SALVATION chapter 16

SALVATION
chapter 16

Los Angeles

10am
Detective Pigg viewed city skyline from the third floor
Robbery-Homicide Division of The Parker Center in
downtown Los Angeles. Hal's modest office was
located in the Homicide Special Section of the (RHD).
A copy of The Los Angeles Times for Thursday October
2nd lay on his desk screaming at fiberglass acoustic
ceiling panels in bold block ink.

DEADLY MUSIC ROCKS LOS ANGELES

A coffee stained Xerox machine whirred and thumped
spitting incoming faxes with the attitude of a slave.
The city was quiet. Eerie.. Freeways, boulevards, avenues
and streets loomed in the distance lonely and uncertain as
broken hearts.
California was in an official state of emergency..Police, fire,
rescue, on demand utilities, towing vehicles, made up the
majority of moving objects seen on the roadways.
The State Governors office expected conditions to improve
through out the day with a termination of the state of
emergency projected by 6PM this evening.

An enforcement ring around the entire Los Angeles County
region was now in place. Authorized by the Governor's Office,
National guard troops patrolled streets and manned roadblocks.
Public and private, air traffic had resumed allowing arrival and
departure.. Public transportation was slowly mobilizing however
not expected to resume normal operations until the following day.
The Emergency Broadcast System was up and running constant
current affairs, survival tips, and warnings.
Hotlines were in place for those requiring emergency assistance.
The lines jammed, the expected waiting time for an available
ambulance had reached over two hours by 9 AM.

It was not a good day to get sick, or injured, or work, or play,
or feel in the mood to go to the mall.
It was a day of minutes slow cooked and churned thick within
the walls of a prison.
A boiling compaction of frustration and bother expanding
like a sun spot of needy resentment.
There had been problems...Domestic violence,
hate crimes, bomb, assassination, and suicide threats,
all of the above by 8 am..It was the rippling pool
of an aftermath. A faucet of negativity open wide then
loosely closed leaving acidic drippings of bad karma plotting
from a center point and waking in all directions.

Hal had spoken with Ed Hoffman an hour ago..He'd reached
the music agent early. Turmoil in the streets of San Diego
made camping out at the office a safer option for Ed rather
than attempt navigation a combination of inner city streets
and freeway exchanges from La Mesa to his home in the
suburb of Clairemont some fifteen miles north.

Metro Division's 'A' platoon had patched Hal over
investigative findings courtesy the Law Enforcement Data
Net. Mister Hoffman had voluntarily notified the San Diego
Police Department of his secretary's accidental contamination.
As well his business association with the band MENACE.
The agent was currently faxing Hal a data log bio history
of the band.

This morning Hal was under pressure to compile a report of
possible leads and up to date crime scene evidence
the Los Angeles Police Department would include
in a press report scheduled for noon today.
The city morgue's Pathologist's report put the time of
death for all three victims at approximately 10 to 11 AM.
The report shed no new light on the murder weapon.
As of 10 AM this morning Winston Mckeen's head and
Herman Gilespie's entire person were both still at large.

The FBI threaten to claim jurisdiction of the case
as boundaries of effected areas had quickly crossed city
limits not to mention state lines.
That would put the LA Police in the role of support
dictated by the Federal agency. As the city of Los
Angeles was hardest hit and the initial investigation
begun within Los Angeles Police jurisdiction the city
police were currently in hot debate with the FBI in an
effort to retain custody of the case placing the FBI at
their disposal.

Peering out at the morning sky Hal was going through
the motions expected of him at this stage of the investigation.
Convinced the general consensus of all law enforcement
agencies involved were steadfast adopting a guise of false premise.
FBI, city police and county Sheriff departments through out
the State of California were placing the responsibility of
the events Wednesday squarely on the shoulders of Herman
Gilespie.
The blood smeared walls of apartment 12 and the prints of
the murder weapon embedded there convinced Hal that Gilespie
was but a pawn in a larger scheme..

It appeared to Hal that life was like a circle of events
finding themselves reconnecting at intersections.
He was feeling a kind of deja vu. A crossroads had found
it's way back to him from an earlier time. A time in his life
successfully stuffed and stacked away in a locked closet.
It's key no longer used. It's hinges no longer tested in medicinal
measure of a mending wound. A time long shackled, bound,
and exiled in the dark recesses of his mind.

It caused both a state of confusion and insight into the
workings of the universe that suggested Man's concept of
the passage of time was an illusion. A strange ancestry
of kinship between this case, and a case ten years ago,
somehow connected through the mechanics of a wheel
in the sky.
An appointment of fate..and responsibility..
A responsibility born of past commitment that bore down
making hairs on his neck suddenly quiver with moisture.

He pulled fax copies from the gray plastic receiving
tray and viewed the documents while sipping from his
coffee mug. What he was looking for was a link to Gilespie's
idea of sanctuary..A friend, relative, band member, anyone
who Herman might feel he could trust..Or a weak link.
Someone he could lean on, maybe intimidate into helping
him..
The list was long..The history contained in these documents
covered five years. Back when Ed Hoffman first signed the
band to a record contract. The result of a first prize award
in an annual songwriting showcase for unsigned bands and
musicians. From that time to present the personnel under
Herman Gilespie turned over no less than seven times.
Hal scanned the list of names out of curiosity for any
that might have emerged as famous from that time to
present..Adrian Phillips, Shawn Carson, Gregory Durward,
Kile Mattews, Victor Douglas, Edward Clifford, Warren Donaldson,
Sylvester Vernon, Tyrone Warren, Wilbur Mason, Lamar Delmar,
Dwight Donovan..
Blackwell, Shepard, and McKeen had been with the band two
years, a long run considering the track record.
The last fall out had been a woman. A Michelle Mc Allister
who'd left the band some nine months ago.
Her current contact information had been scratched.
All that remained was a reference to secondary contacts.
Floyd Mc Allister and Laura Mc Allister listed as the woman's
Father and Mother. There was a referral phone number.
"Aspen."...Hal moaned..."Talk about out of jurisdiction."

The phone rang he picked it up spilling the usual introduction.
"Homicide, Inspector Pigg."
"How's it going?" It was Sam.
He leaned back in his chair.."Under the gun. How's things with
you?"
"Ok, the air is better today, huh?"
He looked out at the sky again.."Yeah, I think the wind is helping.
Are you in the office at Metro?"
"No I am in the field...Not on SWAT though..We're helping out
here and there with back up for clean up teams mostly."
He nodded.."I am glad your staying out of trouble."
She chuckled."Yeah, I am staying out of trouble..Wha'cha
doin' later?"
"I was thinking of getting up the nerve to ask a pretty
Lieutenant friend of mine out to dinner."
"I'd like that sweetie but where are we going to find
a place open around here?"
"I forgot."
She laughed, "Boy, you are stuck in the office today!"
"I..I am sorry..I am still thinking about last night."
"Yeah?..That's a good thing I hope."
He smiled. "It's a very good thing."..
"Me too", she said.
A shadow pressed him and he slowed..
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"I just remembered..I have to drive into Chinatown
later this afternoon."
"Something on the case?"
"Yeah..Maybe we should make it tomorrow night.
I am not sure what time I am going to get back, and
tomorrow most restaurants should be open, you know?"
"What time are leaving for Chinatown?"
"I should be done around here by 4 o'clock."
"Maybe I could ride along with you..I am intrigued
by the case."
His first inclination was the joy of Sam's presence..
"Oh Sam that would be wonderful!"..But as the words
left his mouth the shadow pressed again with an
urgency."But,...Oh,Sam.."
"What is it Hal?"..There was a worried tone to her voice.
She sensed his anxiety.
He started..but felt a deep desire to protect her..
"It's...It's better if I do this one alone."
"Do what alone?..What's in Chinatown Hal?"
He paused.."This case..It's not what everybody thinks.."
She came back quick. "What your doing there, it's
dangerous, am I right?"
"Sam, Chinatown isn't dangerous..This case, and
anyone involved in it...That's what is dangerous.
What I have to do there...It's off the record..It's one of those
gut instincts I've got to follow through...It's not something
the Department would understand..I'am not sure I even
understand it..I just feel it's the starting point of what
needs to be done...A possibility in finding the means to stop
what has happened from happening again.
Samantha spoke slow and determined.
"I trust you Hal..I trust your judgement..If what you
say is true..I want to go with you..I want to help you."
"I can't put you in that kind of danger."
Her voice was tight.
"Hal danger is what we do..It's an intricate part of our lives."
Not wanting her to go away from the conversation feeling
as if he didn't trust her, or that he was simply rejecting
her offer of support...He opened up to her a bit more.
"Sam..This is different than the kind of violence we both
are accustom to..What we've been trained to deal with..
This case becomes dangerous out of mere association.
If it's what I think it is, once I involve you even on a ride
along, you become a possible threat to the source of this.
You will be in danger, and Quentin will be in danger also..
I can't explain the how or why of it with anymore detail.
All I can say is the less you know the less of a threat
you are to what I am describing."

Seconds passed as Samantha weighed Hal's remarks.
She could let this go..Just let him have his way and
ask him to call her later so she'd know he was alright.
They could pick things up tomorrow like Hal suggested.
But her past caught up to her as she spoke to the
first man she'd truly cared about in over five years.
And the person she was today the person that had
emerged out the lit end of that five year tunnel
could not let it go..

"Please don't be angry with me Sam." She heard
him say..She responded to him out of condition
rather than assimilation as her mind was suddenly
far away..
"I am not angry with you Hal." Her voice sounded
tired and there was a under tone of sadness that
caused Hal's breath to catch as if he'd become
aware of a dismal event about to occur seconds
before it happened.

She had hoped they would be given the grace of
time..An element she had come to believe as
fundamental in the building blocks of a good
relationship..Time to talk and explore values,
goals, and importance in their individual lives..
Recognizing their seeds of compatibility then planting
together in a rich soil of respect and tolerance..
Nourishing, thriving, growing together until
the roots and stocks entwined in harmony
spring and grasping at life as one life.
She had noticed Hal over a year ago and
felt the seeds where there. In the interest
of their common chosen professions..In
Hal's unobtrusive but confident demeanor.
She had watched from a distance the way
he treated people with a common respect and
diverseness that lacked pre-judgement.
A gift seemingly uncommon in a cultured society
that valued status and symbolisms obtained in
the dissection and categorization of economic
achievement, ethnic and cultural origins.

After her divorce she'd avoided emotional involvement
with men. Choosing to bring her life's focus to
equal measure between the raising of her son and
her career in law enforcement.
Her marriage had been a mistake not realized until
the passing of five years time..It wasn't that her
husband and father of her son was a bad man.
Hector Gonzales was a driven man..An obsessive
compulsive personality raised in the gang war slums of
South Central Los Angeles were his mother and
sister were gunned down in broad daylight, victims
of a drive by shooting.
His single pre-occupation in life was to free himself
and distance himself as far as humanly possible
from the lot of nightmare, poverty, and hopelessness
from which he came..

She was twenty-five, he thirty-four when she met him.
All ready a successful commercial real estate broker
living in a high rise condominium in Wilshire.
Long before their marriage he had communicated to
Samantha his ten year goal to financial security..
A goal that would not and could not be denied.
It did not include the burden and added responsibilities
of fathering a child.
He was furious with her when five years later, in her first
year as a Los Angeles Police Cadet she told him she
was pregnant..
She had inadvertently back him into a corner in which
he responded as a frightened animal.
As far as Hector Gonzales was concerned in a single
sentence she had brought the very infrastructure of
his ten year plan to a grinding dead end halt five years
prematurely..She had ruined his life's plan.

He insisted she have an abortion.
The future of their lives together, their marriage, love,
friendship, hinged on the ultimatum.
She stabbed him in the back when she refused..
He felt used and cheated as he'd supported her
while she finished college graduating with a
bachelorship in criminal science.
He called her selfish, opportunistic, dismissive
and unappreciative of his own financial sacrifice
in supporting her career ambitions.

She pleaded with him then begged trying to
convince him that life held no regard for the
best laid plans..That life was inherently what
surrounds us, and not we that surround it.
Hector was not moved..He left her immediately
filed divorce and vanished from her life.

Now with Quentin over five full years of age.
His Father had never once asked to see him.
For three years she suffered..Then for two years
she strengthened.. Now with the long dark
tunnel behind her she vowed she would never
allow herself to make the same mistake again.

She checked her wrist watch and spoke to Hal
with resolve.
"I want to talk to you before you go..After we
speak, if you still feel the same, I promise I
will not have any more to say in the matter.
..I can be at the Parker Center by 3:45 at the
latest."
"Alright Sam..I'll wait for you."
"Ok, I'll see you soon."
"Sam?"
"Yes?"
"Be careful out there."
"I will."


Desert Center, California

Albert Fairfield squeezed straight Ajax dish soap
in the palms of his grease smeared hands scrubbing
for a full half minute before rinsing black oil and dirt
down the shop sink drain in the back room of B&D
automotive repair. He then used an orange shop rag
to dry them thinking to himself he should be using
the white untreated ones for this, but it wasn't
even lunch time yet so what the hell..

He looked through the 18''x 48'' window that faced
the shop bays and smiled at his wife Mary Fairfield
who hunched over the office computer keyboard
concentrating on the daily accounting books..He was
fifty five and she was,....well he really couldn't
remember how old Mary was but she was a few years
younger than him..Over fifty for sure cause he remembered
what a bitch she pitched when she turned the magic
'half century' point about a year or so ago..

He inspected his hands frowning at the familiar ground
in black stuff existing under his nails and between the
tough iron skinned wrinkles at the tips of his fingers..
The stuff that was, as always, still there..
He shrugged grabbing the Ajax and repeated the process.
He'd just finished the lube, oil,filter, and tune up
of Mister Hendley's maroon four door Toyota Celica
and needed to clean up before backing the car
out of the bay.

The day had been pretty much routine for an
early October Thursday...A long awaited nip graced
the morning air at 6:45 when he'd opened.
A sure sign the long desert summer would be slowly
giving way to cooler days in the months ahead.

It wasn't until he slipped behind the wheel closing
the driver's door of Mister Henley's Toyota that he noted
the 'new car' aroma scent filling his stuffy sinuses
from an air freshener dangling off the rear view mirror
mounting bracket.
It was drastic comparing to the repair shop's natural
combination of dirty oil, cleaning solvent, gasoline,
and permeated linger of exhaust fumes..

The shop's 250 gallon reserve tank compressor
motor kicked to life as Albert back the Toyota out and
slipped the automatic transmission to drive pulling
around back of the shop to the customer parking area.
He spun the wheel right and had just feathered
the brake when the car crushed head first into
what felt like a brick wall six feet from the chipped white
concrete bumper strip at the head of the parking strip..
He couldn't see a thing but definitely could hear
Mary screaming bloody murder as she tore out of
the office in her big fluffy hot pink house slippers,
tan peddle pushers, and white oversized tee shirt..
The one with Property of B&D Automotive Repair
silk screened in bright blue letters across the chest.
"Ohmyfuckinggod!!!...Al!!..Al?.....Ohmyfuckinggod!!!"
Luckily he was moving at no more than ten miles an
hour, but the sudden impact squashed his chest
directly into the steering wheel exploding the drivers
side air bag slamming him back pinned against the
optional camel colored cloth fabric driver's seat..

Mister Hendley wasn't what one would call well off
however, he damn sure wasn't going to settle for the
cheap standard issue vinyl crap upholstery that would
leave a puddle of sweat on the seat and a wet stain on
the ass of his trousers every time he got out of the car..
When one lives in the desert this kind of thing becomes
an important factor in every day life.

Mary's face was ash white as she peered in the driver's
side window at her husband wedged in like two
pounds in a one pound bag..A combination of huge
white and pink roller curlers threatened to take an eye out
as they bobbed and flailed in her dishwater blond hair..
She stared in bewilderment as Albert's left arm jerked
slightly and the motorized window mercifully lowered..
"deet'ah dife"..He communicated between pinched cheeks
and a locked jaw held hostage by the pressure of the
air bag against his face.
"Deet a dife?"..Mary asked incredulously..
He rolled his eyes and tried again.
"Deet'ah iiifff!"
"Get a knife??"...Her eyes were the size of the cucumber
slices she placed over her lids with out fail every night
an hour before bedtime.
"Dessss!"
She bolted back to the shop tearing through the little
flat compartment drawers of Albert's fire engine red
Craftsman top box mechanic tool chest..There was no
knife to be found..There was however a foot long chrome
blade standard end screwdriver and she grabbed it
ignoring the slippery residue of oil slick pasted on the
florescent yellow handle.
"Will this do?"...She panted holding up the business
end of the larger than life shank for Albert's consideration.
His eyes widened and she noticed an almost imperceptible
shrug..
Gripping the handle with both hands Mary arched the screwdriver
back over her shoulder like a golf pro driving it straight into
the air bag..It bounced off the surface with the kick back
of a high caliper rifle butt held an inch off the shoulder..
She got off the ground wiping the gravel off the sleeve of her shirt.
Dazed and confused she prepared to try again then noticed a
slight hissing sound coming from the cabin..She dropped the
screwdriver on the floor of the parking lot covering her face
with her hands..She couldn't believe she'd done it..The air
bag was deflating.

Two minutes later Albert freed himself from the car..Wobbly
knees,aching neck,and wrenched back. Holding on to the
front quarter panel as a cane he limped to the front of
the car to see what he'd hit..
"Oh shit"..he mumbled.."Hendley's going to go ballistic."
The center of the front bumper was loose and sagging..
Bent down giving the car the appearance it was smiling.
Bright green engine coolant was pooling under the radiator
where it had obviously been punctured.
Albert was dumfounded...He looked at Mary in amazement
and held out his arms..There was nothing in front of the
car..The concrete stop guard was just where he'd expected
it to be a full six feet in front of the vehicle.
Mary walked to the back of the car and stooped down..Nothing
lay between the undercarriage and the ground..No
mangled bodies, no discarded and forgotten wheels and tires,
or scrap automotive mufflers, or entire engines or transmissions.
Not a single thing..

Albert stood back from the car scratching his
head..He was starting to get frustrated and Mary hated it when
Al got frustrated..Tools flew, walls shook and because the
little shop office was only six by eight feet in size there was
no place to hide when Al got frustrated.

He was walking around in little circles now feinting at pulling
his hair out..Mary knew he was feinting at pulling his hair
out because he didn't have any hair to really pull out..
She really didn't understand why someone with no hair to
begin with would act like they were trying to pull their hair out..
It was something she really meant to ask Al about, but
every time it happened he was too upset to bring the
subject up, and after the whole thing was just water under
the bridge Mary was usually so relieved she simply forgot
about it..

He turned to her now eyes bulging, both arms directing
her to the front of the car.
"There's nothing here!!...There is not a fucking thing here!!"
Her body language was desperately agreeing with him..
In a serge of adrenalin he'd forgotten his neck, and his
back pain..He was moving nearly as quickly as his heart
rate.."What am I going to tell Hendley?"...His voice
cracked as if he was about to cry.."What am I going
to tell fucking Hendley?"..He reached against the left
under dash panel pulling the hood release..
"The fucking radiator's leaking!"...He stormed toward
the front to lift the hood speaking to Mary directly..
"This is the kind of thing that puts a man out of
busine....ahhhaa!!!"

Mary stood in awe as Albert rounded the front of the
vehicle and careened into something hard and heavy
that tore through the knee of his dark blue work trousers..
He screamed in pain and screamed again as he lost his
balance falling forward face first pounding against an
unseen surface of cold sharp metal filled with awkward
points and protrusions..Albert rolled and caught, elbows twisting,
a gash ripping open over his brow, with nothing to grasp he
fell between the unseen mass and the front bumper
of the Toyota.

"Albert.".....Mary's voice sounded far away..At first Albert
thought he'd fallen un conscience from the fall and was just
waking back up.."There is something there Albert."...Again
her voice sounded like she was speaking to him from between
two coffee cans attached by a taunt fishing line.
He pushed his palms against the parking lot and turned over
on his back wincing at the bleeding scrapes and embedded gravel
chewing into his hands..
He could see Mary's face now and it held a visage of shock and
horror..She sounded far away because her mind had no room
to occupy him..She was speaking to herself using his
name only as reference. An ingrained habit that develops between
two people who have been together over the course of
a very long time.
A reference that still held a sliver of the world she thought she
knew but could no longer understand.
"It's there..It's sitting right there..
We just can't see it cause it's invisible."