The sounds of glass breaking woke me up. Somewhere in the deep recess of my mind, I registered as a sound I shouldn’t be hearing. As I recognized the sound of glass breaking in the living room. I was instantly alert. The fog of sleep I’d been in disappeared. I was instantly wide awake, and It was still early in the morning. Sunlight was barely peaking through the Venetian blinds that covered the bedroom windows to keep the morning sun out. I felt my pulse racing and I grabbed my revolver. This was exactly why I kept a revolver next to the bed every night. Sitting upright in my bed, I listened. Hearing sounds of movement in the living room. I debated what to do. I leaned over and woke Brenda up. Motioning her to be quiet, I pointed the bedroom door. She slid out her side of the bed. Grabbing the revolver on her side. What was taking them so long to get to the bedroom? Finley, I decided to risk checking out the living room. I carefully cracked the door to our room open. I saw one man poking around in the piles of magazines lying next to the couch. I could barely see the door to my office. That's where the action was. At least two men were in my office. No one seemed to be paying attention to the bedroom door. And it was still fairly dark in the living room, as the sun hadn’t completely bathed it in light yet. I realized that side of the room was in a shadow. So I slipped out the door and staying as far back as I could I was about halfway through the living room to the office when The man at the couch turned. He looked surprised to see me. I didn’t give him time to ask questions. I saw the gun in his hand. I fired my revolver. The noise in the small room was ear-splitting.
The crack of the round going off in the room made my ears hurt and rendered me and the others in the rooms deaf for several minutes. The man by the couch was probably the only one who didn't hear it. Because he was dead by the time he hit my floor. The men in my office turned and looked back to the living room. They stared. The dead man on the floor then to me. The look of genuine shock on their faces told me they didn't know I was here. But they reacted quickly in spite of the shock of the noise, and my being here. I saw movement as they reached for their guns, I fired two more times. Each round hit its target. Dropping them. But it didn't kill at least one of them. As I moved into a better position to defend the bedroom, and see the office door, I saw one of the downed men moving again. His right arm raised. A .45 in his hand. I fired again. The arm went limp and the gun clattered to the floor. Within seconds it was over. I had killed at least two men and injured a third.
I heard a noise to my left. I turned raising my gun. Brenda had cracked the bedroom door. Lowering my I gun I nodded it's over. I was standing in the middle of the living room. To my right, a few feet from me was the first man I’d shot. Blood stained his shirt. His fedora lay on the floor next to him. The revolver he palmed had landed almost under the couch. I didn’t touch anything.
As my breathing and heart rate slowed down.
“Don’t come in here, Hon. I’ll call Bob. You don’t need to see this.”
I made my way to phone which sat on a small stand with a chair built into the side of it. Picking up the receiver, I automatically dialed Bob’s home number.
“Bob, Bring your crime scene crew over, I’ve got another mess to clean up.”
I was still breathing hard from the incident. Sitting down on the chair next to the bedroom door. I looked around the room. Questions ran through my head. What the hell were they after? And who told them I wasn’t home? While I sat in deep thought, Brenda had ignored me, and gotten dressed and made coffee. Handing me a cup just as Bob arrived.
I got up and met him at the door. I pointed to the window next to the door. It had been smashed in from the outside. Glass lay all over the floor and tracked into the room. By now I had my voice back.
“Bob They didn't know We were here! Someone set them up. Told them we weren’t home, and to come right in. The look on their faces when they saw me they were surprised. Not that just of my shooting, that I was even here. They didn't even bother to check our room. They went straight to my office.”
“Ok tell me exactly what happened.” I spent the next hour or so, going over my every move with Bob. I explained how I was woken up from the sleep to the sound of glass breaking, and I went to check things out when no one tried our door. I explained how the man at the couch hand pulled a pistol from his pocket. I fired. Then turned to the office. The two men in there were genuinely surprised to see me standing there. The sound of the first shot had just wound down when they saw me.They both reached for their guns. I fired first. Then the one on the right tried to raise his gun to shoot back I shot again. All told four shots fired. I handed Bob my revolver.
A couple of hours later The bodies had been removed. One man was still alive. But in bad shape. I told him we’d be down to fill out more reports in a bit.
Brenda and I spent the rest of the morning cleaning up from the morning's incident.
Neither of us said much all morning. The break in and shooting had left both of us somewhat numb. I did call Walt and let him in on the morning’s events. And where we’d be.
On the way to the police station, we stopped at a dinner and had a quick bite to eat. Neither of us felt much like eating.
Eventually, we made it to Bob’s office. I Knocked as we entered.
Bob wasn’t alone. I recognized the man sitting in one of the odd chairs He had in there for extra seating. It was Stone. Detective Stone from Vice.
I stopped short when I saw him.
“Jim you remember Detective Stone? Detective; You know Jim St.St.James.?” We both recognized each other. I felt the hate coming from him as we shook hands.
“And Detective, you remember his wife Brenda?” He nodded to her. Brenda glared at him. I guided Brenda to a seat as far away from Stone as I could get in the small office. Yeah, I know isn’t going to end well. I said to myself.
“Jim, here is your statement from this morning. Read it over make sure it's right, and sign it.” Bob handed me a pile of papers. On the top was a typed version of what I had told him that morning. Along with a copy of Brenda’s statement. I read them. I signed my statement and handed Brenda hers. I was just about to hand Bob back my pile, and I noticed an extra paper slid in on the bottom. I made like I wanted to read my statement again. Shuffling the papers amongst themselves on my lap I managed to get the extra paper on top so I could read it.
I glanced over to Bob, then to Stone. Bob was busying himself with paperwork, Stone was fidgeting, playing with the brim of his hat, and generally acting like he’d rather be anywhere else. A Sideways glance at Brenda confirmed that she was “reading” her statement. I recognized the handwriting on the note in my lap. It was Bob’s. It said not to trust Stone.
I glanced at it, then over to Bob, who seemed to busy with paperwork, waiting for me to hand him my statements. Flipping through my papers again I managed to get the note to the bottom again, double checked that I’d signed where I needed to. Handing him the papers, I slightly nodded towards Stone. Indicating I saw his note. He wasn’t warning me of something I didn't already know. I never liked or trusted him from the second I laid eyes on him. Like Steve Clark last year, He just didn't seem right. Even for a Vice Cop. While I leaned back in my chair, trying to get as comfortable as I could on the old wooden straight back chair. Brenda finished reading and signing her statements. I handed them over to Bob. He took our statements and stapled each set together and filled them in one of the file folders stacked on his desk. I glanced at Stone. Stilling playing with the brim of his damned hat.
“Well, if that's all, for now, Bob, we’ll be getting out of here, and back to the house, still some left to clean up, and I need to call the insurance agent again.” I made small talk while getting up.
“I’ll make sure to have copies of the reports and your statements for the insurance guy when he shows up.”
“Great thanks.” Brenda and I got up to leave. Finding our coats and hats on a pile on the last extra chair in Bob's small office. Stone got up.
“Well, I need to get going too, Bob”, he managed to sound only slightly less annoyed then I suspect that he was. I had No idea whey he was even here. And Bob didn't seem to want to talk to him any more than he had to.
So Brenda and I shook hands with Bob and beat it outta there as quick as we could.
“What was that all about,” Brenda asked me as we found the ford I was driving.
“I have no Idea, Hon. But it was weird, what was weirder is that Bob slipped a note in my statement saying not to trust Stone. Not that I needed a note saying so. I didn’t like that guy the other day when we meet at the studio, and I don't like him, Or trust Him.”
We rode quietly for a while it was getting late and the traffic heading downtown was filling up fast. I dodged several cars trying to cut in lanes, and narrowly missed hitting at least two people cutting across the street in the middle of the block. I did, however, managed to keep an eye on my mirror. I thought I saw someone following at one point. So that the next light I stopped at, I made a sharp right. After several more sudden turns, I was reasonably sure we weren’t being followed. Or at least, if we were, they were a damned sight better than the idiots who had tried to follow me before. We took the scenic route through LA. Eventually landing on Mulholland drive on the eastern ridgeline of eastern Santa Monica and the Hollywood hills. It was just getting dark by the time we hit the top of the hills. I pulled the car off the side, onto a small shoulder, that barely held the car out of the road. One more foot and we’d been in the valley. The short way.
Turning off the lights. Brenda slid over close to me. It had been years since we’d been up here. As the sun was going down It cooled off a bit. Pulling her close to me I kissed her. It had been a long time since we’d kissed like that. For a while, there was no LA, no Stone, or Ben Roberts, third-rate movie producer, and producer of porn. We sat in the car and talked. And held each other close for a long time.
We were late by the time we got back to the bar. But the regulars didn't seem to care, as long as we opened. The rest of the evening was quiet. Closing up at 2 am, we made it back to our bungalow.
The crack of the round going off in the room made my ears hurt and rendered me and the others in the rooms deaf for several minutes. The man by the couch was probably the only one who didn't hear it. Because he was dead by the time he hit my floor. The men in my office turned and looked back to the living room. They stared. The dead man on the floor then to me. The look of genuine shock on their faces told me they didn't know I was here. But they reacted quickly in spite of the shock of the noise, and my being here. I saw movement as they reached for their guns, I fired two more times. Each round hit its target. Dropping them. But it didn't kill at least one of them. As I moved into a better position to defend the bedroom, and see the office door, I saw one of the downed men moving again. His right arm raised. A .45 in his hand. I fired again. The arm went limp and the gun clattered to the floor. Within seconds it was over. I had killed at least two men and injured a third.
I heard a noise to my left. I turned raising my gun. Brenda had cracked the bedroom door. Lowering my I gun I nodded it's over. I was standing in the middle of the living room. To my right, a few feet from me was the first man I’d shot. Blood stained his shirt. His fedora lay on the floor next to him. The revolver he palmed had landed almost under the couch. I didn’t touch anything.
As my breathing and heart rate slowed down.
“Don’t come in here, Hon. I’ll call Bob. You don’t need to see this.”
I made my way to phone which sat on a small stand with a chair built into the side of it. Picking up the receiver, I automatically dialed Bob’s home number.
“Bob, Bring your crime scene crew over, I’ve got another mess to clean up.”
I was still breathing hard from the incident. Sitting down on the chair next to the bedroom door. I looked around the room. Questions ran through my head. What the hell were they after? And who told them I wasn’t home? While I sat in deep thought, Brenda had ignored me, and gotten dressed and made coffee. Handing me a cup just as Bob arrived.
I got up and met him at the door. I pointed to the window next to the door. It had been smashed in from the outside. Glass lay all over the floor and tracked into the room. By now I had my voice back.
“Bob They didn't know We were here! Someone set them up. Told them we weren’t home, and to come right in. The look on their faces when they saw me they were surprised. Not that just of my shooting, that I was even here. They didn't even bother to check our room. They went straight to my office.”
“Ok tell me exactly what happened.” I spent the next hour or so, going over my every move with Bob. I explained how I was woken up from the sleep to the sound of glass breaking, and I went to check things out when no one tried our door. I explained how the man at the couch hand pulled a pistol from his pocket. I fired. Then turned to the office. The two men in there were genuinely surprised to see me standing there. The sound of the first shot had just wound down when they saw me.They both reached for their guns. I fired first. Then the one on the right tried to raise his gun to shoot back I shot again. All told four shots fired. I handed Bob my revolver.
A couple of hours later The bodies had been removed. One man was still alive. But in bad shape. I told him we’d be down to fill out more reports in a bit.
Brenda and I spent the rest of the morning cleaning up from the morning's incident.
Neither of us said much all morning. The break in and shooting had left both of us somewhat numb. I did call Walt and let him in on the morning’s events. And where we’d be.
On the way to the police station, we stopped at a dinner and had a quick bite to eat. Neither of us felt much like eating.
Eventually, we made it to Bob’s office. I Knocked as we entered.
Bob wasn’t alone. I recognized the man sitting in one of the odd chairs He had in there for extra seating. It was Stone. Detective Stone from Vice.
I stopped short when I saw him.
“Jim you remember Detective Stone? Detective; You know Jim St.St.James.?” We both recognized each other. I felt the hate coming from him as we shook hands.
“And Detective, you remember his wife Brenda?” He nodded to her. Brenda glared at him. I guided Brenda to a seat as far away from Stone as I could get in the small office. Yeah, I know isn’t going to end well. I said to myself.
“Jim, here is your statement from this morning. Read it over make sure it's right, and sign it.” Bob handed me a pile of papers. On the top was a typed version of what I had told him that morning. Along with a copy of Brenda’s statement. I read them. I signed my statement and handed Brenda hers. I was just about to hand Bob back my pile, and I noticed an extra paper slid in on the bottom. I made like I wanted to read my statement again. Shuffling the papers amongst themselves on my lap I managed to get the extra paper on top so I could read it.
I glanced over to Bob, then to Stone. Bob was busying himself with paperwork, Stone was fidgeting, playing with the brim of his hat, and generally acting like he’d rather be anywhere else. A Sideways glance at Brenda confirmed that she was “reading” her statement. I recognized the handwriting on the note in my lap. It was Bob’s. It said not to trust Stone.
I glanced at it, then over to Bob, who seemed to busy with paperwork, waiting for me to hand him my statements. Flipping through my papers again I managed to get the note to the bottom again, double checked that I’d signed where I needed to. Handing him the papers, I slightly nodded towards Stone. Indicating I saw his note. He wasn’t warning me of something I didn't already know. I never liked or trusted him from the second I laid eyes on him. Like Steve Clark last year, He just didn't seem right. Even for a Vice Cop. While I leaned back in my chair, trying to get as comfortable as I could on the old wooden straight back chair. Brenda finished reading and signing her statements. I handed them over to Bob. He took our statements and stapled each set together and filled them in one of the file folders stacked on his desk. I glanced at Stone. Stilling playing with the brim of his damned hat.
“Well, if that's all, for now, Bob, we’ll be getting out of here, and back to the house, still some left to clean up, and I need to call the insurance agent again.” I made small talk while getting up.
“I’ll make sure to have copies of the reports and your statements for the insurance guy when he shows up.”
“Great thanks.” Brenda and I got up to leave. Finding our coats and hats on a pile on the last extra chair in Bob's small office. Stone got up.
“Well, I need to get going too, Bob”, he managed to sound only slightly less annoyed then I suspect that he was. I had No idea whey he was even here. And Bob didn't seem to want to talk to him any more than he had to.
So Brenda and I shook hands with Bob and beat it outta there as quick as we could.
“What was that all about,” Brenda asked me as we found the ford I was driving.
“I have no Idea, Hon. But it was weird, what was weirder is that Bob slipped a note in my statement saying not to trust Stone. Not that I needed a note saying so. I didn’t like that guy the other day when we meet at the studio, and I don't like him, Or trust Him.”
We rode quietly for a while it was getting late and the traffic heading downtown was filling up fast. I dodged several cars trying to cut in lanes, and narrowly missed hitting at least two people cutting across the street in the middle of the block. I did, however, managed to keep an eye on my mirror. I thought I saw someone following at one point. So that the next light I stopped at, I made a sharp right. After several more sudden turns, I was reasonably sure we weren’t being followed. Or at least, if we were, they were a damned sight better than the idiots who had tried to follow me before. We took the scenic route through LA. Eventually landing on Mulholland drive on the eastern ridgeline of eastern Santa Monica and the Hollywood hills. It was just getting dark by the time we hit the top of the hills. I pulled the car off the side, onto a small shoulder, that barely held the car out of the road. One more foot and we’d been in the valley. The short way.
Turning off the lights. Brenda slid over close to me. It had been years since we’d been up here. As the sun was going down It cooled off a bit. Pulling her close to me I kissed her. It had been a long time since we’d kissed like that. For a while, there was no LA, no Stone, or Ben Roberts, third-rate movie producer, and producer of porn. We sat in the car and talked. And held each other close for a long time.
We were late by the time we got back to the bar. But the regulars didn't seem to care, as long as we opened. The rest of the evening was quiet. Closing up at 2 am, we made it back to our bungalow.