American Criminal (29 page)

Chapter 39

MacArthur Park

    Burnside activated the cell phone, dialed information, and asked for the Jamesburg Police Department. Information informed him that a police department didn’t exist, but there was a Town Constable’s Office. Ray said that was fine and was connected.

   “Constable’s office,” a young female voice answered.

    “I need to speak to the constable,” Burnside said.

    “About what, sir?” the secretary asked.

    “I have some information for him.”

    “He’s on the road right now, can I take a message?”

    “Okay, listen carefully because this is very important,” Burnside said, taking a deep breath. “A local fisherman has been kidnapped and tied to a tree near some campsites by the river. I’m not sure what the exact location is called, but when you’re heading west over the bridge on East Carmel Valley Road, there’s a trail to the left that leads to the river. Take that trail to the end and you will find the kidnap victim. He’s been there for a while, so if you want to find him alive, you better dispatch the Constable immediately.”

    “What is your name, sir?” the secretary asked.

    Burnside hung up the phone and dropped it. He stepped on it with his heel, crunched it into the pavement, and kicked the pieces under the dumpster.

    He stood for a moment, contemplating his next move. He was wearing an outfit that would allow him to blend in with the locals. He had a Taser, a bottle of pepper spray, and about twenty dollars. Now what was he going to do? Should he go to Hollywood? Blend in with the freaks and punks? They wouldn’t give a muscular guy in a blue t-shirt and sunglasses a second look.

    Burnside left the alley and returned to the sidewalk. He hung his sunglasses on his shirt collar and walked confidently as if he had nothing to hide. It was a gorgeous, balmy night and the lighted buildings on the horizon made the perfect backdrop to the palm tree-lined road. The road was four lanes wide and surprisingly busy with traffic for this time at night. Ray walked by other pedestrians, but they didn’t pay attention to him. He was blending in just fine.

    Ray saw more traffic lights, crosswalks, and pedestrians as he progressed. He passed by several convenience stores, offices, cell phone outlets, and fast food restaurants. Cars stopped in the road as pedestrians used the crosswalks. Ray walked by a makeshift shoeshine station and saw a Latino entrepreneur shining another Latino man’ shoes. He passed a bus stop with a group of young Latinos waiting for a ride. Burnside noticed two of them smoking and suddenly craved a cigarette.

  
I’ll have time for that later. I have to keep going.

    Groups of young Latinos and whites hung out in front of storefronts and walked the sidewalks. Numerous overlapping conversations and cigarette smoke permeated the air. Occasionally, a car horn would beep as pedestrians jaywalked in front of it.

   
It’s almost ten o’clock at night and this city looks like its just getting started.

  
Burnside saw a huge antique neon sign reading
Westlake Theatre
jutting above a large Swap Meet store. The bright sign towered above him as he passed a Dollar Store and crossed a side street. Walking by the Swap Meet, Ray realized the building used to be an antique theatre from the 20’s - built in a Spanish style with baroque ornamentation.   
 

   
Ray remembered it was Friday night, which must have contributed to all the pedestrian traffic. Not having to wake up early for work the next day was a great incentive to stay out later. He took in the ordinary sights like an addict getting a fix after months of craving it. The sheer variety of people walking the streets kept him from getting bored.

    Burnside spotted a thick cluster of palm trees ahead and realized he was approaching a park. As he neared the park, he saw that it occupied both sides of the street. It was bordered by a low Spanish-style wall, cracked and broken in places. A sign written on a plain concrete monument read, “WELCOME TO MACARTHUR PARK.” Palm trees and tropical foliage separated wide grassy areas containing benches and picnic tables. He saw a soccer field set in a large clearing surrounded by trees. A large outdoor band-shell towered above the trees beyond the field. Many people were walking through the park on pedestrian paths.

    Burnside looked across the street and saw a glittering lake beyond clusters of palm trees and tropical foliage. He waited for traffic, crossed over to the other side, and stepped onto a concrete walkway that led through the trees and grass. People sat on benches and picnic tables in grassy clearings. As he walked, he caught glimpses of sparkling water through the trees. A large fountain in the center of the lake shot up water like a geyser.         

     The park appeared to be an oasis in the heart of the city if you didn’t examine it too closely. Litter was scattered in the grass and many homeless people were lying or sitting on blankets. Compared to Skid Row, the amount of trash and homeless people was negligible, but it was still noticeable. Ray saw an occasional desperate street vendor still hawking his/her wares despite the time of night. He stopped at one of them and bought a sausage with peppers and onions on a hot dog roll. It was delicious and blew away any of the food he had in prison.

    Burnside ignored the entreaties of a group of scantily-clad women hanging out by a park bench and continued on his way. Looking around, he saw many shady individuals sitting at benches and picnic tables who appeared to have their own flow of customers. Furtive exchanges took place and Ray had no doubt about the nature of the product being bought and sold. Watching the drug deals gave him an idea.

    Ray continued toward the lake, keeping an eye out. He veered off the walkway and cut across the grass toward a cluster of thick palm trees and vegetation on the far side of a clearing. Circling around the trees, he saw two Latino men seated at a picnic table. Unlike many of their brazen counterparts, they were shielded from most passersby by trees and foliage. They were making an exchange with an individual. Ray saw the customer snatch a small package from the dealer’s hand like a rat snatching cheese from a trap. The customer walked away and left the men alone. Burnside quickly formulated a plan.

    He took out the remaining eighteen dollars from his wallet, rolled a ten around a five and three ones, and held the wad conspicuously in his left hand. Reaching around his back, he checked the Taser gun secured in the back of his shorts. He also checked the bottle of pepper spray in his left pocket. He turned the bottle upside-down and faced the sprayer toward him, so all he had to do was reach down, grab it, and pull it out. Taking a deep breath, he walked toward the picnic table.

    As Burnside approached, one of the Latino men stood while the other remained seated. The one who stood was tall and muscular. He was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, and white sneakers. The smaller one at the picnic table was wearing black dress pants, a white dress shirt, and polished black dress shoes. 

   
The big one must be the bodyguard and the little one the dealer.

    “Hold it right there,” the tall man said, holding up his left hand in a “stop” gesture as his right went behind his back.

   
The big one is armed.

    Burnside stopped about twenty feet in front of the men and held up the money.

    “I heard you guys are the ones to see if I want to buy some ye-yo,” Ray said.

    “How much are you looking for?” the well-dressed dealer asked.

    “Just an ounce. Enough to get me through the night.”

    “A hundred bucks,” the dealer said.

    “Got it right here,” Burnside said, waving the bills in his hand.

    “Come here,” the dealer said.

    As Burnside approached, the bodyguard crossed his arms in front of his chest while the dealer continued sitting in a relaxed pose.

   
No time to go for the Taser. Have to play this old-school.

   
When he reached them, Burnside smiled and held out the money. He subtly drew back his right arm and shoulder as he handed the wad of bills to the dealer. The dealer frowned as he unwrapped the bills, but it was too late. As the bills left his hand, Ray wound up with his right arm and pummeled the bodyguard in the jaw. He followed up with a hard left to make sure he went down. The dealer reached behind his back for what Burnside assumed to be a gun, so Ray grabbed him by the collar, pulled him off the table, and tossed him on top of the bodyguard like a ragdoll. A 9MM Beretta slipped out of the dealer’s hand and slid across the grass.

   From there, Burnside went on instinct. He pulled the Taser out from behind his back and smashed the dealer in the side of the head with it. The dealer’s body went slack and he collapsed on top of the bodyguard. As the bodyguard sought to free himself from the weight of the dealer’s body, Burnside struck him in the head with the Taser and he went limp.

    Ray wasn’t taking any chances with these two. He pulled the limp body of the dealer off the bodyguard and hit him again in the head with the Taser. As the bodyguard began to stir, Ray struck him in the forehead, rolled him over, and grabbed the 9MM from the waistband of the bodyguard’s jeans. He shoved the 9MM in his own waistband and reached down to pick up the other one in the grass. Ray picked up the gun, dropped out the clip, and tossed the empty weapon into the bushes. He pocketed the extra clip and kicked the bodyguard in the head as he tried to rise. Burnside proceeded to give the guard a beating with the Taser that would keep him down for a while. The dealer started groaning and Ray went to work on him until he shut up.

    Ray searched the dealer’s pockets and found a thick wad of bills. He transferred the wad into his own pocket and then searched the bodyguard. The bodyguard had a wallet, but nothing else. Ray rifled through the wallet and found three hundred dollar bills, two twenties and six ones. They went into his back pocket. There wasn’t enough room in the back of his waistband for the Taser, so he drew his arm back like a baseball player and threw it over the bushes toward the lake. He heard a splash and knew he hit his target.

   
Can’t stick around here long.  

    The men were out for the count, so Ray jogged away from the scene. This time he went north. He slowed to a brisk walk as he approached pedestrians on the walkway. He tried to remain calm as he circled around the lake and stepped onto West Sixth Street. Taking a left, he walked northwest. He reached another park on his left called Lafayette Park, but he didn’t have time for sightseeing so he kept going.

    West Sixth wasn’t as busy as Wilshire Boulevard, but it still had some traffic. Instead of four lanes, it was only two and there were fewer pedestrians on the sidewalk. The sidewalks were ideal for Burnside’s brisk power walk. He was making good time, but it was difficult not to break into a run. He needed to get as far away from MacArthur Park as possible before the drug dealers recovered and went looking for him. For all he knew, they could be part of a larger organization and go on a city-wide man-hunt for him.

    Burnside power-walked past the Shriners Hospital for Children and took a right onto North Vermont Avenue. He was curious about how much money he stole from the dealers, but he didn’t have time to stop and count it. He thought it would look suspicious if he stopped on the sidewalk, took a large wad of money from his pocket, and began pulling it apart. It would have to wait. At least he knew how much money was in his back pocket; three hundred forty-six dollars. He checked to make sure it was still there. It was more than enough to get him a hotel where he could lay low for the night.

Chapter 40

Sunset Boulevard

   
Burnside continued for a while on North Vermont Avenue and took a left onto Beverly Boulevard. His legs were starting to ache and he thought he might need to rest soon. He couldn’t keep up the pace forever, but he wanted to put as much distance between himself and MacArthur Park as possible. The last thing he needed was to be gunned down on the sidewalk by vengeful drug dealers.  

    Burnside passed some impressive buildings housing the California National Bank and Southern California Savings and Loan on his left. Farther down the road, he began to salivate as he caught the smell of spicy grilled pork in the air. He walked by a Korean restaurant called “Pork B.B.Q. House” where the delicious smell of grilled pork was almost intoxicating. He could smell a variety of spicy dishes coming from the outdoor patio. He had to fight the urge to veer off the sidewalk and go inside. Now that he had some money, it was tempting to sample everything in the city, but the drug dealers could be launching a city-wide manhunt.