”

“All right, well if you folks see or hear anything out of the ordinary, don’t hesitate to let us know.”

Hugh unwisely decided to jump into the conversation. “I don’t get it…was this a standard noise complaint or something bigger?”

The officer adjusted his shirt sleeve. “I’m not at liberty to say, sir, but like I just said, let us know if you see or hear something out of the usual.”

The officer turned away from us and walked back toward Bundy.

“Well, that was a whole lot to do about nothing!” Hugh shouted to the glee of the party.

I pulled him aside. “What do ya think happened for the police to show up?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Hugh asked with a bark. “That guy we saw hopping the fence back there was doing something weird, sure…but was he behind the noise complaint? That seems like a reach.” 

 “I’m tellin’ ya, that guy was the same dude I saw this afternoon.” I was squeezing Hugh’s arm pretty damn tight and he yanked it away.

“Well, you’re in no shape to look at things totally proper right now…how much have ya drunk tonight?” he asked me.

“Not enough that I can’t see straight, ya ass!” I walked away in a huff.

Rocky and I asked Steve to point us to the bathroom and Lance offered to be our knight in shining armor and show us. As we walked into the kitchen, the smoke became quite noticeable.

“You smell that?” Lance asked.

Something was definitely burning but we didn’t see any smoke. Lance called for Steve who ignored him at first.

“Steve, get in here!” Lance tried a second time.

The look on Steve’s face as he entered the kitchen would have scared the dead. “What the hell?” he yelled, before running through the house in an attempt to locate the fire.

The three of us followed in tow like quivering sheep. Steve opened a bedroom door down the hall, rushed inside, and smoke poured out through the house.

“Call 911!” Steve screamed from inside the room. The curtains were ablaze and he was swatting the fire with a blanket.

Lance fumbled for his cell and dialed the number.

 “Hello, there is a house fire at 887 South Bundy. Hurry!” Lance yelled into the phone. Apparently, the 911 operator didn’t want him to hang up, so he went outside.

Meanwhile, Rocky and I were searching for something to pour water over the flames. We only found a large bowl, filled it with tap water and rushed it over to Steve in the bedroom.  Other party guests were clued in by now and streamed in the house in utter confusion.

I threw the water on the flames, but it hardly helped. Plus, the carpet was starting to burn and forcing us back into the hallway. Rocky doused the carpet with water from another bowl she found, and it only slowed the flames a tad.

The smoke was getting really bad and Hugh appeared out of nowhere to drag Rocky and me out of the condo. We both were crying and coughing up a storm, while two other guests practically threw Steve out of his place a few moments later.

“Let me back in there!” he screamed over and over to the four folks blocking the kitchen door. One guy with a mustache was trying to talk him down, but not doing a very good job.

It looked like smoke now filled the whole first floor and I couldn’t see inside. Wood started to crackle and I grabbed Rocky as a security blanket, which was kinda stupid. The time between the sound of the fire trucks and them hooking everything up and getting set to fight the fire seemed like two hours. They told everybody to get off the deck.

Flames were really evident now in the kitchen and several of guests were crying, including Rocky.          

“It was good that we left the house when we did,” Rocky said with a shaky voice.

I nodded and kept my arm around her, thinkin’ that we were gonna remember this night for a long, long time.

Hugh found us on the back lawn. We watched the fire crew spread themselves throughout the condo and spray water mightily. It seemed to us that they got everything under control in a matter of minutes, but they were not about to allow Steve back into his home. This, of course, had him yelling like a Chicago Cubs fan. The outside part of the condo looked to be unharmed, which had me thinkin’ that it was a good thing Rocky and I asked for the bathroom when we did. The water being pumped into the condo probably destroyed anything that wasn’t already ruined by the smoke and fire, and I was guessing that was what Steve was yelling about.

“What were ya ladies thinkin’ trying to battle that fire like that?” Hugh pressed. “That smoke in your lungs is bad news, girlys!”

Rocky exploded in his face, nearly tackling him to the ground. “Yeah, I noticed that ya weren’t exactly Johnny on the spot with the fire help! Ya could have found a garden hose or something…”

“Stop it ya two…Hugh, thank ya for pulling us out of the fire,” I said, trying to calm us all down. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

Rocky slugged me in the arm. “What’s wrong with ya? You’re letting Mr. High and Mighty mouth off like that? I guess I’m just saying, that’s all. Boy!”

Hugh grunted and sauntered off to talk with the pink shirt guy who was holding his sobbing wife.

Rocky and I sat down on the lawn and watched the whole scene. Others quickly joined us and tried to make sense of how the fire started in the first place. As best I could tell, the curtains went ablaze first, so maybe they caught a spark from a bad outlet or something. I am no electrician but I have heard that electrical fires usually start in the walls, which could have lit up the curtains when the fire reached that point in the wall. 

“It looks like all of Bundy is out front watching this whole thing!” the mustache guy said. “I wonder when Channel 8 news will show up.”

Was a fire on South Bundy that big of a deal? I mean, the house wasn’t even leveled and you couldn’t really see what damage had been done from the outside. Not hot news in my opinion.

“I need a drink,” Rocky declared. “Let’s go back to my place…I can get the low down from Lance tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Steve is out of his mind upset but we’re not his friends,” I replied. “Let’s jet.”

We saw Hugh still talking with the pink shirt couple. What a nice guy.

“Hugh, we wanna roll…let’s go,” I whispered. 

 

Unless you want to sleep on the fire engine red shag carpet at 9563 East Garvey Avenue, the Murphy Bed is your only sleep option. I don’t own a couch, just two musty, quasi-matching fabric recliners that Mr. Barbosa, my landlord, found for me at a police auction. I also don’t see the point in pictures on the walls, so the place is a real looker in my humble opinion. But, it’s home and that’s where I was at 7:45 in the morning after one of the more wild days of my young adulthood.

The snoring I awoke to was recognizable just not totally invited. I vaguely remembered Hugh driving me home around 1am, after Rocky and I did several shots of Jack Daniels at her place. He didn’t show up until 12:30am but the rest is a blur.

I had the same clothes from the day before and there was Hugh in his snoring glory and toned, ripped body of his a foot away from me on the Murphy Bed. It could have been worse, so I promised myself that I was going to play nice when he awoke.

Of course, that was a grand plan bound for failure by my raging headache and rumbling stomach. Slowly rolling out of bed, I made sure my feet were steady before heading to pee. Hugh always awakes ragingly hungry, so I needed to make something. My loaf of bread was daringly close to molding and I was pretty sure I only had one egg left. Scanning the fridge, I spotted a half eaten ham sandwich from four days ago. Next thing I knew, two pieces of stiff bread were on my frying pan along with the egg. The plan was for an egg and ham sandwich. I figured I could last a couple days on rice cakes and honey. This was my time of month for near fasting. It wasn’t really a choice I had – certainly no religious thing – it’s just that between Lucy’s college bills, my rent and, now, the Honda, food wasn’t a luxury I could afford much. Maybe that would change with this new job, but I needed to stay alive to see the pay advance and that was looking murky.

I closed the fridge door to find Hugh standing there.

“It’s 7:50…what’s the rush? Ya need more rest,” he asked, clearly annoyed.

“Six plus hours of sleep is all I need,” I said calmly.

“Since when?” Hugh pressed. “Ya were a sleeping bear in hibernation when we were together…what gives?”

“Hormones.”

Hugh grunted. “Whatcha makin’?”

“Ham and egg sandwich…it’s all I had.”

“Smells great.” Hugh grabbed the sandwich off the pan, sunk his teeth into it and moved over to the light brown recliner. “So, what’s the plan today?”

Hugh devoured the sandwich in three bites.

“Well, we should spend some time figuring out who’s behind the thumb incident,” I replied. “Let’s head over to your place and make sure everything’s okay. This guy could try something more serious next time, ya know?

“Right…and this Andy Stewart guy works at Evergreen Corporation, so we should probably do some research on what they do. Maybe they somehow fit into the missing diamonds puzzle. Ya know, I was thinkin’ that since the guys hanging around Mr. Stewart are so creepy, maybe they stole the diamonds and Mr. Stewart’s claim is legit.”

“Yeah, I thought of that as well, along with thousands of other possibilities that have crossed my crazy ass mind the last 24 hours.” I let out a huge sigh and sat down in the brown recliner, head between my knees. The water bottle I was nursing fell to the floor.  

“That was one of the wildest parties I’ve been to in a long while,” Hugh stated. “Have I ever told ya I wanted to be a fire fighter when I was a kid? All the way through most of high school. My bad knee ended that dream for me…ya know about that.”

In a football game his junior year, Hugh tore his MCL partially and never had surgery on it, mainly because he couldn’t afford it. I barely noticed it when we were dating, except for one time during a jog on the Santa Monica beach. He had to stop running and the knee was really stiff for days.

“I think ya ended up okay,” I added. “You’re highly respected in your field, don’t forget that, bud.”

I shot up from the chair, walked into the kitchen and found the honey and rice cakes. Three cakes later, it was time for a shower. It had been over two days and I was ripe. Hugh started checking his cell.

While in the shower, I was more focused on how nice it was for Hugh to show up in the early morning hours and make sure I got home okay. Sure, I could have just as easily slept at Rocky’s but he did go out of his way and that counted for something.

Let’s see where this weekend takes us, I thought to myself while drying off on the bath mat.

Rocky would be heartily disappointed if Hugh and I got back together. If there was any saving grace to his cheating on me by sleeping with Stacy Deluca it was plainly that he was the one I heard it from. He didn’t hide it from me, and, deep down, I appreciated that.

He was still a rat, according to Rocky, who could sense my warming heart at Steve Morgan’s party. She didn’t say anything until Hugh dropped us off at her place and we had settled on her porch.

“Lance is only five years younger and he’d be quite a catch for ya,” she told me twice at the party and, then, a third time back at her place.

“How do folks say it? We’re just at completely different stages of our life…I want different things than he wants, that’s all.”

“How do ya know that?” she asked.

And I couldn’t give her a good answer. I knew Lance was into me, but guys like that break hearts. That’s what my mom always warned me about. Of course, Hugh broke my heart, but that was different, somehow. Wasn’t it?

“I don’t know, Rock, I really haven’t decided anything,” I told my best friend. “All I know is that Hugh isn’t all that bad of a guy and Lance really digs me…for now.”

“I think ya should go to Lance’s apartment to see if he’s there. Ya could act like you’re there to find out about Steve’s condo.”

So, that’s what I did, except there was no answer when I knocked on the door, which kinda made sense given that Lance was probably still supporting his brother. Rocky made me promise to her that I would follow up with Lance the next day. She can be so pushy sometimes.

We thought about driving back over to Steve’s burnt condo to find Lance but we had two shots of Jack in us by then and still a few ounces of common sense left.

After the shower, I found Hugh drinking a diet coke from my secret stash under the kitchen sink. It was a warm soda, but he looked satisfied.

“After ya fetch your car from Rocky’s, drive on over to my place…I need a shower and shave,” Hugh asserted.

Hugh lived in a 1,800 square foot ranch a mile outside of the LAX perimeter. It was loud, but it was his. Inherited actually from his Aunt Blanche. I helped Hugh paint the outside three years ago and it took us forever.

“Ya ready to roll?” I asked.

The knock on the door had Hugh reaching for his Walther PPS. “Who knows you’re here?”

“This is my house, stupid!” I said loudly. “Everybody knows I’m here.”

Of course, it could be the guy after Hugh but he would have done something in the middle of the night to us if he meant harm. Having gotten so drunk, I could have been launched from a cannon and not woken up.

“Who is it?” I asked through the door.

“Jackie, it’s Teresita, honey.”

My landlord and his wife rock the big one. I’d been late with the rent three times the past eight months and they never said a word. I opened the door to find Teresita Barbosa holding a tray of breakfast burritos.

“Jackie, how are you? We haven’t seen you in a while and we need your sunshine, baby! I made these burritos for you. You mentioned the rice cakes the last time you were over at our place and I just cringed for a long time.”

“Please come in, Teresita.” I took the tray from her and placed it in the fridge. “You’re way too generous, but don’t think I don’t appreciate it. I really need to have ya and Mr. Barbosa over for dinner one of these days.” I felt like getting on my knees and kissing this woman’s feet. This was two weeks of food for me. Three weeks if stretched.

Teresita smiled at me, then looked over at Hugh. “How are you, hon? I definitely have not seen you at all lately, but it’s good to see you now.”

“Happy to be here, Teresita.” Hugh blushed a tad, I swear. He would never admit what I just saw, but my eyes were workin’ fine and dandy, thank you very much. I wonder how often Teresita makes men blush mainly because she looks ten years younger than she really is and loves to flaunt it. Apparently, her husband, Alonsa, doesn’t mind. Long black hair, boobs that never fit into the top she is wearing that day. Plus, she must be 5’11 or something like that. I stand at 5’8 and women taller than me make me nervous.

“What are your plans for this lovely Saturday, Teresita?” I inquired.

“Oh, Alonsa wants to go to this home renovation convention downtown and that only spells a lot of hard work from me at some point way in the future if we ever buy our first home. But that’s a long way off. Listen to me rambling on and on.”

“Well, Teresita, Jackie and I are about to head out so it was great seeing ya again,” Hugh inserted.

“And thank ya again for the burritos…you’re a wonderful cook,” I threw in. We did have a lot to get done today so Hugh made the right call by nudging her out the door. “I hope ya enjoy the convention.”

“Okay, kids, you go have fun and I’ll see you soon, Jackie,” Teresita said on the way out the door.

We hopped into Hugh’s truck about five minutes later. His radio was playing Def Leppard. Why he liked 80s music so much, I’ll never understand.

“Ya know, we should pay Ronny Diaz a visit this morning.” Hugh knew a lot more folks in LA than I could ever manage to. “He might have some clues as to what the hell is going on with Andy Stewart.”

“Why? Who’s Ronny Diaz?”

“He owns five or so pawn shops in town, and he may have heard something at least. I mean, if this is bigger than some insurance claim, then I’m guessing he knows about it or has heard parts of the story.”

“All right, sounds good.” Aside from kidnapping this Stewart guy and making him confess to just what the hell is happening, Hugh’s plan was better than any idea I had for today.

Hugh pulled his cell out. “Sherry, baby, it’s Hugh…what’s up? Yeah? Don’t that crap from him…you’re stronger than that…okay, we’ll talk later…Hey, is Ronny around?  Yeah, what’s his cell? 310-828-9693? Cool…thanks Sherry!” Hugh dialed the number Sherry just gave him. “Ronny, it’s Hugh Barkley…yes, it’s been a while…yup, still chasing down runners…listen I have something I want to run by ya. Do ya have five minutes today? Great. You’re at the East 1^stStreet store? All right, see ya then!”

Hugh put his cell down and glanced over at me. “Ya got all that?”

“Yup.” What the hell could Ronny Diaz know about any of this? Diamonds don’t run through pawn shops, except in very small numbers, but Hugh does have a much better sense of the criminal underworld than I. So, this morning was his to see where the onion peeled.

Rain drops started pelting the truck and it seemed that the day was getting worse weather-wise. I don’t get a paper and don’t watch the news, so I get my weather forecasts from the sky. Pretty smart, huh?

“We should head over to see Ronny before ya fetch your wheels,” Hugh stated.

“Okay…what are we going to tell this guy?”

“I wouldn’t mention your incident with the dead body or even breaking into that Condo…just tell him that you’ve noticed some strange activity around Stewart’s home and leave it at that.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan!” I told him.

 

We rolled up to Ronny’s store on E. 1^st St. on the south side of the 101. The building looked maybe five years old and held a Western Union check cashing store and Skyline Dry Cleaner. Each store had the telltale gates, with the entire building scarred from the toxic chemical stone washing of graffiti marks.

“This is the nicest of his stores, by far,” Hugh informed me. “Did ya hear about that gang shooting over in Watts three days ago? That was right by one of his stores.”

“Oooooh, so this fella is a real scary, badass, huh?” I asked as sarcastically as possible. Hugh was starting to creep me out and I needed something to relax. Sarcasm was my comfort zone, after all.

“Look, if ya don’t want my help, just say so….I got my own problems to deal with, so sue me for being nice.”

“I’m sorry…I do want your help, it’s just that all this could get pretty scary fast and I don’t know if I can handle all that, ya know?”

Hugh held my hand. “All right, remember you’re only looking for insurance fraud and if this turns out to be more, than maybe we go to the police with what we have. I know Tommy Holands who’s an LAPD detective out of South Broadway. That’s who we call when we need to.”

I snorted a laugh. “Except what we have is zippo…the body is long gone, so all we have is a story.” I drew a long breath and closed my eyes. Ronny had told us to park in the alley next to his store.

“Ya okay?” Hugh rubbed my shoulder.

“Fine…let’s roll.”

We sprang out from Hugh’s truck and approached a steel, industrial door with a button to the right that would’ve been tough to spot except in broad daylight. Hugh pushed the button.

“Yes?” the voice from above grunted.

I glanced up toward the voice and noticed a small speaker about four feet above the door frame. Clever.

“Ronny, it’s Hugh.”

The buzzer sounded and the latch released. We opened the door to a hallway that was straight out of the Godfather. A large black man appeared from nowhere.

“Come this way,” he told us in a ‘I’ll snap you two in half’ kind of voice.

The dude opened a door to the left and we entered Ronny’s office. Ronny was seated at his desk. The store was visible through a window behind the desk, but I was guessing the window was a one way mirror kind of thing. Probably bullet proof too.

Ronny came out from the desk to shake Hugh’s hand. Ronny and Hugh were about the same height but Ronny had dark curly hair, a hunkingly enormous nose and brown eyebrows that looked like two cats. “Man, it’s been over a year since I last saw ya? How are ya, brother?”

 “I’m good, I’m good…still a bounty hunter.” Hugh laughed awkwardly. “Huntin’ down the dogs!”

Ronny laughed. “Mighty fine, that’s awesome.” He looked at me. “And who’s this honey?”

“Jackie, it’s nice to meet ya,” I said with a firm handshake.

“Okay, then, what are we all doing here?” Ronny pressed. He acted like time was money and I’m sure in his case, it is exactly that.

I stepped toward our host. “Ronny, I investigate for Allstar insurance and they assigned me to this diamond theft claim from one of their clients. Since then, I’m tellin’ ya, I’ve heard gunshots from the client’s house and seen a lot of suspicious looking people coming and going.”

“So, ya think the claim is a fake?” Ronny inquired. “That happens all the time in the insurance biz, as ya probably know.”

“Ronny, we’re wondering if you’ve heard anything about diamonds or jewels…and…”

“Hold on, Hugh. Let me think.” Ronny rubbed his temples and closed his eyes for a second before opening them and throwing out his arms. “Bam! Got it! I was told from a buddy of mine who works in U.S. customs at LAX and he heard about some Iranians being turned away from entry into this country a few days ago. These guys were carrying empty briefcases meant for valuables, antiques and things like that. This probably doesn’t have anything to do with your insurance case, but ya might like to talk to my customs friend directly. Frank Howers is his name.”

Ronny let out an enormous laugh that seemed it’d been saved up for centuries. He then pulled out his cell and gave the number for Frank Howers to Hugh.

“Thanks…so what’s the biggest take this store’s done this week?” Hugh asked.

“We got a diamond necklace last Sunday that retails around $20 grand….that’s the biggest in a while.” Ronny began scratching his head. “Folks have been nickel and diming us as usual, Hugh…It’s a bitch of a biz.

The large black man walked up to Ronny and pointed to the store. “Boss.”

Ronny turned around to see three folks walk into the store, making it clear to me that our conversation with Hugh’s friend needed to end.

“Ronny, you’ve been very kind to talk with us,” I inserted. “Hugh, we need to leave Ronny to his business.”

Hugh said his goodbyes and the large black man escorted us out to the alley.

Scurrying back to the truck, Hugh started. “Now, I’m no diamond expert, but if those Iranian dudes were after a diamond transaction, it was for a whole lot more than a million dollars worth.”

“Agreed,” I added. “I guess we should go pay Frank Howers a visit, huh?”

Hugh pulled out his cell and dialed the number Ronny had given him. “Uh, is this Frank? Okay…Frank, this is Hugh Barclay and I was just speaking with Ronny Diaz and he suggested we should talk …what’s that? Oh, about what ya know about the three Iranians being turned away…good, I really appreciate that…yeah, we can get to Hollywood in thirty…the Melrose entrance to the Forever Cemetery…we’ll be there.”

I threw my right hand forward. “Ahh, I got time to waste. Rocky’s not even up yet.”

“She’s a little snarky, isn’t she?” Hugh asked.

I didn’t even want to go there because that would ultimately lead back to his cheating on me and we didn’t need that fight.

“Oh, ya just hafta get used to her, that’s all. She’s very protective of me.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.”

Changing the subject back to our search. “If these guys are holding millions of dollars of diamonds, they are not at the condo I searched. And if there are Iranians involved, we hafta assume that the diamonds they were buying were stolen. Otherwise, they could sell them to any diamond wholesaler or one of those fancy auction houses. And, why would Stewart draw attention to his criminal outfit by filing an insurance claim for one million? None of this is making any sense at all.”

Hugh reached out for my left hand. “Relax, that’s good thinkin’, but don’t get yourself all worked up and stuff. The Iranians could be after a whole bunch of other things than diamonds, right? So, let’s not panic here, okay?”

“That whole deal with Ronny was pretty weird,” I told Hugh. “I think he knows more about this Iranian thing than he told us.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that ‘cause we go way back. I don’t think he’d do that to me. Anyway, even he couldn’t make that story up! Iranians?”

“Okaaay,” I snarked. “Can’t wait to hear what good ‘ole Frank has to tell us. But, we’re not telling him anything about my diamond hunt. Let him lead the discussion. We need to start workin’ the angles here.”

“Thatta girl!”

 

Timothy Gilbert

zoomaster09@yahoo.com