Chase The Rabbit: Gretch Bayonne Action Adventure Series Book #1

by Steven M. Thomas

  I stood in the huge entrance of the restaurant wondering what I should do when someone touched my shoulder from behind. I spun around, and there stood the most beautiful, amazing woman I had ever seen.

  “Oh!” she said. “You startled me, Mr. Bay!”

  My God, I thought. This can’t be…

  “I’m Patricia,” she said, extending her hand.

  For the first time in my life, I was speechless. I took her hand and nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It is nice to meet you, Patricia.”

  “And this is my daughter, Rose,” she replied.

  I barely looked at the little girl. She was probably around eleven or twelve years old. I felt like I was floating and ready to pass out. And in that instant, I fell madly in love with this angel, Patricia. I could not let go of her hand or stop staring at her.

  She tugged my hand and said, “Come, let’s get a table.”

  As we were seated, my head was still floating. It was like an out of body experience. The waiter gave us menus, and after glancing over hers, she finally spoke.

  “I am sure you are curious why I have asked you here, and why all the secrecy,” she said.

  “Yes, yes, I am,” I said.

  Her words seemed to come from the heavens. It didn’t matter what she was saying, as long as she was there and talking.

  “My husband is missing,” she said, “and I want you to help me find him.”

  I involuntarily shook my head no and said, “But Patricia, why me? I’m a writer, not a gumshoe.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I know that. I have read many of your stories over the years. And, I have tried investigators, and they have all come up empty.”

  I knew I was way out of my league, not only with this assignment, but with this woman. She was not only the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, but she obviously had a great deal of money as well.

  “Please help me, Mr. Bay,” she said. “I can’t trust anyone else.”

  That was all it took. She had me, hook, line and sinker. Our food arrived and my head began to clear a bit.

  “What can you tell me?” I asked.

  She pulled a photograph from her purse. “This is my husband,” she said. “His name is Mark. He went missing almost a year ago and I believe he is in Hollywood, California.”

  “What makes you think that?” I asked.

  “Because I have seen him,” she said.

  “You have seen him?” I replied.

  “Yes, in movies. I have seen him in the background in several motion pictures,” she said. “I saw him just last week in Dracula and I know it is him that I have been seeing in these movies!”

  “He was in Dracula?” I asked. “I’m friends with Bela Lugosi. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years, but we’re friends.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Mark is in the background of one of the scenes. I know it’s him.”

  “Wait a minute,” I requested, “why would your husband go off to California and leave his wife and daughter? He just disappeared? I mean, I hate to ask, but did you have a fight or something?”

  “No, no,” she said. “We didn’t fight and I know he loves me and Rose very much. I can’t tell you anything else. But if you find him, if you will bring him back to me, I will pay you handsomely.”

  “I will need a lot more information,” I said, pulling out a notepad and pen. “What is his last name?”

  “I have given you all the information that I can,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

  “Patricia,” I said, “I have a photograph of a man named Mark who you think is in Hollywood. I need more than that.”

  “That is all I can give you, Mr. Bay,” she said, pushing an envelope across the table towards me. “If you need more money, contact Mr. Hamilton and he will wire you whatever you need.” She stood up as I pocketed the envelope.

  “I have to go now, Mr. Bay,” she said. She hugged me and patted my back. I watched her and the little girl walk away. When they were out of sight, I opened the envelope she’d given me. It was two hundred dollars in cash.

  Patricia left. All I had was a single photograph and a promise that I would do everything in my power to find her missing husband. It was a cursed assignment. To succeed, I would have to return the husband to a woman I’d instantly fallen for. She was unobtainable. To find him would be my undoing. To succeed would be my personal downfall. While the mission paid well, it would be the toughest rabbit I’d ever have to chase. For the first time in my life, the money didn’t matter. But the girl did.

  Since I was in New York, I went to one of my favorite speakeasies, The Lamb. I thought I would grab a few drinks and contemplate how I would get to California before heading back across the river to Hoboken. The cat in my throat was scratching for whiskey and the damn thing wasn’t waiting much longer before tearing my tonsils out.

  The Lamb was in full swing as I bellied up to the bar. “Two whiskies,” I said to the bartender. The joint was full, probably fifty or sixty people crammed into the basement of an otherwise quiet building on 45th Street. Prohibition meant nothing in New York City, or anywhere else for that matter.

  Just as I slammed my first shot, a voice from behind me shouted “Bay!” I turned around, and lo and behold, it was my old friend, and Mayor of New York City, Jimmy Walker.

  “Come over here! Join us!” he yelled.

  Oh shit, I thought. I was not in the mood to carouse with the mayor and his gang, but it was too late. I walked over to his table where three other men and women sat, smiling and swinging their heads to the god-awful music that was being banged out by some cat on the piano.

  “Hi, Jimmy,” I said as I sat down.

  “How the hell are you, Bay?” he asked.

  Before I could respond, he said, “You know we never did finish that song! We have got to finish that song someday! You should come to my apartment! Tonight! How did it go again?” he asked.

  “That old baby of mine, as fine as sunshine and wine…”I replied.

  “That’s it!” he said, finishing the verse. “But believe me, Mister! She’s not like her sister! That gets me in trouble every time!” He laughed hysterically along with the rest of his party.

  “Bay, I want you to meet my friends!” he said. “This is Karl, Randall, Beck, Veronica, Mabel, and you know Betty.”

  “Yes, nice to meet you. Nice to see you again, Betty.”

  I hammered down the second shot of whiskey and raised my hand to get two more. This was going to be a long night.

  “You are Bay, the writer?” one of the men asked.

  “Yes, I am,” I replied. The man looked very familiar but I could not place him. My immediate instinct was that he was not a fan. “You know my work?” I asked him.

  “I am Karl von Wiegand” he said.

  I nearly passed out on the spot. Karl was one of the biggest reporters of all time. Way out of my league.

  “My god,” I said. “It is an honor to meet you, sir!” I instantly regretted saying that, feeling like an idiot and a hero worshipper. It wasn’t normally my style to act star struck.

  “Thank you. I have read a lot of your work and am always impressed,” he shot back.

  “You’re kidding? You’ve read my stories?”

  “Yes, a lot of them, Mr. Bay. You see, what I admire about you is that you are an independent writer. You are not on anyone’s payroll, and so I trust your take on things. You are a good writer. Sometimes I wish I were in your shoes, Mr. Bay.”

  I was floored! “Well,” I said, “it doesn’t pay that well. But thank you.”

  “What are you writing now?” he asked.

  “Nothing” I said. “Well, actually, I just got an assignment tonight, but it is crazy and I don’t think it will pan out. A missing person story. But I have to go all the way to California to look for him. I have never been to Hollywood, so it should be interesting.”

  “You are going to Hollywood?” he asked.

  “Yes, I have
to get to Hollywood.” I replied.

  “That is unbelievable!” he said. The others at the table continued their conversations around us, lost in a sea of laughter and jangling piano.

  “Mr. Bay, you do know about the Great Graf trip tomorrow morning to the Olympics, right?”

  “I heard something about it,” I said, lying.

  “William Randolph Hearst has commissioned the Graf to take all of Hollywood’s major stars on a cross country flight from the Empire State Building to the Olympics’ opening ceremonies in California,” he said.

  “I will be on board to cover the story. You haven’t heard about that? It has been all over the news the last few weeks,” he said.

  “Yes, of course,” I said. “I’ve seen the newsreels at the nickelodeons. That’s tomorrow?”

  “Yes, Mr. Bay, the biggest news story of the year starts tomorrow.”

  “Wow. That snuck up on me,” I replied, gesturing to the bartender to bring me two more shots.

  Walker chimed in abruptly, “But believe me, Mister! She’s not like her sister! Ha, ha, ha. Bay, let’s get a cab and finish that song!”

  “I’ve got to get across the river tonight, Jimmy” I said. “But, yeah, we will finish that song someday.” He waved me off saying, “Yeah, that could be a hit!”

  “Mr. Bay,” Karl said, “I might be able to get you on board the Graf.”

  “Oh?” I said.

  “It is possible,” he replied, twirling a straw and looking down in thought.

  “You would have to board very early, in New Jersey, before the passengers arrive. Before they go to the Empire State Building. And you would have to stay out of sight.

  You would have to stay up top with the riggers. But, yes, I could probably arrange that.”

  “My God, Karl, that would be great!” I said.

  “Well,” he replied, “I would like to read your story, you in Hollywood. Now that would be interesting!”

  “I would be grateful for the passage,” I replied.

  “I will put you on the list as a crew member. But you would not be a guest. You will have to get to the dock to board in the back where the cargo is stored.”

  “The cargo?” I asked. “What cargo?”

  “The mail,” he said. “There is a ton of mail and there will be several other men and a cage of monkeys.”

  “Monkeys?” I ask. “What the hell would monkeys be doing on the Graf?”

  “They belong to Alvon the Great. You haven’t heard of him?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied. “I don’t think so.”

  “He was a famous acrobat from Germany. Now he does a monkey show. He’s going to be a part of the opening ceremonies at the Olympics. Hearst likes him, and that’s why he will be there. This is Hearst’s charter and what he wants, goes. But Alvon will be up top with the riggers. Not down with the real celebrities.”

  Walker piped in again, “I want to go, too!” Then he continued his cackling with the women.

  “What celebrities?” I asked.

  “Dear god, Bay, you really don’t keep up with the news, do you?” Karl said.

  “Hearst himself is going. Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, Marion Davies,” he said.

  “Oh, right,” I replied.

  “Charlie Chaplin, Bela Lugosi,” he continued.

  I cut him off. “Lugosi? I know Lugosi!”

  “Well, congratulations, Mr. Bay, you recognize one of the stars’ names,” he said.

  “No,” I yelled. “I mean, I KNOW Bela Lugosi! I was friends with him!”

  “I am only doing this for you because I respect you and your writing,” Karl explained. “But you have to agree on certain conditions.”

  “Okay. Like what?” I asked. I would have agreed to just about anything. Getting to California for free in just two days was an unbelievable opportunity.

  “Stay out of sight, don’t get into any trouble, and do not write about your trip on the Graf, ever!” he said. “I am putting my ass on the line for you, and if you mess up, I will deny any knowledge of how you got on board. Is that agreed?”

  “I can do that,” I said, thinking Wow, this is too easy!

  “I said, agreed” he repeated.

  “Yes,” I answered. “Agreed.”

  “Okay,” Karl said. “Get your ass to the Lakehurst Port no later than noon tomorrow. I will put you on the crews’ list. I will add you as a monkey handler for Alvon the Great. You can explain that to him if he asks you, because I am not sure if I can contact him between now and then. He’s a bit eccentric. The crew will know you as an assistant to Alvon. I will call the main rigger in charge of cargo and add you to the list. His name is Klaus Voor. When you get there, just ask for him. And for God’s sake, Bay, take a bath and put on some clean clothes between now and then.”

  “Thank you, Karl,” I said.

  I left The Lamb tired and broke, but in good spirits, and made my way to the ferry that would take me back home to Hoboken. The ferry captain waived the ten cent fee for the ride. Like Karl von Wiegand, he was also a fan of my work. And in times like these, I could use all the fans I could get.

  Chapter Three

  By the time I got back to Hoboken, it was 3:00 AM. I hit the sack hard and only got a few hours sleep. What the hell did I get myself into? I thought.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I was jolted awake by dreams of this woman, Patricia. No girl had ever hit me like that before. Of all the women in the world to fall in love with, I had to pick the one who was paying me to find her lost husband.

  It didn’t quite add up. But there I was. In the middle of a big mystery named Friday and it was only Tuesday afternoon. No one knows what tomorrow will bring. But I knew I had to be in Lakehurst by noon to find out. My luggage consisted of two changes of clothes (all black), a notebook, pen and two hundred bucks in cash. And one photograph of a rabbit named Mark.

  “My God!” the driver said as we arrived at Lakehurst Bay, “are you one of them?” It was a total traffic jam and thousands of people lined the sides of the street.

  “One of whom?” I asked.

  “You know, one of those Hollywood people! I don’t get to watch that many movies, but everyone knows about the famous trip across America! It is all over the radio!”

  “No,” I said. “I am not one of them, I am just a passenger.”

  Seeing the Graf moored on the parking lot even made me gasp in awe. I had never seen her up close like this. She was amazing!

  Fire trucks and police cars surrounded the area. The Army was even there with trucks and a few tanks. It was a big show, and everyone wanted to get in on the action. It was a surreal site to behold.

  To get onto the tarmac, we had to pass a security checkpoint.

  Oh shit! I thought.

  “You can’t come any further,” the security guard told the driver.

  “Oh, it’s all right, the cabbie said. “My fare is one of them! He is on the list!”

  I held my head in my hands. This is not going to happen! I thought.

  “Name please!” the security man said.

  “Bay!” the driver said.

  The security guard was looking at his notebook.

  “Okay,” he replied. “Go up to the yellow line.”

  Holly shit! I thought. I guess the old boy got me on the list after all!

  Crowds surrounding the Graf were kept at bay. I had to walk nearly a block from the cab to the ship itself. People were cheering and waving at me. With each step I took, the sheer size and magnitude of the vessel grew by leaps and bounds. The realization that this was indeed a big deal didn’t hit me until then. I was merely looking for a free and quick passage to California. It was much more than I’d bargained for, and I hadn’t even boarded yet.

  Security led me to the main passenger entrance.

  “No, I need to go back to the cargo area.”

  “Negative, sir,” the security officer said. “That is a restricted area.”

  “Look you dumb ass, I a
m with Alvon the Great!” I replied. “I need to go back there!”

  He looked at me puzzled and then said, “You wait right here, sir, I need to confirm that!”

  Ten minutes later, the security officer returned.

  “You need to enter in the cargo area, sir!” He pointed towards the rear of the ship, like I didn’t know where that was.

  By then, I knew this was going to be crazy. My cabbie was waving and laughing as I began the trek to the other end of the ship.

  “You tell Marion Davies I said Hi!” he shouted.

  “I’ll be sure to do that!” I yelled.

  As I waited to climb the stairs to the rear cargo area, I took a moment to look up. From that angle, you couldn’t see the sky. You couldn’t see anything but the ship. That is how massive it was. It was five stories high and nearly a thousand feet long. I had seen her in the sky over the Empire State building one time a few years ago, and she looked grand! But to be that close brought it into perspective. I was about to board the biggest airship in the world. That realization hit me harder than anything I’d ever experienced. And I’d been hit in the face a few times by Joe Bob.

  I was ushered up a flight of stairs surrounded by dozens of security men. At the top, was a man in a blue military looking uniform and cap with a clipboard and a very serious look on his face.

  “Name!” he demanded in a thick German accent.

  “Bay,” I answered. He shook his pencil while staring at the clipboard.

  “Oh, yes, I see,” he said, looking up at me. “Do you have any contraband or weapons on you, sir?”

  “If I did, do you really think I would tell you?” I answered.

  He wasn’t amused by my response, and made a quick hand gesture towards two guards who pulled me aside and searched my bag and pockets. I was shocked at how quickly they reacted. Finding nothing but a few sharp pencils, the men forcibly returned me to the man with the clipboard.

  “He’s clean, sir,” one of them said.

  “Very well,” the clipboard man said. “Do you have any questions, Mr. Bay?” he asked sternly.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Are you going to be an asshole for the entire trip?”