First, I would like to apologize for neglecting my blog for two months. There is an old saying that life is what happens to us as we are making other plans. I have found it to be very true in my life. In the last two months, I have had, with my friends and family, four hospital stays, one major move from one house to another house, one clearing out a room in my house so I could rent it. On top of that we have to throw in Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, and just general living, like doing the final chores of publishing my two new books. Life is always so much more interesting than just living. There was one thing that happened that I would like to share.

On my lady friend’s birthday, I took her to Catalina Island to show her where I had spent a good part of my younger days working my way through college. I promised to take her to the best place on the island to have lunch.

The trip to the island was fun. We saw lots of dolphins, a whale, and the seas were calm. When we got there, we walked in the town. I was using my walker as I knew we could be walking around all day long. There’s only one person on the island, I know really well, that is still alive from those days – the barber, Lolo. So, the first place we went was to the barbershop to say hello.

We had a nice visit and then I told Lolo that Karin and I are going to the Country Club for lunch, and he replied, “No you’re not.”

I asked him what he meant, he said that the Country Club was no longer functioning. I said “Poopoo, (or something like that), I wanted to take Karin to the very best restaurant on the Island, it’s her birthday.”

He said, “That would be Mount Ebby. I will call them and see if you can get in.”

He called them and got a machine that said they would call him back. We waited 20 minutes and they never called back, so he called again. They still didn’t call back, so Karin said why don’t we just go there and wait until they have a table. That made good sense to me; I asked Lolo where is it, and how do we get there?

It turned out to be the Wrigley Mansion on top of the hill, and I couldn’t walk there with my walker. Lolo said, “No problem” and handed me the keys to his golf cart. Karin and I got in the cart and had a great ride up the mountain to the Mansion. Just before we got to the gate a taxi passed us. When we got to the big steel gate that had a sign on it which said “No Public Access”, the taxi was driving through so, of course, I just followed it in as the gate closed behind us.

We drove up the road to the mansion and parked our golf cart at the end. We got out and holding hands walked into the patio, saying good morning to a couple of maids that were pushing laundry carts around, and then walked into a beautiful big room, through an open door, into the Mansion. No one was around so we walked into and through another fantastically decorated room and could see, through the windows, a few people eating at tables out on the veranda, which was looking over the town of Avalon.

Walking out onto the veranda, we were greeted by the head waiter who looked up and said, “You look familiar.”  I replied, “That’s very possible,” thinking I might have known him in the old days when I lived there. He took us to a table that was set for two, where we could overlook the entire town.

We had a wonderful relaxed lunch. Looking over the beautiful town of Avalon. We spent two hours just enjoying lunch and me telling all the stories of my work days as a young man. While we were there another couple came, looked out onto the veranda, but there were no available tables, so they left.

As we left we wandered through a couple more incredibly decorated rooms, looked for a bathroom, found one, used it, and then got in our golf cart to go back down the mountain, two very happy campers. We got back to Lolo’s barbershop and returned his golf cart keys, thanking him profusely for a wonderful afternoon. Then we wandered through town to the casino. We came to realize that the mansion had been turned into a very exclusive hotel, and that the meals served there were for the people staying there. The couple that came and looked out were probably the ones that were supposed to be at our table.

It just goes to prove that if you act like you belong some place, no one will question you. It was a wonderful day. All because of Lolo, his golf cart, and the taxi that just happened to pass by at exactly the right moment. I would call this true serendipity.

 

 

 

 

 

It was early in the morning when Johnny opened the front door of his new house and stepped out for the first time to see where he was going to be living. It had been dark when he arrived with his father last night, from their farm in the hill country of Montana.

He was a strong strapping six-year-old farm boy and this was his first trip to a big city. The family had moved here from their farm because the dry seasons had wrecked their crops and they had to sell.

He was dumbfounded by what he saw as he stood in his new front yard – which was all cement. Every house as far as he could see down the street had a cement yard, and all of them looked exactly alike. He went back inside the house where his mother was finding places to put things away that the family had brought with them from the farm.

“Where are all the animals, and the bushes for the rabbits to hide in? They were my friends and now I’ve lost them and I have no friends.”

His mother explained to him that he now lived in a city not a farm, he would make new friends with the other children that live in the city.

“But the animals and all of the trees and bushes were my friends.” he said, and ran into his new bedroom, crying.

The next day he asked his mother if he could walk to the park she had told him about at the end of their street only two blocks away. She said there were trees and bushes in it, and that he might meet some other children to play with there. She told him he could go, but not to talk to any strangers that were adults, only to the children that he met.

Off he went excited about meeting new friends at the park. When he reached the park there was no one there. He had tears in his eyes again as he felt the starvation of loneliness creeping over him. He laid down on his back under a giant eucalyptus tree. Wiping the tears out of his eyes he looked up and saw the sunlight filtering through the leaves – hanging from the gently swaying branches – restlessly moving back and forth in the wind – he could hear the tree’s song as it was orchestrated by the wind – and watched the leaves as they moved like dancers on a stage to nature’s own orchestra.

“I hear you talking to me, Tree, do you want to be my friend? How long have you lived here? You’re so big I bet it’s been a long time. I’m new here.” The tree was still moving gently in the wind, so Johnny told it all about the farm he had lived on. After a while, the wind stopped and the tree settled into a quiet resting mode.

“I think you want to take a nap, Tree. Is it okay if I come back and talk to you every now and then? You’re the only friend I have now, but I promise even if I make other friends. I will still come and visit you.”

When Johnny got home, his mother had lunch ready for him and he said, “Thank you.” Picking up his sandwich he started to eat with the enthusiasm of a happy six-year old.

“You seem to be in a better mood today,” his mother said. “Tell me about the park.”

“I found a friend that lives there and I can visit him whenever I want.”

“Maybe he won’t be there the next time you go, so don’t be disappointed if he isn’t.”

“Oh! He’ll be there. True friends, just like daddy always told me, are the same everywhere – always there when you need them.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

649 words

There is a thing called “Flash Fiction” that is a written piece that tells a complete story in more than 600 words but less than 1200 words. This is not easy to do. This story is 750 words, and I’ll leave it up to you if you think it works or not.

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Kent opened his eyes when his alarm went off and looked up at the ceiling in his bedroom. Just like the rest of his life, it never changed.  Every morning it was, get up, go to the bathroom, brushed your teeth, make the coffee, and watch the news on TV, while you ate your oatmeal, to see who was killed in the world while you slept.

He put his oatmeal in the microwave oven, got dressed in his overalls, and sat down to eat his breakfast. His mind was blank. He had nothing to think about. He lived alone and never socialized because he was very hard of hearing and consequently he tried not to put himself into a position where he had to talk to people -he couldn’t understand them anyway. At work in the fields, digging potatoes or picking whatever was ripe to be picked at that particular time is where he spent most of his life.

He hurt all of the time. His back hurt, his knees hurt, he was too hot in the summer, and too cold in the winter, but he never complained, it was his life and he was lost in it, he saw no way out. He didn’t watch TV very much, the news depressed him and the other programs showed people being happy, and he couldn’t identify with them at all. They depressed him too.

His only dream was of being happy. “I wonder what it feels like to be happy.” He had no idea. It was his only wish, his only goal, to be happy at least once in his life before he died. He saw no chance of it ever happening – only more of the same, day after day, year after year.

He walked to work in the field. His old car had died a year or so ago. It was only two miles and he was still able to make it, but it did seem a lot longer than two miles, as he walked home after hours of bending, digging, and carrying the containers of goods to the trucks.

“If I could just be happy once, so I would know what it feels like, it would be so wonderful.” He had said so many times to himself, as he did the long walk home, anxious to take his pain pills so he could sleep, and be able to do it all over again the next day.

One day on the walk home. He stopped to buy some more aspirin at the store in the gas station and decided to spend a dollar on a lottery ticket. He had never done that before, he knew he would never win because he had never won anything in his life. So why waste the money, but he did it anyway.

It was two months later when he was eating his oatmeal in the morning, watching the news, when the commentator said that the person that won the lottery had not come forward yet, and they gave the numbers again and said that the ticket was bought in a gas station. Then they gave the name of the gas station. He jumped up. It was his station.

He ran around looking for the ticket and finally found it, and sure enough it was the winner. OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! I’M THE WINNER! – It’s wonderful – I actually won something. His whole body was shaking. He was crying, he couldn’t breathe. He was laughing. I’m happy. Oh my God! I’M HAPPY. I’ve won the lottery. This is fantastic.  He sat down in the chair, he was crying, he was laughing, HE WAS HAPPY.

It was a week later when the foreman wondered where Kent was, he hadn’t come to work for a few days and decided to check on him. Kent was never late, and had never missed a day at work before. He was a very dependable person.

When he reached Kent’s house, he found the door unlocked but nobody answered when he knocked, so he went inside, only to find Kent lying in his bed with a smile on his face. On the table next to the bed was a note.

The note said, “I have accomplished my life’s goal. My impossible dream to be happy before I died has come true. I now have experienced happiness beyond belief. I could never be this happy again. The money I have won would only cause me problems, rob me of my happiness, and I would lose this feeling. After careful consideration, I have made the choice to make my dream come true and die happy. “

There was a hole in his forehead from the 22 pistol, on the floor beside the bed.

 

It isn’t very often I find something that is beyond the perception of my senses. Until now only two things were on that list – they were the oceans of the world, and the stars over my head in the night sky, when I am fortunate enough – to be in a dark place. They are both beyond my psychological and spiritual comprehension. Academically, I understand each of them, but that knowledge seems to be the least of their ability to affect my life. They both have always made me have feelings very deep inside me – which I can’t explain – but I definitely feel.

I have now added a third item to my awe-inspiring list – the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. I just took my first visit to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. I’ve been to the South Rim and thought it was wonderful but the North Rim gave me the same inner-calm feeling I get watching the waves roll in from points unknown and wash across my bare feet in the sand – then disappear into mother-earth only to rejoin the sea again over and over for the next thousand years. The North Rim is truly spectacular.

Looking over the edge of the North Rim I get the same kind of internal quietness that I get watching the stars on a dark night – there is something quieting for the inner self watching the night sky and seeing light for the first time that was created millions of years ago.

I have tried to find words to convey my feelings and I can’t. I feel totally insignificant, and yet at the same time, very proud, fortunate, and important to be a part of such a wondrous phenomenon we call the universe.

Go on Safari

Karin and I hadn’t been on a trip for a few weeks so we decided to take a short one to Africa. It was really a short one – only two days long. We signed up for a tour that was called the Roar and Snore.

We didn’t have to go too far because it was in Escondido, California, at the Wild Country Safari Park. We checked in on Saturday – spent Saturday night in a tent in the middle of the Safari Park – and took a Safari van through the park on Sunday morning to get up close and personal with the animals. Sunday afternoon we came home.

It went very well. The lions that we were close to roared all night long and I don’t know if we snored or not – I was asleep – but I do know that we had a good time. The trip through the park in the Safari van took us down to where we could actually hand feed some of the animals. We fed eucalyptus leaves to the giraffe – slices of apple to the rhinoceros and granola bars to ourselves.

We walked over to see the lions. They were behind a glass wall. One of the people in our tour – there were 14 of us – had a small care dog with him in a basket on the front his power Walker. The lions paid no attention to us. They were sleepily hanging out until one of them spotted the dog.

That lion that spotted the dog came to attention, and the entire time we were there paced back and forth, staring at where the dog was. They finally hid the dog behind a bush so he was out of sight and the lion continued to stare at the bush until we left. Lesson learned – if you ever go to Africa and go on Safari be sure not to look like a dog.

Rent a Kayak

When I moved to California from Washington State, I sold most of my kayaks. I had seven when I moved and only kept one to bring with me. I found that in my new home I had no place to store it, and I had no car to carry it. My little fit could handle it, but with great care. Karin and I decided to rent a kayak and go for a paddle in Newport Harbor.

I hadn’t paddled for two years and didn’t realize how much I missed it. We rented a double. What fun! I think we’re going to be doing that quite often. It’s a great together activity, along with being a superb full body exercise, if you paddle hard, and just a wonderful way to kill an afternoon if you paddle easy and take your lunch with you and a few pieces of hard candy. Most everybody has water close by to them someplace and perhaps the place near you have kayaks for rent. If you’ve never kayaked don’t be frightened of one. They won’t turn over and drown you.

If you’re a fisherman there great to fish from; if you’re an exercise fanatic you can get all of it you can handle in the boat. Depending on how hard you paddle or you can just suck on the hard candy and enjoy the day. You have total control over your ship, Enjoy.

(A continuation of the last Blog.)

“Remember the party I went to for Jackie?”

“Of course, I do, it was just two days ago. Keep going, this is getting interesting.”

“I went into her walk-in closet to get some chairs and saw her shoe rack. She had about 20 pairs, all neatly on the rack, but the one’s I had liked, weren’t there. She wasn’t wearing them and I wondered where they were.

Then I remembered what Paul had said, the killer had stepped in the blood and left a foot print that showed he had walked away, instead of running as you might expect. It was interesting, but that’s all.

While you were gone I had coffee with Jackie. I found out that she broke her arm the same night Smout was killed. I went to where she works, and walked towards her house where the party was. Ron, she had to walk right by the place where Smout was killed! I think he tried to rape her and she broke her arm in a fight with him. She isn’t one to submit to anyone without a fight.”

“Sally, if she had a broken arm how could she have fought him off? How could she have killed him anyway? With what?”

“Well it’s not obvious, but it’s an easy answer. She is outstanding in our class for being the most flexible of all of us. Remember when I first told you about her, you said she belongs with the Rockettes in the chorus line with all the high kickers. You were right, and that’s how she killed him, with a kick to the neck with the shoes I liked so much. Ron, it was Thursday, she would have been waring those shoes I told you about, that’s why they weren’t in the shoe rack in her closet. One of them would have been covered in blood, she had to get rid of them.

The heels on those were about four-inch spike heels, a high frontal kick, like she learned in her Savate class years ago, to the throat, would have easily torn the flesh and caused a wound like Smout had. With a broken arm, she would have walked away – she couldn’t run, the pain would have been too intense. And Paul said there was blood on only one foot, as indicated from the foot print on the cement. Ron, I’m sure that’s what happened.”

“Sally, I love you. What you just told me is incredible, not only that it happened, but the way you put it together.  I think you’re right. Now I understand your comments earlier, about legal justice and poetic or street justice, and the tears. If we tell Paul, he will have to arrest her for murder, just like we would’ve done when we were cops. She will be exonerated, of course, citing self-defense. Jackie will be a hero, but her life will be changed forever, because she’ll be on the news and the front page of the newspapers for weeks.”

“Ron, I really, really about her. I don’t want this to destroy her life.”

“Nor do I. We have a week left before we go home. Paul is a good friend, and has been a cop a long time. I’m sure he has encountered, during his time in law enforcement, where a situation needs to be bent a little to arrive at true justice. Let me chat with him, off the record, and feel him out.”

They finished their meal which was cold now, because they forgot to eat when Sally was telling her story, but it was still good.

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The day came when they had to board the bus for the airport in Marseilles. Paul was out of town again and they said goodbye to him two days earlier. Sally asked Ron if he talked to him about Jackie. Ron said he did.

“What did he say he was going to do?”

“He didn’t. He just said, he would ‘ponder’ it.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have no idea, but he was spellbound as I told him what you did, and how you put it all together. He said they needed more women on their police force.”

As they were leaving the hotel with their luggage, to walk to the bus station, Jackie entered the lobby.

“I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to say goodbye, and thank you.”

They gave her a hug, and Sally asked, “Thank us for what?”

“I’m not really sure. I got the nicest letter from a man named Paul. He didn’t sign his last name. It thanked me for making his job easier, and not to worry about the recent un-pleasantries. He said the arm will heal and the memory will fade. Then he said that you were truly good friends, and I should thank you. Do you know what he meant?”

“Yes, we do, and I think you do too. We love you.”

They left to catch their bus, with big smiles on their faces.

 

 

 (A continuation from the last Blog.)

In the morning, Ron caught the tour headed off to Saint-Tropez and Sally slept in till 9 a.m. After she got up and had her coffee and baguette for breakfast, she took out a pencil and paper, and just stared at it for minute, then shook her head and started writing.

When Ron returned, he was tired and hungry. He took Sally by the hand and said, “Come on sweetheart, let’s go to the place we went to, the day we got here. It is good and close.”

They sat down and Ron asked, “What did you do today? Did you have a good day?” Sally just looked at him and tears came to her eyes. “My God! What happened?”

“Well, you picked up on the fact I was bothered about something a couple of days ago. I made a list of some things that were bothering me, and tried to see if they could be related. I spent my day checking it all out, and wish I hadn’t, but you know me, an unsolved puzzle drives me crazy.”

“What on earth could you have gotten involved with that would make you cry? You never cry. You always said, coroners can’t get involved with their clients, and we don’t even have a case.”

“This is different. It’s not part of one of our cases, and in the past, most of my clients were dead, and I didn’t know them. I have discovered information that could destroy the life of someone that I really care for, and I’m torn on what I should do about it. You know the talks we’ve had with each other, when we left the police department and became private investigators, about legal justice and poetic justice.”

“I sure do. There are many times a big gap between the two exists, but what does that have to do with your puzzle?”

“Everything! The case Paul was working on about the man who was murdered in the ally.”

“That’s old news, they’ve it figured out. The cartel took him out because of his debt. They probably will never find out who did it ,even if they are good detectives. It was more than likely some out-of-town professional.”

“No, it wasn’t Ron.”

“What do you know that they don’t, Sal?”

“I know who killed him, and it wasn’t Big Louie from Detroit. I know why they killed him, and it had nothing to do with money. And I know what the weapon was. Is that enough?”

“Sal, I know you well enough to know you’re not kidding, but I don’t understand what you’re saying. It doesn’t make any sense. You weren’t even that interested when I was telling you about it. How could you possibly have all that information?”

“Do you doubt me?” She asked with tears in her eyes.

“I know better than to do that. We’ve worked together too long. When you put a case together you’re almost never wrong, but this one you’ve got to really educate me on before we go to Paul.”

“Ron, that’s my dilemma. I don’t want to tell Paul, and I know I should.”

“Why, if you’ve solved his case, wouldn’t you want to tell him?”

“Not this time. Because I don’t want the person caught that did it.”

“Now you’re not making any sense at all, Sally.”

“Yes, I am. You’ll understand, when I tell you, but I don’t know what you’ll think we should do, and that scares me. I don’t even want to tell you, but we’re not just partners, we’re married, and in this, I feel I need your counsel. It’s a decision I don’t want to make on my own.”

“Well tell me. I’m totally confused right now.  I have no idea what to think.”

“Sit back, I’ll tell you as we eat.” Their food came and Ron settled in to hear her story.

“When we first arrived here Paul said they were working on a serial rapist that killed his victims. That caught my attention, like it would any woman in a strange environment. Then you came back from your day with Paul and told me about the man that had his neck torn open. That caught my attention because they didn’t have a weapon. Just two unrelated facts.

When I joined the yoga group, the first day, I didn’t workout because I was just new and signing up, but I talked to some of the ladies that spoke English and asked a lot of questions as they were getting dressed after their workout session. There was one that stood out from the others because she was just perfect. I especially was entranced by her shoes. They were fantastic,  and you know, I have a shoe fetish; I had never seen shoes quite like hers before.

She told me where she bought them, and that they were her favorite shoes. She said she wore them every Thursday to work because they made her feel good. I know you don’t understand that but it’s a girl thing. We love our shoes. One more unrelated fact.

Then Paul told us that this Smout victim was the serial rapist. So what! Paul even said he would send a letter of thanks to whoever killed Smout, but I couldn’t forget the unknown weapon. It would have driven me crazy when I was an active coroner.”

 

(A continuation of the last blog.)

Sally had the address of where the party was being held but had no idea where it was. The streets were so convoluted and unfamiliar to her, she took a cab. It took her to a door in a tall wall. She saw a button to push. She pushed it and heard the door latch snap; she opened the door and entered a splendidly decorated courtyard. It was the home of Jackie, the friend with the broken arm. Some of the other women from yoga were there and were setting up chairs and card tables for the group in the courtyard.

Sally jumped right in and asked where the folding chairs were. They told her there were a couple in the closet in the bedroom. She went in and was fascinated with how organized Jackie was. The closet was a large walk-in. She saw the chairs and picked up two and started to carry them out when she froze. She stood there for a minute, looked puzzled, then shrugged her shoulders, and took the chairs out to the courtyard. More people arrived and a good time was had by all.

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The next morning Sally and Ron went out for breakfast. They ordered coffee, baguettes, and orange juice. “How was the party, Sal?” Ron asked, while they were waiting for their food.

“It was fun. We sat around and laughed at each other, just the way we do at our morning yoga. Some of us are not limber enough to get into the poses and we look silly being half- way there. Jackie has been doing yoga for over 20 years and just slips from one to another effortlessly. She can sit on the floor, spread her legs apart, bend at the waist and touch her nose to the floor; can you believe that?”

“She belongs in the follies with all the high kicking Rockettes.” Ron joked.

Sally got serious and said, “Tell me more about the case Paul is working on, the one that they don’t have a weapon for.”

“I told you most of what I know. They think the motive to kill him must do with the money he was stealing from the company. Paul didn’t think the company was in on the killing, but maybe he wasn’t stealing enough to pay his gambling debt, and someone hired ‘Big Louie from Detroit’ to knock him off.”

“Ron, I’m serious.”

“Well so am I. France must have a ‘Big Louie’ or two, and if you don’t pay up, you’re put down. It’s the same all over in the gambling culture.” They finished their meal and took a stroll to look at all the merchants in their stalls along the street.

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Paul called to invite them to dinner and got Sally on the phone. He said he wanted to take them to his favorite restaurant to make sure they had some real French cuisine. She was excited again and accepted for the next night. Before they hung up, Paul said, “Tell Ron there has been a huge break in the murder case we worked on the other day, when he was with me.”

Sally said, “You found the weapon, what was it?”

“No, we don’t have the weapon yet, but it’s not important to us anymore. This is much bigger than that. The routine DNA test we did on our Mr. Smout came back and matched the DNA of our serial rapist and murderer we’ve been after for six months. It looks like he got in trouble with the big boys and they took him out for us. If I knew who killed him, I’d write him a thank you note.”

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When Ron came back from the bakery, he was carrying two baguettes.  “I found the best place to get them. I asked a man on the street that had one in a bag, and he pointed to a store called Jacobs and said his were the best”

“Ron, I have news.”

“What, you look upset.”

“Paul called, and invited us to dinner tomorrow night, and I accepted.”

“That’s great. I guess I just misread your expression.”

“No, you didn’t. I have a problem.”

“What is it Sal, can I help?”

“Not right now. I may need your advice later. This is something I have to do some checking on before we talk about it.”

“OK Sal, but don’t tune me out if I can help.”

“It has to do with my yoga group.”

“You’re right, that’s a social problem, I’m not qualified in that area. Good luck.”

“Paul had some big news about the murdered man that had his throat messed up. It seems that his DNA matches the DNA of their serial killer.”

“That’s great!  What a break that is. It changes everything.”

Sally said, “Yes, it does change everything.”

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The next day, at the yoga class, Sally asked Jackie to coffee after class. They talked about their lives, what they did for hobbies, how much they liked their work.  A lot of other subjects came up like, just when Jackie broke her arm, and where she worked. Sally told her that the reason she enjoyed being a private investigator was she always had a puzzle to solve and that was her strong area. She loved to work on puzzles of all kinds. She said, “You seem to really like the yoga class, Jackie, you’re so flexible.”

“Yes, I do love yoga. I started it years ago when I was in college, it was one of the PE classes. I have always liked being physical and took a different physical education class each quarter to search for a lifelong exercise I could keep up after school. I took volley- ball, tennis, Savate classes, and even a basketball class. The one I enjoyed the most was the yoga, so I never stopped.”

“It’s too bad everyone doesn’t do that, find something that they love doing, and then keep using that to keep them healthy and in good shape. I admire you for coming to yoga, even with a broken arm.”

“It doesn’t hurt unless I bump the cast, and I can still do most of the stretches.”

They talked a while longer and parted, cheek to cheek. Sally was enjoying being in France and trying to learn the customs.

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At dinner that night with Paul, Sally asked him, “What is Savate? I was talking with a friend and she said she took a Savate PE class in college. I was embarrassed to ask her what that was.”

“It’s one of our martial arts. We normally call it kick boxing. They combine kicking with boxing, and it is quite popular. They do it in the states too but it is combined with all the other martial arts and you folks call it cage fighting. It’s too brutal for most people to watch; we stick with Kick Boxing here; it’s a little more civilized.” They all laughed.

The dinner at the Hotel de Caumont was as good as it gets. One of the best meals Ron and Sally had ever experienced. Paul said he was going to be out of town for the next couple of days on another case, but he would be back before they left, and they would get together again.

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Ron wanted to take the tour to “the little Saint-Tropez of Provence”.  It was a place he had heard about from a friend at home, in Seattle. “It’s more beautiful than the San Juan Islands in Washington.” Ron wanted to take an all-day tour, but Sally said she would rather stay in Aix and walk the city some more and go to the outdoor flower market. She loved flowers, and the open-air markets were special to her. There seemed to be one for everything. She knew Ron hated wandering around shopping. It was decided. They each were going to do their own thing tomorrow. Today, they would go back to the Hotel de Caumont and go through the museum; the current special exhibition was about Marilyn Monroe. They decided to take the day to tour the museum and a few art galleries, and have coffee on the street, like the French do. They were on vacation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is going to be different from my other Blogs in that it is serialized. Some of you have asked, “What are your murder mysteries like?” I’m going to be traveling to Iceland for the next few weeks, so I decided to give you a taste of my mystery writing, while I am traveling. I wrote a short story while I was in France and will share it with you in the next four blogs.

It has the same couple, Ron and Sally Steel, that appear in all three of the Steel Mysteries Trilogy, two of which are on Amazon e-books now, (The Man Who Died Twice, and The Invisible Assassins), and the third one to be there by the end of June, (The Cow Blood Case).  If you enjoy this story you will enjoy the others. If not, don’t waste your time on the others.

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The Steel Mysteries

The Weapon

Ron and Sally Steel boarded the plane at 6 a.m. at SeaTac Airport in Seattle, Washington, on their first trip to France. Their retirement from the police department had been good to them. The detective agency they started was doing well and they decided to take a trip to France when they had a lull in business, instead of another cruise on their boat, like normal. “We need a change,” Ron told Sally. “Let’s get away from our job, our Puget Sound environment, and do something out of our comfort zone.”

They had met a police inspector from Aix, a city in France, at a global meeting of law enforcement personnel a couple months earlier, and they bonded even though they were only together for a short time. Paul came to stay a few days with them, when the conference was over. He told them that if they came to France he would show them around; they decided to do it.

They planned to stay three weeks in a hotel and Paul said they would not need a car. He told them they could walk everywhere they needed to go. Their big concern was if there was a gym nearby. They both were fanatics about working out. Paul assured them the gym was within walking distance. They were going to stay at the Saint Christophe Hotel, downtown.

They arrived in Aix by bus from the Marseilles Airport and were only a couple blocks from their hotel. They walked over with their luggage. Checking in, they were handed a message, it was from Paul. “When you get settled, give me a call, I’ll meet you for coffee.”

Going to their room they were happy to find it satisfactory and comfortable. As they were unpacking their suitcases they were excited to get involved in the culture. “I’ve heard about how the French go to coffee at an outdoor café;  I’m anxious to get started learning to be French. Hurry up Ron, we only have three weeks.”

Ron was laughing at her excitement. “I haven’t seen you this excited for a long time. Maybe we should travel more often. Right now, you need to calm down a bit, we can’t call Paul until we change the sim-cards in our phones to the French ones.”

“I didn’t forget, the man at the Verizon store went over that with us. I’m sure the people at the lobby desk can tell us where to do that. Come on, don’t be a slowpoke, I want my coffee.”

They got directions at the lobby desk, walked a couple of blocks, and bought their new sim-cards; then Ron made his first phone call in France. “Hello Paul, I guess I should say bonjour Paul.” Paul asked where they were and then gave Ron directions to a nearby side-walk café, where he said he would meet them in 20 minutes.

They found the café and sat down in the sunshine and ordered two coffees. Ron looked around and said, “What a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the trees all around us are glowing with the backlight from the sun, people are walking in all directions around us, and it’s sure different from Seattle.”

“I love it.” Sally said, just as their coffee arrived. “Oh, my gosh, it’s a little cup of espresso. I’m glad we’re from Seattle where espresso is common and we know what it is. I was expecting a big mug of coffee.”

“We have a lot to learn,” said Ron as Paul pulled up a chair and joined them. They asked him a lot of questions and he gave them a general verbal tour of Aix, and a specific tour of the center of town where they were staying. He pointed out where the gym was located, and they said they would join the next day for the three weeks they were going to be there. They were in the habit of working out every morning, early, before they started their work day.

The next morning when they went to the gym Sally asked the manager if they had a yoga class. “Yes, we do, it meets every morning at 6:30. There is a small fee that you can pay each day you come to work out.”

“Great, I’ll be here every morning.” She could keep her normal routine of yoga stretching every morning and then resistance training, switching between upper body and lower body on alternate days. She was one happy tourist.

Ron was just as happy. He had the same schedule of upper and lower body exercise, but instead of the yoga he spent 30 minutes working hard on the cardio machines. The gym became their anchor, so to speak, in Aix. It was where they were, every day, meeting people that were also there, and making local friends.

Paul spent as much time with them as he could but he was preoccupied trying to apprehend a serial rapist that murdered his victims. He talked a lot about the case when he was with Ron and Sally because he wanted to see if they could pick up on something that he might have missed. He knew that was the business they were in as ex-cops, and now private investigators. The police had good DNA evidence, but nothing matched in the data bank. The attacks seemed to be entirely at random. There was no connection between the victims.

By the end of their first week at the gym Ron had made a couple of casual friends, but Sally, being a truly social person, had made at least five new good friends. She had been invited to go for tea twice, and went both times. One of her new friends fell and had a broken arm, so her friends from the yoga class were planning a party for her. Sally was right in the middle of it. Her new friends had accepted her as one of them and she was loving it, and them.

Ron was spending more time with Paul. Paul invited him to spend a day at the police station the next day; he was looking forward to it. He was interested in the different procedures between his police department in Seattle, were he and Sally had retired from, and the French department.

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Eric Smout sat at his desk eating lunch as he did every day. Most of the company employees sat in the conference room at lunch time, chatting together. They always asked Eric to join them but he never did, so finally, they stopped asking. Eric was a good accountant but had less than adequate social skills. He didn’t talk to anyone unless he had to, and then he rarely looked them in the eye, only at the floor or the item they were discussing.

Eric oversaw the grant money the company functioned under. It was in the millions. He was perfect for the job. He had a degree in mathematics and one in accounting. He was also bored with his job, and decided that with his skills he could work out a scheme to beat the local casino in blackjack. Unfortunately for Eric, it didn’t work, and he lost a lot money. Embezzling money from his company was easy for him; he paid off his gambling debts.

Once he discovered how easy it was to take money from the company, he made a habit of it, and helped himself to thousands of dollars over time. He started sending money to an offshore bank in the Cayman Islands as his secret retirement account.

He was known for staring at the women he worked with when they didn’t know it, but others noticed it. They just considered him strange and let it go at that, but he made some of them ill-at-ease when he was around.

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She was tall, close to six feet with high heels. Her long blond hair, was combed to spread evenly over her shoulders. Every part of her wardrobe was matched and coordinated to accentuate her figure. She walked with authority as she walked home after working all day at a desk. Her morning exercise and her two-mile night walk home kept her trim. She was on her way home now, thinking if she needed anything at the store, when she felt the hands that grabbed her from behind and slammed her to the ground. She put her right arm out to break the fall but felt it break instead. Her attacker drug her into a deserted alley behind some dumpsters, and leaned down to grab her.

She was so taken by surprise and in such pain in her right arm, that for a moment she didn’t react, except to her pain, but in the few seconds she was being dragged into the alley she became totally aware of what was happening.

As her assailant leaned down to grab her, she poked the index finger of her left hand into his eye. He jumped back with his hand to his face; she used her good left arm to get herself up onto her feet. The man was mad now and came at her snarling like a mad bear. She took a few steps backward and collided with the dumpster. Using it for support, her eyes narrowed to a squint as she leaned slightly forward in a crouch, the pain in her useless right arm forgotten, as she attacked the monster in front of her.

CHECK BACK IN 5 OR 6 DAYS AND SOLVE THE PUZZLE…….IF YOU CAN.

Our friend, Judy, from Hunting Beach in California came over to visit us. She is staying at a Hotel in the center of town. It’s fun to have her join us on our adventures. One of which was a drive 60 miles out of town to have lunch with a friend. Karin rented a car, it was a Porsche sedan, five-speed stick shift.  She said it had been 20 years since she had driven a stick shift. How could anything go wrong, we had over 300 years of experience in the car.

Those of you that have not been to Europe and seen how they drive in the crowded, narrow, one-way streets, with many round-abouts, won’t appreciate what a monumental, gutsy, thing it is to drive here. There were four of us going on this trip. We held a communal prayer and got in the car. With Susan, a local friend, navigating, and Karin shifting the car, Judy and I in the back seat singing all the religious songs we knew under our breath, we had a wonderful drive, and visit with our friends. We only got lost three times for short periods. Karin was our hero, and she used all five gears.

As I write this we have five days left, tonight we have a talk with a man about translating Karin’s book into French, then we go to the poetry club to hear some readings, then into the unknown, which generally means food some place, with somebody. Life is good.

Today, Karin took us all to the fanciest place I have ever been for lunch. There is a family here that has taken us under their caring protection. They brought me a yoga mat to workout on to keep me off the tile floor, have driven us around when we needed it, hosted Karin’s party after the book signing, and lots of other help. They are the Campiston family. The lunch was a thank you to them. The food was good, and the gardens were exquisite. I had a chance to try Goose liver. No comment.

It’s Monday, and a holy day in France; everything is closed so we took a tour to the national park, on the Mediterranean Sea. It was on my bucket list, I wanted to look at the water and be able to say, “Of course I’ve been to the Mediterranean.” We were only there for an hour, and had lunch, but I have been there.

We had a driver and just the three of us for the entire day. We took a tram ride through a salt mine, saw the white horses the region is famous for, photographed some flamingoes, visited the Roman Theater built before Jesus was born, and the stadium built just after. We covered over a hundred miles, it was a great day, and finished it off with beer and wine at an Irish Pub, in Aix.

Tonight, we have dinner at a friend’s house. Tomorrow we start home with a one-and-a-half-hour flight to Madrid, then a 13-hour flight to LAX.

I have a diving conference to go to the day after we get home on the Queen Marry ship. More on that in a later blog. In June, I will be in Iceland with my granddaughter, Melissa, taking pictures.

I love my second childhood. I didn’t realize how young 82 was – if you allow it to be.

A note on our trip home. It was time to leave France and start home. Our friend Mary Paule took us to the bus station, and with tearful good buys, we were off to the Marseille airport.

Our flight out was at 7pm to Madrid, where we landed at 8:45 pm. We were prepared for the four hour layover until our flight out to LAX at 12:45 pm.

Now look carefully at that schedule, we hadn’t.

It wasn’t a four hour layover it was a 16 hour one.  We took a shuttle to a hotel, had lunch the next day and then took the 13 hour flight to LAX, and a four hour shuttle ride home. We were the last people to be dropped off.

I don’t know what I would do if life wasn’t such an adventure…..but I know one thing, I’d get more sleep.