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Restored Pied Piper returns to namesake bar

By Carl Nolte

Updated 8:51 am PDT, Friday, August 23, 2013

Photo: Paul Chinn, The Chronicle

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A team of installers hang “The Pied Piper of Hamelin” behind the bar at the Palace Hotel after the owners decided against selling it.

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With a Champagne toast and a deep bow to more than a century of tradition, the famous Maxfield Parrish painting “The Pied Piper of Hamelin” returned to San Francisco’s Palace Hotel on Thursday.

The painting, which is 16 feet long, 6 feet tall and weighs more than 250 pounds, was reinstalled over the bar at the hotel’s Pied Piper Bar and Grill, where it had hung for years.

It was a magnificent comeback for the Pied Piper. Only five months ago, the Palace Hotel’s ownership had removed the painting and planned to sell it at auction. They said the Pied Piper was too valuable and too important a cultural image to be displayed in public – particularly in a bar, no matter how fancy.

But the announcement produced a huge public outcry and Honolulu’s Kyo-Ya Hotels and Resorts changed its mind. Instead, the Pied Piper, valued at between $3 million and $5 million, or perhaps more, was cleaned and refurbished and returned to its place of honor.

“People identify that painting with San Francisco,” said Mike Buhler, executive director of San Francisco Heritage, which played a leading role in calling for the Pied Piper’s return. “They have restored a small part of the city’s soul.”

Buhler was looking forward to being in a crowd of invited guests on hand to see the painting unveiled at 5 p.m., the city’s traditional cocktail hour. The painting was brought into the hotel early Thursday morning and carefully remounted over the bar in its namesake room.

The auction plan

The original plan was to offer it for sale at an auction of fine art in New York in May. It was expected to bring a handsome price. Some years ago, a private collector reportedly had offered the Palace $7 million for the Pied Piper, only to be told it was not for sale at any price.

But then the Palace ownership announced it would be auctioned off, and the Kyo-Ya company, the hotel, and the media were deluged with e-mails, letters, phone calls and protests. The protesters included everyone from bar patrons, to historians, to San Francisco Mayor Ed Lee, and thousands of others.

“The ownership was surprised,” said Palace general manager Christophe Thomas. The company’s original plan, he said, was to change the look and feel of the bar and grill, “but people liked it (the painting) very much, so it was decided to leave it exactly as it was.”

That, in fact, was the preservationists’ point.

“The Pied Piper Bar and Grill without the painting is simply not the same place,” Buhler said. “Now it has been made whole. It really represents the essence of San Francisco.”

The painting, which includes three adult figures and 24 children following a colorfully garbed man playing a flute, is based on a medieval German legend about a mysterious man who first drove the rats out of the town of Hamelin, was treated badly by the city fathers and in revenge lured the town’s children away. The model for the Pied Piper is said to be Parrish himself.

1909 commissioning

The painting was commissioned by the Palace in 1909 for the Men’s Bar at the hotel. It cost $6,000 and was unveiled for the first time with great ceremony in December of that year.

Parrish, one of the most notable painters and illustrators of his time, did two other large paintings for hotels. “Old King Cole,” originally painted by Parrish for the Knickerbocker Hotel in New York City, now hangs in the St. Regis Hotel there. A third large Parrish painting was commissioned for the Sherman Hotel in Chicago.

The Pied Piper was moved from the Palace bar three times: during the Prohibition years, when it was displayed in the hotel’s Rose Room; from 1989 to 1991, when the Pied Piper was on display at the M.H. de Young Memorial Museum while the Palace Hotel was being refurbished; and from March 22, when it was taken down for possible sale, until Thursday.

The painting received a thorough cleaning, removing years of grime from the long years of exposure to the aura of a bar, including a film of airborne tobacco smoke from the days when smoking in bars was fashionable.

 

 

George Burns and Gracie Allen

 

Decline of Female Happiness: The Devaluation of the Female

These Are the 5 Best Countries for Women

Nordic nations are among the best places to be a woman, a survey finds. By Sintia Radu, Staff Writer Jan. 23, 2018, at 12:01 a.m.

Using measurements to rate life satisfaction; European researchers were able to obtain results of a satisfaction survey from 9,000 women on: human rights, gender equality, income equality, progress and safety. The Nordic nations continue to come in first with women and their overall satisfaction with life. In the 16-24-year-old groups, the top countries were: Denmark, German, Netherlands, Austria and Poland. In the 65-74-year-old group, the top countries were Denmark, Germany, Ireland, The Netherlands and Finland. Although the US comes in at #8 in overall life satisfaction of the population in general, apparently not so much for women.

Historically, the role of women in society, most societies in the world, was that of mother, wife, grandmother, caretaker, cook, cleaner and bottlewasher. There was a mystical quality to women that men could never define and did not seek to do so. See the clip of George Burns and Gracie Allen. Once again, Gracie pursues her own particular pretzel logic and George simply shrugs philosophically and gets on with his day.

Once upon a time, women were in labor rooms without husbands, at the hairdressers with other women, trying on clothes with other women and shopping and cleaning with other women. Today, there are no ‘hairdressers’ anymore, there are Unisex hair salons, and Unisex toilets. Husbands and boyfriends absolutely clutter up space in Victoria Secret underwear shops ‘helping’ the women pick out lingerie. Keep the door closed when you are trying on a bra, ladies. Although I do think that dads in the delivery room is a good idea; gives them a little idea about how much work it is, but the other stuff. Humm.

Men love to classify, quantify, codify and create measurable units. The main thing that women do, have done and have done for centuries, is to provide the glue that is required to keep the family together and running smoothly. Because this quality cannot be measured the way a paycheck can be measured; people (men) tend to devalue its worth. As women move more and more into the workplace, they are being put into the position of being ‘measurable’ for worth in the same way that men have been. To the point at which the modern male has begun to ‘assert his right’ and demand that the wife go back to work, but that also she brings in ‘adequate’ compensation.

Since men are frequently so unable to either understand or appreciate the non-quantifiable aspects of their wives/mothers, unfortunately, like an old song, you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

The new age woman is overvalued for her looks and pocketbook; so, when her looks are fading, by God, she better start working on the pocketbook. The following article talks about dissatisfaction amongst modern women and the reasons for that. One very important point is birth control. Birth control is a boon to women to help them control the total number of children they choose to have.

However, the negative side of that coin is that modern men, well knowing about birth control, pressure women into having sex outside of marriage. Should a pregnancy occur (heavens!) it is usually considered the woman’s ‘fault’ because she was ‘supposed to handle this.’ Also, the advent of crime-free abortions has put pressure on relationships. There are probably no statistics out there to cover the number of boyfriends and husbands who have insisted that the woman have an abortion. Then, also the relationship breakups that occur in the aftermath of those decisions.

I will tell two stories, to finish my tale of two women I knew and what happened to them.

Birth control pills started really coming on the market in the 60’s and by the 70’s lots of women were taking them. Doctors and pharmaceutical companies kept playing with the dosages of the pills and correcting the levels and by the 80’s, everybody was on the pill. In the early 80’s, I had a female coworker in my office. She was very pretty, actually a former beauty queen and divorced.

She decided that she wanted to get married again and became very dissatisfied with the response of men that she dated. Mostly, the expectation that she ‘put out’. In keeping with her new plan, she decided to do things differently. “No ticky, no laundry.” She would accept dates and inform her shocked companions that she was looking to get married. There would be no ‘putting out’ until there was an engagement ring on her finger. We would be endlessly entertained by stories of men stomping away from her door, enraged at her cheek. Imagine accepting a dinner with no intention of proper payback. Indeed!!!! In the end, she did find a guy willing to play by her rules and they got hitched. Last I heard, they still were married with two kids. Harump!

The second story I have to tell is about a young lady, twenty-eight years of age, to whom I was giving some financial counseling. She was engaged to be married and was living with her fiancée. She came to me after the first wedding was called off and they started to have money problems.

The story was that she was living in Orange county, going to college, when she met him. They got together, he proposed, and she accepted. However; he lived in Los Angeles county. He talked her into moving in with him ‘because they were going to get married anyway.’ Seemed like a good idea until the wedding date approached. He began to demand that she pay half the rent since they were ‘sharing’ the apartment. She was still a college student, working as a waitress and commuting a long distance to school. He was well established in his career and made about four times her pay. He would not back down off his position.

This went on for about two months. I finally recommended that she contact her family in the mid-west and request an airplane ticket to fly home when school was finished. She did, and they sent her one.

As soon as she packed her bag to leave, the guy had a complete breakdown. As a sober alcoholic, he relapsed and drank. A very unhappy ending for everyone.

The lesson here is that the girl in this scenario was always worth way more to him and the relationship than half the rent. She wasn’t just a casual roommate. To try and attempt to put their relationship on a ‘business’ footing was ridiculous. Also, given their very unequal earning abilities, clearly unfair. Nothing short of losing her could get this guy to wake up and smell the coffee.

In households all over the country, men continue to underestimate and undervalue their wives and girlfriends. Women, feeling the disrespect and disregard, are using their new-found earning power to exercise greater options and leave the relationships. Who wins in these situations? There are a lot of egotistical, lonely men out there who are functionally incapable of acknowledging or appreciating any woman over the age of thirty. Too, there are many bitter divorced women who end up convinced that their only value to the man was sex and the size of their paycheck. No one is happy or satisfied and the children of these unhappy breakups will not fair any better. Kids continually take sides on the part of the ‘right’ parent and despise the ‘wrong’ parent.

I lost touch with the young lady from Orange County and don’t know how their relationship ended. However, married or not, I have seen the aftermath of so many similar breakups and divorces to predict the ending.

So, to all the bean counter-men and to all the women who allow themselves to be pigeon-holed into a ‘numbers’ category; know that entire generations of people in this culture and in others have depended on the invisible hands of moms and grandmoms to keep the gears turning. Unfortunately, their efforts defy efforts to quantify and classify. The greatest thing that can be said it the feeling in the room when they are no longer there. Empty.

The Paradox of Declining Female Happiness – Betsey Stevenson

Click to access Stevenson_ParadoxDecliningFemaleHappiness_Dec08.pdf

By many objective measures the lives of women in the United States have improved over the past 35 years, yet we show that measures of subjective well‐ being indicate that women’s happiness has declined both absolutely and relative to men.  The paradox of women’s declining relative well‐being is found across various datasets, measures of subjective well‐being, and is pervasive across demographic groups and industrialized countries.  Relative declines in female happiness have eroded a gender gap in happiness in which women in the 1970s typically reported higher subjective well‐being than did men.  These declines have continued and a new gender gap is emerging—one with higher subjective well‐being for men.    This draft: October 16, 2008

1. Introduction

By many measures the progress of women over recent decades has been extraordinary: the  gender wage gap has partly closed; educational attainment has risen and is now surpassing that of  men; women have gained an unprecedented level of control over fertility; technological change in the  form of new domestic appliances has freed women from domestic drudgery; and women’s freedoms  within both the family and market sphere have expanded.  Blau’s 1998 assessment of objective  measures of female well‐being since 1970 finds that women made enormous gains.  Labor force outcomes have improved, as women’s real wages have risen for all but the least educated women,women’s wages relative to those of men have increased for women of all races and education levels,  and female labor force participation has risen to record levels both absolutely and relative to that of  men (Blau and Kahn 2007).  In turn, better market outcomes for women have likely improved their  bargaining position in the home by raising their opportunities outside of marriage.  Yet we document in this paper that measures of women’s subjective well‐being have fallen both absolutely and relatively to that of men.  While the expansion in women’s opportunities has been extensively studied, the concurrent decline in subjective well‐being has largely gone unnoted.

One exception to this is Blanchflower and Oswald (2004), who study trends in happiness in the United States and Britain noting that while women report being happier than men, the trend in white  women’s happiness in the United States has been negative.

We will show in this paper that women’s happiness has fallen both absolutely and relative to men’s in a pervasive way among groups and that  this has occurred through much of the industrialized world. Social changes that have occurred over the past four decades have increased the opportunities available to women and a standard economic framework would suggest that these expanded  opportunities for women would have increased their welfare.  However, others have noted that with the expansion of opportunities have come costs and that men may have been the beneficiaries of the women’s movement.  In particular, many sociologists have argued that women’s increased  opportunities for market work have led to an increase in the total amount of work that women do.

Arlie Hochschild’s The Second Shift argued that women’s movement into the paid labor force was not  accompanied by a shift away from household production and they were thus now working a “second  shift”.  However, time use surveys do not bear this out.  Aguiar and Hurst (2007) document relatively  equal declines in total work hours since 1965 for both men and women, with the increase in hours of  market work by women offset by large declines in their non‐market work.  Similarly, men are now working fewer hours in the market and more hours in home production.  Women, she argued, have maintained the emotional  responsibility for home and family: a point that is perhaps best exemplified by the familiar refrains of a  man “helping” around the house or being a good dad when “babysitting” the kids.

A recent paper by Alan Krueger (2007) sheds some light on this issue by examining the degree of  pleasantness and unpleasantness in daily activities.  Assuming that one’s enjoyment of activities has  been unchanged, he finds that women’s new mix of daily activities leaves them hedonically unchanged.   However, men have had a net increase in the pleasantness of activities in their day.  Thus, according to  Krueger’s estimates, between 1966 and 2005 men became better off relative to women.     Social and legal changes have given individuals more autonomy over individual and family  decision making, including rights over marriage, children born out of wedlock, the use of birth control,  abortion, and divorce (Stevenson and Wolfers, 2007).  Once again, men may have been able to  disproportionately benefit from these increased opportunities: Akerlof, Yellen, and Katz (1996) argue  that sexual freedom offered by the birth control pill resulted in women being pressured into having  sex outside of marriage and no bargaining power to force a shotgun marriage in the face of an  unwanted pregnancy.

During this period there have also been large changes in family life.  Divorce  rates doubled between the mid‐1960s and the mid‐1970s, and while they have been falling since the  late 1970s, the stock of divorced people has continued to grow (Stevenson and Wolfers, 2008).   In  addition to divorce, there has been an increase in the rate of children born out of wedlock that was  concentrated in the 1960s and early 1990s.  As a result of increases in both divorce and out‐of‐ wedlock childbearing by age 15 about half of all children in the US are no longer living with both  biological parents (Elwood and Jencks 2001).

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What final conclusions can be made from this large grouping of facts. Women in Nordic countries seem to be very content with their lives, young and old. Women in America are not. Reason? Probably the basis of another blog. In less than 50 years we are a society with fewer children, fewer odious household tasks, more freedoms for men in terms of having to shoulder the entire burden of household expenses themselves. Yet, divorce is up and fewer people are happily married or even happy. European countries have gone through the same basic social changes we have in the US but seem to be handling it better. It’s a puzzle. I would love comments from readers on this one.

Yes, the alarm rings: 5:15 a.m. with the most obnoxious radio station going. I groan and get out of bed long enough to hit the coffee button and feed the cat. Sam waits anxiously, scared to death I might forget him and his food dish. As if!

I get to my early morning meditation meeting and then I am off to the mall. I am using the MyFitnessPal phone app for fitness and it tracks my steps. Today I did 3,500 steps which is not great, but it is early, and it gets done.

I discovered the Mall one day when it was raining, and I didn’t feel like swimming. It was early (8 a.m.) and I wasn’t sure they would even be open. To my surprise, they were and there was a Starbucks right there, waiting with a hot cup of coffee and hot buns. What more to ask for?

The entire loop of the Mall, top, and bottom is, I believe 1.5 miles. I have been back a number of times and have discovered a little-known truth; this has become the senior walk path. A virtual army of seniors in singles and pairs are busy marching the mall perimeter. I have to be careful to not loiter, should I get into someone’s way. I see many of the same people day after day. After their marches, they are at Starbucks or the café section.

Why? Well, it’s heated in the winter and cooled in the summer. It is clean and swept daily. There are restrooms that are clean with toilet paper and soap. The hand dryers work and nothing smells bad. Plus, it is free to walk whereas, even the local Rec Department charges $1.50 per day to walk and use the weights.

These are all good things. But, are they the only things? What about getting out into the crisp, cool Autumn air and filling your lungs, kicking some leaves? What happened to that idea?

The last consideration which is actually, more the first, is that the malls are safe. Security guards prowl around outside in minitrucks and on foot. Shopkeepers are busy setting up their shops for opening. The last item is that the homeless are not welcome.

Wow, let’s all frown at that unhappy thought. The elderly and the very young are really barometers of our society. People in their 60s, 70s, and 80s know very well they no longer have the physical strength to ward off a street attack.  Should one happen, the old adage is ‘Where’s a cop when you need one?” Well, where they are is extremely busy patrolling the streets.

I would not call my little town in the American Southwest poor or economical downtrodden. There is actually a pretty healthy economy here. However, the rise in homelessness is acute here as in many places. Although people are homeless for many different reasons (time for another blog) one unhappy similarity is that the homeless can be unpredictable. This is okay when you are a 35 year- old cop weighing in at 200 pounds of muscle, complimented with a ton of expensive gear. Not so great for the 75-year-old armed with one lightweight walking stick and maybe a phone.

What we see is that the elderly and mothers with babies in strollers are opting to frequent spaces where they can feel safe. I feel the same way. I might not be frail, but I get really tired of getting sized up when I go into a convenience store for a coke. Then to be greeted by the sometimes aggressive “Excuse me, Ma’am. Can you help me out?” If I am feeling generous it forces me to open my purse to search for money. If I’m not feeling generous it allows me to question myself and feel like a stingy jerk for the rest of the day.

So, ‘mo better to walk the mall with a cheery “Good Morning,” to my fellow walkers and have my hands and mind free to focus on what I am there for; taking a walk!

 

 

 

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Sparkpeople –Food Comparisions

 

https://www.sparkpeople.com/resource/food_lists_chicken.asp

 

Restaurant	Calories	Fat	Carbs	Protein
Chick-Fil-A (Chargrilled Chicken)	270	3.5	33	28
Subway (Oven Roasted Chicken Breast)	330	5	47	24
Roy Rogers (Grilled Chicken)	340	11	32	25
Sonic Drive-In (Grilled Chicken)	343	13	31	27
Wendy’s (Ultimate Chicken Grill)	360	7	44	31
Arby’s (Grilled Chicken Deluxe)	380	12	40	29
Kentucky Fried Chicken (Tender Roast w/Sauce)	390	19	24	31
McDonalds (Chicken McGrill)	400	16	37	27
A&W (Grilled Chicken)	430	15	37	37
Whataburger (Grilled Chicken)	473	20	49	30
Denny’s (Grilled Chicken)	476	14	56	36
Jack In The Box (Sourdough Grilled Chicken Club)	505	27	35	29
Burger King (Chicken Whopper)	570	25	48	38
Hardee’s (Charbroiled Chicken)	587	26	53	36
Johnny Rocket’s (Grilled Breast of Chicken)	600	29	54	35
Boston Market (Chicken Carver)	640	29	61	35

Prof. Michael Crawford – IFBB – Institute for Food, Brain and Behavior (UK)

 

https://www.ifbb.org.uk/food-and-your-brain/smarter-things/foods-that-feed-the-brain/

Foods that Feed the Brain

When we think about healthy eating, most people think about it in relation to preventing disease, weight gain or loss and fighting infection.

Healthy eating is not just important for or physical health in terms of preventing obesity or Type 2 diabetes but equally important for our brain health.

The brain is one of the most important organs in our body, controlling our everyday thoughts, behaviour and actions and there are certain nutrients in foods which can help it function better.There are certain foods which can inflame your brain, causing it to not perform at its best, and instead leaving you to feel fatigued, sluggish, irritable and maybe even depressed.

Brain health is just as important as our physical health and we need to look after it by feeding it with food which helps it feel alive and keep it healthy.

Some of these foods include omega-3 fatty acids. These are anti-inflammatory and protect the brain from becoming inflamed and unhealthy. Omega-3 fats are healthy fats which you can only obtain from eating certain oily fish and seafood.

Can you pause for a moment and think of which fish might be oily?

A clue is they are not white fish such as the cod in fish fingers. Some examples of oily fish are salmon, trout, fresh tuna, sardines, anchovies and mackerel.  Omega-3’s can also be found in oysters, crab, shrimp, clams, mussels and lobsters. How many of these do you eat and how often? It is recommended that we eat at least 2 portions of oily fish per week to receive adequate amounts of healthy and essential omega-3 fats. The types of omega-3 fats which help brain function are called EPA and DHA – these are highly unsaturated fatty acids.

A different Omega-3

There are other plant-based sources of omega-3 called polyunsaturated fatty acids which can be obtained by eating certain nuts (such as walnuts), seeds (such as pumpkin seeds or flax seeds) and green leafy vegetables such as kale or algae such as spirulina.

Vitamin D matters

Vitamin D is also known as the “sunshine vitamin” – it really important for our mood, memory and well-being and although it is present in foods in small amounts, our bodies can make it from direct sun exposure on our skin. However, too much sun exposure can also be problematic and about 65% of people living in the U.K has low levels of Vitamin D due to lack of adequate sun exposure. Consequently, we need to eat lots of Vitamin-D containing foods such as oily fish such as tuna, mackerel, and salmon, fish oil, egg yolks and liver. A lack of Vitamin D is linked to low mood as well as bones and muscle pain / weakness which can lead to bone deformities such as the development of rickets in children.

Mood Food

You may have heard of the expression Food equals Mood! It really does. Certain nutrients in food have influence over 6 major neurotransmitters in your brain which are responsible for happiness, social engagement, sleep, motivation, memory and learning, the ability to plan ahead, be calm, focus and pay attention!

These neurotransmitters are called dopamine, serotonin, acetylcholine, GABA, glutamate and aspartate.

Low serotonin for example, is a common cause of depression, anxiety and irritability. Complex carbohydrates from plant foods such as sweet potatoes and apples or a square or two of dark chocolate can help. Other foods to help boost serotonin include oranges, apples, pears, peaches, blueberries, bananas, grapes, figs, mangoes, pineapples.

Protein-rich foods such as seafood, poultry – such as turkey, and red meat, along with drinking green tea can help boost dopamine.  Foods which may help you to stay focused and sharp include egg yolk, liver, salmon and shrimp. Foods rich in GABA include broccoli, nuts and lentils. Junk and processed foods such as artificial sweeteners, processed lunch meats, sausages and food preservatives contain amino acids which stimulate neurotransmitters leading to damage to neurons and cell death.

Other vitamins such as Vitamin C,  B6, B12, folate and iron matter for a healthy brain.

Eating a rainbow of fruits and vegetables, drinking blended smoothies and eating lots of oily fish will all work together to feed the brain the fuel it requires to be smart, healthy and happy!

 

How much fat is really in your grilled chicken?

• By Jenni Muir – Food writer  –     Good Food
• https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/writer/jenni-muir

As common on our shopping lists as toilet roll and tea bGags, chicken is a low-fat, lean, healthy choice – right? Not necessarily, says Jenni.

My husband can remember when chicken was an occasional treat. His family didn’t even have it once a week when he was growing up. And as it was an occasional treat, they wouldn’t give its fat content a second thought. (Mind you, they didn’t give the fat content of their weekly Cornish pasties a second thought either!)
But these days, don’t many of us buy chicken as our default healthy protein for midweek suppers? And maybe choose it over cheese, ham or beef in the sandwich chains because we assume it is low in fat? After all, for years we’ve been hearing nutrition advice to choose white poultry as the lean option, and we’ve come to love it. You might even say we’ve come to rely on it.
Yet research by the highly regarded Professor Michael Crawfordand colleagues at London Metropolitan University has shown that chicken – whether battery farmed or organic – is no longer a lean choice. They compared 52 chickens from various supermarkets and found that there were three times the calories coming from fat as from protein.
”Consumers, and many nutritionists, still think chicken is a protein-rich product. But now it is a fat-rich product,” says Crawford. Which makes me wonder how long before this will be reflected in the calorie and fat counts used by the food industry on packaging, and by nutritionists in recipe calculations.
Or is it time we stopped listening to nutritional advice altogether? There is an interesting new book by American scientific journalist Michael Pollan regarded Michael Pollan called ‘In Defence of Food’in which he argues that ‘Thirty years of official nutritional advice has only made us sicker and fatter while ruining countless numbers of meals.’ His advice is: ‘Don’t eat anything your great-grandmother wouldn’t recognise as food’.
My great-grandmother certainly recognised chickens. What she wouldn’t understand is why they weren’t reared in a coop in the back yard.

(Previously: Detective Victor Pauline and Sgt. Mallory have been assigned to locate and find runaway minor, Thomas Dolby. Dolby has taken something very valuable from his father’s safe and a lot of people want it back.)

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Early next morning, Victor Pauline and Roland Mallory were both to the station early, holding large cups of Starbuck’s. They were at the Chief’s door.

“Where’s mine?”

Pauline felt a little embarrassed. “Sorry Chief.”

“Aw, forget it. Come in boys and meet Agent Kelsey. Kelsey this is Detective Pauline and Sargent Mallory.”

They all shook hands and sat down. Kelsey was in a mourning dove gray business suit with a subtle but nice tie.

How many shekels did that suit cost him? Pauline wondered.

“Thank you both for coming in early and also on the intel on the girlfriend,” Kelsey consulted some notes.

They accepted the compliment graciously.

“We were able to hack the girl’s phone and intercept a call from Dolby, Jr.”

“Where is he?” Rollie asked.

“It was a burner phone like we thought he would use. He was calling from a big truck stop just north of Bakersfield.”

“So, he is going south,” Paulie mused out loud.

“Sorry?”

“Aw, just something someone mentioned. That Dolby always wanted to go to LA to learn to surf.”

“Well,” the agent was serious, “he might get a chance to do that if we get to him before anyone else does.” He glanced around the room.

“Anyway, our though is that he is traveling as a passenger, probably in a truck.”

“Why not a car?”

“Since several bad endings with hitchhikers have occurred, almost no one will pick up lone travelers. Except of course truckers.”

“I bet they’re lonely and want the company,” Rollie put in.

“Yes, that and also they are usually pretty buff men and well-armed. They’re less fearful.”

“If my detectives can stop asking a lot of silly questions we can get to it.” The Chief glared at them.

“Right,” Agent Kelsey adjusted his tie. “We don’t want to spook him and let him know we know where he is.  So, the equipment guys plan to set up a series of cameras next to the road to snap face recognition photos of every vehicle southbound.”

“But they go so fast,” Paulie couldn’t help himself.

“Excellent point. The CHP will help us with a deliberate traffic slow down here,” he pointed at a spot on his map south of Bakersfield. “All vehicles will be forced to slow, not stop and the camera will be clicking photos every thirty seconds. Then, the images go into face recognition. We have already loaded his picture and voila! We ID the vehicle he is in.”

“Wow,” Rollie’s mouth was open. “I want to work for the FBI.”

Kelsey grinned.

“And then?” Paulie asked.

“Then the CHP helps us again. As soon as we have positive ID, we stop the vehicle in an isolated spot and have them get out.”

“Isolated?”

“This kid seems to have a history of running. We want to make sure, where ever he runs, there is nowhere to go.”

“Ah,” Pauline, Rollie and the Chief all nodded.

“So, now?”

“Now we wait. If this works and we snatch the kid, one of you will have to come get the gadget and take it back to Dolby, Sr.”

“Doesn’t your agency get it?” Paulie asked.

“Actually no. We use the gadget, but we don’t own it. Dr. Dolby is the originator and owner of the device.”

“So, we wait to hear.”

“Yes, and with any luck, it won’t be very long.”

 

#

Later that afternoon Pauline and Rollie were out on a robbery call. Paulie got a text.

“Hey,” he waved to his partner. “It’s the Chief.”

“What’s it say?”

“Hum. Got him. Call me.”

`           He dialed the Chief.

“Gaines.”

“Chief, it’s Paulie.”

“Ah, good. They got the kid. He is at the CHP station just north of the Grapevine. You know where it is?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good, take Rollie and the two of you drive down there. Apparently, all this running and hiding has him all tuckered out and he’s asleep. I want you there for the interview when he wakes up. They are sending a couple of guys from LA to talk to him.”

“Ah, geese, Chief. That’s a long way.”

“Yeah, I know. Take you three hours you start now. Next item, the father has waived his rights to be in on the interview.”

“What are we going to ask him?”

“Whatever he has to say. Let him babble if he wants. We’re all ears.”

Paulie was sighing audibly on his end.

“Don’t complain, there’s more.”

“Oh, God…”

“Shut up.”

“You two will bring him back but he doesn’t go home.”

“Where’s he going?”

“He’s going straight to rehab. The dad is getting all the details and I will text you when I know.”

“Anything else, Chief? Help him with his homework?”

“Paulie, straighten up your attitude. This kid has major problems and people, including him, could have been killed over this shit.”

“Okay, Sir. You’re right as usual.”

“Course I’m right. Usually am. Get hopping and get me the important stuff from the interview.”

Paulie signed off.

“Buddy, we be going to LA.”

 

An hour and a half later, Rollie and Pauline were southbound on the 99. Rollie was reading one of his favorite girlie magazines.

“How can you read that shit?” Paulie asked him.

“Fine literature, why this girl,” he held up a glossy picture, “is an English major!”

“Yeah, she is. Studying Deep Throat or Lady Chatterley’s Lover.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

Rollie got a message ding on his phone. He read it.

“Oh, hot tamales, it’s cooking when I get back.”

“Who was that?”

“Cinnamon Cinder.”

“Cinnawhat?”

“Cinnamon Cinder.”

“That’s a person?”

“A girl, actually. You remember them, Paulie. I know it’s been a while. But like riding a bicycle…”

“You are married, Rollie. Like I keep reminding you. Are you meeting her?”

“Yes, coffee and a small sale.”

“Sale of what?”

“Underwear.”

“What, she sells men’s underwear?”

“No, women’s. Hers.”

“Her underwear.”

“Yeah, used.”

“Used…. you know, either I am losing my hearing or my mind. Not sure exactly which.”

Rollie laughed.

“What do you want her used underwear for and how much?”

“Fifty bucks and I keep them to smell.”

“You…Lucinda better not find out about you spending money this way.”

“Don’t tell her. Please, Paulie.”

“Doesn’t she miss the money?”

“I tell her I go to the races now and then, and just can’t help myself. Better than chasing women. She’s okay with that.”

“Where do you keep these skanky panties anyway?”

“In my drawer at work, along with my magazines. Lucinda threatened to shoot me if I brought any more home. Said the girls were finding them and asking questions she didn’t want to answer.”

“Sounds fair. How often do you do this?”

“Well, the smell only lasts awhile and then I need another pair.”

“I see. Does this Cinnamon Cinder do anything else than drink coffee when she is with you?”

“She lets me do a deep throat kissing. Like French kissing but more. My wife won’t do that with me. Thinks it’s disgusting.”

Paulie wiped his forehead. “You know. I’m starting to think I’m sorry I asked.”

 

They traded driving once, stopped for burgers and got to the CHP in a little over three hours. They checked in and were ushered back. Two new guys in grey suits were there and they brought the kid into an interview room.

Not much had changed. He was his usual sullen, pissy self with the added  attitude of being  victimized and extremely inconvenienced.

After thirty minutes of lying and complete bullshit, the essential information rose to the top.

Paulie texted the Chief. ‘Scientist Johnson, from New York was the contact. They had been texting. The drop was to occur in San Pedro tomorrow night.’

The Chief texted back. ‘Good work. Get a signed statement. As much info as possible. When done, you will travel back to Bakersfield. The kid going to Serenity Hospital in Bakersfield. Father will meet you there to check the kid in.’

An hour later, the interview was over. The signed statement was being faxed to everyone involved. Paulie made the kid go to the bathroom and watched to see that he took a pee.

“Enjoying yourself, cop. Like what you see, pervert?” The kid was working hard to push his buttons.

Paulie got a large plastic jar with a lid from the CHP guys.

“Pee jar,” he said and smiled. They smiled back.

Rollie and Pauline got the kid to the back of the patrol car. It was separated from the front with a wire mesh screen and a window that closed on their side. The doors locked from the outside and there were no handles on the inside.

Paulie opened the door and put the large plastic jar in on the seat. To that, he added a large bottle of water and several bags of candy.

“What the hell is all that?” The kid demanded.

“That is dinner, drinks, and your toilet.”

“You can’t do that. When I got to go, I need a toilet.”

“Sorry pal, you have a really bad habit of going out bathroom windows, so this is it. Or, of course, you can just hold it ‘til we get home.”

“You are going to be so sorry, you copper pig. I am going to tell my father and you are totally going to lose your job. Asshole. “

“Well, you are right about one thing, Bub.”

“What’s that?”

“We are both going to be speaking to your Dad, together, very soon.”

The kid looked at him with disbelief.

“Get in now or we put you in cuffs.”

The kid plunked himself in the back seat with a scowl.

Paulie closed the door.  He took the driver’s seat; Rollie was shotgun.

The kid started to yell at them. Paulie reached back and closed the window and put on the air.

“Starbucks?”

“Let’s go,” Rollie said. “I got a date.”

 

 

#

In less than two hours they pulled in front of the hospital. Dr. Dolby was standing out front. There was a doctor in a white coat next to him and two, large and rather imposing male nurses flanking them.

Paulie pulled up front. He and Rollie got out.

“Dr. Dolby, sir.”

“Pauline, Rollie. Dr. Mollgarten is the primary physician here. He will take over. Thank you so much for your help.”

The two shuffled their feet and mumbled.

“Also, can I request that you both and Mr. Reynolds, too , come to the house tomorrow, say about lunchtime, for a little…. debriefing.”

“Sure,” Paulie looked at Rollie. “We’d like that.” Rollie nodded.

“Also, did you get it?” Dolby looked anxiously at the pair.

Paulie went to the trunk, opened it and pulled out a small box. He handed it to Dolby who sighed with relief. He turned and a man who looked like a smaller version of Phillips hurried forward. The little man gently took the box and turn to go to the Doctor’s waiting car.

They could hear Thomas Jr. making noise in the back of the patrol car.

Pauline looked at Dr. Dolby.

“We’ll get him out, but he will probably try to run.”

Dolby nodded and looked at the doctor.

The doctor nodded to the two nurses who went and stood by the car. Paulie unlocked the back door and opened it.

Like a trapped animal Thomas lurched forward and was about to launch himself.  Quicker than greased lightning, the nurses grabbed him by the arms.  They frog-marched the young man forward and up the steps to the hospital. The doctor followed his nurses and Dolby followed the doctor.

Dolby turned at the entrance.

“Okay, see you tomorrow?”

“See you then, Sir.”

It was a quiet Rollie and Pauline who drove back to Central, each in his own thoughts.

“You know, P, this was really more your bust than mine. Plus, that PI guy. Also, we got the kid’s statement. Now, it’s just a matter of chasing down that Johnson guy. I don’t see that we will really be part of the cleanup. I mean, do you?” Rollie asked, his brow furrowed.

“Well, yeah. You got a point. You just don’t want to go? Great food.”

“I know, but that big old place and this wacko kid. Whole thing sort of depresses me, you know? What the hell is the point of all that money, anyway?”

“Yeah, okay, no prob. I’ll call Sam. He won’t turn down a free meal.”

 

#

 

Next day found Pauline and Sam Reynolds knocking on the door of the mansion at 11:45am. A maid in a starched black and white uniform let them in and led the way to the study.

“Come in, come in!” Dr. Dolby was there and looked to be almost back to his old self. A few shadows under his eyes, but otherwise in good spirits.

“Ah, where’s Phillips, Dr. Dolby? I thought he was always right here.”

“He usually is. No, Phillips is on a mission.”

They both looked at him curiously.

“Ha! Phillips is going after Johnson, who also ‘took a powder’ as soon as he heard Thomas Jr. had been picked up.”

“Phillips, sir?” Paulie was a little incredulous.

“I know. Remember I told you he was ex-British military?”

“Yes.”

“Intelligence, actually. Yes, Phillips can be very persuasive when he wants.”

Paulie shook his head and smiled at Sam. Sam was shaking his head too.

“Please sit down. Coffee, beer?”

“Still on duty. Maybe a coffee.”

Dolby got up and poured the drinks himself.

“So, what now with Thomas, Jr. Dr. Dolby?” Paulie asked.

Dolby handed the coffees around and sat back in his desk chair.

“He’ll be at Serenity for six months. He turns eighteen when he is in there, but he is also on probation, so we can probably work something out with the probation officer, so he stays the whole six months. Maybe even longer.”

Paulie and Sam nodded and sipped coffee.

“And you, Sir. Your research?” Sam asked.

Dolby put his cup down carefully and looked around his library. He was seated at a huge walnut desk. There were custom bookshelves on every wall crammed with books, many of which looked to have been read. Beautiful French doors looked out on a sweeping green lawn. The stillness of the morning was only broken by the wap, wap of the rainbird sprinklers outside. They trailed large plumes of water across the lawn. Flowers filled the flowerbeds.

“Yes, my research. Well, this, what happened was very, very bad. People could have been hurt, maybe killed.” The man studied his green desk blotter.

Paulie glanced at Sam.

“This house is my wife’s house. It belonged to her father. She came from some money. I had the brains and the education and together we built this.” He waved his arm around the room.

“But what happened changes everything. I can’t keep the business here, for security reasons. Eventually, Thomas will get out and well….”

“He is a difficult kid to trust, Sir,” Sam added.

“Yes, he is, and I can no longer trust his mother to not try to help him. And, she just can’t stop herself. You understand?”

Sam nodded his head.

“You have kids right, Mr. Reynolds?”

“Two, boy and girl.”

“Anything like this ever happen with you?”

“The boy, drugs. His mother wouldn’t stop giving him money no matter what I said. She couldn’t stop either.”

“So, you see what I mean. Did he ever sober up?”

“Yes, sir. But he was almost forty when it happened.”

“Forty! Good God. See, I just can’t….”

“There are some nice office spaces downtown, Doctor, close to the convention center. Also, they have some cute little condos going for sale in the rehabbed area of town. You might like it,” Sam added.

“Yes….” Dolby stared out the windows. “Inconvenient,” he spoke like he was talking to himself. “But things have to change. Yes, things have to change.” He snapped back into focus. “How about that lunch?”

They all got up and went to the dining room.

Paulie sat next to Dr. Ben-Hur.

“So, you got your man,” she said to him with a smile.

“We got our kid. The man is still on the run.”

“Johnson. Grr. I always suspected that little rat. He was the last one to join the team. Never was really one of us, snotty attitude the whole time.”

“Ah,” Paulie said and started grabbing dishes as they went by.

“So, Detective Pauline, did you suspect me of being a spy?”

“Well….”

She laughed. “Actually, you would have been right. In Israel, everyone must do mandatory military service, including the women.”

“Yes?”

“So, I did, and I was part of the Intelligence/Combat team. That’s where I got so interested in cryptology. I had already studied Aramaic in college so one thing led to another.”

“I see,” Paulie buttered a roll.

Gallah spooned some salad onto her plate.

“So, how are your intelligence skills at figuring out what I am thinking right now?” he asked her.

“I don’t know about mind reading,” she told him with a blush.

“Well, my mind is saying we should continue this interesting conversation over dinner. Maybe at Chez Louis, tonight.”

“You know, Detective, I just might be able to slot you into my busy schedule.”

“Okay, it’s a date.”

“One request, Paulie.”

“Yes.”

“No uniform.”

“Okay.”

“But bring the handcuffs.”

He laughed.

 

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

…….

(Previously ….. Detective Victor Pauline has been called in to locate the runaway son of Dr. Dolby, scientist. The boy has taken something from his father’s safe and a number of people want it back.)

#

 

Back at the office, Pauline was weighted down with pamphlets and brochures from the lab. All of which he promised himself solemnly to glance at, later.

“So, what now, Boss? You on the job?”

“Well, Rollie, apparently, a number of people will be on this job. You and I will just be doing some backup and trying to help locate the kid as soon as possible”.

“And before he sells the gadget thing, right?”

“Before he sells the gadget and gets himself killed. The kind of people he will be dealing with aren’t Sunday school teachers and they will have no qualms about getting rid of unnecessary witnesses.”

“Gottacha.”

“Right now,” Pauline took out the card from Dr. Ben-Hur, “I need to figure out a good place to have a nice, quiet witness conversation.”

“Huh?”

“A restaurant, buddy, like for a lady. You know, lady.”

“Oh, yeah. I knew one of those once.” Rollie smiled. “You in love, Paulie?”

“What, me?”

“Go on. Cupid is definitely in the air.”

“Ah, no. She’s just…attractive is all.”

“Right…….” Rollie grinned.

“Ah, shut up,” Pauline replied.

But Roland Mallory just kept grinning.

 

#

Pauline got a message from Sam Reynolds and called back.

“Yes, hello Detective Pauline,” Sam answered. “Hear you are looking for Thomas Dolby, Jr.”

“Yeah, call me Paulie. I thought we could meet. Go over your file.”

“Sure. I found him in a flop house on the South side last time,” Sam responded. “You want to meet first? There’s a Starbucks close by.”

An hour later the two men were at the Starbucks. Pauline ordered a Blond to go. Sam already had his at a table.

“So,” Pauline sat down, “your impression of the kid?”

“He’s a little shit,” Sam replied.

Pauline had to smile, remembering his own encounter with young Dolby.

“Spoiled by a doting mother,” Sam continued.  “Youngest child. Two older brothers, but apparently, they are much older and have been out of the house for a while. Both, very successful. This one….” Sam shook his head and sipped his coffee.

“So, what, late-in-life kid you think?”

“Yeah, one of those surprises that happen. Think the mother was forty when she had him. Like I said, dotes on him and also makes excuses for him which is not helping. I think the kid has a serious drug problem.”

 

“Well,” Pauline sighed, “I guess if you can’t beat them at their own game, you take another tack, or something.”

“Or something.” Sam smiled. “Let me give you the address of this last place. You want to follow me over?”

Pauline nodded. He paused writing in his notebook. “Did Dolby tell you what was taken?”

“Some kind of coder machine?”

“It’s a decoder machine. Spy stuff. Could be worth a lot of money to the right people. These same people probably wouldn’t hesitate to remove Thomas Dolby from the supply chain.  Whether he knows it or not, he is a one-hit-wonder and that’s it.”

“I agree. Ready?” They got up and went to their vehicles.

Pauline followed Sam’s old truck out of the drive and then down to the neighborhood.

Sam parked in front of the same run-down place he had been to before and waited for Paulie on the steps.           The place was an old clapboard, peeling paint.

“Looks worse than the last time, if that’s possible,” Sam told Paulie quietly.

They went up the steps. Reynolds banged on the decrepit screen door. There was no answer. They could hear some movement inside.

“Central Police. Open up,” Paulie shouted.

Eventually footsteps could be heard shuffling to the door. It opened. A male, late teens peered out at them. He said nothing.

“Looking for Thomas Dolby,” Paulie used his very police voice with the kid. He held up his badge to the screen.

The youth shook a shaggy head. “He ain’t here.”

“When you see him last? “

“Don’t know. Maybe a month.”

“We need to come in.”

“You got a warrant, Man?” the kid sneered.

“Do I need one, pal? You got something to hide we need to know about? Maybe call some of my friends in blue to come and help out?”

“Ah, shit!” The teen turned away from the door and flopped down on an old chair, his arms crossed, a scowl on his face.

The place was filthy with junk scattered willy-nilly on floors and an old sofa.

“We need to look around,” Paulie told him.

“I told you he ain’t here. But, what the hell. Knock yourself out.” He grabbed a pack of cigarettes, fingering it.

Paulie, nodded to Sam who went to do a search of the house.

“What about a girl? Was with Dolby when he was here. Skinny, white, red hair.”

The kid pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a cheap Bic lighter.

“Oh, her. The bitch. Thought she was better than everyone else. Yeah, went to that rich-bitch high school with Dolby. Waste of space.”

Meaning she wasn’t interested in you, asshole, Pauline thought to himself.

“Name?”

The kid took a drag of his cigarette and thought. “It was some dumb name like Stacey, Stacey Racey or some shit like that.”

“Great, and your name, Sir.”

The kid paused. “John Smith.”

Paulie was about to write it down in his notebook and looked up.

“I need your real name.”

“John Smith, asshole. And don’t say one damn thing about Pocahontas.”

Sam came back to the living room shaking his head.

“Okay, then, Mr. Smith. We will be going.” He flipped his notebook closed and pulled out a card. “It’s important we find Thomas. There might be a cash reward involved.”

He handed his card to the youth. The kid took it with dirty fingers. Smith surveyed the card, blew out some smoke and stuck it in pocket.

“Cool.”

“We’ll let ourselves out.”

Out by the cars, they compared notes. Sam opened his truck and pulled out his slimline binder.  He flipped it open and turned a page.

“Crestview High School. North Valley, very private, very expensive.” He gave Paulie the address.

“Okay, well looks like we will be doing some driving today,” Pauline told him.

“Yup. See you there.”

 

In the office of the principal, Ms. Galbraith, they introduced themselves.

“Stacey Racey?” The woman sniffed. She studied the air over their heads. “Friends with Thomas Dolby.” Her face took on a sour cast.

“Hum. You probably mean Stacey Racine, a junior here. Yes, she has red hair and may have been friends with Thomas. Although….” her voice trailed away. “Do you wish to speak to her?” They both nodded their heads.

The principal hit her intercom button. “Maxine, please check the schedule for Stacy Racine and have her come to my office.”

“May I offer you gentlemen something to drink?” The smile stiff and forced.

She’s trying hard to keep her cool, Pauline thought to himself.

“Nothing for me, Ma’am,” he told her, “but, thank you.”

The woman nodded and then paused.

With steel grey hair and a conservative tweed suit ensemble, Pauline was sure she was the epitome of an old-fashioned school matron rich parents were looking for.

“Am I permitted to ask what has happened to Thomas? We don’t know, and his mother is… not very forthcoming.” She paused and appraised them with a set of large grey eyes. Thick glasses glinted in the sunlight.

“That is what we are trying to find out now, principal Galbraith. That is why we wish to speak to Miss Racine.”

The woman nodded understanding. She drummed her fingers on the desk.

“I must stay here while you talk to her. She’s a minor and her parents aren’t here so…”

“We understand. Just a few questions.”

There was a knock on the walnut paneled door and the secretary stuck her head in.

“She’s here, Miss Galbraith.”

The principal nodded and a frail, skinny girl with pale skin and flaming red hair appeared. She was dressed in a conservative blue school uniform.

Other than the hair and the skin, Sam thought to himself, I would have never recognized her.

“Please come and sit down, Stacey.” The principal’s voice was soft.

The girl did as she was bid and sat in a chair. Head down.

“We’re looking for Thomas Dolby,” Pauline told the girl. “I am from Central Valley Police and Mr. Reynolds here is a PI. Do you have any idea where Thomas might be? It’s very important that we find him.”

The girl shook her head.

“You knew he was going to Rehab?” Pauline could see Miss Galbraith perk up at this tidbit of news.

The girl nodded yes.

“When is the last time you heard from him?”

“Before he left for Rehab,” she said in a low voice.

“But not since?”

She shook her head no.

“Anything else you can tell us?”

She shook her head again.

Paulie got out a card and Sam got one out too and handed them to her.

“Call if anything comes up or if, you just want to talk. He could be in serious trou…danger.” Pauline added.

She nodded. “Can I go back to class?” She looked at the principal who nodded.

The girl got up and left the room quickly without looking back.

“Did Thomas have other friends, principal?” Paulie asked.

“Thomas…,” she faltered for a moment.  “Thomas didn’t really make friends here. I don’t think he liked Crestview much or school for that matter. No, I think his interests were…. elsewhere.”

The two men got up and thanked her and left.

Sam laughed when they got outside.

“His interests were elsewhere. ‘Ya think?”

“I do think, Sam. And, that’s probably the understatement of the day. Let’s get lunch.”

#

 

“So, what’s your take now, Sam?” Pauline dipped a fry into his ketchup.

“Well, not much from the girl. Then again, she might not know much,” Sam took a swig of his coffee. “If I were you, I would put a tail on the girl. Very discrete, mind.” He cast a beady eye at Pauline who nodded.

“Don’t really think this group of teens specialize in the truth. Still, even if she knows nothing, the kid is likely to try and contact her.”

“Agreed,” Victor sipped his coke. “We know the kid has money, because the mom let him have some before he left. So, he can be paying cash for everything and we can’t trace him that way. We could track his phone, but he’s smart, and he could get a cheap burner, so that won’t work.”

“Next question is who’s he going to contact?” Sam asked. “Who does he know? He’s a high school senior.”

Paulie glanced at him with a smirk.

“Well, at least in name. Anyway, he wouldn’t have a clue as to where to go to fence this thing, unless….”

“Unless, the person who told him about the device in the first place, also set up the sale and told him where to go.”

“Exactly,” Sam shot back, still chewing. “And, for my money it’s either LA or San Francisco ‘cause that is where the International flights fly from. I doubt this buyer is someone Stateside.”

“So,” Paulie took a big breath, “we really need a break as the which direction he is going.”

“That’s right, partner, we could really use a break right about now.”

 

#

Pauline got a text from the Chief. “See me when you’re back.”

He parked the pool car and went directly into Chief Gaines’s office. He related what they had done.

“Okay, we’ll get a tail on the girl. See where she goes, who she speaks to.”

“We need more than that,” Paulie told him. “We need someone to hack her phone and her computer if possible to see if Dolby contacts her and tells her where he is going. It could be LA or San Francisco and we need to figure out which, quickly.”

“Did you try talking to her?” the Chief asked.

“We did and got nothing. And, yes, it was in the principal’s office and all that. But my bet is this pair is not big on authority figures and have trust issues.  Probably think we just want to bust his chops ‘cause we’re mean.”

“Well, what else would you think if your boyfriend was on the run from the law and you were sixteen?”

Pauline shrugged.

“I’ll make phone calls. You’re going back to Dolby’s to talk to the computer geeks some more?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab Rollie and we’ll go out together. Second pair of eyes.”

“Okay, have that Reynolds guy go with you too and search the grounds. He is very good at finding people, I’m told. Maybe he’ll come up with something.”

As Paulie left, the Chief leaned a pudgy hand against his furrowed brow. He went back to studying his papers with a sigh.

 

#

Later that afternoon, Pauline and Rollie led the parade back to the Dolby mansion and Sam followed. They got there, and two uniforms were stationed outside of the home in the event the boy tried to sneak back in.

Pauline called them over.

“Rollie, you take these two men and search the grounds. It’s a big place. There is always a possibility the kid is hiding somewhere close by.”

“Aw, why do I always get the egg hunt?” Rollie whined.

“Sgt. Mallory, you are a person with excellent observation skills and we need you for this.” Pauline gave his partner a dazzling smile. The three cops moved away down the drive and fanned out.

“Okay, Sam Reynold, let’s go speak some Geek.” They went to knock on the door.

 

#

An hour later, they had interviewed all the scientists Pauline had met before. They didn’t seem to be any closer to anything that would help them track Thomas Dolby. They were also introduced to another scientist, Max Johnson from New York.

“I’m the numbers guy.” He smiled. Max wore a big Star Wars! cartoon t-shirt. He had a big belly and sloppy brown hair.

“Numbers?” Pauline asked.

“Yes, right. The basic code is based on languages, but…”

“But?” Pauline found himself getting irritated at this guy’s sophomoric superior attitude.

“Randomization.” The man seemed to enjoy their ignorance.

Sam and Victor stared at him. Dr. Ben-Hur entered the conversation.

“Just spit it out, Max. They don’t know this stuff.  You know probability studies, like what will happen when you roll a pair of dice, kind of thing?”

Both men nodded.

“Randomization,” Dr. Johnson finally started talking. This was after all, his pet project. “Randomization is the science of creating random number sequences so that, the next number in the sequence cannot be guessed or predicted.”

They were still a little blank.

“Meaning,” Dr. Ben-Hur added quickly, “by creating random sequence numbers in each code, it makes the code that much more difficult to hack and/or to predict when the next code will arrive. The language notes are the written message and the number sequences which keep changing every time, keep the code safer from decoding attempts.” She shot a dark glance at Johnson.

“Okay, then,” Pauline replied. “I think we are getting how this thing works and why it is so valuable.” He looked at Sam who nodded his head. He made some more notes in his book. “I think we’ll go now. Call if anything seems important.”

Johnson flounced away on flip-flops with an air of dismissal.

They were making their way to the elevator. Pauline heard his name. He turned and Dr. Ben-Hur was coming toward him.

“Meet you upstairs?” he said to Sam.

“Sure,” Sam got on the elevator up.

“Paulie, just one thing.” She came up to him and he was dazzled by the eyes all over again.

“Thomas used to join us for lunch sometimes upstairs. We couldn’t talk to him about our work of course, but he did seem to like to chat.”

“Okay.”

“He used to talk about how he hated the Valley and really wanted to live in LA. Wanted to live there so he could learn to surf. Used to talk about ‘getting away from the mausoleum.’” She waved her hand around the room.

“Hum, that could be of some use. Thanks Doctor.”

“Call me Gallah, Detective Paulie.” She smiled.

He stared at her a moment.

“Ah, do you like French food?” He asked.

“There’s a little place in town, not very big, but the food….”

“I adore French food.” She put a hand on his arm. “You have my number. Call me and we can set it up.”

“Yeah, well, yes. I’ll do that” he stammered. “First thing I get home.”

She smiled again and turned and when back to her lab.

 

Pauline went upstairs and joined Sam.

“So, did you get the damned date or not?”

Paulie looked surprised.

“I’ll take that as a yes. She’s a dish, that one.”

They left to get in their cars.

#

 

Driving back to the station, Pauline compared notes with Rollie.

“So, what on the grounds?”

“Nothing, there are a couple of gardening sheds where he might hide but nothing to show he’s been there. Plus, the Dolby’s have gardeners and maintenance men crawling all over the place. Chances are they would’ve seen the kid. Not a hair of his head. I don’t think he is anywhere near that place.”

“What’s you get?”

“Well, he hates the Valley, wants to live in LA and become a surfer. Other than that, not much.”

“The more I know about this kid, the less I like him,” Rollie added. “I mean, his parents could afford the best education in the world and what does he want to do? Drop out and become a surfer. Jesus.”

They both studied that thought a moment.

“What now, boss?” Rollie asked.

“Now, you and I go home and get some sleep. The spooks are hacking into the girlfriend’s phone. We wait to hear if he contacts her and says anything meaningful.”

“You mean something other than “I way want to do you, Baby!”

“Yeah, just like that. Let’s go. We might not get another chance for a while.”

#

 

(Continued on Part IV)

 

 

 

 

…..

(Previously, Detective Victor Pauline and his partner, Rollie Mallory, were assigned to organize a drug bust. They are hot on the trail. Sort of…)

Sargent Roland (Rollie) Mallory was particularly good at stake-outs. Primarily because he could sit and eat and drink coffee. Between sips he could read his latest girlie magazine and fantasize about women.

Victor Pauline was in the driver’s seat, Rollie was shot gun. At the moment, they were parked in the darkening shade of a large tree. They were three houses down from their stake-out spot.

“You know what Rollie?”

“What’s ‘dat, detective?” Rollie’s mouth was full of pastrami sandwich and his eyes were glues to an issue of Hustler!

“Your problem is you have the maturity of an eleven-year-old and the gonads of an adult.”

Rollie looked up and thought a minute. He wrinkled his brow.

“That’s not so bad is it?” he was thoughtful a moment. “At least part of me is completely adult. The important part.” He leered playfully at Pauline.

Pauline rolled his eyes and shook his head. He sipped his coffee. Somebody has to do the long stake-outs, he thought.

Pauline glanced at his watch and his eyes slid side-ways to Rollie.

“So, you be good if I cut out for a few hours. Not much movement over there.”

“Naw, I’m fine. Got my girls,” he waved the magazine, “and,” he shook a paper bag, “extra maple crunch donuts. You want before you go?”

Pauline refused to calculate the number of calories he was looking at in Rollie’s cuisine choices.

“Ah…no…maybe, one donut, for later. So,” he looked at his watch, “I relieve you in, say, three hours?”

“Yeah, that should be time for you and your date to eat, screw, clean-up and be back here. Or, you could just screw the whole time and come back here and have one of these donuts.”

Pauline laughed. He shot Rollie with a finger gun. “No getting anything past you, is there?”

“Nope,” Rollie shook his head sagely.

“Okay, later.”

Quietly, Pauline got out of the car and closed the door softly. He glanced around and turned around on the sidewalk, no one. He did an slow jog around the block to where his own car was parked. He went to get some Thai food and get home to feed the dog.

 

Three hours later, per agreement, Detective Victor Pauline was back at the car. A member in very good standing with Central Valley Police, Victor was thirty-eight years, divorced, tan, buff with wavy dark brown hair, almost black, and as some would say, beautiful clear blue eyes. He never drank to excess and had given up smoking years before. He was at the gym six days a week in the early am and church on Sunday. He was what his mother called a ‘good boy’.

If she only knew, he mused to himself thinking for a moment of his Mom.

Pauline was in good standing because he was intelligent, intuitive, charming and knew his business about making arrests. He was insightful while other policemen could be described as ‘plodding’.  Pauline saw the big picture. It might take a minute, but in the end, he always saw it.

Pauline was back in the driver’s seat. He liked to keep his eye on the rear view mirror and check out anyone approaching from the rear. His eye caught something.  A figure separated  out of the shadow of another tree. His right hand traveled over to the revolver in his armpit holster. His fingers wrapped around the grip and slowly brought the weapon to his lap. His body tensed. The figure moved furtively toward the car. It was a man, hunched over and coming up the left side of the car. He finger was on the trigger now.

Suddenly the figure was at the window and pawing to get his attention. As if, he thought to himself. He hit the button and the window rolled down.

“Jesus, fucking Christ, Scratchy, you almost got yourself plugged.”

“Sorry,” the little man was obsequiously. “Sorry chief, I didn’t want nobody in ‘da house to see me.”

Pauline sighed and let out a breath. “Want you want?” He let his hand relax on the revolver.

“I got sumthin. Sumthin good. Worth sumthin.”

“How much?”

“Fifty.”

“Fifty, are you shitting me?”

“Dis is very, very good boss.” The little man was nervous as a cat on the proverbial roof. He kept looking around.

“It had better be.” Pauline sighed again and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out some bills and waved them in the air.

Scratchy tried to grab them but Pauline pulled away. “Give it.”

Scratchy rubbed his nose and scratched his arm. Looks like he needs a fix, Pauline thought.

“Over ‘der at de house. Delivery. Some heavy stuff.”

“When?”

“Gonna be Tuesday about 11pm. Donut truck.”

“Donut truck….” Rollie started. Pauline flashed him a look.

“Okay, buddy.” Pauline handed over the cash. “This better be good or I’m coming to get you.”

“It’s da goods, Boss. For real. I gotta go.”

With that, Scratchy oozed away and melded into the shadows.

“Tuesday night, Boss?”

“Yeah, Tuesday night.”

“So?”

“So, I guess we come back on Tues with some backup.”

“Good for me,” Rollie replied. “Monday night football.”

Pauline smiled and started up the car. He pulled slowly away from the curb, did a u-turn and went the other way.

 

#

“You’re chewing loudly.” Victor Pauline was tense, his hands gripping the wheel of the Crown Vic.

“It’s just a little snack,” his partner replied with a full mouth.

Pauline took his eyes off the stake-out house for just a moment and stared at his partner.

“Alright, alright.” Rollie crumbled up the brown paper bag and stuffed it under the seat.

‘Shh!” Pauline hissed.

There was a slight sound of static on the walkie-talkie he was holding.

“Alpha dog reporting, in place.”

“Copy that, Alpha. Can you see Tango and Bravo?”

“They seem to be moving into place, Victory. Copy.”

“I copy, Alpha,” Pauline kept the device close to his mouth.

There were some more hisses and low conversations. Rollie chanced a tiny sip of his coke.

They were in an older section of town. The street lamps were intermittent and the light they threw off wasn’t very bright.

Thank God there’s no moon tonight, Victor thought to himself.

“Vic, look!” Rollie whispered.

From their right came the rattle and clang of an old delivery truck. It could have been tan and brown, but the lamps distorted the colors. Mil’s Donuts was emblazoned on the side with faded lettering.

Victor hit the button

“Target approaching. Do you read? Target approaching.”

‘Copy that, Victory.”

“Stay in position until I give a go,” Pauline whispered into the microphone.

The truck rattled to a stop in front of the residential house. Victor checked his Peugeot timepiece. 11:00 pm.

“A little behind schedule,” he whispered.

“Better late…” Rollie started but Victor waved at him.

Two chunky men got out of the truck. One went around to the back and could be heard rolling up the back door of the truck. The other guy grabbed a dolly and loaded some boxes and rolled them to the front door. It opened, and another hefty guy came out and started helping them to unload.

“What are we waiting for?” Rollie whispered.

“We want to get more of the merchandise inside the house to show it’s really a delivery. Enough for distribution and not just some guys getting high once.”

They waited a few more tense minutes.

“Okay, I’d say that looks to be enough for evidence.”

Pauline spoke into the device. “Alpha dog go to the back. Tango and Delta, hit the front. Victory and Mallory will secure the truck.”

Victor signaled to Rollie and they slipped out of the vehicle, barely closing the doors. Keeping to the shadows, they advanced to the truck. Victor reached inside. The key was still in the ignition. He pulled it out and put it in his pocket.

“Go!” He whispered into the walkie-talkie.

Suddenly, a small army of men appeared in combat fatigues with rifles at the shoulders shouting commands at the truck driver. Pandemonium erupted on the quiet street, people yelling and screaming. Windows flew open on the little house and bodies were seen jumping out and attempting to run. Most were grabbed immediately.

Victor Pauline saw what looked to be a girl, slip out of a bathroom window and start to run down the sidewall. He tucked his revolver into his hostler and went in pursuit. After two blocks he was gaining but it wasn’t easy.

This is one fast chick, he thought Jesus, must do track!

He forced himself to put on a burst of speed and tackled her. They went down in the grass in a big lump. He immediately jumped up and pulled out handcuffs pinning the skinny wrists behinds the kid’s back. Yanking her up he was surprised to realize through all that hair was a boy.

“Oh, I thought you were…”

“Were what?” The boy snarled at him.

The face was almost pretty, angelic even, Pauline mused. What a twist!

“Let’s get going buddy. Back to the house.” He pushed the uncooperative teen in front and they walked back.

 

#

Several hours and numerous cups of coffee later, a fatigued Rollie and Victor were finishing up paperwork.

“So, who’s the pretty boy?” Rollie asked.

“Says his name is Thomas Dolby and I better be afraid of his father. Dr. Somebody or other.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Yeah, after an hour with that little punk, I wanted to bitch slap him.”

“Police brutality,” Rollie smirked.

“I think of it more as community service,” Victor replied calmly.

So, is he a juvey? Rollie asked.

“Yeah, seventeen. Too bad, he’ll probably get a little rap for possession.”

“Not too bad for him.”

“This time maybe,” Victor got up, stretched and dropped some forms in a wire basket. “But nobody ends up in a place like that, at that time of night, with those people if they aren’t trying to get into the action. Become part of the distribution network.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Rollie nodded and yawned widely. He rubbed his mop of curly black hair. “I’m beat. Let’s go. It’ll be here tomorrow.”

Pauline yawned back at him. “You’re right. We’ve done our bit.”

They were walking out of the cement fortress that was police headquarters.

“You know,” Roland commented, “that little Scratchy guy did deliver.”

“He did indeed,” Victor agreed. He’s okay. “I try not to get too attached for when he dies from a heroine overdose. “

Rollie gave a little laugh. “I hear you. Nite, Boss.”

“Nite, Roland. Sorry if I chewed you too much about your snack.”

His partner waved at him and they both went home.

 

#

 

It was 11:00 am. Roland Mallory and Victor Pauline were both showered, shaved and in fresh clothes. They both grabbed coffee and their files to meet with the parents of Thomas Dolby in an interview room.

Dr. Thomas Dolby, Sr. and his wife, Lollie, were already seated in the pea green interview room. Rollie and Victor entered and left the door open.

The detectives introduced themselves and sat.

Pauline started. “Mr. and Mrs. Dolby, we asked you to come in to discuss what happened last night with your son.”

Mrs. Dolby started to cry and pull out a hanky. It was already damp.

“The charges,” Dr. Dolby asked quietly.

“The charges will be for possession of drugs. Your son had a quantity of marijuana and cocaine in bags in his pockets when I arrested him.”

“That doesn’t seem like….”

“It is not going to be a very serious charge, Sir, however, that is not really the problem.” Pauline leafed through his file. Mrs. Dolby continued to sob quietly in her chair.

“Do you know where all this occurred, Sir?”

“No, Dolby replied, we didn’t get many details. Just that he had been arrested and we needed to come down right away.”

“Yes, sir. The area of town is a very economically depressed area.” Omit the words poor, he thought to himself. “In the southwest area of town close to the 99 freeway. We had the house involved under surveillance for a number of days.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with my son,” Dolby was defending.

“This house,” Pauline went on to explain, “is not a place where people usually come to buy. It is more like…well…a distribution warehouse. Like Target or Sears.” He attempted a smile and looked at Mrs. Dolby. She was still weeping.  “The owners get the big deliveries there and then break them up for their dealers. The dealers pick up there and then go out into the neighborhoods to sell.”

“I still don’t see….” Dolby protested.

“What I am telling you, Mr. Dolby….”

Dr. Dolby,” the man corrected.

“Dr. Dolby… is that the average person would not come to this locate just to make a purchase. They come to get product for the purpose of selling it.”

Dr. Dolby sat back and stared at Pauline for a long moment.

”Are you saying my son is a drug dealer? Do you have proof of that?”

“No, sir. Actually, we don’t have proof. But, the fact that he was there at all, especially at the exact time of a large delivery doesn’t look good for him.”

Dolby sat and said nothing.

“Your son will be charged and bail set. However, he is still a minor and rules regarding minors still apply. Unless….”

“Unless….” Dolby’s mouth formed a line thin.

“Unless the judge hearing the case feels there is enough evidence to charge Thomas as an adult.”

Dolby swallowed. Lollie Dolby cried harder.

There was a pause. Dolby spoke slowly like a man unsure of his ground.

“My son…has a problem…with the drugs. We have been trying to get him help but nothing has seemed to work.”

Pauline nodded. Rollie sat with his hands folded.

“The last man…the PI…. said he should go to a rehab clinic. To send him before he turned eighteen.”

“A PI?” Victor asked. “Who was that and what did he do?”

“Ah…” Dolby looked at his wife.

“Reynolds,” she told him.

“Right, ah, Sam Reynolds. We hired him to find Thomas last spring.”

“Ah,” Victor replied and glanced at his partner. “Well, maybe he has something there.” He started to close his file.

“Please, detective. Certainly the judge will listen to you, your recommendations about this. To help our son,” Lollie Dolby spoke, tears still in her eyes.

Victor paused and looked at Rollie.

“Detective Mallory?”

“Well,” Roland rotated his head around before he spoke. “It will probably depend on what your son says to the judge and how convinced he or she is about his…. ah…sincerity about getting help.” He glanced at Victor who nodded.

“So,” Victor rose, and Rollie stood up with him. “Hopefully, that will work out for you.”

Dr. Dolby got up with his sobbing wife.

“Thank you for your help, detectives.” He led his wife out of the room.

Victor and Rollie waited until they left the area.

“Jesus,” Rollie breathed out. “Thank God I only have daughters. I might have to commit murder if I had a son like that.”

“Yeah,” Victor breathed out. “He’s a heartbreak walking, that one.” They went back upstairs to their office.

 

#

A month later, Victor Pauline was coming into the office fresh from the gym. His dark curly hair was still damp.

The day Sargent winked at him. A cute, petite red-head, she was always trying to get his attention at work.

Damn I wish I didn’t have a rule about dating women from work, he told himself.

“Paulie, Chief Brassballs wants to see you.” She smiled her most charming smile. She waved a little telephone note at him.

Pauline came very close to pick up the note.

“Thank you so much, Pam, you are so good at your job.” He grinned.

“Among other things, she smiled.

He winked at her.  “However, I wouldn’t let him hear me talking like that.”

“It’s okay, he loves me. How do you think I got this cush job?” She smiled broadly.

“Well, yeah.” Pauline let it go. “See ya.”

Taking the stairs to his office two at a time, he rolled his eyes. Women, first they want to be on the force. Then…. he dumped his briefcase.

“What up, Boss?” Rollie called from behind a large Starbucks.

“Chief wants me. Is he mad?”

“Hell, if I know,” Rollie shrugged his shoulders. “No one tells me nada.”

Pauline hustled down the stairs to the Chief’s office.

He gave a little knock and peeked around the door.

“Sir, you wanted to see me.”

The Chief waved him in.

“Sit.”

Pauline sat.

The Chief shuffled through some things on top of his desk. He grabbed a paper and pulled it up where he could see it more closely.

“Here it is.” He stared at the paper. “Ah, you made an arrest last month. Thomas Dolby, kid, seventeen.”

Pauline could feel his neck getting hot. If this little brat was accusing him of something….

“It was a clean arrest, Sir,” he started.

The chief motioned with his hands, palms down.

“Don’t get excited. You haven’t done anything wrong. What was this kid like?”

“He’s a little prick. Too much money and not enough ass kicking as far as I can see. So, what’s up?”

“The kid has run away,” the Chief replied. “He was in the process of being taken to a rehab, the driver stopped for gas, the kid said he had to pee and crawled out the bathroom window.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pretty good at that.” Victor replied remembering the arrest. He shrugged his shoulders. “So what, that’s not on us is it?”

“Well…” the Chief paused and stared at the paper again. “Ah…Victor. Do you know who this Thomas Dolby, Sr. is?”

“A doctor of some kind?”

“Well, yes. He is a doctor. But, not a medical doctor. He has a PhD in something exotic, I don’t know what the hell. But,” he paused, “he teaches at the University and does some additional work.”

“Additional work?”

“Yeah, work for some agencies with letters we shall not name.”

Victor was puzzled.” I still don’t see….”

“It appears the kid may have taken something. Something belonging to his dad.”

“Something?”

“Yeah, something very valuable, that he really, really should not have taken. Now, these agencies that shall not be named want it back.”

“So,” Victor spread out his hands. “What is it?”

“I don’t know exactly and I’m not sure I even want to know. Anyway…”

“And….”

“He wants to talk to you Victor. Apparently, he was impressed by your professionalism and the way you dealt with things on the street. He just wants to talk to you is all.”

“I don’t…”

“Go talk to him, Victor. Hold his hand for a few minutes. Hell, I don’t know. Just listen, okay. There may be absolutely nothing we can do. I have no idea. Just go and find out what is going on. Community service kind of thing. Plus, the kid is on probation, so ….”

“Ah…”

The Chief was busy filing the paper away in a file folder in his desk. He looked back up.

“That would be a now, Victor.”

Victor got up and left the Chief’s office cursing. He had real work to do. Not hand holding some over indulgent parents who couldn’t control their own kid. Jesus!

He stomped upstairs, grabbed his briefcase and was stomping out.

“What?” Rollie said to his back.

“Later,” and Victor banged down the stairs.

 

 

The butler let Victor into the three-story red-brick mansion. He felt crummy parking the Crown Vic in the driveway.

Shit, wish I had the Austin.

He was lead into the study.

“Ah, Detective Pauline. Thank you so much for coming. Coffee? Rolls?”

Pauline stared at the buffet style arrangement on one table. His stomach was rumbling, and he had only had a protein shake before the gym.

“Well, maybe one.”

The butler quickly got him a clean, sparkling white plate. China with a white cloth napkin. He made a selection and the butler promptly took it to a small side table.

“Coffee, sir? “

“Well, yes.”

“Caffeinated or Non-caffeinated?”

“Ah, just regular.”

“Sugar, crème?”

“No, just black, thanks. “

The butler handed the white china cup to Pauline and gestured for him to have a seat in the winged-back chair.

Victor sat down and bit into the roll.

Oh, my God. What is this? He stared at the roll. Almond something, wow! He ate some more and eyed the table again.

“Thank you, Phillips,” Dolby spoke, “that will be all.” The butler faded away like smoke.

Pauline glanced around, and the man was gone. He looked back at Dr. Dolby.

“So,” Dolby began, your chief probably told you a bit about what is happening.”

“Your son is gone.”

“Yes, Thomas, Jr. has, as the saying goes, taken a powder. Do you know what I do Detective?”

“No idea. PhD in something or other.”

“Yes,” Dolby smiled. “PhD in Theology and dead languages.”

Pauline nodded. Esoteric as hell.

“Okay.”

“Those are my theoretical qualifications. My practical applications of these studies are a little more, ah, pedestrian.”

Pauline nodded.

“Do you know, Detective, anything about cryptology?”

“Cryptology? Like codes and stuff?” Pauline had actually taken one such course in college, but that was awhile go and he wasn’t to attempt to keep up with this guy.

“Exactly, you are a fast study. Exactly right, codes and stuff. My company…”

Pauline looked a question at him.

“Yes, I have a company and they are downstairs in this house.”

Pauline’s eyebrows shot up.

“We will take a little tour and I will introduce you in a minute. But my real specialties are Aramaic, ancient Greek and ancient Latin languages.”

“Aramaic?” Pauline asked.

“The language of Jesus, Detective. The language spoken by the Jews at the time of Jesus.”

Pauline shrugged and finished off his delicious roll.

“I am sorry, Dr. Dolby. I don’t quite see what this has to do with anything.”

“What is the important part of codes, Detective?”

“Ah, well.” He thought a moment remembering his class. “That they can’t be broken or read, I would think.”

“You are absolutely correct. That they can’t be broken or read. Let me ask you, Detective Pauline, how many people do you think can read ancient Aramaic?”

“Well, since I have never even heard that phrase before and since all the Bibles I ever look at are in English, I would guess, not too many.”

“Only a handful of scholars in the world can still read any texts that were written in that language. Also, since the Catholic church changed their services away from Latin and into the current language of the people, fewer and fewer of even Catholic priests can read and understand Latin.”

“Okay, good so far. Now…”

“What we have designed, here at our facility, Detective, is a code language which is a compilation of Aramaic, Latin and Greek.”

“Impressive,” Pauline said sipping on his quite delicious coffee.

“Yes.” Dr. Dolby sighed and sat down. “What was taken, Detective, and what we now think my son Thomas has, is an electronic translator for this code.”

“Oh.” Pauline paused to absorb the information. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t,” the Dr. sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “We have been selling this new code script to a number of agencies and they have been using it with success. Primarily, as I said, because so few people can either read or understand any of these ancient languages and there are no commercial translators out there for these words.”

“So, you think your son may have gotten his hands on this…gadget. How?”

“It was kept in my safe and only I and my wife have the combination. It looks like Thomas persuaded his mother to get him some hard currency that I have in the safe. She opened the safe, the phone rang, she went to answer it in the other room and came back a minute later. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong or gone. She got him the currency and closed the safe.”

“When did you discover this?”

“After he left for rehab, some nagging feeling told me to check the safe. He seemed too…. willing to go.”

“And you don’t trust him.”

Dr. Dolby shrugged his shoulders.

“You discovered it was missing then.”

Sadly, the man nodded his head.

“But, does Thomas work with you on your projects. How would he even have known about it?”

“I don’t know. I am afraid someone would have had to have told him what it was and how to find it.”

“Who?”

“Someone who works for me.”

“Ah,” Pauline said, the light dawning.

“So, what now?”

“The critical thing is to get the translator back before it can be sold. Then, stick Thomas in rehab and hope to God they have strong locks.”

“Well, that’s well and good, but I don’t do missing persons search.”

“I know. I have hired the guy I hired last time to find my son.”

“Ah, the PI guy.”

“Yes, him. But, he is not a cop and doesn’t have your resources at his disposal. I am asking the police to work with him, apprehend the fugitive and them both, the translator and my son, back. Time is of the essence.”

“I think I understand, sir. Are we going to take that tour?”

Dolby nodded.

“Any chance I can get another of those great rolls?”

Dolby laughed for the very first time.

“Of course, grab a roll and a napkin and we will go downstairs. When we are done you can just give me your impressions of what you think of my staff.”

“You think one of them…”

Dolby looked forlorn. “It has to be. Nothing else makes any sense. And we have worked so closely together….I just can’t believe….”

“Ah….”

“So, Detective, the tour?”

Pauline nodded his head and finished his roll. He wiped his mouth and hands with the white table napkin. It was soft and fluffy and smelled good. Not like the harsh, starched and stiff jobs you got at most hotels. He had an irrepressible urge to stick it in his back pocket. Victor Pauline was a guy who appreciated nice things.

With a little effort, he placed the napkin back on the table. He picked up an ice-cold bottle of Evian and opened the top.

“After you Doctor.” He took a sip. Man, these people know how to live!

Dr. Dolby went out of the study. The ubiquitous butler was in the tiled foyer, apparently waiting.

“We will be downstairs Phillips.”

“Yes, Sir.” The butler did the slightest of bows.

It that an actual English butler? Pauline asked himself.

“Yes, his is.” Dolby seemed to sense the question. Straight from Manchester. And also, ex-career military.”

Victor’s eyebrows went up. “Impressive, Doctor.”

Dolby allowed himself a little smile and walked over to an elevator and pushed a button.

“The office is downstairs.” The doors opened. “This way.”

The elevator zoomed for what appeared to be two floors and opened up into a white, lab style office. There were desks and modules here and there. Big poster boards up on the walls were festooned with various articles and sheets of information.

There was a quiet hum to the place and people could be seen hurrying here and there.

Dolby walked to one of the cubicles.

“Dr. Collier let me introduce Detective Pauline. He is helping us. Dr. Collier is our expert in Greek language.”

“Morning, Detective,” the scientist extended a hand and gave a friendly shake.

“Do I detect a Canadian accent, Doctor?”

“Ah, geese, and I left the moose hat at home too.” The man grinned.

They moved on. “Here’s Dr. Livermoore, our expert in Latin.”

Dr. Livermore shook hands. “Aye, pleased to meet you.”

“Ah,” Pauline added, “a Scots.”

“That’s what my mother tells me, but she’s been known to lie once or twice. He gave Pauline an impish grin and went back to work.

The two men worked their way through the lab and came to another cubicle toward the back.

“And this,” Dolby paused, “is Dr. Ben-Hur. Our expert in Aramaic.”

Dr. Ben-hur stood up and Pauline’s heart did a little flip-flop.

She was tall and slim with lots of mahogany brown hair. The skin a healthy, ruddy color. But it was those eyes. Large, luminous and deep dark brown with softly arching black eyebrows. She looked at him and smiled. The pert mouth curling up at the edges. He felt himself falling into those eyes.

“So pleased, Detective. Paulie?” She took his hand. A strong hand but with incredibly soft skin.

Pauline coughed. “Pauline ma’am. Pauline. But people do call me Paulie.” Was his face getting red? He felt like he was twelve.

Dr. Dolby was smiling at Gallah Ben-Hur. She appeared to be a favorite with him too.

Dr. Ben-Hur bent over her desk a moment and stood back up. She had a business card in her hand and held it out for Pauline.

“In case, you need anything. Please call.” She smiled at him and dimpled.

Pauline was a little breathless and just nodded.

“Let’s continue, shall we?” Dolby guided Pauline toward the rest of the lab and kept up an ongoing discourse about the nuts and bolts of what they were doing.

Pauline didn’t hear anything. He was mostly thinking about how he could ask Dr. Ben-Hur to coffee and not sound like a complete dolt.

 

(continued on Part III)

 

….

 

             It was the end of a dry, hot summer in Central Valley. Everything was dusty and reports of fires in the mountains were on every newscast.

In Tranquility, California, a small Central Valley town, Sam Reynolds stared at the morning news with a scowl. The paper was spread out on the kitchen table and he turned the pages with a listless finger.

“Jesus, nothing.” Even the sports page was boring him.

Staring into space, Sam finally had to admit it to himself.

“I’m bored as shit,” he told the still morning air.

His last case had left him feeling flat. Plus, his long-time girlfriend, Kristie was out of town for two weeks on a cruise with her two adult daughters.

“Uff,” he shook his head. Sam, sixty-six years, was a self-employed PI. Recently he had successfully completed a missing-persons case. A missing person who had wanted to stay missing.

‘#’

At sixteen years, Thomas Dolby, had run away from home. A pair of concerned parents had hired Sam to find him. Tracking Thomas to a dive in the southeast section of town, Sam parked his truck, being sure to lock it carefully, and walked to the run-down, clapboard house.

In his white T-shirt, blue-jeans and cowboy boots, he was aware that he was still better dressed than many residents of this neighborhood. He knocked on the door. He could hear some shuffling inside. The door eventually opened.

“Yeah?” came the desultory inquiry from behind a tattered screen door.

“Sam Reynolds.” He held out his wallet with the PI license tucked behind a plastic sleeve. “Like to speak to Thomas Dolby.”

“What’s you want him for?”

“Just want to speak to him.” Sam looked around. Neighbors were peeking at him as he stood on the porch. There was a small pistol in his right boot, but he really didn’t want to have to use it. “I have something for him he’d like to have. From his parents.”

Sensing money, the shabby young man unlatched the hook on the door and pushed it open. Sam grabbed the door and went in. The living room was an indescribable mess of clothes thrown everywhere and bits and pieces of food, drinks, empty bags of chips, trash and clutter. His host was shuffling away toward the kitchen. Several other teens were lying on old sofas, half-asleep.

“He’s in there,” his greeter waved down the hall.

Sam had several pictures of the boy and knew he would recognize him. He got to the second bedroom and pushed open the door. Thomas Dolby was lying on a mattress on the floor, in his boxers. His arm was around a skinny red-headed girl with impossibly white skin. His eyes were closed. Sam went and stood over the two. He nudged Thomas with the toe of his boot. The kid opened his eyes.

“Thomas Dolby?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m Sam Reynolds and I’ve been sent by your parents to bring you home.”

“Fuck off.”  The dark-haired youth rolled on his side toward the girl.

Sam looked around the filthy room. A pair of new looking jeans were thrown in a corner along with a pair of very expensive Ugg boots. He grabbed the jeans and threw them at the kid.

“Get up.”

“No!” the kid rolled into more of a ball, clutching the girl who mumbled protest.

Sam came over to the side of the mattress and squatted down. He tried to not touch anything.

“Thomas, it’s like this. You get out of that bed, put your pants on or I’m calling the police. They will come and arrest you, your little girlfriend and everyone else in this flea-bag dump for being under-age and on drugs. Then, your parents can pick you up at County jail.”

Sam stood back up. “I’ll give you ten minutes to decide. I’ll be outside.” He turned and left the room. Picking his way gingerly through garbage and bodies, he pushed through the screen door and stood on the sagging wood porch. Some people on the sidewalk had paused to gawk at him.

Jesus, I could use a cigarette right now, he thought to himself. And, I don’t want to be here a minute longer than necessary.

“Shit!” erupted from inside the house. There was some mumbled conversation and a very angry Thomas Dolby banged out the screen door, pulling up his boots.

With no further conversation, Sam walked off the porch and headed toward his truck. He didn’t even bother to look back. He unlocked the passenger side and open the door and the kid got in. Getting into the driver’s side, Sam put on his seat belt and started the truck.

“Fasten your seat-belt.”

“I don’t want. . ..”

Sam gave the kid a long cold stare.

“Crap!” Thomas grabbed the belt and jammed it in place.

Sam smiled pleasantly and pulled from the curb. “Starbucks?”

 

Forty-five minutes later, they were both nursing tall Starbuck’s coffees. Thomas had wolfed down two large scones at Sam’s expense.

“Good to see you’ve still got an appetite.”

The kid was sullen and said nothing.

They pulled into the huge drive of the giant home on the northeast section of town. Sam had already texted the mom that he had the kid and they were on their way.

An anxious, but ecstatic mother burst out the front door and grabbed the boy. He allowed himself to be hugged and hustled inside. Dr. Dolby was standing at the front door watching this scene. He waved at Sam.

“You found him,” the man said simply putting out his hand for a shake.

“Yes, Dr. Dolby, I found him.” Sam shook hands.

“Let’s go into my study.”

Sam followed the doctor past the grand foyer into a smaller, side room. They went in and his host shut the door.

Dr. Dolby went and sat behind his desk and pulled out a large check book. Sam sat in an ox-blood leather chair with brass stud details. He liked this chair. In fact, he liked the entire office. Sort of an Old World, navigational feel to it. If only I could decorate, he mused to himself. If only I had the money!

“So, give me the details,” the doctor asked. Sam did.

Frowning, Dolby busied himself writing out a check for Sam’s fees. He looked up and handed it to him.

Sam looked at the check and his eyebrows shot up. “Well, thank you, sir.”

Dolby waved his hand dismissively. There was a sad, pained expression on his face.

“Like I told you before, Sam. I don’t know what I am going to do about my son. His grades, his friends. Now this. . .running away, not answering his phone. His mother half sick. . . not knowing what had happened to him. He’s in the best school in town.” He shook his head. “I’m at my wits end.”

“Are you asking me what I think, sir?” Sam folded the check and put it in his shirt pocket. Dolby nodded in the affirmative.

“If it was my son, I’ll let him flunk. Start to appreciate some of the consequences of his actions. Keep the curfew going. If he doesn’t comply, take away his key. Then, if the drugs and alcohol thing keeps on, he’s seventeen, right?”

Dolby nodded.

“I’d stick his ass in a rehabilitation place and maybe they can talk some sense to him.”

Both men got up. “That’s a thought, Sam.”

“Yes, sir.” Dolby reached for the door. “Finding him this time was easy,” Sam added. “Next time. . . might not be so easy.”

They walked to the front door and went out.

“Thanks again, Sam.” Dr. Dolby held out his hand again. Sam shook it.

“I love your money, Doctor, but really, I hope you won’t need me again.”

The doctor sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Sam gave a little wave and left.

 

‘#’

Continued Part II