At the beginning of the 1960s, many Americans believed they were standing at the dawn of a golden age. On January 20, 1961, a handsome and charismatic John F. Kennedy, became president of the United States. His confidence seemed to set the tone for the rest of the decade. However, that golden age never materialized. On the contrary, by the end of the 1960s it seemed that the nation was falling apart.
The counterculture, also seemed to grow more outlandish, as the decade wore on. Some young people “dropped out” of political life, altogether. These hippies grew their hair long and practiced free love. Some moved to communes, away from the turbulence that had come to define, everyday life in the 1960s.
I knew by the mid-nineties, this was not the reason Christine had left home. She was searching for her lover. She was not rebelling against her mother, or their life style. She was just looking for love.
I turned off my computer, just before Lorain came home, late Tuesday evening. She was tired and went to bed by eleven. I stayed up until after midnight, jotting down notes on a legal tablet, of things I needed to do, on Wednesday.
The next morning, I received a call from Rodney Lawrence, an engineer that once worked for me, at Steele Aerospace. He was now employed by Brighton Aeronautics. He had been working on a LRBM, long-range ballistic missile, with a range of two thousand miles. It was one of many unfinished ideas I had, while owner of Steele Global.
Rodney and I spoke for about an hour while Loraine got ready to go to the tiki bar. I was off the phone in time to kiss her goodbye, and to let her know, I would stop by on my way back from my accountant’s office.
I spent several hours Wednesday with my accountant before heading back home. I stopped by Bugle’s Deli and picked up a couple super club sandwiches, for Loraine and me.
When I pulled into the tiki bar’s parking lot, there were only a few people sitting around the bar. I took the sandwiches and made my way around to the side of the bar that faces the lagoon. I sat down and drank a beer and ate the sandwich. Loraine ate hers, while also taking care of her customers, on the other side of the bar.
When I returned home later that afternoon, I checked my e-mail for a correspondence, from Rodney Lawrence. He sent me several CAD drawings and some specifications on the LRBM, he had been working on. I looked over the CAD drawings and realized they were my original drawings, with some editing, done by Rodney. I quickly saw the issues he was talking to me about, on the phone that morning. I made changes to the drawings and sent them back to him.
For the next several weeks, Rodney and I shuffled drawings back and forth, until we were certain, we had completed the final layout design, for a small long-range ballistic missile. The missile, would be half the cost to manufacture, than the ones the military was currently using. At this point, I stepped away from the project, leaving it up to Rodney to finalize.
It was now the end of February and I was invited to Brighton Aeronautics, in California to celebrate the start of a new project, to manufacture the LRBM that Rodney and I had developed.
I asked Loraine to join me on the trip, but she said Oscar was already shorthanded at the restaurant and she needed to be at work as much as possible. I knew that my work didn’t appeal to her and she wouldn’t enjoy herself. That was one of the things, I liked about our relationship. We could love each other, without getting into each other’s way.
On Monday, March 10th, I flew to California by myself. The flight gave me plenty of time to think. I was going to turn fifty four in August and Lorain was turning fifty five in September. I was more relaxed and happier, than I had been my entire life.
I planned to stop in Grand Junction, Colorado on my way back home. I printed about four dozen photo fliers, with a brief history on Christine. I thought I would leave them around the old bus station in Palisade, Colorado and some in Grand Junction. I decided this would be my last attempt to find Christine.
I spent three days in California at Brighton Aeronautics, before checking out the weather in Grand Junction, to see if the airport was opened. Colorado had several days of heavy snow, the weekend I left Florida. The forecast was sunny and clear but cold.
Walker Field, Grand Junction was clear and landing was possible. I called ahead and made sure, they had a four wheel drive SUV rental available. I left Southern California, Thursday and seventy eight degree weather and headed for Grand Junction.
The two and a half hour flight went quickly and I was on the ground by 1:20 that afternoon, Mountain Standard Time. I docked my Gulfstream G200 at the same hanger, I used when Lorain and I, came here in 2011. This was the time we met with local authorities, regarding a female body, they found and thought it was Christine’s.
A gentleman from the private hanger, ran me around to the Hertz Car Rental Service, to pick up a four wheel drive SUV. The first stop I made, was at the Grand Vista Hotel, just outside the airports property. I checked in and carried my luggage to my room. I used the bathroom and then headed out for the nearest location, where I could purchase a recent map of Mesa County.
I pulled into a local carryout and went inside. I found a rack, with city and local maps. After choosing the one I wanted, I went over to the cashier. The gentleman behind the counter was the owner. I showed him one of my fliers and asked, if he would mind, if I placed it in his front window. He took the flier and carried it to the front of the carryout, where he taped it, on the inside of the window.
He made a comment, it was a long time ago, the little lady in the photo, had gone missing. I told him I knew that, but was hoping someone would have remembered her. I told the store owner, I have been able to track her here, to Grand Junction. This was the last place the Greyhound Bus service had seen her.
After leaving the carryout I drove to the County Sheriff’s department. I spoke with the same Deputy Sheriff, handling the missing person, they had found in the mountains, back in 2011. He said they have not been able to identify her, but the case was still open.
He told me a little bit about the county and said Greyhound, no longer came through, Grand Junction. He said there is a Trailway’s service that stops at the Best Western Motel, out on highway 6, five times a week, Monday through Friday.
The sun was setting early and I was hungry. I headed back out by the airport to my hotel. There was a WW Peppers restaurant next door. I parked the SUV in front of the hotel and walked over to the restaurant.
After dinner I called Lorain, to see how she was doing. She said Kala has been keeping her company all week. I didn’t tell her where I was at, but if she had asked, I wouldn’t have lied. I spent the evening, in the hotel room, looking at the county map and using my laptop. I went to sleep around 10:00 and woke at 6:00 Friday morning.
After a quick, continental breakfast at the hotel, I took off. I jumped on Interstate 70 and headed east to the Palisade’s exit, on the east side of Grand Junction. I drove into the center of Palisade’s and found the old building that use to be the Greyhound Bus Terminal. It was now an organic vegetable market and winery. In fact the whole area was full of these types of establishments.
I went inside and spoke to the owner. She said the bus terminal closed about ten years ago. She and her husband, bought the building in 2006. I explained who I was and what I was doing in Grand Junction. She took a hand full of fliers and said she would be happy to display one there, at the old bus terminal, and some at her other stores. After a short conversation, I thanked her and left.
I drove back towards Grand Junction on Highway 6 stopping at places that looked like they may have been around back in 1995. Most everyone I spoke to, seemed generally concerned and was happy to display my flier.
I drove through Clifton and Fruitvale, on my way back to Grand Junction. I drove into Grand Junction and cross the muddy Colorado River, on Redland Parkway. I followed State Route 340 through Redland, heading west. I passed a semitruck service center and terminal, just before I crossed the Colorado River, once again.
I stopped at an old restaurant called Rib City
Grill in a small town of Fruita. The menu said, “The Best Ribs In Colorado Since 1955.” I ordered beef ribs and they were pretty good. The owner even walked around talking to his customers. I asked him, how long he’s been the owner, and he said the restaurant has been in his family since the fifties.
While I paid my bill, to the little lady in a poke-a-dot apron, I told her a little bit about what I was doing in the area. She told me to go out and bring her one of my fliers and she will display it. I did as she said and retrieved a flier from the SUV.
I was tired and headed for the hotel with a full tummy and lots of things, to think about. I decided I would try to fly out early tomorrow morning, so I could get home, by late afternoon on Saturday.
The tiki bar was crowded Friday night. There were half dozen boats tied up on the pier, behind the tiki bar. They came in on the Intracoastal Waterway. There was also a hand full of bikers, from the Tampa area, around the bar.
I called Lorain, to tell her I would be home, Saturday afternoon. I said I would swing by the tiki bar for a kiss before going home. Lorain said she was really busy tonight and didn’t have time to talk. I said I loved her and we hung up.
Lorain kept the drinks flowing and everyone seemed happy, until one of the bikers tried to hit on another guys girlfriend. An argument started and things got out of hand. The bikers were outnumbered three to one by the boat owners. Lorain pressed an emergency, silent alarm that went straight to the police department.
The fighting was getting worst with the bikers getting their asses kicked. Oscar Hobbs came running out of the restaurant, with a ball bat in his hand, just as a half dozen gun shots went off.
At that moment, I was sitting on the side of the hotel room’s bed and a sharp pain shot through my head. I fell back on the bed. The pain was so severe, I blacked out for a second. I couldn’t see or even focus my eyes. The last time, I felt something this painful, was when my parent’s plane crashed in Utah.
On Casey Key, women were screaming and the men were fighting. A few more gun shots and the police were now pulling into the tiki bar’s parking lot. A biker turned and fired a wild shot at the police cruiser and the officer returned fire striking the biker in the chest.
Within five minutes there were two dozen county and local police, at the tiki bar. When it was all over, three bikers and one of the boat owner and his girlfriend were dead. Lorain lay bleeding from a head wound, behind the bar. One of the officers who knew her, jumped the bar and began attending to her.
When the medics arrived they started working on Lorain first. By the time they reached the hospital, Lorain had died.
I sat up on the edge of the bed, wondering what had caused such a violent event on me. My head was no longer hurting, but I was shaking and unstable.
I called Lorain to see if she was fine, but got no answer on her cell phone. Around eleven that evening, I called home and still no answer. I slept only a few hours and checked out of the hotel early. I was on my way to the airport, at six thirty, Saturday morning.
I had just gotten into my plane and was going through the final flight checks. My cell phone rang and I saw Oscar Hobbs name, show up on the screen. Hello I said and there was a momentary silence. TJ, Oscar voice said. Yes Oscar, what’s wrong, I asked.
I could tell he was holding back tears, as he said, it’s Lorain. Tell me I said, knowing his words were not going to be good. Lorain was killed last night during a disturbance, at the tiki bar.
I was quiet for a few seconds. I said, I’m on my way home. Oscar was crying, so hard he couldn’t say goodbye. I placed my cell phone on the co-pilots seat and started the twin jet engines, on my Gulfstream. It was early morning and the airport was slow. I got a quick go for takeoff and taxied out onto the runway.
The four hour flight was the longest of my life. The only person, I have ever truly loved, besides my parents, was now gone. I landed in Sarasota, at 1:00 Eastern Standard Time. Samuel Black owner of Florida Coastal Aviation, was waiting to take control of my plane. As I exited the plane, Samuel said he was sorry. I nodded my head, in recognition of his comment, and moved towards the back of the plane and the cargo hold.
Several young men came out and helped me with my luggage. I had them toss everything into the back of my Cadillac Escalade and I headed straight for Sarasota Memorial Hospital, where they had sent my girl the night before. I was told she was at the local coroners and I could go there. The coroner was a young looking woman and was very respectful, of the dead in her care.
She took me into a large open room where she pulled open a refrigeration door and shifted Lorain’s body outward. Before she removed the white sheet that covered my little girl, she told me Lorain was hit in the head with a small caliber bullet. She pulled the sheet down and I saw Lorain’s face. The bullet had entered her head above her right ear and exited on the other side.
I bent down and kissed her for the last time. I told the coroner, I would have a funeral home, come by for her before the day was over. She said she couldn’t release the body until the next day. I turned and walked out of the building and drove home. When I entered the house, I saw the pink sweater, I bought Lorain for Christmas. It was lying over the back of the wood bench, in the foyer. I broke down and cried for hours.
I was sad, but also angry. I’m one of the smartest people on earth and yet I can’t understand why this happened. The tiki bar was always just a safe friendly family place. It opened at noon and was closed at ten at night. During the time I’ve been with Lorain, she has never had to call the police, because of unruly customers.
I was blaming myself, for being gone when this happened. I was out on a wild goose chase, trying to find someone who didn’t want to be found. I walked into the bedroom and kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed with my clothes on.
When I woke Sunday I went into the study and called Avery’s Funeral Home in Venice, Florida. I told them where to pick up Lorain and how they could reach me, when they finally had her. I said I would then come by and make all the arrangements.
My only thoughts were making sure, Lorain’s final trip was done with dignity and grace.
I received a call from the funeral home Sunday afternoon. They asked, if I could come by, and discuss Lorain’s funeral arrangements. I agreed to stop by within the hour.
As soon as I hung up there was pounding on my front door. I walked to the door and opened it. Kala Kealoha was standing on the porch bawling her eyes out. I reached out and pulled her into my arms. I held her and cried with her.
Kala was Lorain’s best friend and the two loved each other. They met about the same time they both came to the Gulf coast of Florida. Kala had been on a fifteen year journey, in search of her real father.
She was still crying, when she asked me, if she could help with Lorain’s funeral arrangements. She said, Lorain has a world of friends and they would like to say their goodbyes.
I asked, if she would like to go with me, to Avery’s Funeral Home today, and help me with her services. She stopped crying long enough to tell me she would go with me.
Kala was born in Hawaii, with a Hawaiian mother and a Navy father, who abandon her and her mother, when she was three. She was orphaned, at age nine, when her mother died of cancer. She spent the next nine years in the Society of Mary Catholic orphanage, on Oahu, before attending college at Chaminade University of Honolulu.
Kala left college after two years, with an Associate Degree in Economics. A classmates father, who worked in the Navel Judge Advocates office, at Pearl Harbor, helped her track her father, to his honorable discharge, at the Norfolk Navy Station in Virginia. She tracked her father to Sarasota where she found out he died, at age seventy.
I showered, shaved, and dressed in casual pants and shirt. Kala went into the master bedroom to pick out something from Lorain’s closet, to take to the funeral home. She went through Lorain’s dresses and picked out, the one I liked. She also grabbed some sexy panties a bra and a pair of shoes.
We took the clot
hes and shoes and drove south off Casey Key and through Nokomis, into Venice. When we arrived at the funeral home, I sat back and allowed Kala, to work out all the details for Lorain’s funeral. They planned the visitation at the funeral home, on Tuesday evening and the funeral at the Epiphany Cathedral in Venice, on Wednesday. Her final resting place would be, at Venice Memorial Gardens.
I took Kala back to her car parked at my house. She left for home and I went in and lay down on the sofa.
I was awakened, by my cell phone at 10:30, Saturday evening. It was Kala who said she had called the newspaper and sent them a, In Loving Memory Obituary, for Lorain. She said, it should be in tomorrow’s paper, and hoped I would like what she had written. I told her I knew, she would do a good job.
Sunday evening, I found myself standing in the large walk-in closet, touching Lorain’s clothes and remembering the things we had done, the last five years. I thought about the first ten years of my life, with Lorain as my next door neighbor. I guess, I was in love with her, even back then. I just can’t get my head around, this whole event.
Tuesday evening I put on a black three piece suit and shined my shoes. I drove to the funeral home, about a half hour early. The funeral director placed me near the door, so I could greet, Lorain’s friends as they came through. Kala, Oscar and his wife, also showed up early. I asked Kala to stand with me. I told her, I wasn’t sure what to expect tonight.
At 7:00, people started through the door and they continued until almost 11:00. The funeral director said this was amazing, he hardly ever sees this many people at one person funeral. There were hundreds of people, most from the tiki bar. I looked over at Kala, who stayed by my side, the whole evening.
Oscar and his wife had left around 10:00, after Kala asked me to take her home. I said I owed her that, for sticking by me all evening.
Alien Among Us (TJ Steele Book 1) Page 16
