Lemons 02 A Touch of Danger

by Grant Fieldgrove

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Because it is ridiculous.”

  “You’re just jealous. All I was thinking about was how last night’s encounter was a little TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT. Hence, Jim J. Bullock.”

  “Your head is filled with more useless knowledge than anyone I’ve ever met. I’m not going to lie, it’s pretty impressive.”

  “Thank you, Elise. That means a lot.”

  “Quick! What was Jim J. Bullock’s character’s name on the show! I know you know!”

  I gave her a little laugh / eye roll combination and said, “Duh, Monroe Ficus. God.”

  “You’re amazing. Come on, we have work to do. Time to get serious.”

  “Dy-No-Mite!”

  ***

  We arrived at the park after a few minutes and took a seat at one of the tables with shade, close to where a few children were playing on the swing and fun zone. It was good to hear the children’s laughter while we worked.

  We had gotten a text from Jamie last night after our adventure informing us that they were all home safely. It was a huge relief for me. Maybe I watch too many movies, maybe I was a little too paranoid, but I was not willing to take any chances. I would make it up to them somehow.

  But, right now, we have a murderer to bust.

  “Okay,” Elise says as she is opening her drink. Mine is already gone, but oh well. “First, something was obviously bothering him last night. He seemed pissed.”

  “The bottle throwing seemed like good evidence of your deduction, Columbo.”

  “Agreed,” she said. “So, do we assume that he is pissed about you? Us, I mean?”

  “I’m not so sure. When I went over there the other day, I somewhat subtly told him I might have been the one who saw him kill that girl. But, I’m not one-hundred-percent sure he caught on.”

  “And he did have a reason for killing that woman in the first place, right? Whatever it was had to have been pretty huge to warrant killing her.”

  “Yeah, and speaking of her, unless we find out who the hell she is, we’re not going to bust him on shit.”

  “Well, get the trace on that license plate. Hopefully that will lead us somewhere.”

  “Yeah. Hopefully. If not, we’re back where we started and yesterday was for nothing. Hold on.” I took out my phone and clicked on the drawing of a giant penis with a badge I had quickly drawn on my Paint app a few months ago. Detective Enzite picked up after two rings.

  “Well hello there, Archie Lemons.”

  “Hey, Uncle Milty, what’s happenin’?”

  “Not much, just waiting to be asked for another favor from the moochiest private eye since Magnum.”

  “Why, Detective Enzite, was that a joke? I’m very impressed, my friend.”

  “Thank you, I’ve been trying.”

  “Fantastic, now just try to find some tighter shirts and we can be BFF!”

  “Fuck you, Lemons, there are no tighter shirts. What do you want?”

  “Oh you love me. And, what I waaannnntttt is…” I paused for effect. The effect of making him irritated. Haha! “A trace on a license plate. I need it yesterday.”

  “Yesterday huh? Well, let me hop in my Delorian and go back in time to get it for ya.”

  “Hey George Lopez, no stealing my jokes!”

  I believe I may have heard the slightest of laughter from him. This was a first.

  “Fine. What’s the plate number?”

  I read him the plate number from the picture I had taken with my phone and he said he would check it in a few minutes then get back to me. I thanked him and told him I would talk to him in a few minutes.

  I ended the call then dialed Detective Anderson’s cell number. He didn’t check his Call I.D.

  “Detective Anderson.”

  “Detective,” I said. “It’s me.”

  “Hey Archie. Any news on your murder? I haven’t seen any mention of it anywhere.”

  “God damn it, no. That’s why I am calling. I need helppppp, Detective.”

  “Well, what do you neeeeeed,” he asked.

  “I need a corpse!”

  “Yeah, you usually need one of those in a murder case.”

  “I’ve got Enzite running a trace on a license plate of a car that was somewhere where it didn’t belong. Hopefully it’s the dead girl’s car, because if not, I’m back where I started, with nothing.”

  “Where was the car?”

  “In the suspects’ garage. Please don’t ask how I got it.”

  “Wow, I sure won’t. You are a shit magnet, aren’t you, buddy?”

  “It sure feels like it. Anyway, I need to find this dead woman.”

  “I thought you said she was fish food.”

  “She totally is fish food, I meant I need to find out who the hell she is, so I can prove she is missing, tie her to this Brad Jackson asshole and put the heat on him.”

  “Good luck with getting a conviction. This country loves a celebrity.”

  I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. He was right and we both knew it. Celebrities could do whatever the fuck they wanted to in this country and no jury would convict them. You mean a washed up football player killed some white folk in Beverly Hills? Sure, the evidence is over-whelming, but that’s fuckin” Nordberg over there! No one from the Naked Gun movie could be bad! NOT GUILTY! (I would have made a football reference there instead of an obvious movie one, but, the truth is, I don’t know dick about sports. Oh well.)

  “I know, Detective. All I want to do is prove it though. I know what I saw and someone is dead because of that hunky Adonis. I’m going to prove it. Whether or not a jury believes me isn’t my focus right now.”

  “Good enough for me. What can I do?”

  “Okay,” I said. “I may have burned a few bridges with the Pismo Police Department. I need you to check and see if there are any missing person’s reports out on a slim blonde woman. Actually, any woman at all. I just need to get my foot in the door. I hope that there is a report out there, and hopefully Enzite gets me a name on the car. I’m spinning my wheels here.”

  “Okay, I can find a different counties M.P. reports with no problem. I’m not at the office right now but I’ll pull it up as soon as I get there. Give me an hour or so.”

  “That’s great, Detective. Thank you.”

  “Anything else?”

  “If I think of anything else I’ll call ya back.”

  “Okay. I’ll check the M.P.s and give ya a call.”

  “Thanks Detective. Seacrest out!”

  Gayest call ender ever!

  I hung up and dialed Max’s number this time. While the phone rang, I glanced over at Elise drinking her drink and enjoying the view from our park bench. I smiled at her.

  “Hey Cocks,” Max answered.

  “Hey buddy. It’s me again. Ugh, sorry. Have another favor for ya.”

  “You got it. I ran a background check on your stalker lady. I gave ya a call but I don’t think you had a signal or something. Went straight to voicemail and I forgot to call back. Sorry man.”

  “No worries, I’m done with her anyway.”

  “Love “em and leave “em.”

  “Yeah, Max. Something like that. Hey, you said Brad Jackson was clean right?”

  “Cleaner than the Wal-Mart version of a 2 Live Crew album.”

  “Okay, well can you do a financial check on him?”

  “Yeah, I could probably do that? Why, what’s up?”

  “I have no idea, man. It’s a long shot. Something to be big enough to cause him the trouble he’s involved in. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, whenever someone gets knocked off, it either has to do with sex or money.”

  “Woah, somebody got knocked off?”

  Shit! Did I not tell Max the details? I couldn’t remember. Shit shit shit.

  “Yeah, sure,” I respond. “His wife, remember. Duh?”

  “Was that DUH a question?”

  “Possibly.”

  “I have a funny feeling you’re
holding out on me, Michael J. Cocks.”

  “I’ll tell you everything when I get home. Just please run those reports soon and get back to me.”

  “Will do.”

  “Thanks!”

  “You’re wel…” I ended the call and looked back at Elise. My smile grew bigger.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Weirdo. Okay, so where do we go from here?”

  “Okay, Enzite is running the car. Should hear back from him in a few minutes. Anderson is on…”

  “I was sitting right here when you made the calls, dork. I meant what do we do now?”

  “Honestly, E.” I said. “I have no idea. I am completely stumped. The car is our only lead right now and until we have more information on it, I really don’t know where we can go.”

  I closed my eyes, leaned forward and put my face into my hands. I was lost. I felt the smile leave my face, replaced with nothing but a blank expression.

  “Did you take your pills this morning?” Elise asked me.

  “Yeah.” I said into the palms of my hands. “I took them.”

  Elise put her arm around me and pulled me close to her. “We’re going to get him,” she said. “I promise you, Archie. We’re going to get him.”

  Feeling her arm around me, I couldn’t help but to think of my wife and all the pain from the last seven months came flooding through my body like tidal wave. I began to cry. Again. Elise pulled me closer.

  “When is it going to stop hurting, Elise?”

  “We’re going to get through this together. You’ve got me now and you’re never getting rid of me.”

  20.

  We stayed on the bench for a little while longer, watched the sun cross over the ocean and glare its light onto our already-warm bodies. More and more children began occupying the park and their screams and laughter filled my heart with a little bit of much-needed happiness.

  My phone started vibrating.

  “Hey Detective.” Anderson.

  “Hey Archie, I got something for ya here.”

  “I hope it’s good, man. I’m about to give up on everything and just go back home.”

  “Dunno if it’s what ya want, but I have one missing person in your area. A female.”

  “Oh man, here we go! Who is she?” I asked.

  “Her name is Samantha Hiller. She’s seventeen years old, was reported missing yesterday, so that would put the timeframe about right.”

  I let out another sigh. It didn’t sound right to me. The woman I saw on the beach just appeared older than a mere seventeen years. However, anything is possible I suppose. I started running scenarios through my head. Maybe this Brad asshole was involved with an underage girl, she threatened to tell someone about it, and he killed her. Seemed reasonable enough, even though I actually wished that wasn’t the case. Seventeen is way too young to die. But, at the same time, if this were my dead girl then at least I would know and would be on my way to saving my sanity and closing this case. Either way I would have to follow my lead.

  “Okay Detective, give me the details. I’ll try running it down today.”

  “Okay, the mother, one Katherine Hiller, filed the report last night that her daughter had gone missing. The girl apparently left her cellphone which is what caused the mom to immediately panic.”

  “And rightfully so. I’ve learned in the past, no one goes anywhere without their phones these days.”

  “Yeah, I’ve never seen you even set yours down before.”

  “Yeah, and I’m old as shit. So imagine a teenager.”

  “Anyway, this Katherine Hiller lives at 842 Sandpiper Lane.”

  “What the hell is a sandpiper?”

  “I have no idea, Lemons.”

  “Wasn’t that the name of the airline in Wings?”

  “Again, I have no idea, Lemons. Go follow your lead and get back to me.”

  “Fine. I’m still waiting to hear from Enzite, too. Thanks Detective.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  He hung up.

  “Come on, Elise, we’ve got a missing girl to track down. Seventeen years old, name of Samantha Hiller, went missing around the same time as I saw the murder. Mother filed the report. Katherine Hiller. 842 Sandpiper St. Or lane. Whatever.”

  “Great,” Elise said. She was excited. “Let’s go get the car!”

  We arrived at Katherine Hiller’s house about an hour later. We sat in the car for a few minutes, composing our thoughts. I closed my eyes and took two deep breaths.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  Elise opened her door and got out, I followed shortly after. My heart was beating faster than normal. I couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or a bad sign. Elise rang the doorbell and an attractive woman answered the door, right around my age. If this was Katherine, she must have had her daughter fairly young.

  “Katherine Hiller,” Elise asks.

  “Yes. That’s me. Oh god, is…”

  “Everything is fine, Mrs. Hiller. My name is Archie Lemons and I am a private investigator over in Bakersfield. This is my sister-in-law, Elise. I mean, my associate Elise.”

  “Oh. Hi. How may I help you? And it is Miss.”

  “My apologies, Miss Hiller. We’re here about the disappearance of your daughter.”

  “I filed a police report but no one is helping me. And how did you find out? I can’t afford a private investigator.”

  “I found out from a detective. We work together from time to time. I was wondering if we could help. It would be no charge to you.”

  “Why would there be…Oh thank you!” Her smile broadened and she hugged each of us. I wasn’t expecting that. “Please, please, come in. I don’t know what to do.”

  The house was a modestly furnished little place, it reminded me of a college kids house when he moves into his own place for the first time. I had a feeling Miss Hiller was recently divorced. I noticed the small tan line around her ring finger, which confirmed my theory.

  “First off, Miss Hiller, where is your daughter’s father? You are recently divorced, correct?”

  “Yes,” she said. “That is correct. He moved out and took everything with him. Down near Los Angeles somewhere. I don’t really care.”

  “Los Angeles, huh? That’s interesting. Anything else you can tell me about him?”

  “Well, he’s a piece of shit. He hasn’t even spoken to his daughter once since he left. I called him in a panic the other night, on his cell phone, asking if he’d heard from Sam. He said no, then told me he was too busy to deal with me right now. Then he hung up. Great guy, huh?”

  “Kinda sounds like this one piece of shit guy I used to know.”

  Yikes! Elise gave me a dirty ol” look!

  “Anyway,” I continued, “when did your daughter disappear?”

  “She left three days ago. She didn’t come home one night, so I called around to all her friends but they didn’t know anything and she wasn’t answering her cell phone. Then I went into her room again, and I saw her phone sitting next to her laptop. That’s when I really started to panic.”

  “Does she have a boyfriend that you know of?” Elise asked.

  “She has been seeing this boy for a few months. I’m not sure if it’s serious or not. I’ve had her friends call him, though and ask if she was with him. He said no. I don’t know what else to do. The police have a picture of her and I was about to go put up flyers and - ‘She broke off. She was beginning to cry. She lowered her head into her hands and became silent.

  Elise reached across the sofa and put her hand on her shoulder. “Take your time,” she said.

  Me, not knowing how to deal with other people’s emotions, says, “Miss Hiller, do you mind if we take a look at your daughter’s bedroom?”

  “No. No, of course not,” Miss Hiller said, as she sniffled and raised her head back up to meet my eyes. “It’s this way.”

  She got to her feet and started walking down the small hallway. Elise and I followed.
Miss Hiller opened the door revealing a typical teenagers bedroom. Full-size bed with snowman sheets, even though she lived at the beach and it was summer, tons of pillows, a small desk in the corner where her laptop and cell phone sat, various posters on the wall, and clothes scattered everywhere. It was exactly as I imagined every single teenage girl’s room in America would look.

  One poster caught my attention. I gave Elise a little nudge and nodded in the direction of a Hunky Vampires of the Hollywood Hills poster, featuring none other than Mr. Brad Jackson. She gave me a worried little look.

  I entered the room fully now and took a look around at everything. I walked over to where her phone was sitting and picked it up. It wasn’t an iPhone so I had absolutely no idea how to use it. I handed it to Elise and told her to check old text messages and recent calls. She obliged.

  I opened up Samantha’s laptop and powered it on. While I was waiting for it to boot up I looked around her desk some more for any clues, then looked down into her trashcan. On top, there was a clear cellophane wrapper, similar to one wrapped around a pack of cigarettes, but about eight inches long and three inches wide. I recognized what it was immediately. My wife and I had one in our trashcan recently.

  “Ms. Hiller, what was Samantha’s boyfriend’s name? Do you recall?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It was Jesse.”

  “Was he in a band? The Rippers, perhaps?”

  She gave me a puzzled look. Another one of my inappropriately timed jokes wasted.

  “Elise,” I say, “scroll through her contacts list and find Jesse’s number for me.”

  Elise found it and read it off to me as I dialed from my own phone.

  “We’ve called him, Mr. Lemons,” Katherine says to me. “He says he doesn’t know where she is.”

  “He knows. And don’t worry. Your daughter wasn’t kidnapped.” A kid answers and I press the phone against my shirt to finish talking to Ms. Hiller. “She’s pregnant.”

  Ms. Hiller’s face looked shocked. I quickly returned the phone to my ear. “Is this Jesse?” I asked.

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “This is a friend of your girlfriend’s mother. We are actually going to need you to drop her off within the next hour or we will be calling the police and having you arrested for kidnapping and statutory rape. You are over eighteen correct?”