Incident In Los Angeles
May 4th, 2005 (1st draft+)
Laughing Chance
It was another lovely sunset in Los Angeles.
I killed some time in a small dumpy dinner
across from the Police yard.
The LAPD ceased cars, towed vehicles and
evidence cars were kept here and some extra
or out dated motor pool vehicles as well.
The guard pulled the gates closed and entered
his booth. The glow of a small black and white
television illuminating his face.
I waited for some stragglers and bums to clear
out of the area. As soon as I was covinced the
remaining ones were stoned, drunk or sleepy
enough not to give a flying fuck what I was doing
I made my move.
I went to a far corner of the vast lot and tossed
my duffle bag to the ground. Removing my trusty
bolt cutters, I cut a hole just big enough to squeeze
through. The rough fence edges scraped against my black
leather jacket.
It was getting a little cloudy and the moonlight was
being obscured occassionally making my search that much
harder but after half an hour or so I found what I was
looking for... it was Christie's Ford Mustang.
The car was a shambles. The convertible top was shredded
and the windshield shattered. Blood splattered the cream
interior. The black paint was scraped up horribly. Even
in the poor moonlight it could be noticed by the naked eye.
The marks were fairly evenly spaced. The passenger side door
was crumbled up into a ball like shape and laying in the
small back seat.
I took out my small pen-sized flashlight. It was the
best I could use not to draw attention to myself while
sneaking around an LAPD vehicle yard.
I don't know what I expected to find that they hadn't.
They had made almost no progress on my brothers wife's
disappearence. I know in my heart he is innocent of the
charges. They keep him locked up in that mental hospital
and named him as the prime suspect. They won't let me talk
to him unsupervised but something in his eyes, something
only a brother can communicate with another brother across
a room unspoken tells me there is much more to this shit.
He is trying to tell me something. Something he can't say
infront of their monitors. I hired a P.I. who managed to
get me a copy of the Police file. It was flled with
conflicting data, unfinished investigative threads and
red tape. The only useful bit of information was the location
of the car in this lot.
When the P.I. I hired turned up dead I knew there was
something greater going on here and I am going to get to
the bottom of it.
I heard a small convoy of vehicles arriving and men shouting.
Three Helicopters began searching the area with spotlights.
As the guard was opening the gate. I ran for the hole in the fence
I made. I sat in some muck and mess in an alleyway across from
the yard. A bum there started to raise a ruckus. I quickly took
out my flask and offered him a drink. In an instant he became
my new best friend. My new filthy mess of a best friend.
Some men with flash lights and dogs were covering the area.
It was a first class operation. One guy put a light on us
and told us to clear off. As we stood up he pushed and shoved
us.
As we made our way out of the area I saw a flatbed truck
hauling away the vehicle. The bum offered me back the flask
but by the look of the poor pathetic bastard even boiling
water wouldn't sanitize it again. I told him to keep it and
parted ways unsure of my next move.