Third Time Is a Charm

by Ed Nelson

  “Why is it important to know?”

  I must say Susan had no reason to sound so exasperated.

  “Well it might have an effect on what flowers you order!”

  “Oh.”

  “Now you said you have a tuxedo, it is not what you wear at a white tie event. By any chance do you own a tailcoat?”

  “Probably, I was outfitted in England and there were so many outfits I have never opened some of them.”

  “Check it out, better yet ask your Mother for help.”

  Now that was a good idea. I told Susan I would do exactly that and get back to her. After hanging up I went directly to Mum. She quizzed me until she had all the information I had. Maybe interrogated would be a better description. She treated me as though I didn’t pay attention to detail or was totally obtuse on social events. In other words like a guy.

  “Rick, I will be calling Susan, Judy and her Mother. As things stand there is a disaster in the making.”

  “Oh?” I’ve been saying that a lot lately.

  “Going to dinner in a white tie outfit doesn’t work. One spill and it’s over, plus the natives would take one look and either laugh or beat you up. In the meantime I think you and Eddie have a Boy Scout meeting to attend.”

  Yikes, I had almost forgotten it.

  Luckily my uniform was all set up. I changed quickly and we left for the meeting. Eddie was excited and thought it would be nice if they were having a camping trip this weekend. Mum had bought Eddie his first scout uniform at JC Penney so he was good to go.

  Arriving at the Scout building behind the school we found the troop just starting to gather. The Scoutmaster was easy to spot as he joined us as we were getting out of the car.

  I explained we were relatively new to the area and that Eddie wanted to start Scouting while I needed to be affiliated with a troop. Eddie was sent to an adult in charge of registration.

  The Scoutmaster recognized me as I was pretty famous in scouting circles with my picture appearing on the cover of Boy’s Life several times. I thought he would ask me about my knots but he was more interested in my Spanish translator’s badge.

  “Is your Spanish any good, if so you could help us with an immediate problem?”

  When there are problems is not the time to be humble.

  “It is considered native.”

  “Great come with me.”

  We went over to the school building into the cafeteria. There was a Cub Scout meeting in progress. Over to one side was a man in his fifties, a woman who looked about twenty and a girl about eight years old. The young lady had on what looked like a Cub Scout uniform but was one I had never seen.

  “Rick, this couple showed up with the girl for the meeting but they have no English. We’re totally confused.”

  I went over and introduced myself to the group. To say they were relieved when I introduced myself is an understatement.

  The man proved to be the driver, the young lady the nanny for Silva De Bourbon-Anjou. Her father, a widower was the Argentine Consulate-General. They had just moved to Los Angeles for his new posting. Silva was a Cub Scout in Argentina and wanted to continue here. Her father thought it would be a good way for her to learn English so had sent them here.

  I explained that American Cub Scouts did not include girls. Silva’s face crumpled on hearing that. Her heart was set on being a Wolf Scout.

  While we were talking several young ladies about Silva’s age joined us. Their mother stood behind them. Apparently they were there to watch their brother receive an award.

  The girls said, “Hola” to Silva. She replied with a half-hearted smile. The mother asked me what was going on. When I explained she nodded.

  “I thought that was what they were saying but my Spanish isn’t that good. Ask the young lady if she can’t be a Cub Scout if she would like to be a Brownie in the Girl Scouts?”

  I explained that girls had their own group and at her age she would be a Brownie. I stumbled a little in explaining the program. The mother who I did not know helped, her Spanish was better than she thought.

  It turns out she is a Girl Scout leader and her two daughters are Brownies. I gave a card to the nanny and told her to have the Father call me if he had any questions. I then headed back to the Scout Hut.

  My having to leave turned out to be a good thing as Eddie was sitting with his new patrol and fitting right in. That means they were learning to tie knots and making jokes about farts. An Assistant Scout Master was keeping it down to a dull roar.

  If their mothers had been there they would have died. This was in the building, if mom ever saw what could go on in the woods she would have a heart attack while having kittens.

  I could remember seeing the results of trying to pee into the wind, a prayer stick disaster and losing my own eyebrows due to a Coleman lantern mishap. Then there was the catapult that would launch large water balloons for boys to catch on a hot day, being loaded with a cow patty. Mothers and camping trips just wouldn’t mix.

  The Scoutmaster had just finished a Scout Masters conference so I joined him and explained what was going on with the Cubs. He was relieved to hear the girl had been connected with the Girl Scout’s. It would be unthinkable for girls to be in the Boy Scouts.

  I was assigned to a Leadership patrol. It was for older boys who had gone through all the ranks. We were to help the adults and try to stay out of trouble. I told him I had the plans to build a catapult on our next outing.

  I met the other three guys in my patrol. They were a little reserved until I let them know I had little interest in being the Patrol Leader. I was here to get my little brother going in Scouts; that I would probably miss more events than not because of my schedule.

  They knew all about me because of Boys Life and the fact this was Hollywood. Their parents had connections in the industry so they weren’t awed by me, at least they didn’t act like it. As matter of fact they asked for a little help on our next camping trip. Could I bring fifty foot of shore line, and maybe a left handed smoke shifter?

  I told them to pull the other one. We were going to get on fine. They were all younger than me, around fourteen so I was never going to be close friends with these kids.

  On the way home Eddie talked nonstop. He was going to love scouting and had made friends already. He couldn’t wait till the second week in December for the monthly camping trip. It would be a winter outing!

  Of course I had to tell him about real winter outings in Ohio. I actually got him to shiver when I told him about the marble seat in the Yellow Springs outhouse. I will never forget the feeling.

  I told Eddie that I would go to the first several meetings with him, but that I think I was getting past Boy Scouts. He didn’t seem to have a problem with it. His main concern was getting a ride to the meetings. That wouldn’t be a problem.

  At home he had to describe the whole meeting. I think Mary was the only one to appreciate the fart jokes. Well Denny pretended that they were beneath him but he kept snickering.

  I spent the evening typing up a paper for my schoolwork. It wasn’t that long until I would have to start some final exams. I was so ready to finish high school.

  Thanksgiving Day had always been a quiet day in the Jackson household. We never had company. Dad would make the dressing while Mum did everything else. We kids would do the dishes.

  I had been told the entire staff had been given the day off to be with their families. So I assumed it would be just the family, including Mrs. Hernandez.

  Thinking this I threw on a house robe and went in search of coffee. There must have been quite a look on my face when I saw Anna Romanov and Sharon Bronson in the kitchen with Mum.

  I tried a hasty retreat but it was too late. It seems that Mum and Dad had invited all of our friends who didn’t have family in the area to spend the day with us. That was great but I wish they had told me. At least I would have worn a better house robe.

  When I mentioned this, Sharon called it whinging, but it really wasn’t
, well maybe a little whine. Mum reminded me that she had mentioned it at dinner on Monday and Tuesday and that maybe I should pay attention.

  Knowing enough to stop digging when I found myself in a hole, I grabbed a cup of coffee and went to get cleaned up. As I left the room Mum told me a suit and tie was not required during the day, but plan for it at dinner.

  Later I asked Mum about Sharon being here. Her parents live in the area. I was told that her parents asked her not to come home. It seems the Pastor of their church had denounced her as daughter of Satan and forbid them to have anything to do with her. I thought my head would explode.

  The day turned out to be wonderful. The younger set hung out in the basement game room. The adult men watched the Packers beat the Lions 24-17. The woman hung out in the kitchen and kept what seemed like an endless flow of food coming. I wandered between groups.

  For the record I even helped with the dishes. How many people can say they did dishes with Anna Romanov and the wife of a state senator?

  Mr. Monroe was there and we were cordial with each other but avoided any conversation about the film or my future in them.

  I snuck out back and spent time practicing loading a muzzle loader on the run. I did it maybe twenty times, only nine hundred and eighty to go. After my first shot I started to collect an audience. That lasted for about twenty minutes and they got bored and wandered away.

  The last guest left after a late sit down dinner. Well most people sat down for the whole meal. I was part of a group that did the serving. Actually it was fun; everyone was in a good mood.

  I changed into casual clothes after they left and went back to my school work. I really wanted to be done with it.

  Chapter 37

  I had the bright idea of playing golf on Friday. Boy was I surprised at the number of cars in the parking lot. When I inquired about a tee time they just laughed. How was I to know, this was one of the biggest golf days of the year. The women were starting their Christmas shopping and the men headed to the links.

  Every tee time was taken by a foursome all day long. I asked about standing by and was told I could do it, but don’t get my hopes up. They put my name down if a person didn’t show so I could take their place. I went to the driving range. A runner would be sent for me if there was a no show.

  I went through two buckets of balls. I worked on the accuracy of my drives. I could put them in place out to two hundred and seventy yards. After that things got a little dicey. The club Pro had given me some advice about long hitters.

  I would pay a price with back problems someday if I kept it up. He recommended that I find my natural accurate distance and only try to hit beyond that rarely. It made sense to me. With the leverage obtained from my height and speed it didn’t take much imagination to see my back going out of whack. Hmm, is that a pun?

  Next I spent an hour on the putting green. There were so many people warming up that I even had to wait there. I could see today was not my golf day. As the old joke went it would be hit the ball, drag Charlie for the entire round. I let them know at the pro shop that I was giving up. I was told that Saturday and Sunday would be the same.

  Since it was close to lunch time I stopped at an In-and-Out and had several cheeseburgers. From there I headed to Ontario airport and rented a plane for the afternoon. I racked up another four hours in my logbook.

  When I returned home I found out that the local police were having a press conference tomorrow morning about the child molester that I had killed. They wanted me there. My first instinct was, No!

  It was explained to me that before the conference I would have a meeting with the parents of the little girl. They wanted to thank me. This gave me no choice but I wasn’t thrilled about it. At least Susan would be there to help me through it.

  Mary was quiet after dinner, uncharacteristically so. I asked her what was wrong.

  “You won’t let the bad men get me will you Ricky?” She had heard us talking about the press conference. I picked her up and assured her that we would never let the bad men get her. And if they did grab her the whole family would be to her rescue.

  Thankfully this meant she didn’t remember at least consciously when the Russians had tried to kidnap her. That in turn reminded me that I had better start carrying. People had gone to a lot of trouble to provide me with self-protection. I would look stupid if I didn’t use it.

  If I had my pistol with me the other day, could I have just drawn down on the guy?

  I spent the rest of the evening playing pool with Denny and working with Eddie on his Tenderfoot requirements.

  The press conference wasn’t until after lunch so after my regular morning exercises I went horseback riding. There were no tigers or chipmunks in sight so it was a peaceful ride. It was really nice to slow down and enjoy the morning. It felt as though I had been going ninety miles an hour recently.

  There were so many loose ends right now. Did I want a movie career? How would I make peace with Mr. Monroe? Where would I go to college? I had started businesses. Did I really want to run them? Would I ever have a girlfriend that I could get close to in all sense of close?

  After my ride I got cleaned up and dressed and headed out for the press conference. Susan was waiting for me in the parking lot. There were several news people there and they tried to ask questions but Susan told them to wait like everyone else.

  The Police Chief escorted me into a small office where the parents of the young lady were waiting. She wasn’t with them. They introduced themselves as Steve and Judy, no last names. I respected that.

  Their thanks weren’t effusive, but it was heart felt. I told them I felt lucky to be there and prevented that man from taking their daughter. There wasn’t much to say after that. Before it got awkward the Police Chief told me it was time for the press conference. Steve and Judy wouldn’t be attending as they wanted to keep their daughter completely out of it.

  On the way out the Chief told me that those conversations were always awkward but he had too many over the years where things had gone bad. I was just lucky it had not gone the crying and hugging route. He was right about that.

  Chief Wilson started the conference with a statement about the event and the follow up about bodies being found in the basement and that they were still digging on the grounds. Inquiries were coming in from all over to see if any of their missing children were involved. At this time they had twelve bodies and counting.

  He then turned it over to me for questions.

  The press conference had the usual questions until one bright young man at the back of the room asked, “Did you enjoy killing him?”

  “I enjoyed rescuing that little girl. His dying was an accident. I didn’t even know he was dead until it was all over.”

  “Yeah but didn’t that give you a thrill?”

  I looked at Susan. She pulled her finger across her throat.

  “Since there are no more useful questions I will turn it back over to Chief Wilson.”

  The Chief took the center podium and spoke to an officer in the back.

  “Please go out and ticket any illegally parked cars. For those members of the press that means any car parked in a police reserved spot.”

  I was impressed how quickly the room emptied. It ended the conference.

  Susan complemented me on my handling of the conference. I thanked her for her support and direction, especially at the end. After our mutual admiration moment we parted ways.

  I went to my office. No one was in as it was a long weekend.

  I typed up a memo. In it I outlined my thoughts on air cargo containers. I asked that a preliminary market study be performed. Aircraft manufactures be contacted for internal dimensions. Projected costs and if in general the idea was feasible.

  After that I went home for a late lunch. For fun I checked up on the progress at my beach house. It was still a work in progress. Work being the key word with progress far behind.

  From there I drove on down to the beach and took a walk. The
re were some guys out surfing but it was too cold for me. I stopped in at Katin’s. They updated me on Corky. He had won big down in Australia and was now going to a meet in South Africa.

  Back at home I practiced some more loading a rifle on the run, many more runs to go.

  After that I got back into the text books. I had some tests soon so needed to start revising. Wonderful term the British used, I always called it reviewing. I wasn’t going to argue the semantics it just sounded cool.

  I went flying on Sunday. I flew up to Santa Barbara. I had lunch on the pier and checked out all the shops downtown. I liked the way they had preserved the look of the town.

  While at the beach I saw a restaurant, Sambos. I didn’t go in but it was interesting, they had the story of little black Sambo shown in tiles on the wall. I thought they would do well if they ever went national.

  They sold hats at one of the downtown shops so I bought a cool looking straw Panama. I had on my sunglasses and was wearing a sport coat to conceal my weapon. Just call me Jackson, Richard Jackson.

  I spoiled the image by laughing at myself.

  This attracted the attention of a foot patrolman. He had enough experience to know a shoulder holster when he saw it. He was cool as he approached me without making a scene. He asked to see my license to carry a concealed weapon. I opened my coat jacket so he could see my badge which I had pinned inside the coat.

  He asked for some identification. I shared my Marshalls I.D. He was skeptical to say the least. I had to show him my driver’s license as backup. Another patrolman had driven up, and stopped. They conversed for a minute and made a call on the radio.

  The cop didn’t seem too worried about me as he hadn’t cuffed me or confiscated my weapon. That seemed a little too laid back to me. That until I realized there were two other officers behind me.

  The guy on the radio came back.

  “He’s good.”

  That eased everything up. They were curious about how someone as young as me got to be a U.S. Marshal. When I explained that I had some run in’s with the Russians and couldn’t talk about it they backed off.