Much Needed Rain

by R. G. Oram

  Lewelyn clicked the physical button at the bottom of the tablet and stopped the shakes, then clicked on the newspaper app. The first story to come up, to his surprise, was about a particular species of birds being hit by an aeroplane – he had been expecting a full blown article of the final two US Presidential Election candidates.

  ‘Here,’ Lewelyn gave back the device.

  ‘Thanks, as you can see I’m not a techy guy.’

  Lewelyn was caught in between two options. Should he ask why the detective didn’t just buy a tactile, page-flicking newspaper? But he didn’t want to make out he was a smart-ass who criticised in hindsight and instead chose to word it the least likely of being condescending.

  ‘Wife loves all this new stuff. Ever since my son showed her how to use one of these,’ Forsythe gestured to the tablet. ‘Glued to it, even forced me to stop reading the hard-covered stuff. Lost count with the amount of things her phone can do,’ he smirked. ‘There’s something new every day.’

  Forsythe handed Lewelyn a sheet of paper.

  ‘Know anything about this?’

  Lewelyn read an advertisement for a writing course in the evening.

  ‘Hannah went to this. It’s an evening class for writers, she wanted to write plays.’

  ‘That explains the collection of Shakespeare she had,’ Forsythe said.

  David remembered Hannah asking him about that. She was 50/50 on if she should bother going. He didn’t think at the time he was the best person to ask, and then remembered her mother’s current condition and her father, who had passed away some time ago, not to mention her shyness, making him one of the few people she could approach. As a friend, Lewelyn told her it was a good idea. She liked reading and she enjoyed writing – that said it all. She started going in the evenings. Lewelyn asked her sometimes how it was going and she said it was great, she even started writing her own play. When asking her how the play was going, Hannah would say, ‘more of a statue than a breather’. Lewelyn knew it had been a Shakespeare reference but couldn’t remember which play it belonged to.

  ‘What about this?’

  Forsythe handed Lewelyn another piece of paper. It was a restraining order against Greg Daniels, Hannah’s ex-boyfriend.

  ‘Yeah I remember Hannah asking me for my advice on this.’

  ‘What did you tell her?’

  ‘I told her to file one. The guy gave her no choice.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This Greg guy came once to where Hannah worked and lucky for her I was there and not away in some other state. He started shouting at her. I could hear it from inside my office – with the door closed. I went outside to see what was going on. I told him to leave and if he ever came here again I’d call the cops.’

  ‘That’s when you told her to get a restraining order?’

  ‘Yeah right after that.’

  Thomas Forsythe went back to face the office computer, back facing Lewelyn, the detective asked, ‘Want to pay him a visit?’

  ‘Sure, do you know here he lives?’

  ‘I do. But I checked his status on the internet, and it says he’s at work now. And it’s not too far from here.’

  ‘Lead the way,’ Lewelyn conceded.

  Chapter 11

  The rays of sunshine pierced the car’s windscreen like flaming arrows. Baker sat in his car dealing with last night’s hangover. His potion for recovery was to watch cars go by on West First Street. Parked himself outside the Los Angeles Times building – across the street from LAPD HQ.

  The traffic was lighter now. Most people had already started work, resulting in fewer cars on the road. He hadn’t been here long, if it wasn’t for the booze he would have been here sooner. The patrol shift had already started, so few squad cars were to be seen. He waited for one in particular. The one he shared with his partner Thomas Forsythe. Knew exactly where it would be parked. That’s why he was where he was. Just needed to see the registration number or face inside the windscreen. He couldn’t go by colour because many nondescript LAPD cars had similar paintwork.

  A black sedan caught his eye. It moved conservatively along the road. Two shapes occupied the front seats. Baker undid his seatbelt and reached into his pocket. The heads of Forsythe and Lewelyn in the interior, Baker slunk himself further down in his seat, making his presence incognito. Still clutching the inside of his pocket. The other car nearing his own.

  He dug his head deeper down.

  And it was gone.

  Pulling himself back into a more comfortable sitting position, Baker pulled out his cell-phone. Typing in the numbers, listening to the synchronised beeps of the call, he hoped the guy was at his desk. After four rings it stopped.

  ‘Homicide.’

  ‘Steve? It’s Mark. What’s up?’

  ‘Mark? Why are you calling? Where you at?’

  Baker knew Steve was acting the uninformed man. Word travels fast in RHD. Steve was just fishing for information.

  ‘You know what happened Steve. Suspension. Walters screwed me over.’

  ‘Oh yeah that’s right,’ Steve said nonchalantly, and then asked, ‘Something I can do for you?’

  ‘Yeah there is actually. Any chance you could meet me? I’m parked just outside.’

  ‘Can’t you just come in here?’

  ‘I don’t really want to see the Lt today. Can’t take another one of his lectures.’

  ‘Fair enough I’ll come right out. You still got the same car?’

  ‘Yeah, haven’t quite given her up yet.’

  Ten minutes later Baker’s car had two occupants.

  ‘Thanks for coming, Steve. I appreciate it. I asked you to meet me here because I need your help with something,’ Baker opened.

  ‘Hey, Mark, we’re friends. We work together. Ask away.’

  ‘Thanks. Look, Steve, I did something stupid yesterday and I need your help to fix it.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I’m not sure if you noticed but when I left Joe’s office I saw that Lewelyn guy and I went for him.’

  ‘The guy who’s working with Tom now?’ Steve said contemptuously and regretted saying it when he saw Baker’s mouth tighten.

  ‘Yeah that’s him.’

  ‘The consultant?’

  ‘Exactly. Anyway when I went for him I took something from him, his keys. Thinking I’d get some payback by getting him locked outside of his own home,’ Baker held the set up in his hand to show Steve. Mark continued, ‘Now I realise how stupid it was and I need you to give them back to him.’

  ‘You want me to return them for you?’

  ‘Yeah but don’t tell him I told you to. That would make things even worse for me. Tell him you found them on the floor yesterday by Tom’s desk. It’ll make him assume they fell out of his pocket.’

  Steve gave a puzzled look, ‘Sure I can do that. I think I saw them leave earlier so I can’t do it yet. As soon as they get back I’ll do it.’

  ‘Thanks Steve. You just saved me a lot of heat,’ Baker gave Steve the set of keys.

  ‘Friends, Mark. Now I’d better get back. Got court later today and I got to start prepping.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’ll see you around, Steve. Enjoy.’

  ‘Like how you enjoyed yourself last night?’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ Baker rubbed the short hairs under his chin.

  ‘Man, the booze is all over you. My advice, take a mint. Actually swallow the whole packet.’

  ‘I’ll do that. See you around.’

  Steve left the two seat car and crossed the street. He disappeared when two doors closed behind him.

  Baker fell back in his seat. He had to be careful with what he said to Steve. He was a nice guy but had the tendency to speak his mind – didn’t know when to keep the trap shut, even in court. And Baker had to make sure his f
abricated story made sense. He didn’t feel bad at all for taking the set of keys, the only regret was not slugging the guy. Remembering the calmness on Lewelyn’s face, a right hook would have ripped that serenity open.

  A little after leaving RHD the previous day, Baker had put his plan into action. He went to a guy he knew who cut keys. Asked for copies to be made of Lewleyn’s. Then, the tricky part, he had to get them back to Lewelyn, without him even thinking of the possibility of them being stolen. That’s where Steve came in. Baker knew Steve would help him, that’s what friends were for. Steve wouldn’t tell anyone anything, because the favour he just agreed to do for Mark would get himself in trouble if it was found out. The original set to be returned and the new, secret set, Baker would keep for himself.

  Now he was going to look around Lewelyn’s home in Silver Lake, Baker refastened his seatbelt and brought the car to life.

  Chapter 12

  Greg Daniels worked as a mechanic in a garage on La Cienega Boulevard: mid-city, near the Restaurant Row.

  Forsythe drove the department car with an old man’s patience. He didn’t plant his foot down on open stretches of road. Didn’t violently pull the wheel to change lanes or dodge a slower moving car. Forsythe epitomised road safety. The only sign of discomfort displayed was Forsythe’s tight grip of the steering wheel; his knuckles stuck out like mole hills on a flat lawn. Lewelyn didn’t know whether the secured grasp was a sign of anxiety or apprehension. Was he a nervous driver or eager to meet Daniels?

  Taking in the new landscape, working to memorise street signs or distinguishing objects in order to familiarise himself with the city, a place he now called home. The reason Lewelyn had permanently moved here was because most of his work came from here. The awareness and demand on body language had expanded in the last decade. Numerous books published on the science, giving the public the opportunity to learn to read people. Lewelyn didn’t just have clients in law enforcement: there were now – business leaders, lawyers, doctors, teachers, movie sets; it was becoming a universal demand.

  ‘Why did you pay her so much?’ Forsythe asked unexpectedly.

  Lewelyn politely turned to the detective who kept his eyes on the oncoming road.

  ‘You mean Hannah?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’ Lewelyn knew straight away as the words came out they were a mistake.

  Forsythe didn’t reply, Lewelyn thought he heard air forced out of the man’s nostrils.

  ‘She was my business manager as well as my secretary.’

  Forsythe didn’t follow through the conversation. Lewelyn went on, ‘When I’m out of state I still get clients phoning in and bills have to be paid and payments have to be authorised and processed. I can’t do those when I’m out of the office so I asked Hannah to do these things when I was not around. That’s how she could afford that apartment.’

  No reply again. No apparent agreement or disagreement with what Lewelyn said. If Forsythe did in fact disagree with him then his head would have most likely averted from traffic and scrutinised Lewelyn. Without warning, the speed of the car changed.

  ‘We’re here,’ Forsythe revealed.

  Lewelyn came to. Arrived at last. The car was parked on the south side of La Cienega Boulevard. Lewelyn could see a garage on the opposite side. Large signs standing tall showcased the many restaurants occupying the street.

  ‘Before we go in I want you to listen to me very carefully,’ said Forsythe tersely. ‘Stay behind me at all times and don’t talk. Let me do the talking. Got it?’

  Lewelyn nodded to show his agreement to the terms. They got out and crossed the street.

  ‘Don’t make me regret it,’ the detective warned him when they were kerb-side.

  Engines purred along the street, music blared from a stereo mounted on a barrel, occasional shouts from the bowels of a building. Electrical noises emanating from machinery, metal on metal sounds when tools made contact with vehicles. Mustiness and aged oil was the fragrance of the day.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Lewelyn and Forsythe challenged by a tall skinny man in torn jeans and a greased stained t-shirt – dressed differently from the other men in splotchy overalls.

  ‘Yes we’re looking for Greg.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  The badge came out, ‘LAPD, we’d like to talk to him.’

  ‘I want to know what this is about,’ the man said with an air of stubbornness.

  ‘Unfortunately I am not allowed to discuss the details of it – department policy.’

  ‘Then no.’

  ‘Okay Mister –’

  ‘Just call me Ben.’

  ‘Look Ben I need to talk to Greg. It’s very important.’

  ‘Have a warrant on you by chance?’ Ben asked.

  ‘No but I can come back later and serve one – and then Greg could be with us for some time. I can see you are very busy here and I wouldn’t want to slow you down if I had to. Why don’t you let us talk with him now? It won’t take long,’ Forsythe said comfortably.

  ‘What are your names?’

  ‘Detective Forsythe and this is Mr Lewelyn,’ Forsythe moved sideways a touch to show Lewelyn’s narrow frame.

  ‘Get it over with. He’s over there by the SUV,’ Benny pointed to a slightly raised white truck. A man in grey overalls stood in front of it, performing what looked like an inspection.

  ‘Thanks,’ Forsythe said.

  Other men in overalls worked on their tasks. Some fixed tyres while others connected and disconnected parts. Some stalled their duties to gaze at the outsiders walking past. Forsythe and Lewelyn’s suit apparel didn’t seem to be fitting with their own black stained overalls.

  Engine parts strewn on the floor and dry oiled puddles littered their path. Greg Daniels still had his back to them. With a closer view it was clear he wasn’t inspecting his work. He was on his phone, distracting himself from what was right in front of him. His thumbs flicked all over the screen.

  The two men stopped a couple of feet behind Daniels. He showed a sign of sensing of their presence by returning the phone to his pocket, he spun around, most likely thinking they were his boss.

  Daniels’s face expressed sceptical surprise, judging each man’s appearance. He had naked, thick set arms that stuck out of his sleeveless mechanic’s uniform. His head had dark hair growing from everywhere; a bushy beard that will before long need to be tied, like the pony-tail Forsythe and Lewelyn had seen when Daniels had his back to them.

  Forsythe showed his detective badge to him. Daniels then concentrated on Lewelyn, it was clear the man was now shocked – a detective badge did that. Then his expression changed. The upper eyelids raised high, the eyebrows lifted and came together, and rows of wrinkles formed at the lower middle area of the forehead:

  Fear

  Suddenly Daniels grabbed a large tool resting innocently on a nearby box, holding it firmly in his raised hand.

  ‘Put it down,’ Forsythe barked. The barker reached for his sidearm.

  Instinctively Daniels launched the tool. It connected with Forsythe’s lower leg, causing him to stumble forwards. The detective’s contact with the floor caused a hail of dust to explode outward. All time seemed to slow, all sounds except the blaring music ceased, all Lewelyn could hear was his breathing. Daniels sprinted past him, would have flattened Lewelyn if he hadn’t kneeled to see how Forsythe was.

  Lewelyn tried to decide what to do. Should he stay here and help Forsythe? Should he chase Daniels? Which had the worst consequences? If he let Daniel’s go then they might never see him again. If he leaves Forsythe here, he might get kicked off the investigation.

  He turned his back on the floored man and faced the direction of the sprinter. Daniels was still running. It was a big garage yet he didn’t seem to have covered much ground, then he remembered the heavy boots the guy wore as a precaution
if heavy items fell on his feet. Lewelyn gave chase. His own heeled shoes clapped on the floor. The applause of steps echoed with the blood-coaxing music from the beat box. He was reducing the distance to his target, taking his steps carefully, making sure not to trip over any sprawled power cables or neglected machine parts. He wanted Daniels to fall.

  ‘Stop!’ Lewelyn pointlessly ordered.

  He spotted Daniels looking back while still in sprint mode. The mechanic’s familiarity with everything made it easier for him to dodge the upcoming debris. Skirting one way and then another. The other employees scarce, not involving themselves, watching the spectacular athletics taking place.

  It was a mine-field, correction – oil field. The puddles of spilled oil reflecting the lights above, planting sharp glared traps to attack Lewelyn’s sight. All those ignored spills he had to avoid – the La Brea Tar Pits on the Miracle Mile district came to mind. If he wasn’t careful he’d slip and lose sight of Daniels, who Lewelyn could see didn’t care for his employment here anymore.

  Lewelyn saw a few of Daniels’ colleagues, as the two men raced past, advertise their incredulous mentality by sharpening the muscles in their faces. Some voiced their exasperations with the words, ‘What the…’

  ‘Stop!’ Lewelyn repeated.

  Daniels snatched another momentary glance and Lewelyn saw the man’s sprinting posture suddenly pause. His foot appeared to have caught part of the floor; an obstacle which acted as a barricade to block cars from hitting any of the machines. It caused Daniels to involuntarily lunge forward and enter into a glide leading to a terminal velocity. By the time Lewelyn got to him, he was lying face down and dazed on the dust coated floor.

  Lewelyn grabbed the man by his collar, pulling him up. Daniels obediently complied with Lewelyn’s nonverbal instructions. Suddenly, having been restored to his feet, Daniels put his arm on a workbench to bring himself up, except right after he swung his arm around, his hand clutching a container of oil – judging by the red and white lettering of brand name on the metal jug.