by Dan Glover
"Goddamn, Paula... "
His voice sounded funny and far away. The room seemed to be both receding and yet getting closer simultaneously. There was a helicopter over the building... had a prisoner escaped? No, wait... it was only the ceiling fan. Or was it?
"Like it? They call it Buddha Bud. It isn’t cheap but it's worth every cent. I'm trying to wean myself off the Xanax. The doc said this might help. I think it does."
"Does what?"
"You're stoned, Hank. You should see your eyes."
Stoned wasn’t the word for it. More like annihilated. He thought about getting up and going to the bathroom but he couldn’t decide if he really had to or not. Paula was crumbling up another bud to put in the pipe. Like she was enjoying seeing him ripped. Suddenly he felt the need to leave. To just go.
"I'm sorry, Paula. I guess I'm not good company tonight. Maybe it's best that I take you back to your car."
"Oh no you don't, mister. You're way too high to be getting behind the wheel. Just sit back and relax. Don't sweat it. Go with it."
She was right. No sense getting pulled over. Of course all he had to do was break out the badge and it was all good. You learned early on to take care of your own. Like he'd done for Liza... Marcy too, and a hundred others. No one could ever say that Hank Lupo didn’t have their backs.
Yeppers. Once he'd quit trying to fight it, the intense high changed into a more mellow buzz. Or was it wearing off already? He had no previous experience to compare it to. This stuff was unbelievably potent... like another drug all together. Nothing like the old times he remembered. No way a person could smoke an entire joint of this shit and survive intact.
"Here... take another hit, Hank."
Old times... yeah. That's what they'd come to. All those yesterdays, piled up like rotting leaves, stacked like cordwood ready to burn, to forget, to bury like so many old bones. She was still a subservient little bitch. Allen had trained her right. Hank should have taken lessons from the man. But then again at least his wife was at home. Not out screwing the local detective again.
Or was she? What exactly did Sally do while he was away? He'd always assumed she stayed home and played house. Would he even know if she was having an affair of her own? No... Sally didn’t like sex enough to hamstring him like that. To go behind his back and fuck other men. Well, at least she didn’t like sex with him that much.
Jesus... he had to get a hold of himself here. The smoke wasn’t as harsh this time. As he held it in it seemed as if he was slipping backwards down a tunnel. Like he was lying at the bottom of a well staring up into Paula's face. He never realized how incredibly beautiful she was... like an angel. He could actually see the halo around her. What on earth did she see in him?
He supposed it had something to do with authority figures. Especially with weaker women. They saw him as an Übermensch, maybe. Crazy old Nietzsche said it best. Almost superhuman. But not quite. Always some warts marring the perfection. Of course they only saw them later, after they got to know him. If things lasted that long.
He always wondered if Allen Picany ever found out about his affair with Paula. It'd be a damned shame if he didn’t. Hank had been prepared for the repercussions but they never occurred. Paula simply stopped coming around. Until tonight. His throat was so dry and dammit if
3
His glass wasn’t empty.
"Here, Hank... let me get us a couple more drinks. Why don’t you watch a little television while I'm in the kitchen."
Why on earth was the Spanish channel on? Oh, wait a minute. It wasn’t Spanish. But when had English become so hard to understand? And what was that on the floor over by the bureau? It looked like an overgrown worm. White. Ready to burst. Ready to spew a million other little worms all over the room. All over him. Was it moving? Changing his perspective just an inch revealed enough of the truth that he realized it wasn’t a worm at all. It was a balled up pair of socks.
How could people smoke this shit and still function? Jesus. Fuck Xanax. A person could wean themselves off heroin with this stuff. Seriously. Christ, he was lightheaded. Couldn’t hold his liquor like he used to could. That's what happened when you quit the drinking, old boy. Lose your tolerance. He'd only had two down at Rambo's. Doubles, granted. But two?
Why had she been smiling like that? Like she had something on him... did she? And why couldn’t he seem to move his arms? Hell, his whole body was paralyzed. No wonder he couldn’t work up a boner... he was having some kind of seizure... a stroke, maybe. The doctor'd warned him... blood pressure out of control, forty pounds too heavy... no exercise. Oh, wait... his toes were wiggling.
Had she put something in his drink? Goddamned bitch... why would she do that? And then it dawned on him. Paula knew. Somehow she found out. Was it Johm that told her? Had to be. And now what? Was she in the kitchen getting that hammer ready?
"Come on, Hank. Snap out of it, old buddy."
"Did you say something, Hank?"
She came walking out of the kitchen holding two drinks only she didn’t really walk. It was more like she floated. Like she'd become vaporous. Was she really there? Or was she too just another figment?
"No, Paula... not really. I'm just sitting in here babbling to myself."
"Yeah, this stuff'll do that to you... here, let's smoke another bowl."
Chapter 32—Frankenstein
(And the Wolfman)
1
"Morning, good looking! Oh, thank Christ... you made coffee! Hey, I thought you were the one who slept until noon every day. What are you doing up so early?"
"My phone started buzzing and I didn’t want it to wake you, Liza. Our friend Cooper texted me with some interesting news so I dragged ass out of bed."
"So are you gonna tell me or do I have to blow you, DanDan?"
Do I really have a choice, sweet'ems? Because if I do...
"Okay. Check this out, Liza... I pulled it up on the internet. Oscar Olay... once a top-notch surgeon, was found dead three nights ago. The overnight cleaning crew discovered his body in his office."
"Isn't he the one who performed Marcy's operation, Danners?"
"One and the same. Actually he was part of a team. Liver transplants are lots of work... go on for hours. No one doctor could stand up to the rigors on their own."
Liza looked better this morning. More alive. Like she might be laying off the smack. Or at least cutting back. Or maybe it was the wanting that he felt that made her seem so desirable. What was with that shit? When had he ever Jonesed after a woman? Never. Not even as a kid. Girls made him physically ill. He wished she'd stop teasing him. Or that she'd never stop. He couldn’t decide which.
He'd stayed over last night at her apartment. Sometimes he wondered why they didn’t just move in together as much time as they spent with one another. But then again he needed his alone time. Just like she did. He'd never been able to make a twenty four hour a day seven days a week relationship work and so far as he knew neither had she.
"So why isn’t Liza McNairy married to Mr. Right with a dozen kids running around a castle in some exotic location?"
They'd been cuddling under a blanket and watching some cheesy black and white from the 50s or 60s about a man and his wife living in an old castle with their brood of kids—hell, there must have been two hundred of the little rat bastards popping out of every nook and cranny in the place—and it got him to thinking. What would it be like to raise a child? Especially one of your own? With a woman you loved?
"Honestly, DanMan, I've never met Mr. Right. Only lots of Mr. Wrongs. No. I take that back. I have met him. He just doesn’t realize it yet."
As she said it, she nudged him. He'd looked at her hoping for a clue. Was this it? Her confession? She'd joked around about it plenty of times—the feelings she had for him—yet he could never take it serious enough to give into the temptation of declaring his love for her. What if he was wrong? A woman like Liza McNairy could have her pick of men in the world. Why on earth would she settle f
or a worn out old queer? She wouldn’t. No fucking way.
She liked being with him because he was safe. Liza probably felt comfortable in knowing he'd never hit on her. All those little digs of hers, they meant nothing. Or did they? Who the hell was she talking about if not him? And here they sat, the morning after. If she was throwing out the bait, he never took it. He often wondered what those two things were dangling
2
Between his legs. They weren’t balls.
"So tell me, DanDan... how does the man known as Thomas Johm tie in with Oscar Olay?"
"Well, first of all, the article says he was brutally murdered. Maybe your detective boyfriend will have access to more details, Liza. But if he died anything like Johm did, I'd say brutal is an understatement."
"Does someone have a score to settle with good Dr. Olay?"
"I imagine lots of people do, Liza. He wasn’t your prototypical nice guy."
"Is there any hint of a direct relationship between Olay and Johm, Danners?"
"No... but there was between Jonathan Baker and Oscar Olay... being the inquisitive sort I did a quick internet search. Seems as if Baker interned for the good doctor one summer in San Diego. He actually wrote an article about his experiences. It was published by some hack journal."
"Curiouser and curiouser, Danners, my boy. Shades of Dr. Frankenstein?"
"Maybe we ought to call them body snatchers. This is some sick shit, Liza. There's no telling where it might lead. Or how high up it goes."
"I'll grant you that, Danners. But who is offing these perps? Disgruntled business partners?"
"You told me how Marcy said she owed her life to Hank Lupo... how he found her a new liver. Who the hell could do that? I'm guessing he's mixed up in this too somehow, Liza."
"Christ, Danners... "
"I know, I know. He's your friend, Liza. But we have to look at this objectively."
"Hank saved me once too, Danners. When I fucked up. He went out on a limb and plucked my ass right out of the fire. He didn’t have to do it, but he did. I'd be dead now if not for him, or in prison."
"So what are you saying, Liza? We let this slide?"
"I'm saying we better be damned sure of our facts before we accuse Hank Lupo of any improprieties. I owe him that much."
"Agreed. Let's get back to Olay. I had Reilly Cooper access the Bureau's database on Olay. He's no longer a surgeon. Lately he'd been under investigation by the Feds for over-prescribing prescription drugs. Ran a pill factory over in Santa Monica. Are you ready for this, Liza? Hold onto your tits. He was Paula Picany's personal physician."
"If he ran a factory he probably had thousands of patients, Danners."
"Goddamn it, Liza... why do you always have to do that?"
"Just keeping you honest, Danners. You know I love you."
"Everything is leading back to the Picany's, Liza. At least that's how I see it."
"Okay... I'll go along with you, Danners. But riddle me this, fagman... why would Allen Picany hire the two of us to work this case if he had something to hide?"
"You just said it, Liza... Allen Picany hired us, not Paula Picany. What do we really know about her?"
"Well... let's see... I've got it written down here... born Paula Lea Buchanan... grew up in Malibu Hills. Had all the luxuries that the millionaire couple mommy and daddy could afford. Married Allen Picany right out of college despite said parents' objections.
"He was six years older and a whole world wiser. A true entrepreneur. Hobnobbed with all the bigwigs in California including the governor and the state senators. A real dazzler, I suppose. But not much in the bedroom department.
"Paula was rumored to have affairs with various men throughout their marriage—even left a time or two—but Allen always took her back. Just before the twins' disappearance the family had a financial setback. Lost everything: the mansion in Malibu, Allen's business, all their personal property.
"Ended up moving to Santa Monica where Paula took a job as a physician's assistant at the local hospital. Started screwing two of the doctors on staff. Allen found out and went to the hospital to confront them. The police ended up being called. Allen was arrested for assault. The charges were later dropped, after the twins vanished."
"So, Liza... it appears to me that Allen is the one with the ax to grind, not Paula. Which leads us back to the original question: why did he hire us if
3
"He has knowledge of the twins' whereabouts?"
"Maybe he doesn’t, DanDan. I'm thinking of Johm and that girl he had with him. The one who'd been butchered."
"You're thinking Johm entertained the twins too."
"Yeah, Danners. There's big money in the black market trade. With twins, they'd have access to genetically identical sets of organs. It'd be a bonanza."
"And once they were finished harvesting..."
"Johm, or someone, would get to work their magic. Make sure neither twin would ever talk again. Oh, DanDan... can you imagine?"
"But why leave them alive at all, Liza?"
"Because someone wanted them that way... but who? It's right in front of us, DanDan. Come on, strange ranger. You're the man who sees all. Who knows all. Open your eyes. Do your thing."
Chapter 33—Crawling Through Tombstones
(Renewing Old Acquaintances)
1
If anyone noticed she'd been losing weight they didn’t say. Of course why would they? She still wore her baggy old wardrobe from back in her hog days. But what with Hank being a top notch detective and all, she assumed his keen powers of observation might tell him how much she'd slimmed down over the past few months. But no. Nary a word. Not that it mattered.
"Do you notice anything different, Hank?"
"Oh... you painted the dining room, Sally. It looks great."
Gee, thanks hubby of mine. I sure did. Two fucking years ago. Yeah, remember that long weekend you spent on a stakeout down by the harbor? While you were busy screwing whoever you were doing at the time, I was slaving away slopping paint all over the dining room walls. Thanks for noticing, honeybunch.
Hell, it was as much her fault as his... the philandering. She'd never set the bed on fire. And it wasn’t Hank. It was all men. She simply didn’t have the urge. Hell, if it hadn’t been for him nagging her to have sex, they never would've had the kids, who of course she loved and cherished above all things.
It had to be the jogging. She was up to nearly five miles a day now... or rather a night. She'd taken to running in the cemetery just down the way. No need to worry about traffic there... nobody to see her. Now, though, she almost wished they would. She felt proud of her body in ways she couldn’t ever remember doing before. Even as a girl she'd been overweight. Pleasantly plump is what her father called it as he pinched her in all the right places... her mother just said fat.
As she ran around the endless loop through silent tombstones and creepy crypts she was thinking about visiting Paula again. They'd once been friends, or so she thought. Now she knew it was all a façade... a way of hiding the affair she was having with Hank. She'd pretend she just wanted to talk... to renew an old acquaintance as it were. Maybe she'd invite her over to the house, just to see the expression on Hank's face when he walked in the door and spotted the old girl.
Hank... you remember Paula, don't you? And how about the time she tripped and fell on your penis? Wasn’t that funny? Yeah, that must've been quite the accident. It's a lucky thing it wasn’t broken. You could've been scarred for life. And poor Paula... how embarrassing that must've been for her, what with being my friend and all. Yeah. Those sure were the good old days, weren’t they. Maybe we can all get together again... whadda think, huh?
And plus she wanted to know more about those two private eyes... was Liza screwing Hank again too? And that partner of hers was obviously gay... had Hank begun messing with men now? He'd probably run out of women. There was only four or five million of them in the city. She knew Paula wasn’t his only lay... he had a whole parade
of pretties. She wondered how he managed to attract so many women... Hank wasn’t what anyone would consider handsome. Most likely it had to do with his position of authority.
"Why on earth do you want to join the Sheriff's Department, Hank?"
She'd been incredulous when he told her he wasn’t going to renew his enlistment. It never occurred to her that she'd be anything but a Navy wife. They'd been lucky. Hank had pulled duty in southern California and unlike so many others being bounced all over the world he remained there for the duration. The housing was cheap and nicer than she expected and the promotions kept coming. He was looking at making chief petty officer if he reenlisted. That meant a good bump in pay as well as a nicer dwelling. Instead
2
He'd quit. Refused to re-enlist even though the Navy offered him an enormous bonus to do so. Damn the Captain anyway. Anytime the man farted Hank rushed to sniff it. They had a good thing going, or so she thought, but Hank threw it all away in order to move north and keep working for his old Navy commander. She tried to talk him out of it but as usual he wouldn’t listen. Something had set him to lusting after civilian life.
Still, she had to admit joining the Sheriff's Department wasn’t all bad. Hank got promoted almost immediately. Made detective overnight. Most cops had to work at their jobs for years to achieve what Hank managed to do in only a few months. Again, it had to be the Captain looking out for him. One hand washes the other, Sally.
The Picany twins had disappeared some ten years prior to Hank leaving the military. She still remembered that day... handing out leaflets with the twins' picture emblazoned on them... stapling posters to a thousand telephone poles... all in hopes of someone, anyone coming forward with a clue to their whereabouts.
