Gone at Zero Hundred 00:00 (10 page)

The cop from the police car was
Asian, with an anchor tattooed on his upper-left arm - former Navy maybe. I got
a tiny glimpse of it under the short sleeve uniformed shirt. I would call him
‘Anchor’.

They had a lengthy conversation. I
could tell from their body language that the subject was private. When they
were finished they bumped fists, like me and Cody do, then Skater walked into
the back door of the club and Anchor jumped back into his car. And that was
when I got a good look at his face. I don’t know why, but his cold-dark eyes
sent a shiver up my spine. Could have been my imagination running away with me.
What were they doing at the club? I added the plate number of the Camaro to my
list. Maybe I could at least find out which department Skater belonged to.

Okay, so I was sitting in the truck,
watching the comings and goings of The Devil’s Door - hey, I warned you
surveillance could take hours. But, what I really wanted to do was take a peek
inside. The place sure attracted some interesting characters. I had been
sitting there for a while, so I knew the receptionist and bouncers weren’t
situated at the door, just yet. Could I slip inside? I looked around at all the
paparazzi, and came up with an idea.

When there wasn’t anyone around, I
stepped out of the pickup and opened the retractable cover on the truck bed. My
mom’s backpack was stuffed into the shelf, I snagged it; then returned to my
seat behind the wheel. I unlatched the front flap, and pulled out some
supplies. I retrieved my mom’s Nikon digital camera and hung the strap around
my neck. Then, I piled my hair on top of my head and stuck a pencil through the
bun to hold it in place. I donned a pair of Harry Potter glasses, and clipped a
fake press-pass on the front pocket of my shirt.

I blended in with the crew of
paparazzi who were hiding behind bushes and palm trees near The Toscana. When I
noticed another round of sports cars pull up and head into The Devil’s Door; I
hurried over and slipped in behind them. All I needed was a minute to look
around. But, as luck would have it, the receptionist still wasn’t at her post,
so I had some time.

I was immediately surprised when I
walked through the door. They took the lobby of the old movie theatre, and
turned it into a hip lounge area. A retro desk sat in the corner, just inside,
but the rest was an area for couples. It was decorated in all black leather,
except for a large vase of fresh flowers that sat on a round-glass table in the
center of a sectional sofa.

There were several couples lounging
on the sofas, and hanging out in the halls, but they were enamored with each
other, and not the least bit interested in me. That, by itself, was odd.

I strolled passed the kissing couples
acting as if I was looking for the bathroom. If anyone stopped me, I was just
planning on telling them I was a freelance tabloid photographer. I passed a
couple doors that were locked; then I came to one where I could hear a mixture
of noises from inside. I turned the knob, and opened it a few inches. A huge
bodyguard had his back to the door, but it looked like he was blocking people
from leaving, not getting in. I took a moment to peek around.

It looked like they crammed a Vegas
Casino and ski-resort into one room. There was a bar on one wall, and that’s
where I saw David Klein. He was bartending and drinking a few shots of his own.
A fire pit was built in the center of the room, with leather chairs circled
around it. Big-money poker games, crap tables and roulette wheels were situated
around the room, and filled to capacity. A guy in a monkey suit walked the
room, collecting bets for the ESPN sporting events and horse races, that played
on the flat screen TV’s.

In another section, a DJ belted out
tunes, while young women and men, who were probably my age, danced in cages.
The place looked like one of those underground clubs, but a huge money maker and
all illegal. The guests reminded me of spoiled, rich kids who were looking for
some action. The guys dropped wads of cash down on the tables like it was
nothing, and the girls sat around looking like eye candy, encouraging them to
spend more.

The guys from the Hummer, and the cop
from the Camaro were nowhere in the room, so I quietly shut the door. Okay, so
where were they? Then, I heard voices coming from the back of the club. I
walked in that direction and wound up in a kitchen. I also noticed the back
door exit to the alley.

Odd, there was no one around, but I
could still hear the voices. There had to be a basement. But, where was the
door? A floor to ceiling wine cooler was built into a wall with a door just to
its right. I opened it. Inside, there was a large pantry, fully stocked with
food. With the pantry door open, the voices were stronger, but I still couldn’t
find a basement entrance. I crouched down low, and put my ear to the ground.
Yep, there were definitely voices down below.

I stood up, and started to search.
That’s when I noticed a panel built into the wall behind the shelves of food.
There was a button for a basement door. I was just about to walk toward it.

“Excuse me,” a female voice said.
“What are you doing?”

I spun around, making sure the fake
press pass was showing. An attractive dark-haired girl, who I assumed was
Tracy, stood with her hands on her hips and glared at me.

“Sorry luv,” I said, attempting to
speak in a British accent, because that’s what it said on the press pass. “I was
searching for the loo.”

Tracy gave me a skeptical look, and
attempted to flag down somebody to assist her. “You can’t be here. This is a
private party.”

I squirmed. “I understand. It’s just
that dogging those celebrities at The Toscana, and drinking water non-stop, I
just had to go…” I attempted to backtrack toward the door.

“We don’t allow paparazzi to
photograph our guests,” she said.

Apparently, I wasn’t moving fast
enough. A big, burly guy showed up, and ushered me toward the back door. “You
heard the lady,” he announced in a thick accent. “No paparazzi.” He shoved me
outside; then slammed the door behind me. I ran down the alley toward the
paparazzi just in case they were watching. When I knew the coast was clear, I
cut back toward my truck. Once I was inside, I breathed a sigh of relief and
removed the disguise; then I cranked the engine and headed over to see Cody.

JADEN WHITE lived with his mom in a three-bedroom Spanish
Tudor just north of the Harbor. Cody rented out their basement. It wasn’t like
he didn’t get along with his parents. He did, as long as he didn’t mention his
desire to be a filmmaker, or the fact that he dabbled as a sleuth. His father
believed those were careers reserved for people who couldn’t get a decent job. In
other words, I wasn’t good enough for his son.

As a graduate of Yale and the CEO of a major financial firm,
he expected Cody to follow in his footsteps. When junior year rolled around and
Cody tossed the college applications in the trash, his father gave him an
ultimatum. His mom, who spent most of her time at the country club, refused to
speak against her husband. So, Cody packed his things, hopped on his Honda
motorcycle and sped off down the road. It was Jaden who said: no problem dude,
you’ll stay with me. He has been there ever since.

When I pulled up out front, Jaden was in the driveway,
working on some of his hockey moves. He had a makeshift net attached between
two trees. A dozen rubber pucks were lined up across from the net; and he was
practicing his slap-shot technique with his stick. Like a pro, he slapped at
the ground and connected with a puck, it went flying into the net at a
high-rate of speed.

“Whoa, that’s awesome!” I said stunned by how fast the puck
flew into the net. “Have you ever clocked the speed?”

He shook his head. “No. Some of the pros clock speeds from
ninety to a hundred miles per hour, but I’m not anywhere near that.”

I grimaced. “Thank God for helmets. That could do some
serious damage.”

“It has. How are you, Syd?”

“I’m okay. How about you? Still have scouts observing your
every move?” I grabbed his stand-by hockey stick and joined in. I slapped at a
puck. The shot went wide. It banked off the tree and hit the side of my pickup.
When Jaden laughed, I put the stick back where it was.

“Pretty much.”

“Does that mean you’re still training heavy?” When he led the
hockey team to two championships and went All-State, he was a target of agents
and scouts for NHL teams for the future. Now he played AA hockey and practiced
non-stop to make it a reality. Some said he looked like a young Bobby Orr. He
could play defenseman and skate into an offensive position with ease.

He nodded. “It’s expensive though. I had to cough up dough
for all the gear, then pay for the rink time. Skates alone cost me six-hundred
bucks.”

“Six-hundred-dollars?” I said, surprised. “Wow, doesn’t help
that you wear a size twelve, I bet. Not like you could wear anybody’s
hand-me-downs.”

“Yeah. I had to be good in the most expensive sport, didn’t
I? There’s the helmet
, pads, mouth
guard, gloves, a jock protector. The list goes on and on. And now that dad is
out of the picture, mom needs help with the finances. I have to get a part-time
job.”

“But, you won’t give up hockey, your dream?”

“No way I’m giving up hockey,” he said. “I’ll just have to
find something that won’t interfere with my time on the ice.”

“Maybe the NHL will scoop you up, and you won’t have to worry
about it.”

He laughed. “That won’t happen right away. They already told
me I need to work a little more on my developmental skills. I put the word out
at the fitness club for a job. Something will turn up.”

“Cody told me about your parent’s divorce. I’m sorry I wasn’t
there for you.”

“C’mon Syd, you had your own stuff to deal with. Even now,
you’re still dealing with it.”

“That’s not an excuse.” Jaden and Cody were both there for me
when my mother was killed. I should have returned the favor and been there for
Jaden. Divorce may not be as severe as death, but it could be just as
traumatizing.

I helped him retrieve all of the rubber pucks, and he lined
them up across from the net, again. Then, he practiced shot after shot.

Snap shot. Wrist Shot.

Snap Shot. Wrist shot.

“THAT IS friggin’ amazing, bro!” Cody said. He walked outside
and was filming the moves with his camera. “What up, Syd?”

I stepped out of the view of the camera. “Cody, how about I
buy you one of your favorite iced coffees?”

He laughed. “You must need something.”

“Why do I have to need something?”

Cody stopped filming and walked up next to me. His
shit-eating grin was plastered on his face. “Are you saying you don’t?”

We bumped fists; then I handed him the list of plate numbers
I collected at The Devil’s Door. “Fine, you got me.”

He smirked. “I suppose you want me to run these through my
connection at the DMV?”

“She succumbs to your flirting, not mine.”

“Touche. This’ll cost you more than an iced coffee.”

“I can spring for some whip cream.”

He laughed. “What is this anyway?  Somebody ding your
precious pickup and you’re trying to narrow down the suspects?”

“Nah. Just some cute guys,” I joked. “I thought I’d look them
up. You know maybe drop in and introduce myself. Not up for that whole Hookup.com
scene.”

At first he frowned, and I thought I detected a tinge of
jealousy; then he shook his head when he realized I was joking. “Aren’t you
glad I have a sense of humor?”

“Dude…” Jaden said while he gathered up his pucks, again.
“It’s those of us who are friends with you that need the sense of humor. You’re
the king of all things pranks.”

Cody said, “Muah. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” I said, and I playfully smacked him on the
arm. “I can recall a few that landed all three of us in hot water just because
we were friends with you.”

Jaden turned to me. “Remember the time he lined the driveway
in front of the firehouse with bubble-wrap.”

Cody chuckled. “Oh yeah, that was one for the books.”

“When your mom pulled the SUV out of the garage… POP – POP –
POP – POP. She thought every one of her tires burst.”

I was somber for a minute - the sound effects taking me back
to the day my mom was killed. But when I saw Jaden and Cody busting up and
laughing, I joined in. It was probably good to remember little things like
that, things that could keep memories of her at the forefront.

“Gotta admit, Syd, your mom was pretty cool. Any other parent
would have pounced on me, for sure, like my own parents who barred me from the
country club.”

I nodded. “Who else would have put up with all of my antics?”
She did the best she could, working non-stop to keep food on the table and make
sure I had a good life. I just never got a chance to tell her how much I
appreciated it.