The material felt strange against his sweating face, and smelled faintly chemical. As he tried to move his limbs, the police officer felt his energy drain away, leaving him face down in an unnatural position. In the dreamy haze of the paralytic agent, Charlie was vaguely aware of a figure walking towards him. He tried to turn his face around to get a clearer view, perhaps see a face, but by then, the paralysis was complete. All that he could see was a pair of work pants, the bottom half of a Hawaiian shirt, and the dull grey metal of a tranquilliser gun.
‘Hey there, Snoopy,’ a voice said quietly. ‘I think you were sniffing around ‘cause you wanted a ride on my bus. Well, okay, let's get on, and see where it’s heading.’
13
The inside of the car felt sweltering to Vicki as she closed the door. The car turned out of the dusty track and onto a real road. It had taken a moment for the groaning air conditioning to kick in. During this time, Vicki’s eyes had remained fastened on the reflection of the ramshackle house fading away in the wing mirror. However, once they had turned off, it was lost from sight … much like the owner.
‘So, where do you want to eat?’ Leighton asked, as he pulled on his seat belt.
‘Huh?’ Vicki shifted from being lost in the past.
‘I asked, where you wanted to go for lunch.’
‘Well,’ Vicki pretended she was thinking, ‘how about we visit The Palm Café?’
‘Is that where Laurie worked?’
‘Ah.’ Vicki smiled. ‘Now somebody’s back in detective mode. Yeah, it’s where she worked. It’s just off the main drag, back in Barstow.’
Following Vicki’s directions, Leighton drove the car along a business loop of Route 15, and pulled into a small parking lot covered with a patchwork of tarmac. The midday heat was heavy and unrelenting, as the young woman and older man left the coolness of the car to cross the hot grey expanse. Vicki struggled to shake of the strange numbness of the sense of loss she felt.
Inside The Palm Café, Vicki and Leighton found a seat next to the window, but thankfully out of the scorching sunlight. They ordered a couple of burritos – vegetable for Vicki; chicken for Leighton - and two iced teas. The two members of staff, who were mopping the red tiled floor and serving the food respectively, were cheerful, and the place was bright and airy, but the view from their table was of little more than the Nu-Way car wash and, beyond that, Soutar’s Ford Dealership.
‘So.’ Vicki smiled. ‘We must stop meeting like this.’
‘Yeah.’ Leighton glanced around. ‘We could write a travel guide to the fast food joints of North America.’
‘Somebody would buy it.’ Vicki shrugged then added, ‘Possibly.’
‘Is the town what you expected?’ Leighton asked, as he undid the cuff buttons of his pale blue shirt.
‘I suppose it is … kind of. A bit hotter and dustier.’
‘Well, once you head inland from the coast, this is what you get. Have you only ever lived by the water down in Oceanside?’
‘Yeah, but not always at the beach. We used to live in a house over on the west side, in Parkland Heights.’
Vicki saw by the slight arching of one of Leighton’s eyebrows he knew of the exclusive area and the ridiculous price of the homes located there.
‘Yeah, I know. My father is a cosmetic dentist, and my mother is a maxillofacial surgeon, so they pulled in the dollars.’
‘How come you moved from there?’ Leighton asked.
‘After the divorce, my father moved into the beach house for a time, and I spent most of my time down there. That suited me; I always preferred that place to my mother’s palace. Anyway, eventually, when my father moved down to San Francisco, my mother sold the big house.’
‘It must have been hard, leaving your home, and coping with divorce.’
‘I guess. To be honest, I never really thought of the place in Parkland Heights as home. It was too clinical and so large it felt almost empty. Even the gardens up there all have high walls, like prisons. You never see or hear any of the neighbours. Living there was like being a prisoner in a big empty palace. It probably sounds really messed up, but when I was looking at Laurie’s little place back there, I was thinking how more like a real home it seemed.’
‘Well,’ Leighton smiled, ‘the other side of the tracks always looks more appealing than the one you’re on.’
‘I know, and I like the beach house best of all – that’s where I got to be a regular kid. But, it’s still on loan from my mother.’
‘She charges you?’ Leighton’s eyes widened.
‘Not exactly. Despite spending most of her time in New York, she wanted to keep the beach house for her retirement. She couldn’t stand the idea of renting it out to strangers who would – and I quote “contaminate the place”. So, she told me I could live there rent free and maintain the place, but only on the basis I change none of the décor, and use the alarm system on a daily basis.’
‘Seems very practical.’ Leighton smiled sympathetically.
‘That’s my mother for you.’
The conversation was halted by the arrival of a waitress, carrying a tray to their table.
When the food had been placed before them, Vicki and Leighton ate in comfortable silence. To any onlooker, they might have appeared to be a father and daughter, who had not seen each other for a while, and were breaking the ice with some fast food.
When they finished their meal, Leighton excused himself to use the bathroom, but stopped on the way to speak to a senior waitress, who was setting up a table for a kid’s party. As he moved away from the table, Vicki reached into her bag, and removed a neat tablet computer, which she switched on, and began typing furiously.
When Leighton returned, he found Vicki frowning intently at the small screen.
‘You brought a computer?’
‘No.’ Vicki carried on, typing intensely.
‘You found a computer?’
‘No, it’s not mine; it belongs to Laurie.'
‘Where did it come from?’ Leighton frowned.
‘Her bedside table.’
‘You broke into her house?’ Leighton shook his head in disbelief but remained standing.
‘Not exactly, she always keeps a key under her door mat. I didn’t break anything.’
‘But, you entered the property, and removed that item?’
‘Yep,’ Vicki said, as she typed.
‘You realise you’ve committed a crime, and if your friend is in any kind of trouble, you’ve contaminated a crime scene?’
‘You told me there was no crime, therefore it couldn’t be a crime scene.’
Leighton ran a hand through his hair and sighed. ‘This was what you wanted all along?’ he asked.
‘Yep.’ Vicki continued typing.
‘So, why involve me at all? Why drag me ninety miles away from home, when you could have shown up, broken in, and stole the laptop yourself?’
‘I needed you as a witness to prove I’m not a thief. Plus, you said that you’d help.’
Sitting down, Leighton pinched the bridge of nose and sighed. ‘Look Vicki, regardless of your intentions, I don’t think you can claim innocence on this one. I can’t vouch for you.’
‘Well, I had no other way of finding this.’