Gecko (8 page)

“
Tampico, here we come,” Jim said as Roma got in the back.

Ten minutes later they were on the freeway. An hour later they were leaving the Grapevine and moving onto the long straight road that is Highway 5. After another hour both Roma and Edna were lulled to sleep by the rolling wheels and the warm sun and Jim was fighting to stay awake.

“
I can appreciate that you’ve got heaps of problems, but can we take a bit of time to worry about mine now?” Donna interrupted his thoughts.

“
I forgot about you.”

“
It doesn't look like I’m going anywhere.”

“
No, I guess it doesn’t.”

“
I’m somebody too, at least I was until this started. The last thing I remember is driving up from Auckland with my parents for my brother’s wedding. We checked into a motel, because it was late and they wanted to surprise him in the morning. I went to sleep. Then I woke up in your head. I hear what you hear, see what you see, feel what you feel.”

“
Pain or emotions?” Jim asked.

“
Both and it’s creepy. It’s like I’m involved in some kind of super movie, but it’s not a movie. It’s your life and I’m just along for the ride. But it’s better than I thought it would be.”

“
What?”

“
At least there’s something, it’s not just all over. The essence of me, my mind, is still intact. I have my memories. It could be a lot worse.”

“
What are you talking about?”

“
Don’t you know?”

“
No.”

“
Death. I’m dead. That’s the only answer. I died and somehow my soul got trapped in you.”

“
Give me a break.”

“
Do you have another answer?”

“
Yeah, a real simple one.”

“
What?”

“
I’m going crazy, Looney Toons, I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“
You don’t have to swear.”

“
Now I know I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“
Really, if I have to be here, can we watch the language? I can take a lot if I have to, but I draw the line at swearing.”

“
Okay,” Jim smiled, “but if you’re right and you are dead, then you don’t have a problem.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
All your problems are solved. You’re dead. It’s all over.”

“
But I’m here?”

“
That’s right, you’re here and we’re just going to have to accept it for now. You’re here, trapped in my life. Mine, not yours. So if we accept your thesis, then my problems, at least for now, are the only ones that count.”

“
That’s cruel.”

“
Look Donna, you may be dead, but I’m not. I’m alive and right now I’m trying to stay that way. I’m fifty-five years old. I’m out of shape. I’m scared. The police are after me. People keep trying to kill me. I miss my wife. I miss my life. I miss David. I really miss David.”

“
Okay, you’re right. I’ll put my problems away and we’ll find out who’s trying to kill you and stop them.”

“
I don’t need your help.”

“
Two heads are better than one.”

“
I make the decisions.”

“
Of course, it’s your body.”

“
You won’t keep interrupting me?”

“
Only if it’s important.”

“
Fair enough.”

“
Jim,” Roma said, yawning herself awake, “how are you doing?”

“
It’s a little before 3:00 and we’re about twenty miles from the Collinga off ramp. We can stay at the Inn at Harris Ranch. We’ll get some rest, have dinner, spend the night in comfortable beds and get an early start tomorrow.”

They drove on in silence and Roma fell back asleep, leaving Jim to concentrate on the never ending white line and the painting of the pretty girl on the rear of the tanker truck ten car lengths ahead. She was holding a glass of fresh white milk, sitting atop the words, Milk drinkers make better lovers.

The women woke when Jim took the off ramp.

“
Where are we?” Edna asked.

“
Halfway to San Francisco,” Jim answered as he backed into a parking space. They checked into the hotel, using Edna’s credit card, taking two rooms, one for the women, one for him.

“
We’re going to need some things,” Edna said after they got their keys. “You know, a change of clothes, toothbrushes, toothpaste, Jim needs a razor and I need solution for my contact lenses. And since I’m not the least bit tired, I’ll go and get them while you two rest.”

“
I’m going to get a wake up call for six, for dinner, any takers?” Jim asked. Both women nodded their assent. “Fine, I’ll see you then. Right now I have to get these shoes off, my feet are killing me, and I need to get some sleep.”

Jim and Roma each went to adjoining rooms, while Edna took the car into town.

Chapter Five

The clock radio woke him at 6:00, halfway through Bob Dylan’s Like a Rolling Stone. Washington shut it off, stripped, shaved, showered, put on clean clothes and gave himself a final once over in front of the bathroom mirror. Satisfied and awake, he went to the kitchen and, while waiting for the coffeemaker to work its magic, he called Walker.

“
Walker here,” came his partner’s early morning rasp.

“
You don’t have to go today. I can handle it,” Washington said.

“
I said I was with you and I meant it. I’m in it all the way. I’ve already called in.”

“
Okay, see you at 8:00.”

Walker rang the bell an hour and ten minutes later. He was five minutes early. Walker was never late.

“
We’re going out Pacific Coast Highway to Huntington Beach. Monday has a place at Beach Side Condos, you know, those places by the pier.”

Walker backed out of the apartment complex, pointed the car out of Belmont Heights, a section of Long Beach just north of the Shore, and toward the Pacific Coast Highway. Fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of the security gate to the condos. Walker parked in the red.

“
Can’t park here.” The security guard scowled. He was a young man with a military bearing and pasty white skin, despite the fact that he worked at the beach. He was wearing a starched white guard uniform with a forty-five automatic on his belt, along with a pair of handcuffs and a night stick. His shoes and leathers were spit shined to a high gloss and Washington quickly identified him as a cop wanna be.

“
Police.” Washington flashed his badge and the scowl of contempt turned into a smile of respect. Washington knew how to handle men like this. “We need your help.” That got them every time.

“
Sure, anything.” The guard beamed.

“
You got an occupant here, a Jim Monday. You noticed anything unusual about him?”

“
One thirteen? Nice guy, not much trouble, but like all the rest, he thinks I work for him. Wants me to keep an eye out for his place because he’s gone a lot.”

“
Why do you think that is?” Washington knew that it was because he lived somewhere else. Monday only used the condo when he felt like spending a few days at the beach.

“
Gee, I dunno.”

“
Think he might be using it as a hidy hole? In case we get too close, or in case one of his drug deals goes bad?”

“
I knew there was something funny about him,” the guard said.

“
You know, Bill, can I call you Bill?” Washington read the name tag over the guard’s breast pocket.

“
Sure.”

“
The problem with people like him is the American Civil Liberties Union.”

“
I hate them,” the guard said.

“
They want to undo every bust we make.”

“
They’re all commies,” the guard said.

“
Ain’t it the truth. They cause us nothing but problems. No matter how dirty someone is, we can never get a warrant.”

“
I couldn’t let you in even if I wanted. I don’t have the keys.”

“
I have a key. All I have to do now is get past you,” Washington smiled.

“
What are we waiting for?” the guard said. “This way.” The two policemen followed him around a walkway that led down to the beach and around to the ocean-front side of the condos. “There it is. Next to the pool,” the guard shouted back over his shoulder. In his enthusiasm he was almost running.

“
What a deal,” Washington said. “The ocean in front and the pool on the side. I can’t believe it.”

“
That I can believe,” Walker said in a hushed tone, so the guard couldn’t hear, “but what I can’t believe is how eager that dummy is to be part of a real cop operation. I bet he asks for our autographs on the way out.”

“
How do you want to do this?” the guard asked when the policemen caught up to him at Monday’s condo. He was panting like a faithful lapdog.

“
How about you unlock the door and we go in?” Washington tossed him the keys.

“
I can go in, too?”

“
I don’t see why not,” Washington said. “We have to stick together. That’s the way I see it.”

“
Yeah, me too.” The guard’s hands shook with anticipation as he opened the door. It was the last thing he ever did.

A 767 roared overhead, taking off from John Wayne Airport, but even the noise from its powerful jet engines couldn’t drown out the gunshots that exploded from the center of Jim Monday’s condo. The first shot took the security guard’s face apart as it lifted him up and threw him out of the doorway.

A wave crashed and the second shot smashed into Walker’s elbow, spinning him around like a ballerina, throwing him into the brick wall that was Hugh Washington. Their heads collided, skin and skulls smashing together in a dancing concert of frenzy and fear, sending the two men crashing to the ground in a silent fall, their struggles drowned out by the jet and the sea.

Hugh Washington was conscious of Walker’s heavy body on top of him. He had a pain in his ribs, where his partner’s holstered pistol dug into his side. He had a pain in his shoulder, where his left arm was wrenched behind his back. He had a pain in the right side of his face, where the back of Walker’s head had smashed into him. And he had a pain in his heart, because he hadn’t been ready for this. He had been so stupid, so careless.

He used his free right arm to roll out from under Walker’s bleeding body. He groaned as the pressure on his left arm was released and muscle and bone screamed relief as he grabbed for his weapon.

He wrapped scraped and bleeding fingers around the butt of the pistol, had it half way out of the holster, when out of the corner of his eyes he saw the blue barrel of a forty-five automatic come slicing through the bright sky and then everything went dark.

“
I know you can hear me, Washington, so stop playing like you’re asleep. I’m not going anywhere. I have as long as it takes.”

“
Head hurts.” Washington forced his eyes open, only to squint against the light. He raised a bandaged right hand to a bandaged forehead.

“
Nasty gash where you were clobbered, the hand’s only skinned.”

“
Where am I?” he whispered through a sore throat.

“
Hope Hospital, Costa Mesa, and lucky to be alive.”

“
Need water,” he rasped.

“
Are you okay?”

“
Need water.”

“
Can you talk?”

“
Not without water.”

“
What did you think you were doing?”

“
Come on Captain,” Washington said, “no water, no talk.”

“
Sometimes I wish you still worked for me and sometimes I’m glad you don’t.” Captain John Hart picked up a plastic glass, filled it from a plastic pitcher. “Now is one of the times that I’m glad you don’t.” He reached behind Washington’s head with his left hand, helped him up, offering him the water with his right.

Washington drank greedily.

“
Take it easy.”

“
Why?”

“
I don’t know, it’s what they say in the movies.”

He finished the water and Hart eased him back onto the pillow.

“
You know, Hugh, when I assigned you to a case, I always forgot about it.” John Hart brushed baby-fine hair out of his eyes. “You’re like a bulldog, once you get your teeth into something, you worry it until it gives up what you want.”

Washington grunted and stared into the man’s cool blue eyes. John Hart had always been an enigma to Washington. With his long hair, blue eyes and baby face, he looked more like a twenty-five year old college student than the forty-five year old captain of detectives that he was. He jogged five miles daily, but he smoked. He scorned religion, but believed in God. He loathed politicians, but loved politics. He wore his views, about everything from government to sport, on his sleeve, but nobody could get into his head.

“
Sometimes I like you, John and sometimes I don’t,” Washington said, mimicking his former boss. “I think this is going to be one of the times I don’t. Why don’t you just get it over with?”

“
I should lay into you, scream my head off. I should sink you so deep in jail that you’d never get out. Hell, I should shoot you myself. But I’m too sophisticated to scream. You haven’t broken any laws. And I got too much respect for what you once were to shoot you.”