A Touch of Danger (Archie Lemons #2)

by Grant Fieldgrove

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

  "Fine. We've got a car belonging to someone other than Brad Jackson, parked in Brad Jackson's garage."

  "And how would you know that, Miss Reynolds?"

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

  "Very well. Please, by all means, continue."

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

  "And do you know that, Miss Reynolds?"

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

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

  Not bad, E. Good job.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "I am through with this conversation, Mr. Lemons. Good day to..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Yes. Pretty much every second of my life."

  "Why won't anyone listen to us, Archie?"

  "I don't know, Elise. But, I promise you, we are going to solve this thing. Tonight."

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

  "Looks like a storm's a-brewin'."

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

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

  "Holy shit! That's him! Let’s go!"

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

  "Hello, friends."

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

  It was Brad Jackson.

  Obviously.

  29.

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

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

  "Nice day for a walk, don't you think?"

  "It's about to rain, asshole."

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

  "Actually, that's exactly what we're doing," Elise said.

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

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

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

  "That's cute that you think you saw me kill a woman. But unfortunately for you, you are wrong."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Yeah," she said. "A huge vagina."

&nbs
p; "See, dude," I said. "Even this pretty little lady right here thinks you're a vagina. And hanging around that guy who drives the New-Bug...give me a break! Just how gay are you?"

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

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

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

  "Elise! My phone! Don't...let it get...wet!"

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

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

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

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

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

  "Do you have my phone?" I asked Elise.

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

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

 

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

  "Son of a bitch! This is a prop gun!"

 

  30.

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

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

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

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

  "Shit. I'm sorry, Elise."

  "Yeah, you couldn't have thrown your precious phone, huh? It had to be mine."

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

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

  "Detective Steve Gibson, please."

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

  "Thank..." More muzak.

  "Detective Gibson," he answered.

  "Detective Gibson. Archie Lemons. Remember me?"

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

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

  "Is that a fact?"

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

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

  I gave it to him.

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

  "I always do."

  He hung up.

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

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

  She was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

  "Well, hopefully he's being serious. Otherwise I am calling Anderson and Enzite; get them down here and do some real police wo
rk."

  "Why don't you just call them now?"

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

  "Like a puzzle."

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

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