in to a cheap looking Lost Dog flyer, made a few copies and returned to the car. I was going to pay Mr. Jackson a little visit.
I got to Ocean Boulevard in less than ten minutes and I parked a ways down from the house and walked the rest of the way. I was running a scheme and couldn’t be seen pulling up out front. I put on my stupid hat and took off on foot.
I knocked on his door.
No answer.
I tried again.
This time the door opened slightly. The chain was still locked.
“Yeah, what do you want?” the voice from behind the door asked me.
“Sorry to bother you, sir. My son’s dog ran away in this area yesterday and we’ve been searching all over for him.”
“How did you get in here?”
“I’m sorry, the gate was unlocked and I just came up the walkway here.” Total bullshit! I picked that bitch and broke in! Booya!
“It’s unlocked?”
“Yes sir, I’m sorry. I’m just desperate to find this dog. My son is heartbroken. Do you mind taking a look? We’re just here on vacation for a couple days and we’re running out of time to find him. If you could…”
The door closed and I heard the chain being unhooked. The door opened slightly wider this time and I saw half of a man’s face peak out.
“Here you go. His name is Montyburns. My kids were walking him in the neighborhood last night and he got away. They’re in a panic. You haven’t happened to seen him sniffin’ around, have ya?”
He reached out and took the flyer from me. I did a quick study of his hands and noticed his right one had several small cuts on it, and one small gash in the palm that looked like it had been recently bandaged. Wounds from killing with a rock. I had my man. That was easy…and rather cliche.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t seen him around. I’ll keep my eyes peeled though.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s amazing what you see when you just stop and take the time to look. All sorts of fascinating and interesting things. Thanks for your time, Killer.”
His gaze upon me turned icy and emotionless as I backed up and gave him a little wave, thanking him once more when I hit the street. I could feel him watching me as I went up to the next house and pretended to knock. When I felt I was out of site, I quickly took off back towards the car.
I imagined that right about now he would be calling the phone number I put on the flyer I left with him and having the Wal-Mart photo department answer. If that were the case, he would know I was on to him. Just the way I wanted it.
When people get scared, they get nervous, and when they get nervous, they’re more likely to fuck up. These fuck ups help me solve cases.
My phone rang as I got back into the car. It was Max.
“Perfect timing man. Got anything for me?”
“Yeah, nothing really unusual. Brad Jackson is clean, apart from the normal minor violations. The housekeeper is documented with a spotless record. I’m working on the stalker lady right now but, uh, what I was calling for was, ya remember that old TGIF show where the family was an old sitcom family from the fifties and they had that magic remote that would turn them back into black and white. It was really cheesy and it didn’t last very long…?”
“Yeah sure, Hi Honey, I’m Home. What about it?”
“Wow, never mind. I couldn’t think of the name.”
I let out a chuckle. I really needed to get a life. “Yep, Hi Honey, I’m Home. The family’s name was The Nielsen’s, named after the TV ratings system and the remote control that turned them from black and white to color was the Turnerizer, named after Ted Turner. The show didn’t last very long though. Hey, you remember that shitty Look Who’s Talking rip-off called Baby Talk?”
He laughed. “Yeah, wasn’t Danza the voice of the baby?”
“What a turd that was. Wait. I’m actually in the middle of something here. Shit. Hold on, I’ve got to get the hell out of here. Sit tight.”
I started the car and headed back towards the
I got to Ocean Boulevard in less than ten minutes and I parked a ways down from the house and walked the rest of the way. I was running a scheme and couldn’t be seen pulling up out front. I put on my stupid hat and took off on foot.
I knocked on his door.
No answer.
I tried again.
This time the door opened slightly. The chain was still locked.
“Yeah, what do you want?” the voice from behind the door asked me.
“Sorry to bother you, sir. My son’s dog ran away in this area yesterday and we’ve been searching all over for him.”
“How did you get in here?”
“I’m sorry, the gate was unlocked and I just came up the walkway here.” Total bullshit! I picked that bitch and broke in! Booya!
“It’s unlocked?”
“Yes sir, I’m sorry. I’m just desperate to find this dog. My son is heartbroken. Do you mind taking a look? We’re just here on vacation for a couple days and we’re running out of time to find him. If you could…”
The door closed and I heard the chain being unhooked. The door opened slightly wider this time and I saw half of a man’s face peak out.
“Here you go. His name is Montyburns. My kids were walking him in the neighborhood last night and he got away. They’re in a panic. You haven’t happened to seen him sniffin’ around, have ya?”
He reached out and took the flyer from me. I did a quick study of his hands and noticed his right one had several small cuts on it, and one small gash in the palm that looked like it had been recently bandaged. Wounds from killing with a rock. I had my man. That was easy…and rather cliche.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t seen him around. I’ll keep my eyes peeled though.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s amazing what you see when you just stop and take the time to look. All sorts of fascinating and interesting things. Thanks for your time, Killer.”
His gaze upon me turned icy and emotionless as I backed up and gave him a little wave, thanking him once more when I hit the street. I could feel him watching me as I went up to the next house and pretended to knock. When I felt I was out of site, I quickly took off back towards the car.
I imagined that right about now he would be calling the phone number I put on the flyer I left with him and having the Wal-Mart photo department answer. If that were the case, he would know I was on to him. Just the way I wanted it.
When people get scared, they get nervous, and when they get nervous, they’re more likely to fuck up. These fuck ups help me solve cases.
My phone rang as I got back into the car. It was Max.
“Perfect timing man. Got anything for me?”
“Yeah, nothing really unusual. Brad Jackson is clean, apart from the normal minor violations. The housekeeper is documented with a spotless record. I’m working on the stalker lady right now but, uh, what I was calling for was, ya remember that old TGIF show where the family was an old sitcom family from the fifties and they had that magic remote that would turn them back into black and white. It was really cheesy and it didn’t last very long…?”
“Yeah sure, Hi Honey, I’m Home. What about it?”
“Wow, never mind. I couldn’t think of the name.”
I let out a chuckle. I really needed to get a life. “Yep, Hi Honey, I’m Home. The family’s name was The Nielsen’s, named after the TV ratings system and the remote control that turned them from black and white to color was the Turnerizer, named after Ted Turner. The show didn’t last very long though. Hey, you remember that shitty Look Who’s Talking rip-off called Baby Talk?”
He laughed. “Yeah, wasn’t Danza the voice of the baby?”
“What a turd that was. Wait. I’m actually in the middle of something here. Shit. Hold on, I’ve got to get the hell out of here. Sit tight.”
I started the car and headed back towards the
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