Chapter #1

"Whoa, Come With me Now…"

     I got up this morning with absolutely nothing on my mind. Well, there was one thing how was I going to pay the rent that was due like now. No way could I pay it. So it was off to my Mom’s to get yet another loan.

     I dressed as fast as I could, reheated some day old Starbucks, after slipping into some cutoffs jeans, and a sports bra and a cut-up T-shirt. The shirt was one from a Led Zeppelin concert that my mom went to many years ago. With it on I looked amazing in the mirror! Yep so happy. I threw on my lucky blue denim jacket, the one that I never washed from a Kid Rock concert. It had a Kid Rock impersonator’s sweat on it. I uh did the guy in one of the girl’s stalls. Then the asshole went back to his seat to sit with his girlfriend, whata jerk! (But the concert was good.)  Quickly I combed my hair which I was wearing short these days, sort of a pixie style. Last, I grabbed my classic Roy Rogers wallet off the kitchen table which had all of $2.50 in it. I stuffed it into my jacket pocket on the right side and hit the door. My mom buys me all this old stuff. She says. "You wait…someday it’ll be worth big money." But the guys on Antiques Roadshow say different.

     The trailer park I live in is not terribly big, and it’s up a hill. I don’t have a car, so I am forever bumming rides all over town. Oh! The town that I live in isn’t terribly big either. It’s a smallish beach town that has excellent surfing spot and an old amusement park that went out of business years ago. At one point a bunch of investors tried to restore and rebuild it, but all they could do was a portion of it: a couple of arcades, a small roller-coaster, some kids rides and then at the last minute, one of those wave machines…now wave machine that was cool. The park was right on the boardwalk, but not too many guys used the wave machine, then the whole project went belly-up as in BK. Now it sits there with no customers.

     The weather here is always good we were only a few miles south of the Orange County line; in San Diego County. Our little town of Ocean Beach is located on a point that stretches out into the ocean which gave us a nice point break that gets monstrous waves in the winter. Then it swept around to a south facing beach for really nice surf in the summer. There was the parking lot where all us kids hung out on the West side of the railroad tracks which spanned a wildlife sanctuary. There is this big trestle bridge that went across it, the Santa Fe line, I think. Downtown is really small, a courthouse and police station, a public library and a painfully small financial district where everybody knew each other and a few cocktail lounges. Farther up a small hill is the high school. That’s where I went to school. Good old Palm High it’s named after the fact that there were so many palms growing here, mostly Mexican Palms but no one cares… really. Up by the freeway (that’s Interstate 5) is a business that sells palms to the state of California. The trees were used as landscaping around State buildings as well, and the freeway on ramps also the roundabouts. A lot of the kids from school wound up working there loading and moving palms around the property and of course watering them. Palm trees were everywhere along with an assortment of Torrey Pines and Spruce and the other types of trees.

     My best subjects in school were English and Graphic Arts. In my mind, I always leaned toward becoming a writer of sorts but could never make up my mind what to write about. I mean I did the poetry thing and I wrote about horses and dogs and being in love: but life and guys got in the way. Along with my graphic arts I did some photography and one summer I went to work at a photography studio here in town. It was only part time, and my butthead boss only let me do a little bit of sales. (I could sell to the kids way better than he could.) I did do a bunch of shots for the yearbook two years in a row that was pretty nifty alright! But the paycheck from the studio hardly paid the bills. I still have my camera (it’s kind of old now, it only shoots film.) When I do get photo work, I have to borrow a camera from either the studio (that I still work in, part-time) or my other employer Frank. Which allows me to from time to time to make some extra bucks shooting portraits of people here in the park with their kids and pets so I’ve come to know lots of people and their stories.

     But my big talent is finding stuff. I mean if you lose…something chances are I can track it down. That’s pure "Stoner" talent. It all started when I was a kid growing up in another park with my mom. A friend, Jenny Johnston, lost a hair comb that her Granma had given her. It was Spanish looking and made of some delicate material. It was expensive or old or both. Her mom got really pissed off when Jenny told her it was gone. All us kids got questioned, but no one knew where it was. That is no one but me! I knew where it was. When Mrs. Johnston asked, "What can I do to find it?" I mean one moment I‘m standing there with all my friends and then the next my hand is up in the air. I tell Mrs. Johnston that I can find it, no problem. Lots of bravado for a ten-year-old kid.

     The thing was for some time I’d had been following Jenny’s older sister Robyn around, when she would sneak off with the Miller brothers and play doctor in this shed a few doors down from the Johnston’s trailer. She, that’s Robyn, wanted to look pretty for one of them one day, so she took the comb. I watched from the shed’s small window as they played their games. I remembered that the comb had fallen out of her hair and into the tangle of sheets and a beat up pillow case on this improvised bed that was in their make-believe doctor’s office.

     After I said "I can find it easy," and all the jeering from the kids had simmered down. Mrs. Johnston shook her finger at me about making claims about finding stuff. I glanced up and there staring at me was Robyn, her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on me as if she were willing me to die on the spot. She knew that I knew that she’d had the comb all along, and where it was. Or did she?

     Now all of a sudden I had two problems to deal with. All of the kids and there were a lot of them; they were going to follow me around the park on my quest for sure, and Robyn, who wanted me dead.

     Mrs. Johnston had words with her friend Mrs. Rollins, who happened to be my best friend’s mother, that’s Delores. Together they said they’d pay me two dollars as a reward for finding the lost comb. So now I had a co-conspirator in this, "the lost comb caper." But I never told Delores that I already knew where the comb was.

     The first day all I did was walk around the park with D (I like to call her D instead of Delores) looking under bushes and for a while, the kids dogged our every move. On the second day there were only a few kids and they along with D melted away in the summer heat and beat feet to the pool. That’s when I noticed that I was being tracked by Robyn and the older Miller boy. He had his own car. They followed me from street to street and down the few alleys that the park had. I knew I’d have to make a break for it and find my way over to the shed. Obviously, Robyn hadn’t figured out where she had lost it yet either, and I didn’t want to give it away.

     I was almost to the end of the last alley when I turned around, and there was the Miller’s car. Robyn had opened the passenger door and had gotten out before she could say anything, I made a break into one of the back yards and ran as fast as I could. I didn’t think anyone was in back of me but when I ran across the big intersection by the pool I glanced over my shoulder and to my amazement I was being followed on foot by the older Miller boy. He was a big guy and was closing on me fast. All of the kids that were playing in the pool looked up and then rose to their feet and took off after the both of us.

     All of a sudden I could feel his fingertips on my blouse on my shoulder. The screams from the kids in back of us must have startled him because on the ground I saw his shadow part from mine and then it was gone. I didn’t dare stop so I really poured it on. I knew I wasn’t going to last long and at this point my strength was waning. I slowed and took one more step and then another and exhausted I fell to my knees. That’s when the Miller’s car pulled up in front of me and stopped as well. I heard the car door open and the crunch of feet on dirt and little rocks as I tried to catch my breath. I looked around and realized that I was in front of the trailer with the shed. The cries and screams from the neighborhood kids drowned out any other noise.

      Robyn (had been driving), she got out of the car and walked around it to stand in front of me. I looked up at her, her face partially obscured by the brightness of the sun. She gazed down at me and then at the house and then at the shed, her face changed… she knew.

     I got to my feet, and we both darted towards the shed. With all the commotion from the neighborhood kids in back of us, no way the Miller boy could keep them all back forever.

     We got to the shed almost at the same time. She pushed me down and kicked me, then she threw open the double doors and looked from side to side. Guessing that she’d never find it, she bent over and held me by the arms and shook me. "Where is it. You Brat?" She exclaimed. No way was I going to tell her.

    That’s when all the kids got around the Miller boy and ran to the open doors. Bringing up the rear was my friend Delores and her mom. The shed wasn’t that big, and the bunk bed was only a few steps away from me. What saved me was the fact that being the older kid, Robyn was asked by Mrs. Rollins what was going on. Robyn had to stand still and answer her. All the while I sidestepped over to the end of the bunk bed looking and feeling around and under the covers and the sheets for the comb, but I couldn’t find it.

  The seconds turned to minutes and the minutes seemed to drag by. Robyn was telling Mrs. Rollins some kind of BS when I reached into the pillowcase, and my fingers touched the comb.

    I looked over at D and smiled this great smile of mine. I’ve always had perfect teeth, you know! She grabbed her mom’s arm, and the two of them walked inside the shed as I held up the comb. A gasp was heard from all the kids outside. Mrs. Rollins turned to stare at Robyn who was busy looking at everything but at her and her eyes.

     In the end, I got my reward and months later a very fat and preggers Robyn moved away, and the Miller boy got to join the Army. With my hard-won two dollars Delores and I went down to the local "Five n Dime." We got a couple of push up ice cream sticks, and I bought my first detective comic book. We sat on the curb and looked at the pictures and read about a Sam Spade type PI and I dreamed of the day I might be one.

     From that day on, if you lost anything in the park a dog or a stray cat or even a comb.  I was the "go to gal" to find it for you. To a big degree, I was not too bad at my new vocation. Then school and life and boys all got in the way. A couple of years later we were at a family get-together and I met my famous cousin Nancy. We all called her Aunt Nancy cause she was so old and it seemed to fit her better, it made her special. At first, she wouldn’t talk to me, she’d just watch me and she asked my mom tons of questions. But before the end of the day, she told my mom I was special. I became her favorite at these gatherings, but whenever we talked she and I my mom was always there. They’d ask me questions over and over again. Like  "can you keep a secret?" and "Do I see things in my mind?"

     Then the feud started between the Drews and The Stones, and I’ve not seen or heard from her since. Then she was gone, well kinda. That was many years ago.

     Motivated as I was by my continuing rent problem, I ran (boobs bouncing all the way) down the hill to catch the bus which I missed by seconds. I am sure the bus driver saw me I mean who wouldn’t notice me, with the way I look? I stood there looking and feeling stupid when I glanced up and on the telephone pole there was a poster with a picture of the cutest dog a Chihuahua I’d ever seen. He was lost. P-o-o-r puppy his name was Ronald, and he belonged to a woman who lived on 43rd street, which was not too far from here. The little beast became even cuter if not downright handsome when I spied a $100.00 reward for his return…no questions asked. Boy, a hundred bucks! That would just cover my rent. Then I wouldn’t have to go see my mom and beg for some cash but if I had the reward and got another hundred from my mom, I’d be up on the game. Wow! The possibilities were endless.

     I was standing there mulling this around in my head; imagine all the things an extra hundred bucks or two could straighten out for me. When my ex Robert Lee Byrom pulled up in this hot rod that he thinks is really great. It’s an early nineteen seventies Camaro that he got off his dad before the courts shipped daddy’o off to San Quentin for something or another, probably car theft. Don’t get me wrong; the car is nice if you like grey primer paint; rusty chrome wheels a crappy stereo and the smallest backseat that GM ever installed in a car.

      Lee, we all call him by his middle name, pulled up next to me and leaned across the passenger seat and said in a rather creepy voice "Whoa, Becky baby, whatcha doin?" I almost expected him to wink at me. I’ve known Lee for like all my life it seems. We went to first grade together then his family moved away for a few years. When he returned he had become this juvenile bad ass with rolled up short sleeve T-shirts and he combed his hair all the time. I on the other hand, had sprouted BIG boobs and wanted to show them off to the world or at least to the neighborhood guys, which I did every chance I got. Then for some unexplainable reason, I became hard to get especially for Lee, don’t ask me why. I mean I liked the guy well enough and even had some fantasies about him. Usually, he’d be buck ass naked, and I had a whip in my hand. But that’s another story.

     Lee was always a skinny kid and you know what they say about skinny guys! Well, I found out for myself one day some time ago. I was amazed, horrified and simply blown away at the sight of his outstanding oversized digit. Then I remembered that he was thinking where he was going to put that monster and what he wanted to do with it. All of a sudden I just couldn’t stop laughing. I’d grab ahold of it and laugh; I’d bend over open my mouth to cope a taste and laugh. On another occasion in the late afternoon, he got me so loaded on some Hawaiian weed to the point that I couldn’t stand up. With extreme care he contorted me into position in the back seat of his car, everything was great, it was a go. He expertly got me on my knees and pulled my bright pink thong off my ass; it was my absolute favorite thong. See, I even dressed up for him. I thought ‘Houston we might have lift-off here.’ That’s when I opened my eyes and turned my head to look back at him, you know a sentimental mental image something for my memory before he sent me to the moon. It was the proportions that did it. My lover so skinny and that monster swinging around looking like some sort of lethal weapon. Then I giggled, and that started a laugh. His manhood, his pride, the legend of so many public restroom walls shriveled up from its impossible Saturn 5 rocket status to this mini thing that looked just like a cock only much smaller. Which made me laugh even harder. The man was spent before he even got up to the launch pad. For us, it was just not in the cards for some reason. Oh! Over the years we’ve done a lot of kissy face and foolin around but when it came to slippin it to me well…I don’t know; maybe it was that small back seat. But today just might be Lee’s lucky day. Before he could spoil my mood I tore the poster off the telephone pole opened, the Camero’s door and plopped my butt down with a smile.    

    "Lee, you old horndog…how you been?"

     I spread it on pretty thick for Lee, but I didn’t want him going all Romeo on me. He kissed me on my cheek, and I leaned over so he could get a look at everything. Of course, he’s seen the girls many times, I was just reminding him. Now, for the real hard part, conning him into getting me over to 43rd street unmolested. So I could start the search for Ronald the Chihuahua. And do this all before Lee got any ideas of his own, which always included my lady parts.  

     Now catching up with Lee as a rule didn’t take too long it was. "Hi, how’s your mom?" "What’s up with that girlfriend of yours?" And "Oh I like the way you’ve styled your hair." He just let it grow surfer-style, but it did smell good. I wondered if it was a real expensive shampoo or if he’d been to the beach. Ending with "Got anything to smoke?" And of course the whole point of me getting into this piece-of-shit-car of his. "Can you take me over to 43rd street so’s I can talk to this old lady about something?" Then I’d close the deal by saying something like. "Oh! It’s hot today." Then I’d pull my cut up Led Zep T-shirt out quickly over and over again so he could get a good look at some really great cleavage. With a fantastic smile, I’d lay my head on the headrest of that car of his and flash my wild hazel eyes at him. He was putty in my hands, and he didn’t even know it.

     Off we went down the street, his mighty Camaro leaving a trail of black smoke behind and burning tires us as we chug, chug-chugged on down PCH. He needed to give this beast a tune up; incredibly he didn’t get frisky for at least two blocks. I smiled and talked about the weather and missing the bus and how hot it was. Hot, bad word to use around Lee, being hot that is. Cause Lee’s one track mind was on one thing and it’s being hot would lead to getting naked, and that would lead to his big dick. He asked if I’d be more comfortable maybe naked in the backseat. He even lifted his eyebrows together for emphasis which made me laugh. He grabbed my hand and brought it dangerously close to his crotch which made me laugh even harder. His foreplay had not changed one little bit. I glanced up and could see he was getting mad. I slunk down in the bucket seat. I gotta say the front seats compared to the back seats are quite nice in this year Camaro. Oh! Back to Lee and his dilemma: At this point he reached over with his left hand to grab one of the girls as they swayed back and forth under Robert Plant’s miniature eyes. He was doing not a bad job at steering the car with his knees when we both heard the siren. It almost leaped in through the open windows.

     The car swung over to the right, and we slowed down before he could get the beast stopped at the curb and into park. Quickly I had the door open and jumped out. I waved to the ever so nice officer. He, that’s Officer Cutter (I know him from doing lots of stuff for my PI friend in the past) In fact he called out over the din of traffic, that OB’s one and only PI, that’s the world famous Frank Scotto wanted to talk to me. The blessing or curse of a small town, everyone knows everyone else.

     Which means, I thought that I might just might pick-up some work of one sort or another, way cool! Mostly I do digital photo work for the man, that’s spotting, retouching, resizing prints all the way up to 11X14 for court exhibits. He does a fair amount of adult surveillance, like divorces and getting the dirt on just about anyone in town, most of his clients reside on ‘The Hill’ that’s the rich side of town. No way does he want to take these masterpieces down to Wally’s World. Who knows who is going to be buck naked or who they’re spending time with and all that shit.

     As laid back and get down as O.B. is, by contrast, the rolling hills above the village are filled with expensive homes and trust fund families with seven-figure bank accounts. Even the owner of the trailer park that I live in, he himself resides up on the hill.

     But first things first, I gotta find Ronald. So off I walk to the corner, and much to my delight I am at the intersection of Coast Highway and 43rd Street. I turned to see ‘waz-up’ with Lee, and Officer Cutter (he’s a stud.) These two tom cats are watching me walk away, such focus for these guys. Which is kinda nice, sweet really, I like being noticed even if it’s from jerks like these two.

     The thought occurred to me that there was a phone number on the bottom of the poster. I should call this woman and let her know that I was close by and could drop around for an interview. I reached into my jacket and fished out my phone and. Lucky me. It had a charge on it. I made the call, and my potential client picked up on the second ring. We talked for a bit. She had a lovely cheerful voice and then she asked for references. I told her about my boss at the studio and Officer Cutter and Detective Rensing (I’ll let you in on him later) these two policemen know and like me. And I have been involved in little mysteries with both of them before. So they qualify as references, I guess and because they are cops new customers should be impressed. We disconnected, and I picked up my pace as I started to walk downhill.

     Here by the start of the cliffs, the hill was an easy walk, the sky was blue and the coastline looked like a postcard with its coves, with little beaches and sheer cliffs and those huge white towering bulbous clouds that were leisurely making their way inland. I stopped and could not believe my pure luck that I lived here, even though I called home a double-wide in a grade C and slightly run down trailer park. Yes, I felt even though I was forever late with the rent and the total pain in the ass of not having credit cards and all that other grown-up stuff, I was blessed. Suddenly the ocean breeze lifted the hair on the back of my neck a little. I got goosebumps on my arms as I got closer to Ronald’s home.  

     Amazingly I could hear the ocean breaking on the rocks in the pirate’s cove. That is located below the S curve on Sunset Cliffs Boulevard, which happens to be the oldest street in town and has always been one of the main thoroughfares that runs the length of Ocean Beach. The water sounded so close. It’s as if the surf were running. It made a kind of chattering noise as it covered and uncovered the rocks. It is so constant that it takes you forever to get used to it and torture when it’s taken away from you, it’s almost like a privilege. Adding to the picture a fishing boat running solo was going south to the harbor to tie up. It all seemed like magic, this place, this time.

      I could almost feel the crispness of that wonderful Benjamin in my hot little hand. Benny with his cute John Lennon glasses his long hair and that sweet, let’s-have-a-good-time-smile of his. At that moment, I felt like anything was possible.

     If Benny wanted to cop a feel, that would be way cool too.

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