Baja Blues: The Boy Who Played With Marbles (Liza McNairy Mysteries Book 2)

by Dan Glover

  Baja Blues

  Books by Dan Glover

  Liza McNairy Series

  Peppermint Soul

  Baja Blues

  Deadhead

  Horror

  Water and Stone

  Philosophy

  Lila’s Child: An Inquiry Into Quality

  The Art of Caring: Zen Stories

  The Mystery: Zen Stories

  Apache Nation

  The Lazy Way to 100,000 Twitter Followers

  The Gathering of Lovers Series

  Billy Austin

  Lisa

  Allison Johns

  Tom Three Deer

  Justine

  Yelena

  The Mermaid Series

  Winter's Mermaid

  Mermaid Spring

  Summer's Mermaid

  Mermaid Autumn

  Short Stories

  There Come a Bad Cloud: Tangled up Matter and Ghosts

  Mi Vida Dinámica

  Baja Blues

  The Boy Who Played with Marbles

  Dan Glover

  Published by Lost Doll Publishing

  Copyright 2015

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or to the dead is coincidental.

  Throughout the day and into the night

  Wherever my heart may roll,

  It's giving into the desires of

  The beckoning zombie stroll.

  Chapter 1—In the Beginning

  (Rhyming)

  1

  It always started like that. The phone call, the stuttering, the apology... and finally the questions... can you really do what you say? No. We're a couple liars subsisting on the goodwill of others. They put us on television not because we solve old crimes but because we're so pretty. Especially Danners. He's the man, you know.

  Television shows amounted to free advertising. After all, who'd call a detective agency that made the sort of lunatic claims they concocted? No one. Rather than running a private eye business they'd be scuba diving instructors down in the Keys. Yeah. Or maybe selling surfboards off the coast of California. Or hell... maybe she'd go back into law enforcement and introduce DanMan to the boys. Become real again. The one thing she'd never do would be to leave the queer behind and strike out on her own.

  As if. Nope. The fact was Liza McNairy could be doing anything she wanted but this was it. Each time they began a new case it sent her heart to racing and her blood to pumping like the first time she'd tied off and shot that liquid velvet gold into the quivering blue vein bulging on her inner thigh. Be careful, Lizzi. Don’t let the tracks show. They'll know. You're right, Lissi. You're always right, big sissy.

  Their steps always rhymed. Each time they went walking anywhere together they synchronized with one another. For the longest time she thought he did it on purpose. Danners was like that. Even if he didn’t know it on a visceral level somewhere deep down he did. Not a movement was wasted with that man. He made everything count. Like he knew the hourglass was glued to the table and the sands were running out. DanDan, the sandman...

  "How about a trip south, loverboy?"

  "Where is it this time, sweetie?"

  Did it matter? Of course not. He'd follow her to the gates of hell if she said that's where they were going. They were both dead anyhow. Each minute was a gift to one another.

  "Baja... as in the peninsula."

  "I take it we're not going on vacation, Liza."

  "No... but if you really try and talk me into it maybe we'll hit one of those nude beaches while we're there."

  "So don’t bother packing my swim suit... is that what you're saying, baby doll?"

  "No... but bring along your bible to thump, partner."

  "But I don’t have a bible, Liza."

  "Oh Danners... has anyone ever told you that you're way too easy?"

  The kid had simply vanished. He'd gone to school that day. Rode the bus home. Got off a block and a half from the adobe where he lived. And no one ever saw him again. At least no one that loved him. Someone had seen him. Taken him. Killed him perhaps. The cops were buffoons. Assumed the ex had something to do with it... that the kid was brought back to Columbia where the father lived. Dragged their feet so long that by the time the ex was vindicated the trail'd gone cold and all the leads dead. Now the sister had grown up and was asking questions no one could answer.

  "Ms. McNairy?"

  "Yes... this is she."

  "I didn’t think you'd answer... I was ready to leave a message."

  Jesus... another original. Why did everyone expect their call to go straight to voice mail? Didn’t anyone answer their phones anymore? Sure enough, the cell phone was a perfect way to keep in touch. Yet it seemed as if at the moment of perfected connectivity, people pulled away. Maybe they didn’t want to be wired into the network.

  "Can I help you, miss?"

  Shhh. Don't sound aggravated, Lizzi. The girl might need our help. Remember, always be nice. What would I do without you, Lissi? You're the better part of me, you know.

  "Yes... Ms. McNairy, this is Elena Stamper. I'm from San Diego. I just saw you and Danners Forthright on the Oprah Show. Is it true?"

  "Is what true, Ms. Stamper?"

  Yeah, we're quacks. You found us out. We go around pretending to do what no one else can do and people actually believe that shit. Hey, it works. We're talking... right? Lizzi... behave...

  "Can you find people who've disappeared a long time ago?"

  "If we're fortunate, Ms. Stamper. Would you like to set up an appointment?"

  "Oh my yes... I'm sorry. I must sound like an idiot. I didn’t realize it'd be so easy contacting you, Ms. McNairy."

  "Tell me

  2

  "A little about yourself and your problem, Ms. Stamper."

  Liza understood all too well what it could be like growing up without a loved one... someone snatched away way too soon never to be seen again. In her case there was no possibility of ever finding her... death was a hard master when it was a foregone conclusion. She remembered how attending the funeral brought both tears and closure. How much worse could it have been if she never knew? If she never had that finality that death conferred?

  "This is all your father's fault, Liza. I told him. Not once but a hundred times. But the man never listens."

  Oh, mother... do we really have to cast blame today, of all days? We're burying Lissi. Can't we just be a family for one more hour? Another minute? All the things she wanted to say remained unsaid, however, and now, nearly twenty years later, father had managed to drink himself into his grave and mother was still mother... a shrew, a vindictive bitch blaming anyone and everyone who'd listen for all her misfortunes, especially her sole remaining daughter.

  "When are you coming to visit, Liza?"

  "Soon, mother... soon."

  Lies, all of it. If she had her way, she'd never go back to Seattle. Not even for her own mother's funeral. Of all the cases they'd taken over the past few years, the only ones she'd turned down were located in or around her hometown, and knowing she'd have no excuses not to visit mother made the decision far easier than it might have been otherwise. Guilt? Sure, she had her share of it. After all, not everyone had a mother to visit. Look at DanMan.

  Forget all that, Lizzi. You'll always have me, you know. We're buttons tied to one another's blouses. We're the words before they're spoken. We're each other's unfinished sentences. Not even death can pull us apart. There were times when her dead sister's voice was so clear that she looked about, sure so
meone else must hear it too. But, they never did. For the longest time she wondered if she was going insane... if the stress of losing her twin and the rest of her family had finally caught up to her. Now, though, she treasured these moments of togetherness, of having Lissi with her one more time.

  A thousand kisses deep, Lissi sissy. A thousand kisses deep.

  She never found out why Lissi didn’t make it out of the house that night. The coroner claimed the girl had died in her sleep. Smoke inhalation. But Lissi is the one who woke me up, mother. She told me to climb out the window... to run next door and call the fire department.

  Are you sure, Liza?

  Of course she wasn’t sure. How could anyone be sure of anything? The room was filled with smoke, she couldn’t breathe, and she could hear the inferno roaring beneath her, feel the heat on the soles of her bare feet as she ran to the window. Why didn’t she make sure Lissi followed? She assumed. And of course to assume anything makes an ass of you and me. Ha fucking ha.

  She supposed that Lissi's death was a good part of the reason why she'd gotten into the private eye business in the first place. Liza'd been a deputy in the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department and she had seen first hand the way the system worked. Or rather didn’t. The inflated desire for political gain was too often conflated

  3

  With the inordinate need to serve the public.

  Elena Ramirez Stamper had been seventeen years old—nearly an adult—when her brother Eduardo vanished. They both went to school in Ensenada riding the bus from the tiny hamlet of Santo Tomas on the sea. But that day she'd wakened feeling under the weather and mother thought it best she stay home. Elena always felt guilty about that, especially because she felt better immediately after learning she could stay home. That'd be the last morning she ever saw Eduardo.

  Mother worked as a cleaning lady at the resort—la Doncella, they called her, the neighborhood kids—and so she was never home when Eduardo returned from school each afternoon. That was Elena's responsibility. At first she had told herself the boy had gone to the beach to collect shells though Eduardo knew better than not to come home first and change out of his uniform. They attended the Catholic school and like all the other students were required to wear formal attire... a dress shirt, pressed pants, and a tie for little Eduardo and a white blouse and black skirt for Elena and the rest of the girls.

  "It's a boy who disappeared in Mexico, Danners. The police are no help."

  "Don't tell me that, Liza. You know I can't handle lost kids."

  He'd spent ten years as a guest of the State of California, courtesy of the Los Angeles Sheriff's Department and their zeal to arrest a man unconnected to the crime in any way shape or form other than to come forward with information which they presumed only the guilty could know. Eric Holmes had been six years old when he vanished off the streets, eerily similar to the case of Eduardo Ramirez. Later, after Danners Forthright's release from prison, he was instrumental in helping Liza track down the real killer and locate Eric's body. They'd worked together ever since.

  "Do me a favor, Liza, and don’t take anymore cases involving kids. I can't handle the stress."

  "If that's how you feel, DanDan, I won't."

  Now, she was reneging on their deal. It wasn’t that Danners Forthright disliked children... no, it was precisely the opposite. The man doted on them. Of all the adults Liza knew, Danners was the only person who actually enjoyed being surrounded by kids. He treated them as equals and they knew it instinctively. It was strange. Most people seemed to think of gay men like Danners as pedophiles but that was the last thing that came to mind watching him interact with children.

  "Has anyone ever told you how you'd make a great parent, DanDan?"

  "Oh God no, sister dear... that's the last thing I'd ever hear. You know me, gorgeous. But how about you? Ever have any thoughts about having a little Liza tailing around behind you?"

  "That depends, DanMan... know any good candidates for father?"

  It was an old and ancient game they played quite possibly a holdover from the life they lived together prior to this one. Liza couldn’t imagine having a closer connection to anyone without having known them before at one time or another.

  "Maybe we were husband and wife, Danners... you know, in our last go around together... or at least brother and sister."

  "Do you really believe in that stuff, Liza?"

  "Sure I do."

  When the ponies are running up my arms and down my legs I believe in everything, Danners. You should know that by now. Tell me that the moon is made of cheese and how it'll one day fall from the sky and that we'll have all the Limburger we desire and I'll believe it. In fact I'll be by your side watching it and stuffing my mouth full. You can count on me, loverboy.

  "I told the sister we'd be in San Diego by noon tomorrow. Do I have to go by myself, sweetie?"

  "Come on, lover. You know

  4

  "Better than that."

  And of course he was right. She was as incapable of going somewhere without Danners Forthright by her side as she was of making it through the day without her dose. Her private time. Her medicinal marvel. An easy habit to start but oh so hard to put down.

  It was more than her inability to drive the Los Angeles freeways. She had the money. She could hire a limo to take her anywhere. It was more than the father fixation she had on Danners Forthright. Any number of older men would have gladly bopped her anytime she gave the go ahead and spread those legs of hers that went on forever. No... there was only one thing that kept her tied to DanMan, yet as smart as he was, he never seemed to realize it.

  "When are we leaving, Liza my love? Don’t tell me... first thing in the morning... right?"

  "Tell you what, Danster my manster... we'll leave early in afternoon before rush hour and I'll spring for the motel room when we get to San Diego. That way we won't disturb your beauty sleep in the morning."

  Unlike most good people of the world, Danners Forthright lived life on his own terms, which meant sleeping until noon, eating when he was hungry, pissing when he had to, and only going to bed when exhaustion finally drove him down, usually in the wee hours of the morning when others were rising and shining and beginning new days.

  The chances were that she might well have talked DanDan into cohabitating ages ago if not for his idiomatic tendency to stay up all night and her insatiable need for privacy, for that singular moment she spent her life seeking yet never quite finding. Chasing the spark... pulling the tiger's tail... feeling the monkey's claws on her back... all of it melding into one long sojourn into both heaven and into hell.

  Now the dance was starting again. Would they finally fail this time? Maybe. If so, perhaps they might be able to find their way to each other, or apart... did it really matter in the end? Probably not. But she'd prefer the former to the latter.

  Chapter 2—Special Agent Man

  (Hard Times)

  1

  Reilly Cooper'd partied too heartily last night. Not that it mattered. He had the next two weeks off to recuperate. It'd be nice to be able to remember where he'd spent all his money though. And he hoped his night hadn’t been wasted on Danners Forthright.

  What had he ever seen in the man? Reilly could have his pick of young boys and there he was hanging out with a sixty year old queer who couldn’t even dress himself properly. It didn’t make sense. Christ, Danners had to know that. And the way the man leered at that woman Liza McNairy... sure, she wasn’t bad to look at... if you were a hard up heterosexual male. But Danners didn’t play that tune... did he? What was their game? Really?

  "How can you do this to me, Reilly? I really cared about you."

  "Come on, Danners... we had what we had and now it's over. You know how it works. Nothing's forever, sweetheart."

  "Fuck you, Reilly Cooper. I hope your dick falls off."

  Had it actually gone like that? He couldn’t remember. Could be he was overlaying another lover onto the times he'd spent with Forthr
ight. Maybe it was a trick... a way of massaging his ego... of assuring himself that he did the dumping... that Danners wasn’t in love with...

  Jesus, what a freak. Still, Liza and Danners had something good going. He wouldn’t mind getting in on it, but they weren’t hiring, or so they said. Not enough green stuff to go around. As if Danners needed money. From the scuttlebutt around town the old faggot had more cash than eighteen demented dwarves dancing at the end of their goddamned rainbows. Yet he acted like he didn’t have two fucking nickels to pile on top of one another.

  The FBI didn’t pay all that well, at least not for a new agent like him. Reilly thought he'd hit the big time when his application for employment with the FBI was finally accepted but he'd been markedly mistaken about that as well as many other things in his thirty two years of life. Hell, he couldn’t really afford a mortgage in southern California... not when the median price for homes ran in the low seven figures and he was fortunate to crack the sixty grand a year mark in salary.

  Jesus... he'd worked various jobs all going to college for less than fifteen dollars an hour and now he was making twice that with full benefits too but it wasn’t nearly enough... not in sunny California. Even with the premium the Bureau paid to employees stationed in high income markets like the west coast he couldn’t seem to make ends meet.

  On the other hand he had to pay back his mother for all she'd done for him so the first thing he did was buy her a house in Glendale. Nice neighborhood. Small yard, sure, but who wanted to be mowing grass all summer? Not him. And she was finally out of that cesspool known as East Los Angeles, gangbanger heaven, thugsville, whatever the hell you wanted to call it. The ghetto. That worked as well as anything, he supposed.

  When his phone rang the ID of an unfamiliar number came up. He halfway expected it to be Danners Forthright using someone else's phone to surprise Reilly and trick him into taking the call he'd purposely been avoiding. Taking a chance he answered it anyway. Liza McNairy, extraordinary... how about that...