Lemons 02 A Touch of Danger (4 page)

The man in the suit came jogging up behind the woman, trying to catch up with her. It looked like he was holding something but I couldn’t tell what it was. The man raised his arm and it kinda looks like he is holding a big…Holy shit! The woman turns around just in time to see the man swing a rock right at her forehead. The woman dropped like weight off Christian Bale in an indie flick.

I quickly looked around to see if there was anyone out for an early morning walk. No luck. I was alone.

I returned to the telescope to see the man on his knees, leaning over the woman. He continued to beat in her skull with the rock.

There was nothing I could do and no one to save me. I was completely helpless…and rather selfish it would seem. Oh well.

The man stood up, I guess when he was satisfied the woman was dead, and looked around for any witnesses. I wanted to run away so he wouldn’t spot me but my legs would not move. I just stayed there, all Christopher Reevesy, with a dumb-ass look of shock on my face.

He obviously didn’t spot me so high up because he grabbed the woman by the arms and began dragging her. He reached the ocean but still kept walking backwards, right into it, suit and all. I stood there and watched as he walked her out in to the water, let her go, and watched the tide carry her away like a fading dream.

I guess he decided to take one more look around, just to make sure. That is when he saw me.

7.

So, once again, I am not going to lie to you here. When my legs finally decided to work, I backed the fuck up, rubbed my eyes to make sure this was real life, and then took the fuck off. No time for love, Dr. Jones! I ran back up the hill towards the house and only made it a pathetic one-quarter of the way before I had to stop and take a breather. I made myself feel better by saying that I was quite out of harm’s way, seeing as there was no way that guy could have gotten up to street level and found me, let alone even recognize me. So yeah, I stood in the middle of the street keeled over with my hands on my knees doing my best not to die as an image flashed through my stupid mind of Steven Seagal running in every movie he ever made that actually played in theaters, and I started to chuckle to myself. Why did he run with his palms open? Hey look, it’s Gino! Why is he running like a woman?!

Seriously, I am keeled over in the street after just witnessing a murder and I’m giggling about the way my beloved action hero runs. I have some serious problems.

I decide to walk the rest of the way back up the hill. I’m pretty sure I am in no danger. When I reach the motel, I decide to not bang on Elise’s door just yet. Why? I have no idea. But, my mind has focused on a delicious Rockstar now and before I sit and tell this story to Elise and then to the cops, I’m going to need to be on the top of my game, so I decide to take a little walk to the Shell Beach Grocery and pick myself up an icy, over-priced, highly caffeinated beverage. As I am leaving, I notice a little plaque on the side of the building informing me that the former manager of the store and her entire immediate family were killed by a drunken hit-and-run driver. To myself I say, “I know how that feels,” then I am immediately flushed with sadness, not only with the thought of my mother who was killed by a drunk, or my wife, but for this family I never knew. People make me so angry. I have never felt bad or like I was missing out by never really fitting in with them. I think it is for the better, the way I am.

I continue my walk back to Elise’s room and give it a little knock. Elise opens the door and gives her eyes a rub.

“Archie? You’re up and ready before me?”

“Yeah, shocking huh?”

“Yes, very,” she says.

“I thought you were always up and ready by 5am?”

“I’m on vacation, Archie. And it’s barely six, anyway. What’s up?”

“Actually,” I tell her, “I need to talk to you outside.”

“Um, okay,” she says as she steps outside. “Mommy will just be outside for minute, guys.”

“Okay, so um, I decided to go for a little walk down to the cliff this morning.”

“Okay? Is that why you’re sweating like that Rabbi when Chris Hansen walked out and told him to take a seat?”

Heh. I was sweating rather badly. Pathetic. I decided to ignore the comment and press on. “So, I’m standing there looking through the telescope, at nothing in particular, and I see this man and woman on the beach, way down by those three big houses.”

“Okay. What’s your point?”

“I’m getting to it. God, who are you, me? Patience, Daniel-son…So I’m standing there and just watching this couple on the beach and then it looks like they start to argue. The woman gets pissed I guess and starts to walk away from the man…who was wearing a suit! On the beach! Like, what the fuck, right? Anyway, the girl starts walking away and the dude picks up a rock or something and bashes her in the back of the head with it.”

The gasp from Elise actually startled me a bit. She was quite taken aback by the shocking twist my seemingly innocent and pointless story had taken.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m quite serious.”

“What the hell did you do?”

“I stood there and watched! The guy bent down and kept hitting her until I guess she was dead. Then he picked her up and walked her out into the ocean!”

“Shut your mouth!”

“I’m serious.”

“Archie Lemons, if you are lying to me, I swear to God I am going to hit YOU with a rock!”

Three fingers shot up in the air as I said “Scout’s honor.”

“That’s the Girl Scout’s salute, Nancy.”

“Oh,” I said as I lowered one finger. “Whatevs.” (Then, I lowered one more finger, if ya catch my drift.)

“Archie, have you slept? Your eyes are really bloodshot.”

“Me sleeping is irrelevant to the story.”

“Archie…”

“Okay, I haven’t slept because of that goddamn RTV and their amazing line-up, but I sure as shit know what I saw.”

“Wow. Okay. So. Did you call the cops?”

“No, my fat ass couldn’t even run up the hill all the way. Then I got sidetracked and went to the store.”

“You stopped off for a drink after witnessing a murder?!”

“Yeah. Let’s leave the part out of the story when we call the cops.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Yeah, so…You want to call or what?”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” I tell her, “nobody gives a shit about what some dude has to say. People believe girls. Especially good lookin’ ones.”

“Archie! You are reporting a murder. I really don’t think the cops are going to care who calls.”

“Even so. Come on…”

“God, fine, give me your phone, punk.”

I reach into my pocket and grab my phone. I check for any new texts messages, to which there are none, probably because I have no friends, and then I click on my Facebook app to see if I have missed anything exciting back home. Apparently, this was annoying to Elise because she socked me in the arm and ripped the phone from my hand.

“Don’t read my messages!”

“Jesus Christ, Archie.”

She opened the phone app and dials 911. Before she can hit call, I stop her. “Wait, 911 is for emergencies. I’m pretty sure that poor ol’ lady in the ocean is pretty far past the emergency stage. She’s so dead she’s probably at like the Casual Call to the Police stage.”

“God, shut up and let me make the call.”

“Man, you are grumpy in the morning.”

I took her advice and shut up and she shot me the dirtiest goddamn look I had ever seen. I slowly backed away from her and let her make the call.

When she hung up, she told me the cops would be arriving here in a minute to take our statement and they will go from there. I wasn’t too keen on having the cops cruise up right to where we were staying, just in case Suit Man went for a little drive. Leading him directly to my room didn’t seem like the best idea, but I guess I didn’t have a choice. It’s not as if we could pack up the kids and take them to the police station.

Turns out Shell Beach is way too small to have their own police department, and all operations are out of Pismo Beach, five minutes up the road. When the PBPD cruiser pulled up to our motel, I politely asked if they could park around the corner. I was quite taken aback when they happily obliged. Big difference between the Bakersfield, P.D., where they take everything you say as an insult and threaten to arrest you for it…or shoot you.

Remember that old show Bakersfield P.D.? I think it was on Fox, so of course it was cancelled after only a few episodes. Before, Korn, that was our towns brief brush with fame. Even though, if I remember correctly, they played the cops as bumbling idiots, as opposed to douchebags that shoot first, ask questions second. You remember it? It starred that blonde guy…from that movie…and some TV show, and Los Polos Hermanos from Breaking Bad…No?

Anyway, sorry, the cops pull to the side of the motel and I invite them in to Elise’s room so we can keep an eye on the kids and be out of sight in case Suit Man walks by.

I explain to the officers exactly what I saw and how I think it was the owner of the first big house, judging by where they were standing, right next to the stairs built along the cliff, leading down from that house. Also, I couldn’t see any other way to get to where they were, and that house was the only one with lights on inside, so…

After I told them that, both officers gave a nervous look to each other.

The one who drove says that maybe we should continue this downtown.

“What the hell for?” I ask.

“Do you know who lives in that house?

8.

As much as I did not want to, we packed the kids in Elise’s car and followed the police cruiser into Pismo, to the station.

The police station blended in well with the rest of the small town. It’s a good thing I was following the coppers or I doubt I would have been able to find it.

The two officers had kept us completely in the dark about who lived there or why it was even an issue. It seemed to me that a murder was a little more important than whoever the hell lived in that goddamn house. But, I guess I was wrong. Shocking.

We were instructed to wait in the waiting room and someone would be out shortly. We did as we were told but I could tell we were going to have a hard time with the kids. They’re in a police station, the last thing they want to do it sit quietly. We were going to need to figure out what to do with them to keep them occupied.

Fortunately, we didn’t have to wait long. A man in a suit and tie, with a badge hanging off his belt came out and called us back into his office. We entered into the room and he closed the door behind us.

“Please,” he said, “have a seat.”

Elise and I each took one of the seats, Elliot sat on her lap, and Eric sat at my feet while we introduced ourselves. On the way into the office, I offered them a quick bribe for them to be quiet. It seemed to be working.

The office smelled of incense for some reason. The man who took a seat behind the desk didn’t seem to be of the incense-burning, hippie type, but I guess sometimes appearances can be deceiving. The smell was putrid and allowed me to chalk up yet another reason for my dislike towards hippies. Yes, I am well aware that I believe in pretty much the same thing that most hippies do, peace and love and all the crap, hell, I don’t even eat meat and I’ve never voted republican, but goddamn, I do have an extreme appreciation for soap, clean clothes and shoes. Call me crazy.

Anyway, the man cleared his throat and started to speak.

“My name is Steve Gibson and I am the captain of this police department. My boys out there, Steve Wilson and Steve Coretto, there, tell me you all witnessed a murder?”

Seriously, what is that smell?

“Actually,” I said, “it was just me who witnessed it. I couldn’t sleep due to this amazing channel you guys get down here. RTV? Have you heard of it?”

“Get to the point, Mr. Lemons.”

“That was my point. But, I will now recount the incident I witnessed one more time.”

I went on to tell him the whole story of what happened. He seemed mildly interested until he interrupted me.

“Let me stop you right there, Mr. Lemons. Do you know who lives in that house?”

“What the fuck does it matter who lives in the fucking house?!” I yell.

Eric quickly interrupts with his own yelling, “MOMMMM!!!”

“Archie,” Elise tells me as she shoots me another dirty look, “watch the language.”

“I’m sorry, but I witnessed a murder and everyone seems to care about who lives there. I don’t understand why it even matters! I saw a woman get murdered!” I gave my pockets a pat hopefully that my pills would magically appear in them, but alas; it was just my phone and the keys to Elise’s car. I had left the bottle in the hotel room and I was afraid I was about to lose it.

“Well, Mr. Lemons,” Gibson said, “none other than Mr. Brad Jackson lives in that house.”

“Brad Jacks-Who the fuck is Brad Jackson?”

“MOMMMMMM!!!!”

Instead of nagging me again, Elise promptly asks, “THEE Brad Jackson?!”

Oh Jesus.

“Again, who the crapshit is Brad Jackson?!”

“Mom?” Eric speaks up again. “Crapshit? Is that bad?”

“Eric!” Elise yells, and then turns her deathly gaze upon me, “Archie!”

“Captain,” I say, trying to restore some order to this madhouse of an office, “please tell me who Brad Johnson is before I freak out.”

“Jackson,” Elise corrects me.

ARGH!

“Brad Jackson,” the Captain tells me, “is a very famous and very charitable man. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of him.”

“Do you mean Brad Pitt?”

“No, Mr. Lemons, had I meant Brad Pitt I would have said Brad Pitt.”

“Okay then, well I’ve never heard of this guy so why is it a big deal?”

Elise chimed in once again. “You know who he is. He’s all over the tabloids. He stared in that show on the CW Network called Hunky Vampires in the Hollywood Hills?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, and he’s in a ton of movies. Come on, his wife was murdered something like four years ago. It was a huge trial. You couldn’t have missed it.”

“Seriously,” I say. “I haven’t watched a celebrity trial since they let O.J. walk.”