Back at the station he jumped on the next train to Davis and finally relaxed into a seat. He realized his heart was pounding. His instincts about this guy were right and he still didn’t want to have a mano-a-mano conflict with the dude. God knows what he would pull out of one of those boots. A little shiver went down Danny’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear. Ah, well, let’s get us home.        Next morning, he was in the watch commander’s office getting chewed out.       “You did what! When, while on duty! Tell me you are kidding me.”       Roosevelt, the watch commander, an overweight middle-aged man of about fifty was getting progressively redder and redder in the face.       “What would make you even contemplate doing such a stupid thing?” he demanded.       Danny put his hands up in an imploring manner. “He has been riding this same train for months and never seems to have the usual stuff with him that most people carry, and he always gets off at the same stop.”       “He doesn’t carry the usual stuff, the usual stuff!” Commander Roosevelt was speechless. “Well, maybe we can match him up with my wife someday. She carries enough stuff for three people!”       Daniel Davies sat quietly; his hands folded in his lap. He had given his report of what he had found and the suspicions he had been having for some time. It was up to the commander now. The train company had been transporting this guy back and forth to his drug drop now for several months.       “You know what you are like, Davis?” the commander asked belligerently.       “No sir.”      “You are like that ball of lint under my bed that keeps rolling around and collects other pieces of lint and keeps getting bigger and bigger.”       “Yes, sir.”      “That and a royal pain in my ass, is what you are.” The commander clutched his coffee cup so hard Danny was afraid he was going to break it. The man sat there in a brown study for several minutes.       “Ok, this is what we will do,” he finally spoke. “You will call the LAPD and get hold of the drug division and get hold of a detective, someone with some authority. Got me?” he said with hostility. “You will make your report to them and then ask them what it is they want us to do. Thereafter, I want you to fill out your incident report. Then report to me with their recommendations, and I want it back on my desk by morning, am I clear?”  “Absolutely, sir,” Danny replied.       “And don’t go off doing anything else dumb on company time because I am the one who will have to fill out the report and I hate filling out reports. !”       “Right sir.” Danny grabbed his cap and practically backed out of the room into the door which the secretary had opened.       “And what’s wrong with you?” she wanted to know. Danny didn’t answer and kept going.                                                                                                                                                                                                                          #      Danny made his report to LAPD and was assigned to Detective Sergeant Terrence Dillon.       “So, did you actually see this guy, you made eye contact with him yourself?” Dillon wanted to know.       “Yep, several times. He would end up in my train cars somehow over and over again and then always get off at the Sacramento station.”       “So, you called me, why?” was Dillon’s question.       “The seat designation indicates he got onboard at the Los Angeles train depot and that is your area.”       “True,” Dillon replied. Danny didn’t mention the news conference he had seen on the TV the week before.       “You know his name?”       “No, I don’t but I know how we can get it.”       “I’m listening,” the detective said.       Danny told him the plan.       “You think you can do this without making him suspicious? I don’t want any dead conductors on my case.”       “I think so,” Danny told him of the surveillance projects he had done in the Navy. The detective seemed impressed.       The next day, Danny had his report done and typed up and on the commander’s desk. Roosevelt came in with his first cup of coffee and scowled but said nothing and said down heavily in his swivel chair. He picked up the report and read and Danny sat and waited.       “Ok, so this is what he wants you to do right?”       “That is it, get the guy’s name.”       “Damn it, Davies,” the commander huffed. “Can you do this without getting into any fights with this guy?”       “Absolutely sir, no problem,” Danny’s arms were folded over his chest. He nodded to his boss.      “I don’t like it but take Franklin to be your backup man and no cowboy stuff, right?”       “Right sir, no cowboys, just a little info and that’s it.”       The commander huffed, and wiped the coffee from his walrus style mustache.       “Call me as soon as you get it.”       “Will do, sir.”        Danny got hold of the Frump and gave him the skinny on operation Teardrop.       “No kid,” Franklin looked amazed. “Cocaine?”      Danny confirmed it.      “Wow, drugs on the train. I never.”      “Anyway, Franklin, you understand what we are going to do right?”       Frumpy gulped, “Got it. We will be on the lookout for Tear Drop and if he is not in your car, I or another conductor will call you on the walkie-talkie and you will come and punch the tickets for the car where he is sitting.”       “Right,” said Danny. “Don’t bother talking to him or trying to engage with him or he will get suspicious and jump the train.”       Frumpy nodded nervously, “No engagements, got it.”      Danny laughed and hit his friend on the shoulder, “I’ll be doing all the tough stuff, relax.”       The Frump didn’t look a bit relaxed.  # It was two days later that Danny got the call from Franklin. “He’s up here, dude.”       “On my way,” was the curt response.       Danny started at the front of the cabin as he always did and slowly made his way back to Tear Drop, not rushing, not in a hurry. He talked to the passengers as usual. He got to Tear Drop and paused and reached up to the card above the seat and frowned.       “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “Sorry, sir, looks like I may have to check your ticket one more time. You don’t mind?” and he smiled the big smile.       “No esta problema, man,” the Hispanic guy replied. “Whatever you want, you got it, heh?” He pulled the ticket out of the back pocket of his jeans and smiled so his gold tooth showed.       Danny scanned the ticket with the meter machine, and it clicked that the memory had taken.       “Gracias, senor,” he nodded cordially and handed back the ticket.       The man smiled again and put his ticket away. “De nada.”       Danny moved on and collected the rest of the tickets from the remaining passengers. As soon as he was done with the car he made his way without haste to the downstairs mini office and pulled up the meter memory.       “Jose Gonzalez Gonzalez. Original at least,” he said to Frumpy.      “You got it, right?” whispered a nervous Frumpy.     “Yes, I got it.” Danny smacked his partner on the shoulder. “Relax.”       He got on the phone and called the commander and gave all the details on when, where and how the ticket was purchased and the man’s name.       “Ok,” Roosevelt replied. “We’ll get on it to get his id info. And remember, smart college boy, no funny stuff with this guy. He sounds dangerous.” Danny promised to be good, or at least careful, and hung up the phone.  It was then up to the two of them to go back to their jobs like nothing had ever happened. #      It was two weeks later that the Commander called Davies back into his office.  He appeared and his boss waved him to a chair without ceremony. He sat down, crossed his legs and foldedhis hands in his lap.      “Okay,” the Commander said as though they had just been speaking.      “Here’s this.” He handed over a letter from the Sacramento Police Department and it was a Witness Request form addressed to David Daniel Davies c/o of Pacific Railroad Company requesting his attendance at a suspect lineup.       “So,” Roosevelt huffed, “they want you to go.”       “Okay,” Danny replied.       “I think you should take Franklin too since he also saw the guy.”       “Okay,” said Danny slowly, waiting for what else was coming.      “Davies,” the Commander started. “Davies…I’m not happy about this.”     “We were just doing our duty sir,” Danny said sincerely.       “I don’t care,” replied Roosevelt, “this guy is a Mexican National, a professional criminal. Damn it, the passport he gave our people was fake!”       Danny nodded.       “Someone could have gotten hurt with all this nonsense,” the Commander seemed to be running out of steam. He looked down and fiddled with the pencil on his desk.      “People were getting hurt sir,” Danny’s said quietly. “They were selling top grade cocaine out of that warehouse. Lots of people get hurt with that stuff.”       Roosevelt stroked his mustache and avoided eye contact. “Well…” He seemed to be hunting for something to add. “In the future, can you try to keep your nose out of other people’s business? Try?” At this point, he straightened the pencil and looked up sharply at Danny.       “Yes, sir,” Danny got up to go and almost gave a military style salute but stopped himself in time. Instead, he gave a short quasi-salute and left. #      Later that evening, Danny and Frumpy were lingering at the entrance of Lupe’s Cantina. They were trying to figure out how to tie up the Frumps cocker spaniel so they could go in the restaurant. The temperature was getting warmer; summer seemed to be in the air. “I told you not to bring the dog,” Danny was irritable. “She misses me,” the Frump countered with a pout. Suddenly, the front door swung open. The restaurant cook came out and walked straight over to Danny.       “Is okay man, I talk to her.”       “Her?” Danny was confused.       “My cousin, Randi. The one you got you eye on all the time.”       “I, I, never….” Danny stumbled, grasping for a response.      “Is okay, Man. I tell her you too old for her and plus,” he leaned really close, “you gay.”       “What, what…..where did you get that from?” Danny was starting to get annoyed now.       The cook pointed his finger down at Frumpy, Frumpy’s cocker spaniel and then shrugged his shoulders like to say, “The facts speak for themselves.”       Danny’s mouth was still open when the cook turned to go back in the kitchen. “Is okay, man, you know. Is a new day.” He winked at Danny and disappeared back inside.        Danny was mumbling to himself as they went in and sat down. Randi appeared and carefully laid down a menu in front of him.       “And what will you two be having tonight, sir?” she asked quite formally, hands behind her back.       Danny sighed, shook his head, and opened the menu.    The End

Back home that evening, Danny fired up the computer.       Ha! As he suspected, he read ‘the tear drops are gang tattoos. The drops indicated a person you had killed. The big drop, the first kill and the smaller ones, later kills.’ Danny pushed himself away from the computer. He felt a rush of revulsion.  “I knew there was something about that guy I didn’t like,” he told the room. With a full-body shake, he went to get himself a beer. Flopping backdown in the big chair, he hit the on button for the TV to watch some baseball and clear his head.           It was probably a week later, again on the N/B route through SacTown; he first noticed a dim light coming from the abandoned warehouse close to the train tracks. They were slowing for the station when he noticed it.  He began to wonder. Was that where that same kid went every time?

     The next day, after seeing the kid again with another bag of Mexican food, Danny was on the Sacto-south loop coming back through the capital at dusk. They stopped in front of the station and Danny peered out. Once again, he could see what looked like the same dim light coming from a far window in the red-brick warehouse close to the tracks.

     He got a bee in his bonnet. He went to find the Frump. 

     “Look,” he said to him confidentially, “it’s one stop away from Davis and I want to get off in Sacramento to go do some shopping.” 

      Franklin looked pained. “You know they don’t like it when we do stuff like that, Dan. You’ll get me in trouble.” 

    “Come on Franklin, I’m good for it.” Danny pleaded his case. “I’ll make it up with some yard duty tomorrow, promise.” 

     The Frump heaved his large belly around some and sighed. “Promise?” 

     “Promise, I swear,” Danny replied, holding up his scout’s honor fingers. 

     “Ah, well,” the man sighed, “I’ll cover for you, don’t make a habit of this.” 

     Danny shook his head, no. Grabbing his backpack, he jumped off the train, quickly stuffing his cap and other paraphernalia into the bag. 

     He shouldered the bag and sauntered through the train station stopping for a hot coffee and a bag of chips. He waved a salute to a couple of girls at the station who knew him. They both giggled and waved back at him. He walked out of the front of the station and stood awhile to get his bearings. It was a cool evening, but not cold and he didn’t need more than his regular train jacket.

     The location looked a little different from this angle. He decided the warehouse was across from the tracks to his right a block or two. He started walking and veered right. The streets here were not in the best of shape, a lot of cracks in the sidewalks and places where the old trees had pulled the sidewalk up. Obviously, no one had bothered to get them repaired. There weren’t too many bums in this area of the street for which Danny was glad, he didn’t want to be seen by anyone, in case someone asked questions. 

     It took him about five minutes to get to the front parking lot of the old warehouse. The asphalt was faded with cracks and potholes everywhere. Weeds were trying hard to reclaim the land but half of them were dried out and brown. There was an ancient metal fence around the property with the gate sagging open. Danny stretched his long legs and planted a boot on the other side of the gate and frog-jumped over.

     He had by this time finished his coffee and chips and stuck the remains quietly into his bag.  Loose gravel covered the broken asphalt and he tried to make as little noise as possible as he approached the building. He couldn’t see any signs of life. An owl hooted in the distance and the moon was starting to rise.

     Quietly he moved around to the side of the building. The place had a gloomy, empty feeling.  Early twilight was descending and a light breeze played with the dark, curly hair on his neck. He could hear absolutely nothing from the building. He narrowed his chocolate brown eyes to focus better.  

     Danny skirted the building and occasionally peeked in the windows, searching  for the source of the light. The dirt and grime were so bad he couldn’t see much. Finally, he came upon a small side door with little windowpanes above the door handle. The handle was locked.

     Pulling a handkerchief from his backpack, he wound it around his fist. With one quick ‘pop’, he knocked out the bottom pane. Carefully he stuck his hand through the pane and slowly unlocked the door, pushing it open. Working hard to avoid the broken glass inside, he found himself in what appeared to have been an old mini-kitchen, maybe for workers to have coffee or eat lunch. 

     The light dimmed the further he went into the building. He entered a large, gloomy space that looked like a packing area of sorts. At the far end of the building where the metal roll-up doors were, he could see stacks of boxes. These looked new. 

     Still hearing nothing, he worked his way back to the rear of the big room. The boxes were all about 2’ x 3′ wide and stacked on top of each other. They were new with a bunch of writing on the side. He examined the writing – Spanish. He could easily see where the dust had been disturbed all around the boxes and leading to the roller-doors. It looked like they might been moved here by truck. On the side were heavy wooden shelves and he could see several used containers of food from a fast-food take-out place. Mama Rosas’s face smiled back at him from  an empty bag.

Maybe that was why that kid was here, he thought to himself, delivering dinner.

     He went over to the boxes and found they were sealed with packing tape. It looked like from the picture on the side they were packages of kitchen baking soda. He saw one box that had been opened and he went over and poked his nose in. Boxes and boxes of light orange boxes were stacked inside advertising the benefits of Salvo’s Home Baking Soda. Danny was mystified. 

     Why ship out boxes of Mexican baking soda here, was the duty or tax on this stuff that high? He shook his head. It made no sense. He picked up a box and shook it and could feel the heavy powder moving back and forth inside. 

     I wonder, he thought. He pulled out his old Navy multi-purpose knife and pulled out the smallest, thinnest blade. He slipped it carefully into the top edge of the box, hoping that it would look like an accidental cut from packing. Making a thin slice, he shook some powder in his hand. He licked one finger and tasted a tiny bit of the powder. Phew! He spit it out, cocaine! No doubt about it. He was putting the box back into the cardboard box when he heard a noise in front of the metal roll-up door. Someone is coming! 

     He shoved the soda back into the box and ripped his shoes off so he wouldn’t make any noise running through the warehouse. He beat it back to the little door, slipped his shoes back on and crept out of the door. He ducked down and worked his way back to the front of the building keeping below the level of the windows. 

     It was dark by now but there was no other way off the property other than the front gate. The back of the lot faced the train tracks and there was no easy way through the fence. He got to the corner of the building and with his heart in his mouth, peeked around the corner. 

Surprise, surprise. Mr. Teardrop was standing behind a black pickup truck and unloading more boxes into the warehouse. He was working with another guy and they were talking to each other in Spanish. His fancy clothes were gone and he was working in a black t-shirt, black pants and the cowboy boots. There was a large gun-rack on the back of the truck’s cab. Danny could see what looked like a couple of shotguns resting there.

     Danny sucked in his breath and waited until both of them were busy in the warehouse with boxes. He moved quickly to the fence and kept to the shadows while he beat a path out of the lot and back to the station. He felt sure they had not seen him. 

     Back at the station he jumped on the next train to Davis and finally relaxed into a seat. He realized his heart was pounding. His instincts about this guy were right and he still didn’t want to have a mano-a-mano conflict with the dude. God knows what he would pull out of one of those boots. A little shiver went down Danny’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear. Ah, well, let’s get us home.

     Continued in Part III

#

(Part IV – Previously: Sam and Kristie’s vacation gets interrupted by a wild party at the back of their B & B. Mialee’s sister Jen is caught with a smoking gun and one of the guests ends up dead.)

Later, the three of them were back from the station. Mialee went off to buy supplies for the kitchen and Bill was outside raking leaves. He got a rake for Sam. They dumped leaves into a green plastic bin.

“Honest to God, Sam, I didn’t realize these girls were so young. You know how it is with some of these gals. They can be fifteen, they put on a bunch of make-up, heels and Presto! They look twenty-five.”

Sam shrugged in agreement.

“Plus, I wasn’t really around any of them for any period of time. They were always in the back house. coming and going very late. We’ve been so busy with customers. . .” The big guy stopped and leaned on his rake. “Honestly, I just wasn’t paying that much attention. Didn’t think it was a problem. That and Mialee. . . well, I love her. But, you know, this is family, and you don’t rat out family.”

“There’s that,” Sam replied.

“I am not really sure how much she even knew.”

“The cops said they found crystal meth, coke, marijuana, pills and alcohol there. Did you know about that?” Sam asked.

“Jen has always been a bit on the wild side. It seems like things have been getting more out of control recently. I knew she drank a fair amount, and even some MJ now and then, but the other stuff. Whew! That surprised even me.”

“Well, Jen is going to have her hands full when they catch her. Manslaughter for sure, depending on what she says. Corruption of minors and prostitution. She could be looking at some real time. The good news is, I had a heart to heart with the detectives and they will try to keep the name of the B & B out of the papers as much as possible.”

“Whew! Well, thank God for that little bit.” Bill stared down at the leaves. “Bad press could kill the business.”

“Well, if you get any calls from the press, act like it was on a neighbor’s property and you know nothing. Got it?” Sam shot his friend a stern look.

Bill looked sheepish. “Got it.”

                                                            #

Sam was getting tired after the events of the day and decided to follow Kristie’s example. He went upstairs to take a nap and was completely out of it for several hours.

Then, “Sam, Sam, wake up.” A groggy Sam came to with the large face of Bill peering down at him.

“What. . .?”

“She’s on the bridge.”

“What bridge?” Sam asked.

“The jumper bridge. Colorado Street Bridge. And she’s got Crystal with her.”

“What? Crystal?”

“She sent a text to Crystal that she needed help and Crystal went to help her.”

“We’ve got to go!” Sam cried jumping out of bed. He grabbed a sweater and pulled on his pants. He had his boots in his hand as they stomped downstairs.

“My car!” Bill shouted.

They jumped into Bill’s car and raced off. In a few minutes they were at the Pasadena bridge. Cop cars were everywhere. They could see Jen posed at the edge of the bridge, leaning against a railing.

Sam stopped and stared. In one hand, Jen still held the gun she had had last night. The other arm was wrapped around Crystal’s neck. They teetered perilously close to the edge. Bill froze in place.

Out of the crowd, Mialee came running up and grabbed Bill. She was weeping.

“She’s going to kill her. I know it. She is going to kill her! Oh, my God, Bill.” The big man wrapped his arms around her.

Sam stared at the scene, his mouth moving soundlessly. He turned to Bill.

“Baseball.”

“Baseball?”

“In your car. Get it.”

“Oh,” light was dawning on Bill. “Softball?”

“Hardball.”

Bill let go of Mialee and ran to his car. He was back in a few moments bouncing an old hardball in his hand.

“You got one shot at this pal,” Sam said tersely.

“I know,” Bill answered.

The big man rotated his arm several times. Sam whispered to the sargent close by and the cops parted from in front of Bill. He scrunched and scrunched the ball several times in both hands.

Then, taking a mighty breath, Bill pulled back and threw the ball as hard as he could. There was a ‘thunk’ sound and Jen fell backwards. Several things happened all at once. The gun clattered to the asphalt, Crystal ran away from her aunt and the cops galvanized into motion. A bunch of men ran for Jen and had her in handcuffs within seconds. She was still knocked out cold so, they let her lie where she was.

Crystal ran to her mother who grabbed her, and they both started sobbing. Pretty soon Crystal, Mialee, Bill and Sam were all in a big group hug. Even Sam cried a little.

                                                          #

The next day, Sam and Bill were busy packing Bill’s red Mustang convertible for the trip back to Tranquility. He had insisted on driving Sam home. Sam tried to protest, he could take the train or rent a car, but Bill wasn’t having it.

Mialee packed them a big basket lunch and they were on their way early.

“Thanks for letting me drive you, Sam. Truth be told, I really needed a little time away. . . “

“From the girls?” Sam finished.

“Yeah, they need a little alone time together and I need a little. . . “

“Guy time?”

“Yeah, that’s it. It’s all been pretty stressful and this last bit was the topper.” Bill nodded philosophically as he drove.

Sam peeked into the basket. “So, now have we here?” He pulled out some good-looking grapes and cheese to go with his mug of coffee.

“Well,” the big guy breathed out, “she can’t come back.”

“No doubt,” Sam popped some grapes in his mouth.

“Apparently, what they got out of her at the station last night was she was defending one of the girls when she shot the guy.”

“Ah,” Sam broke off some cheese and handed it to Bill.

“He was roughing the girl up and Jen came to her aid. Things got ugly.”

“Very ugly.”

“So, maybe she’ll get manslaughter under a self-defense kind of thing.”

“But” Sam added, “although her motives were good, there is still the question of what was the girl doing there in the first place.”

“Exactly.” Bill added, “Sixteen and out on a school night. What’s up with that?”

“Do they even know who the girl was?”

Bill shook his head. “Apparently, everything was on a first name basis. No last names. And you saw those girls running for it. It will take a while to get any of them to come forward as witnesses.”

“I bet so,” Sam munched. “So, the money, on the mortgage? Jen’s half?”

“Well, like I said, she is half owner of the place, and we will have to buy her out.”

“Could be a lot. But, then again, Jen is going to need money for attorneys, etc.”

Bill laughed. “She’s already asked Mialee for money for her attorney.”

“How much?”

“Ten thousand, cash, up front. No credit.”

Sam whistled. “And that is only the beginning.”

“I know,” Bill grabbed some grapes, “we may be negotiating this ownership deal of the house for some time to come.”

“Well, if you need some help. . .” Sam grinned at his friend. “I do know some good attorneys.”

“You’ve already helped, Sam. You helped get our Crystal back. And thank you, brother.”

The two guys did a fist bump.  

“Plus,” Bill brightened, “I have a little saved up and if that B & B really starts to get successful, we won’t need Jen’s money. The place will pay for itself.”

“Well, you got a regular customer with us, buddy.”

Bill beamed at his friend and hit the button. The canvas top rolled back and settled on the back seat. Sun was shining, and the breeze ruffled their hair.

It was a beautiful day in California… not a cloud in the sky.

                                                            The End

(Part III – Sam and Kristie have gotten to the B & B in Pasadena and are enjoying their visit with old friend Bill Blass and his girlfriend, Mialee. However, a sister seems to be a little less than friendly.)

The next day dawned bright and beautiful again. Kristie wondered at herself as she poured her first cup of hot, steamy coffee from the large silver urn downstairs. There was no sign of the sister and she felt silly about her feelings. Probably just the late hour in a strange house.

After breakfast, she made Sam promise to take her to the Stats Christmas shop in Pasadena. Then they were going the Getty Museum for a walk around and ending with a drive down PCH to Gladstone’s for Fish in Malibu and an early dinner.

“I am going to gain ten pounds with all this eating we’re doing,” she complained to Sam.

“But it’s all really good, huh?” Sam winked at her.

“It’s great!”

Sam and Kristie poked around the Christmas shop and got jostled by frantic bargain hunters. Then, down to Malibu and The Getty Villa. Kristie had seen it years ago, but it was beautiful all over again.

“These are really good replicas,” Sam commented gazing closely at a painting.

Kristie laughed and hit him on the shoulder.

“They aren’t replicas, you goof, these are the real thing.”

“Oh,” was his reply. He pursed his lips, crossed his arms and wandered over to another painting.

Foot weary, Sam drove them to Gladstone’s, where they ordered clam chowder with their great, crusty sour-dough bread. They watched the sun drop in the sky and listened to waves breaking against the rocks. Kristie insisted they walk on the beach a little. They both took off their shoes and dug toes in the sand. Sea gulls screamed plaintively overhead.

“You know, it wasn’t all bad,” Kristie told him.

“What wasn’t?”

“Oh, you know. Being married and living in LA. It wasn’t all bad, we had our good times.”

Sam wrapped an arm around Kristie’s shoulders. “I bet you did.”

It was a tired two-some that tramped back to the car. Sam drove up Sunset Blvd. to save time and then back to the 405 north. Kristie snoozed in the car.

They arrived back at the B & B by 8 pm.  Kristie staggered up the stairs mumbling something about a bath. Sam dumped the keys in her purse and was about to follow when Bill stopped him.

“Sam, beer?”

Sam turned and was about to decline but paused when he saw his friend’s face.

“Sure, Heineken’s?”

“Yup, coming right up. Let’s have it on the porch,” Bill replied.

Sam got himself comfy in one of the over-stuffed chairs on the big wooden porch.

Bill was out in a moment and handed him his brew. They talked about Sam’s day trip and this and that for a while.

Finally, “Something on your mind, buddy?” Sam asked his friend taking a sip of his beer.

Bill stared down at his Heinekens and started picking the label off. Something he always did when he was troubled.

“Ah, yeah.” The big man looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was in the living room. It was empty.

“It’s Mialee’s sister, Jen. You met her?”

Sam shook his head no. “Heard her motorcycle come and go is all.”

“Ah, well.” Bill seemed to consider his words carefully. “Don’t exactly know how to say this.”

“Yes?”

“It’s the girls. It’s the girls coming and going.”

“Girls?”

“Yes.” Now the flood gates were finally open, the words came pouring out. Girls in the back building, coming and going. Living there, in and out. Out all night, parties. Crystal and Daniel cleaning up bottles and other ‘debris’ after parties. Crystal talking to her mom, telling her she knew some of these girls, they were her age. And, Jen.

“Jen, she’s in the middle of everything. She works as a bartender at a local watering hole and people end up coming back here at all hours. They are having parties until 6am when everyone passes out and it’s over until the next time.”

“Every day?” Sam asked.

“No, thank God. We would never be able to keep any customers in the big house. It’s two maybe three times a week.”

“Mialee has spoken to her?”

“Over and over. It gets nowhere.”

“Kick her out?”

“Can’t. She is part owner of the B & B just like Mialee. She put down earnest money to get the place and pays her share every month. Won’t work. Plus, you know,” Bill seemed to focus on pulling every bit of the label off the bottle, “it’s her kid sister, tough times together back home, no parents, all that.” He nodded, seemingly to himself.

“Hmm, that’s a real problem.”

“And now. . . Crystal told her mom. She is sure at least two of the girls who were at a recent party are from her high school.”

“Call the cops?”

“As soon as she went to clean the bathroom and came out, the girls were gone.”

“I haven’t seen anyone going down the drive,” Sam commented.

“There is a back path, through the trees, pretty well worn. They come up from the street through there and never go by the house.”

“So, have you seen any of this?”

Bill looked sheepish. “I’m a very heavy sleeper, Sam. You know that.”

Sam shrugged. It was true, the guy could sleep through a bomb blast.

“So, what now?”

“That’s it, Sam. I don’t know what to do. Jen is a piece of work, and I don’t like her, but, it’s Mialee’s sister. He shrugged his big shoulders, a look of resignation on his face.

Sam did know.

“It’s a problem, buddy. Underage girls, drinking, maybe drugs. And, if the cops get called. . .”

“It could be trouble for us,” Bill finished.

“Yeah, I would say so. Like Mialee could lose her business license kind of trouble.”

Bill blanched.

“Jesus. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“At the very least, could lose her license to sell alcohol and that would hurt your business, right?’

“Would it ever. People like their glass of white wine with dinner.”

“And Heinekens,” Sam raised his bottle and finished it off. He stood up.

“I don’t know, Bill. It’s bad. Might have to end up with you two buying her out to get her off the property. You might want to think about that.”

Bill stood up and looked like a big, confused kid. “That could be a lot of money, Sam.”

“Could be. Hey, it’s getting late, and I’m bushed. Talk to you tomorrow. Kristie is going to have to get back to work anyway, so, we’ll be up early.” He slapped his friend on the shoulder.

“Okay,” Bill was glum.

Bill sounded like Eor from that kid’s book, Sam thought with a chuckle.

“Tomorrow.”

Sam stumped back upstairs. Kristie had already taken her bath and was in bed with a magazine. He went to get a quick shower.

He dried off and put on a clean t-shirt, boxers and got into bed.

“Trouble?” Kristie asked.

“Yeah,” Sam yawned. “The sister, I guess she’s being a real pill.”

“Huh,” Kristie told him about her late-night encounter with the woman.

“Weird,” he said almost into the pillow.

“Yah, weird and creepy,” Kristie replied and shut off the light.

                                                            #

A groggy Sam struggled up from a deep sleep. He looked around. What? Moonlight streamed through a high window, and he read the little digital clock on the side table. 3:00 am. Why am I awake? He listened and then heard muffled voices. They were coming from outside and he couldn’t tell if they were laughing or crying, or. . . The voices got louder. Suddenly, there was a bang! Sam instantly recognized it as the report of a pistol. He sat up, threw his feet over the bed and ran over to his bag. He dug through, found his Smith and Wesson and ran to the bedroom door. Unlocking it, he ran down the stairs. He heard more commotion and realized it was coming from the back house.

Going from the dining room to the back mudroom, he had to contend with a complicated series of locks and latches on the door. He cursed trying to get them undone. He finally was able to get the last lock undone and ripped the door open and ran out into the cold night air.

His amazed eyes could hardly take in what he was seeing. A dozen girls, in various forms of dress and undress were streaming out of the building and running toward the trees. He tried to stop one, but she wrestled out of his grasp and kept running. Slowing down his breathing, he went forward and climbed the steps to the building. His bare feet tingled against the cold, aging wood steps. There were bright lights in one of the rooms and the door was wide open.

He walked in. There on the floor lay a short man in evening clothes. Black hair, he looked Asian. There was a large red stain on the front of his shirt that was getting bigger. Bent over him, almost double, Sam recognized what had to be Jen, the anime-double sister. The woman jerked up when she realized he was there. In her hand, was a twenty-two pistol. She swung the gun his way.

“Hold on there,” Sam put his hands up and tried for his calmest voice. “Why don’t you put that down.”

She glared at him, her hair was a disheveled mess, her eyes almost blood red, black makeup circling the eyes. Her clothes looked torn. Slowly, she approached him, and he backed up. She made a wide arc around Sam, the body and approached the door. Suddenly, she darted toward the door and Sam raced after her. But she had a head start and he didn’t know where she was going.

He got downstairs and looked wildly around seeing nothing but the cold night. Suddenly, an engine revved loudly, and he could hear the Ducati zooming away. Sam went back upstairs and looked for a phone.

                                                             #

Two hours later, Sam, Kristie, Mialee and Bill were all sitting in the dining room having coffee. The South Pasadena police had showed up. But, since it was a murder and possibly involving minors, LAPD showed up too and were swarming all over the place. The police coroners were there to get the body.

“Might have been self-defense, Ma’am.” The officer was speaking to Mialee. “The man had some defensive wounds on his fingers. He was either fighting with someone or fighting to defend himself.” The officer looked thoughtfully at her. “Did you know the decease, Ma’am? Know why he was here?” The man looked around the dining room. “Because I believe this is a bed and breakfast, right? You don’t usually specialize in wild parties. Am I right?”

Mialee nodded numbly. “I didn’t know him at all. Not a guest. Probably a friend of my sister’s or one of her friends knew him.”

“Yes,” Officer Padgett tapped his pencil on a pad. “And she’s gone, correct?”

Mialee looked at Sam who nodded.

“I see. Well, we’ll have to have you come down to the station to make a report. Here’s my card. You can do that, when you get some clothes on, Ma’am?”

Mialee nodded.

“Oh, and you too, Mr.. . . “He looked at the business card. “Mr. Sam Reynolds, PI. Hmm, very timely.” He smiled at Sam.

Kristie looked at the officer. “Do I need to come too? I didn’t see anything; I was in bed and don’t know what happened. Also, I am on vacation and need to get back to work.”

“Give a statement to the sergeant with all your information and then you should be okay to go.”

Kristie looked at Sam. He made a little finger gesture upstairs. In thirty minutes, Kristie’s statement was made, and she was back upstairs packing.

Sam came in with his head down.

“Don’t say it. I know. You have to stay. He’s a friend.” Kristie was trying to keep the peeve out of her voice. She jerked the folded pants into the suitcase.

“Well. . .” Sam said slowly, “I am a witness.”

“And never one to leave a good fight. It’s okay, Sam. I understand. He needs you to help out. I get it. But I’m ready to leave and will just be underfoot, so. . .” She took a big breath and let it out. Arms akimbo, she stared at him.

“Will you be okay driving back by yourself?” he looked at her sadly, fingering her suitcase.

“Oh, pish. I have done this drive tons of times. I’ll be fine. Look after Bill and… Mialee. They’ve got their hands full.” She gave him a kiss and he gave her a full hug.

Forty minutes later the Sebring was packed and ready to go. Mialee and Bill came out to wave goodbye to Kristie. Mialee kept apologizing.

“I am so sorry this has happened. I am so sorry.”

Kristie waved at her. “Don’t worry about it. We loved our time here. I am so sorry this had to happen at your beautiful bed and breakfast. Mialee looked ready to cry.

“Really, got to go.” Kristie blew Sam a kiss, backed up and went down the drive.

“Guess we need to get to South Pas police to make those statements,” Sam said.

Continued Part IV

Harnessing the N quality of your personality. The Intuitive part.

(https://www.16personalities.com/free-personality-test – a free test.)

Many of you have taken the Meyers-Briggs personality test. If so, you may have scored an N on your test which is a measure of your intuitive ability. Again, this is not a ‘mother’ quality, necessarily. Good mothers probably have a fair amount of this quality; however, so do gamblers, lawyers, negotiators, stock brokers, real estate agents, salespeople and general con artists. But, I am not suggesting that anyone become a con artist!!!! However, your intuitive skills and abilities are very important in inter-relationships with others, especially men.

Aagain, in relationships with men we frequently have to let go of the skills, abilities and go-to places that are so familiar. The Guide, the Counselor, the Helper, the Nurse and the Mother roles feel familiar and safe. Like a heavy winter coat, we need to take off that coat and bring forth other skills and abilities that are there, maybe latent, or underdeveloped. That said, we don’t have to stand naked and shivering in the cold light of day, there are other supports to be developed which we will discuss more in later chapters.

What is my job here if it not nurse, helper, guide, counselor and helpful Hannah?

What is my job in this dating game if it is not these familiar roles? Think of it like a light spring coat, in my mind, it is multi-colored with shades of green and other spring colors. You can imagine your coat anyway you want.

Your job is to listen and absorb information. Then to be open to your own feelings and reactions;, not to guide, counsel, improve, inform, redirect, help, the other person.  Your job is to take care of you. If you do establish a relationship, there may be time to be the helper, to an extent, but regardless, you should never act as the man’s mother unless you want an adult child on your hands.

So, you are having a conversation with a man and you think, I might be interested! You may find yourself slipping into a fantasy about the potential of the relationship with hearts and flowers, la-la-la. Give yourself a mental slap, get back into the now and pay attention to what he is saying.

What is he saying? Talking about the ex-wife, the ex-girlfriends, what happened in the relationship (s), relationships with parents, brothers, sisters, friends, co-workers and others? How does he feel about family, friends and work? Is he happy or unhappy? Is he successful or not, even in relationship according to his own value set. Success does not necessarily mean a big house and a fast car. A man may feel contented with an apartment or condo and a used car. If he is in a serene place with children, ex’s, family, job and his own body, he may a person with room in his life for a relationship.

Pushmi-Pullyu

They had no tail, but a head at each end, and sharp horns on each head. They were very shy and terribly hard to catch. The… men get most of their animals by sneaking up behind them while they are not looking. But you could not do this with the pushmi–pullyu — because no matter which way you came towards him, he was always facing you. [The Story of Doctor Dolittle](Lofting, 1920.)

Every relationship has push and pull components. You push, he pulls – he pushes and you pull. Your job is to use your intuitive self and your 6^th sense to recognize these natural back and forth pulls in the relationship.

Particularly in the beginning of a possible relationship, you need to recognize the point at which the man either advances or he pulls away.

Wow! Oh, my God! He is pulling away! Hit the panic button and the red lights are flashing!!!!!! What now????????

Don’t chase.

The more you chase, the faster he will run the other direction. This is the time when you pull into yourself, center yourself, do your meditation and let go and relax.

How Can I Miss you if you Never Go Away? (1969) Dan Hicks and his Hot Licks.

We can utilize our intuitive sense to feel that the man is pulling away. We can be intuitive but we are not mind readers. We don’t know exactly what the man is thinking during this phase. Too often, as women, we conclude that it has something to do with us. We are too tall, too short, too fat, too skinny, too smart, too stupid, too educated or not educated enough, too rich or too poor. We are less than in some terms and that is why he is leaving.

Stop. You don’t know that and stop trying to figure it out. Refer back to the paragraph about men and their fears. The man may be reacting to the fears in his head and it may have little to do with you. However, that said, chasing after the man like a hungry carnivore looking for lunch will not dispel his fears. More the opposite.

What now?

Let go. Trust in whatever Higher Power that you believe in that things will work out the way they should. Relax and focus on you and not him.

This is the time to do You work and take your focus completely off him. Relax that grip you feel in both hands. Relationships are a process. You must let him process his feelings. He may like you, he may like spending time with you. However, like is not love. It can be the beginnings of love or not. He might like you, sense that you have feelings for him and pull away because he a) doesn’t want to lead you on or b) doesn’t want to get tangled up in a relationship, any relationship or c) he doesn’t love you, knows it and wants to cut his losses. Lastly, he may be confused about his feelings for you and distance can be the great clarifier. As he has distance, he is able to sort his feelings out and determine if he wants to reconnect or to disconnect. Either way, you are going to need to be accepting of his decision. The last thing you want is being trapped in a relationship with a man who feels trapped.

Allow the man time. He knows how to reach you. Let him reconnect, if that is what he wants on his own time schedule. If he doesn’t…oh well, sigh. If he does…whee! Imagine your surprise and delight when he re-enters your life and you didn’t have to do anything except sit there!

So, while you are contemplating your navel, feeling down and a little sorry for yourself, contemplate something else. How many times have you been pursued by men you had absolutely no interest in? And have they been relentless and obnoxious in their pursuit? Have you had to take steps to avoid certain men? All the time thinking to yourself, why is it always the ones I have no interest in?????? Maybe that is the point. Men frequently want the very thing they can’t have. The more you say no (and mean it) the harder they pursue.

So, are we playing games here? Not really. Games require work and effort instead of relaxing, letting go and allowing ‘the game’ to unfold without controlling, manipulating, coaxing, threatening, demanding, following, and all other activities that are so time consuming and fatiguing.

We let go and work on the Me inside.

Romantic you:

Your favorite movies are: The Proposal (Ryan Reynolds, Sandra Bullock), The Notebook (Sandra Bullock, Keanu Reeves), Somewhere in Time, and the list goes on. Your favorite books are all things: HEA (Happily Ever After), you wanted to be Cinderella when you were a kid, your favorite colors are pink or red, you love Valentine’s Day and Christmas (shades of red and pink).

You believe in happily ever after; however, it doesn’t quite seem to be coming true for you. Hmm. How can some women catch the brass ring and others not? What is the difference?

Sometimes it is luck. Sometimes timing. Sometimes, our pickers are a little bent and we tend to pick Mr. Wrong, again and again. Sigh. I want off this terrible merry-go-round she says. Is it possible? It is possible but it does take some work.

Meditation, friends, family, exercise, diet and having a life. Being the best you.

Skills and Hobbies

One of my favorite hobbies is social dancing. Unfortunately, due to Covid, most of us were not able to participate in this sport for some time. Gradually, as people become vaccinated, more people are returning to the dance floor.

I want to talk about one young lady who caught my eye several times. Young, in her twenties, she is not very tall, maybe 5’3” and slim. Not a pretty face either, one might describe it as ‘interesting,’ but certainly not beautiful. She dyed her hair a deep red color and usually spends a lot of time on the dance floor when she is there.

Why? This young lady is a very good dancer and makes a good dance partner. She has clearly been at it awhile and the men are pleased to dance with her. Now, has she gotten a husband/boyfriend off the dance floors? I have no idea. But I do know that she was having a lot of fun while in the studio and probably left feeling good about herself.

Isn’t that the point? Claiming the prize (a man) needs to stop being the all-encompassing motive for our activities. And, by the way, good for her!

The very opposite of that attitude is one held by a close friend of mine. A woman my age who has given up on diet and exercise. Again, why?

According to her, since she has given up on relationships (romantic) there is no need to exercise. Because, of course, the only reason ever exercise is to secure a man, right? My friend has steadily gained weight over the years and is miserable.

We all want relationships, otherwise, why read this book? However, the eye on the prize thinking has to change. We don’t get it together to get a man and then quit. (What is Mr. Wonderful going to think about us then?) We take responsibility for ourselves and our bodies and stop whining about it. Our lives and existence do not have to be, nor should be, all about ‘getting a man.’

I went out the other evening to do a spot of grocery shopping. There is a Dollar Tree store in this parking lot. As I pulled into the driveway, I paused and had to look again to be sure what I was seeing. There was a half naked man behind the Dollar Tree, using the side of the dumpster as a toilet. Then, he was trying to clean himself up with whatever he had available.

The emotions of surprise, shock, disgust all flood my mind. I went and got my items and drove out the same way. The man was still out there, doing what ever.

It is a black eye on our society where people are doing things like this public. This a middle-class neighborhood and I have never in my life seen things like this before. The homeless population grows by the day. The City refuses to fund public toilets because they ‘cost too much money.’ How much are things like this costing us in depreciating the value of our neighborhoods, creating filth, disease and mess that some unhappy worker will have to clean up?

The unemployment and housing crisis in this town is threatening to bring all of us to our knees. We need to address to cause of much of this. Covid of course is out there; however, the escalating cost of housing is outstripping most other problems. We need to try to grasp the fact that commercial real estate transactions have crippled our economy and that goes back to the recession on 2008. The fact that some people get rich while others go into the toilet is not helping. Why do you think that many extremely rich people are moving to New Zealand and remote islands off the coast of Africa? Maybe they remember their history lessons about the French Revolution and want to get out of the way. Here are more articles about the effects that commercial real estate have had and are having on our economy.

Domino Effect: Market Research

2017 – Andrew from DJA, Sacramento “…(we do) careful market research to deliver fair prices….in relation to the area.” (Retrieved from the Internet, 2022.)

What this phrase ‘careful market research’ means is that property management companies do market research for the area where their rentals are located. If you remember your statistics or math classes; the rental prices from a geographical area are gathered, (example – one bed room apartments,) the prices of all units are added and then divided by the total number of units to give the average market price for units in that zip code. This appears to be a fair system, until….one owner raises his price, then another does and another and, so on. In a domino effect, as more and more owners raise their prices, this same system therefore creates a rising average price. And this is whether or not the rise in prices is truly justified or not. For example, as seen in recently rising cost of gasoline and other inflationary costs.

Landlords are never required to give an accounting to their tenants for the increased rent and the reasons for it. They simply raise the rent and justify the cost with such market research tools that support their case.

An antidote to rising prices can be that potential renters, when they see a property that they like, when presented with the usual twenty page lease agreement containing endless Thou Shalt Not clauses, add one of their own stating “It is agreed between the parties that a rental increase of not more than (3-6%) shall attach each year.” When the rental company tells the potential renter ‘we can’t do that’ the renter can say, ‘and I can’t rent from you.’ If enough people did that, it would help curb the mad-dog escalating system that is now in place.

Recession of 2008

MARKETS  INTERNATIONAL MARKETS

The Great Recession

By 

THE INVESTOPEDIA TEAM

Updated May 26, 2022

Reviewed by 

MICHAEL J BOYLE

Fact checked by 

AMANDA BELLUCCO-CHATHAM

What Was the Great Recession?

The Great Recession was the sharp decline in economic activity during the late 2000s. It is considered the most significant downturn since the Great Depression. The term “Great Recession” applies to both the U.S. recession, officially lasting from December 2007 to June 2009, and the ensuing global recession in 2009.

The economic slump began when the U.S. housing market went from boom to bust, and large amounts of mortgage-backed securities (MBS) and derivatives lost significant value.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

• The Great Recession refers to the economic downturn from 2007 to 2009 after the bursting of the U.S. housing bubble and the global financial crisis.
• The Great Recession was the most severe economic recession in the United States since the Great Depression of the 1930s.
• In response to the Great Recession, unprecedented fiscal, monetary, and regulatory policy was unleashed by federal authorities, which some, but not all, credit with the subsequent recovery.

Understanding the Great Recession

The term “Great Recession” is a play on the term “Great Depression”. An official depression occurred during the 1930s and featured a gross domestic product (GDP) decline of more than 10% and an unemployment rate that at one point reached 25%.

While no explicit criteria exist to differentiate a depression from a severe recession, there is a near consensus among economists that the downturn of the late-2000s, was not a depression. During the Great Recession, U.S. GDP declined by 0.3% in 2008 and 2.8% in 2009, while unemployment briefly reached 10%. However, the event is unquestionably the worst economic downturn in the intervening years.

https://www.investopedia.com/terms/g/great-recession.asp#:~:text=The%20credit%20markets%20that%20had,Bear%20Stearns%20in%20March%202008.

According to a 2011 report by the Financial Crisis Inquiry Commission, the Great Recession was avoidable. The appointees, which included six Democrats and four Republicans, cited several key contributing factors that they claimed led to the downturn.2

First, the report identified failure on the part of the government to regulate the financial industry. This failure to regulate included the Fed’s inability to curb toxic mortgage lending.

Next, there were too many financial firms taking on too much risk. The shadow banking system, which included investment firms, grew to rival the depository banking system but was not under the same scrutiny or regulation. When the shadow banking system failed, the outcome affected the flow of credit to consumers and businesses.3

Other causes identified in the report included excessive borrowing by consumers and corporations and lawmakers who were not able to fully understand the collapsing financial system. This created asset bubbles, especially in the housing market as mortgages were extended at low interest rates to unqualified borrowers who could not repay them. This caused housing prices to fall and left many other homeowners underwater. This, in turn, severely impacted the market for mortgage-backed securities (MBS) held by banks and other institutional investment companies.

______________________________________________________________________________

Conclusion: this country has gone through a fantastic financial drought caused primarily by the housing and mortgage lending industries. People have lost jobs, money, retirement funds, the where withal to live and some, their lives.

Once again, the tail that wags the dog, the commercial real estate industry is spreading its tentacles throughout this state. The end result will be systems in place that consistently raise the cost of living to the point it is unaffordable to the average person. People give up saving money, taking vacations, repairing their cars and teeth. The owners increase in wealth and power and exert increasing control and pressure on the economy. While sitting in their Cadillac Escalades, making appointments on cell phones that affect the lives of the ‘common people’ who they have neither a connect to nor any care for. Essential, the middle-class and our way of life rots under the heel of designer boots.

The solution to these problems is for individual cities to be given the authority to place a cap on the percent increase per year, allowed to landlords. An increase that is in line with the ordinary increases in salaries would be fair. Since most salaries increase per year by about 3 to 3.5%, so should rents. It is understandable that inflation this last year has out stripped those amounts, but why should renters be responsible for those numbers? An investment company with $20,000,000 in assets can better afford to take the ‘hit’ of inflation than the renter who has less than $2,000 in the bank. Pressure needs to be put on lawmakers in the State capital to make this a priority issue.

It is time to take back the economy from commercial real estate interests. This dog needs a muzzle.

7/17/22 cew