Dawn inherited an obscene amount of money from her father. She wasn’t sure what to do with it because it came from drugs not directly, but from managing and laundering the money that came from drugs. She asked my advice. I checked into it and when I was done I told her to keep it or give it all away, her choice. The IRS wasn’t interested because apparently my brother had paid taxes on it. The cartel wasn’t interested because every week they spilled more money than she had inherited.
Dawn decided to keep the money. In a show of faith and love that still amazes me, she split the money and gave a third each to me and Mary Beth. She said she did it because she didn’t want to be the “sugar momma” in the marriage. That’s when Mary Beth and I found out just how much money there was. All three of us were set for life if we chose to live off of it. The girls tried to get me to quit the LAPD.
“Being a detective isn’t just what I do,” I’d told them. “It’s what I am.” And they’d accepted that.
I’ve only really done two things with my money so far. First, Mary Beth and I sold our neighboring duplex homes and the three of us paid cash for a home in Malibu. It was sad saying goodbye to the place that had brought Mary Beth and I together, but the new home was much nicer and a better size for the three of us. And we all love the beach.
The other thing I did was buy a brand new Cadillac for Meyer and a new Corvette for Buddy and Jen.
Dawn got accepted at UCLA and she’s working on her general ed courses, major as yet undeclared.
My lesbian girlfriend wants a baby.
Me? I detect by day and at night I come home and cook for my girls and do whatever I can to show them both my love, and I have more sex, more often than I ever would have thought possible. Far from calming down, our physical craving for each other is still growing.
I’m more than just a lucky bastard. I’m blessed.
There’s something about a sunny day at the beach in Southern California. Sure, it can be clear and sunny and warm anywhere. But unlike most of the United States, in SoCal you don’t have the humidity and you don’t have the multitudes of airborne bugs. The Pacific Ocean stretches as far west as you can see or even imagine, a deep blue foundation topped by glimmering white peaks. Depending upon which beach you happen to be at you’ll see people lying in the sun, swimming, surfing or body surfing or windsurfing, kayaking, biking, roller blading, lifting weights, playing volleyball, picnicking, painting, hawking questionable goods and services, or almost every other manner of activity you could imagine. You almost never see any tourism commercials for Southern California. It doesn’t need them. If you aren’t afraid of the occasional earthquake, you pretty much want to be here.
I was naked and sweating in the sun in the backyard of my Malibu almost-beach house. We could have maybe afforded a house on the beach but your bang for the buck increases dramatically on the other side of Pacific Coast Highway, and the farther east you’re willing to go the more you can get for your money. We were far enough east to have a house that was nicely sized for the three of us but still close enough that we could ride bikes to the beach whenever we were in the mood.
I was thinking about hopping in the pool to cool off when my cell phone rang. It was Meyer.
“We’re up, John Boy” he said.
“It’s our day off, Meyer. “What the hell?”
“Hey, it’s your own fucking fault. You weren’t so successful at this detective shit, they wouldn’t want to use you so much. I’m rolling hot on the Jansen case; I don’t want to pull away from it. Help me out here, Johnny.”
Chelsea Jansen was the 15 year old daughter of a Los Angeles city council member. She had disappeared after school and had been found two days later, raped and strangled. There was never any question that the elite LAPD Robbery Homicide Division would be given the case and right now Meyer and I were the golden boys, solving new cases and the occasional cold case with a speed and frequency that baffled even us. We’d been transferred to Robbery Homicide as a team from Pacific Division because of our record for cases solved and convictions. A transfer to Robbery Homicide was really a promotion, not in rank or money but in prestige and case importance and visibility, and when we’d talked it over we’d both agreed that we wanted it.
Working a case has a lot in common with being a serious gambler. When you’re on a roll you run with it and you keep at it and you don’t stop. Momentum has a way of quickly getting away from you if you slow down or back off. I understood where Meyer was coming from.
“Okay, partner,” I said. “What did we pick up?”
“B & E robbery. Rich hot shot software developer, lives not too far from you. They took his mom’s jewelry and stuff he considers to be intellectual property, stuff that was going into his next software thingy. If you could just go up there and do the usual basic blocking and tackling and see if he has any ideas about who and why, that’d be great, kid.”
I could tell his mind was already back on Chelsea Jansen.
“Meyer?”
“Best I can tell, Johnny, she was a sweet kid. Gorgeous. Good to people. A guided missile for college. I’m pretty fucking pissed off about this one.”
Meyer was pretty fucking pissed off whenever anyone was murdered. But… a little girl.
“Meyer,” I said. “We’ll get the asshole. Hell, you’re working the case on a Saturday. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
Meyer gave me the software guy’s address and phone number. His place was no more than fifteen minutes from my house. I said goodbye to Meyer and hopped in the pool for one last refreshing little dip. As I climbed back out and shook the water from my hair the gate in the backyard fence opened and the neighbors’ girl Laura appeared, dressed in a skimpy white bikini. She took two steps into the backyard, saw me standing there, and froze as the gate closed behind her.
“Hi, Laura,” I said as I reached for the towel.
“Hi Johnny,” she said. She watched, not moving, as I dried my hair. “Umm… you’re naked.”
I looked down at myself. “Holy cow… you’re right!”
She laughed and walked towards me. “I was afraid you’d be mad at me for seeing you nude,” she said.
I continued to dry off and said, “Kid, we told you that you could come over any time to use the pool, and this is any time. Maybe we should have also told you that this is very much a clothing optional zone and there’s a chance that if you do come over you’ll catch us in the buff. Now you know.”
“Clothing optional zone?”
“Yep. We like to be nude. If that bothers you or your parents enough to keep you away, I understand. But I promise I’m just a guy who doesn’t like to wear clothes unless he has to. You’re safe with me.”
“I’m okay with you being naked, Johnny,” she said. She sat on a lounge chair and looked up at me. “It doesn’t hurt that you’re in great shape.”
“Cool,” I said as I wrapped the towel around my waist. I studied her swimsuit. “Besides, once you get that thing wet you may as well be naked yourself.”
She looked down at her bikini. “Maybe,” she said. “You want to find out?”
Uh-oh.
“I would indeed but I’ve gotta run. Cop stuff,” I said.
“I could jump in and out really fast before you go,” she said. “Just to test your theory.”