Gone at Zero Hundred 00:00, page 3
As the next few days passed, my thoughts only worsened. I stayed in my mom’s bedroom, looking through the pictures on the wall, and just trying to stay close to her. The smell of her perfume and the lavender scent on her pillow gave me comfort, and made me think she was still around, if only in spirit. I knew that sounded weird, but it was all I had.
I couldn’t drag myself out of the house to go to the Wake. When it was time for the funeral, Detective Carter demanded I go with him. He assumed I was planning on skipping that, too.
“You have to,” he said. “You have no choice. Even if I have to get Jaden and Cody to help me drag you there, you’re going!”
“Why?” I whined for the umpteenth time. “What’s the point?” In my mind, I was afraid if I went to the wake and funeral, it would only confirm what I didn’t want to face, that she really was gone - she was never coming back.
Carter sat down in front of me. “Do it for your mom, Syd! Please. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t go.”
After I saw the pleading look in his eyes, I merely nodded, but kept my face a mask. Because of that, those around me were starting to worry. They were afraid I was holding my emotions inside. That I was a ticking bomb, and I would explode later. I heard some of them talking about me in hushed tones.
“Is she going to be alright?” A woman asked Carter. “She seems so despondent.”
“She’s so angry,” another one of them said.
“She hasn’t shed any tears, yet,” said another.
Of course I was angry.
Hello!
My mother was murdered!
And worse, a reporter trying to get his name recognized, filmed the entire thing. Now, I couldn’t turn on the TV for fear of seeing the stupid clip repeated over and over, again. The media doesn’t tell you the whole story, either. That my mom spent two years of her life working around the clock to uncover the evidence for the police to make the arrest. They only showed the parts that would get higher ratings, the violence, and the fact that it was a police officer who was arrested. There was nothing but speculation about who the shooter could be. One reporter even tried to suggest it could have been her fault. The fact that her face was constantly on the news for a matter that should have been handled by law enforcement, and not a private investigator, could have pissed off a few disgruntled officers. Well, that would be the media’s fault, not my mom’s. She didn’t ask to be on the news.
Yes. I was angry. I was afraid if I allowed one tear to fall, a dozen more would follow, and I wouldn’t be able to stop. I had to hold it together. I couldn’t bear to show my emotions in front of all those people. Tears are so personal. But, no matter how hard I tried, the day finally came when I couldn’t keep my emotions in check.
At the church, I sat stoically through all the speeches from people who worked with her, relaying what a wonderful person she was. I even got through the three-pages that I wrote without falling apart, or becoming a babbling idiot. I’m sure that’s because the video showing all the pictures of the two of us through the years, was playing behind me, where I couldn’t see it. Cody put it together from old photos and videos my mom had lying around. It was when we left the service to transport the coffin to the cemetery, that’s when I lost it.
There had to be well over a thousand residents, police and fire personnel in full dress uniform, military members and Sutter Beach city workers, who were lined up along the two-mile-stretch of Sailor’s Way, all the way to the location where she would be laid to rest. There were signs everywhere offering words of support.
We will miss you, Anna McSwain.
Anna McSwain, Sutter Beach owes you a debt of gratitude.
You will always be remembered for your dedicated service to this community.
My mom was a hero in their eyes. While I was busy whining and complaining about the time she was spending away from home, she was investigating some bad individuals who were siphoning off the pension funds of employees. That was when the tears began to fall, and I knew right then that life as I knew it before that fateful day, was never going to be the same.
SEVEN
FEW WEEKS LATER
McSwain & Beck
THE DAYS turned into weeks since I lost my mom, but I still felt the gut-wrenching pain, as if it just happened. Probably would for a long time - maybe forever, or at least until I saw her again. There was so much left unsaid between us. Losing her the way I did, I was forced to see the world we lived in, was not a bed of roses. She warned me. Any innocence I might have had - which was pretty small to begin with, was gone. I will never forget the last words we said to each other.
“Sometimes life sucks.”
“Sometimes it does.”
Carter put together a task force for a full-scale investigation looking for the shooter. They had the slugs, but not the gun itself. A CSI tech did a reconstruction of the crime, and narrowed down a possible location of the shooter. Then, officers combed the area. Divers searched the local ponds and beaches. No luck. There was no evidence left behind. The shooter knew how to cover his tracks. The task force suspected the shooter was involved with the pension fund scam, somehow, so they rifled through all the files in the cabinets. Carter said the investigation would continue until the perpetrator was caught. But, all I heard was, the shooter was still at large.
Then, a guy who called himself, J.C., pulled up to the firehouse on a juiced up Harley Davidson claiming to be her attorney. I met up with him outside when I heard the sound of the exhaust. He took off his skull and bones helmet, and followed me into the firehouse wearing a leather vest and a pair of chaps. I thought he looked more like a member of the Sons of Anarchy, and found myself wondering if he wore his get up when he faced a judge in court.
“As I said on the phone,” he started as he followed me inside. “I was hired by your mother to take care of her personal affairs.” He glanced around the firehouse with admiration; then offered a handshake to Jaden and Cody who were there for support.
In the old days, the fire trucks sat in the bay just inside the firehouse garage doors. Now, it was where my mom set up the office. There was a desk with chairs, a wall of filing cabinets, and a mechanical bull-riding machine. Yes, you read that right, a bull-riding machine. One thing my mom and I did like to do together; was check out the local flea markets. You could find the coolest things. My mom said the mechanical bull was better than a treadmill any day. A couple minutes a day and you were sure to wind up with six-pack abs. She bought it and I was hooked.
To the right, there was a locker room cluttered with old turnout gear, fire boots and helmets that were left over from volunteer firemen. A small dispatch office with an alarm box sat just inside the front door, and a set of stairs led to the second floor - the living quarters.
J.C. pulled a stack of papers out of a leather satchel; then we all sat around the desk. For the next hour, he read through the contents of my mom’s will, and informed me of my financial responsibilities from now on. He also confirmed something I knew, but had never seen the physical proof - until now. My mom received a cashier’s check from an ‘unknown individual’ on the first of every month. He said the checks would continue until I turned twenty-one. I knew they were from my father, but I still couldn’t understand why his identity was such a big secret. Listening to J.C. ramble on and on about my new responsibilities, I wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and dream it all away, but that wasn’t an option. I had to grow up, and fast.
With J.C.’s help, Jaden, Cody and I read through everything - all the things my mom usually handled. Things I took for granted. She wasn’t kidding. There were a lot of bills. J.C. called the leasing company and convinced them to take the Tahoe back, so I didn’t have to worry about that monthly payment. But, they said there was still a fee that needed to be paid for turning in the car before the end of the contract. It’s not personal, just business, they said. In response, J.C. had some interesting words for them. When he threatened a lawsuit with media coverage they finally waived the fee. I guess they knew the media would paint them as a giant bully corporation, who was harassing a young woman who just lost her mother.
Then, the subject of the firehouse came up - a conversation I was dreading. J.C. suggested I put it up for sale, and get myself a small apartment. I thought about it, but just couldn’t do it. My mom loved the firehouse, and so did I. When he realized I wasn’t going to budge, he said we could use the monthly check to pay the mortgage each month. That helped - a lot - but there were still taxes and funds to keep it running. Gas, food, and all the things she reminded me of, also had to be covered. The monthly check from the ‘unknown individual’ wouldn’t cover it all.
“Bottom line,” J.C. said as he stuffed the papers back into the satchel; and put his motorcycle helmet on. “You’ll be fine for a while. Your mom had a few clients that paid her well, but you’ll need to have something viable in the future. The retainers that were recently paid will have to be returned, unless the cases are completed.” With that, he was out the door. Seconds later, the sound of the exhaust drifted off into the sunset.
Jaden, Cody and I were quiet, contemplating and evaluating the options. The problem was the only thing I knew how to do, I learned from working with my mom two days a week as an apprentice for McSwain Investigations. And Cody relied on the income she paid him to help with his filming equipment, and to pay his rent.
“Wow,” Jaden said, finally breaking the silence. “That’s a lot of responsibility to take on...”
“I say we keep McSwain Investigations open,” Cody interrupted, suddenly filled with excitement. He turned the chair around, straddled the seat and looked directly at me. “That way, you won’t have to give the retainers back.”
“I don’t usually agree with Cody, but he might be right, Syd,” Jaden added. “I mean, c’mon, the two of you have been helping out your mom for years. You know the drill.”
Cody nodded with confidence, like it was the only thing that made sense.
“We may know the drill,” I said with a little less enthusiasm. “But, it won’t be that easy convincing clients to pay a couple of eighteen-year-olds.”
Cody shrugged. “Well, there might be a way around that.”
“What do you mean?”
“We could show them our abilities,” he said as if it was a no brainer. “We could call around to some of the clients on retainer. Like for instance, McAlister Insurance. Your mom did a lot of work for them. They wouldn’t let us handle anything major, but the auto claims are pretty easy. Maybe your mom has a few of those small cases lying around. We could go out and get the goods, film it and send it off to the company showing we can do it.”
I thought about it; then perked up a little when I couldn’t see a negative. “I suppose that might work” I said, but I wasn’t confident it would be as easy as he said. “I can go through the files, and see what cases are still open. I have to get the place organized, anyway.”
“I don’t envy you that,” Jaden said when he glanced around at the mess in the office.
After my mom was murdered, the task force searched through the files - old and new - looking for suspects. Manila folders had been yanked from the filing cabinets, strewn around the room and piled high on the floor. They took what they wanted, but didn’t bother to put anything back when they were done.
“I think that’s the ticket, Syd,” Cody chimed in, and now he was getting jazzed. I mean, totally jazzed. “We keep McSwain Investigations up and running. We could even change it to McSwain & Beck.” He followed the comment with a smirk.
“It makes sense,” Jaden offered. “That’s really the quickest way you guys will make some dough. Neither one of you would do well working a nine to five, and it beats waiting tables, any day.”
“So, what do you think?” Cody asked me, hopeful.
I could think about it for a while, but in the end, I knew it was the only thing I was capable of doing. “If you’re willing to help me, I’m game. The last thing I want to do is wait tables at the café. Can you see me being forced to put on a cheery face, and serve the rich kids?”
Cody snorted. “What I can see you doing is getting miffed with a customer, and dumping a tray of food all over their laps.”
“Yeah, like maybe the cheerleaders,” Jaden piped in.
That brought a smile to my face. “Well, that I would enjoy.” Nope, I’m not jealous, much.
EIGHT
DETECTIVE CARTER crept up the hills above an exclusive mansion keeping in the shadows to stay out of sight. One hand was firmly clasped around the 9mm Glock clipped at his hip. The other held the end of a Pelican LED police-issued flashlight which he used to guide his way. He followed the footprints noticeable in the mulch, size seven and ten if he had to take a guess. Sloppy for would-be prowlers looking to rob the place, or crazed killers carrying large weapons—at least that was the description given by the frantic woman when she phoned police dispatch after she spotted suspicious activity in the hills while she was jogging.
SNAP!
Hearing the sound, Carter whipped out his gun and waived his flashlight over the area. He noticed a camera perched on a tripod, peeking out through a row of bushes that was pointed toward a window on the second floor of the mansion.
A camera, that’s the large weapon the caller complained about?
“Ready, and action!” he heard a male voice say.
“Sutter Beach Police!” Carter moved the flashlight toward the voice; then pushed his way through a set of bushes to get a look. He shook his head at what he saw.
“McSwain & Beck, I should have known.” He put his gun back in the holster, and watched with an amused look on his face.
Cody was squatting down in the brush behind the camera, filming. He was painted in camouflage to blend in with the brush, and wore an ear piece with a built-in microphone.
He spoke into the mic. “Looking for two hotshot sleuths?” He veered the lens of the camera toward a set of branches high up on a tree.
That’s where I was, decked out in black Under Armour tights and a long-sleeve athletic shirt, with a ski-mask to hide my face. I was dangling upside down like a bat by a rope I affixed to the tree. I had my own camera zoomed in, and filming the escapades taking place inside the window of the mansion. After I got the footage I was looking for, I yanked on the rope, pulled myself upright and slithered back down.
Cody kept the camera on me until I hit the ground. Then, we posed in front of the camera with my face still hidden behind the mask.
Cody said into the camera, “Have a cheating spouse? Looking for a runaway teen? Need to verify facts, gather information, or have an employee take off with your funds?”
I added, “Or maybe you just need good old-fashioned surveillance services performed? No job is too big, or too small. Look no further, McSwain & Beck, the reluctant sleuths are here for you…”
Cody hit stop on the camera, and we bumped fists.
“Fresh,” he said in an animated tone. Nothing got Cody more excited than when he was behind a camera filming. “I can edit out what we filmed today; then slice in some of the old footage. It’ll make an awesome trailer for the site. We’ll be getting clients for McSwain & Beck in no time.”
“Cool,” I said, trying to show some enthusiasm as I removed the mask. I approached Detective Carter. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“A call came into dispatch. Jogger thought some crazy killer was on the loose up here in the hills.” He gave me a sideways glance - amused by my ninja attire. “She got the crazy part right.”
“Why did they send a detective, and not a black and white?”
He shrugged. “I happened to be in the area.”
I thought he might be there to check up on me, but I kept that opinion to myself. Since the death of my mom, he’s been keeping a close eye on me.
“So, are you two just up here filming for the fun of it, or you actually working on something?”
I said, “One of my mom’s former clients has an outstanding case for insurance fraud - typical scam. Cody and I thought if we were able to get the goods, they’d let us continue to work on some of their smaller cases. “Check it out.”
I let him view the footage on the video-camera that I filmed while up in the tree: a guy was sitting in a chair watching a young woman in a cheerleading outfit doing various flips and moves using a brass pole.
“The woman filed a lawsuit against the insurance company after her BMW was rear-ended at an intersection, and she wants the insurance company to pay. She says the accident caused permanent issues with her spine. Claims she can no longer work, she’s having trouble sleeping, yada, yada, yada…”
Carter tilted his head to the side, trying to follow the girl’s moves through the camera. “I didn’t know the body could even do that.”
“The guy’s a big shot producer auditioning her for a part in his next reality TV project. Allegedly.”
Carter smirked. “Which is what: Bring It On, Part Deux?”
I couldn’t help myself, I laughed. So did Cody.
Then, Carter leveled me with a serious look. “So, how are you, you doing okay?”
Cody busied himself with the camera, so he could give us a moment of privacy.
“I’m doing okay. It took me a while ya know, to get back into the swing of things. Jaden and Cody are helping me get through it. There’s a lot to keep my mind occupied. I mean, I still have a lot of bad moments, when I’m alone, or in the firehouse.”
He draped an arm on my shoulder. “I’m sure it’s hard. But, I’m proud of you for picking yourself up, and plugging away.”
