(“she put de lime in de coconut, called de doctor, woke him up”)…Nilsson

For Tuyet, Katrina, KaSandra, and Luc

my inspiration

Chapter Ten

Ahmanson Bio Research Center, USC…Tuesday, Feb 17, 2009…6pm

Judy Looney pulled off her specs and tossed them wearily onto the desk in front of her. Glancing quickly at her wristwatch she groaned audibly. It was 2am and she couldn’t believe that she had been working non-stop since lunch, again! It was the third time this week and she was beginning to feel every one of her forty something years. Thank God for Maxwell House and Folgers she thought; the lab’s java choices. Choices based entirely on cost versus taste of course. Lab rats are predominately poorer than the average rodent, a sad fact of life. But who cares, after the eighth or ninth cup nobody really tastes anything anyway. Hot, black and strong are the only criteria for double and triple shifts.

Sure, the teaching gig paid the rent, but that only accounted for 6 of the 18 hours she put in most days. It was her passion for research that kept her in the lab until the wee hours. Students would come and go but finding a cure for the big “C” was what she was all about. Being a Fellow at this school was a big deal. An even bigger deal was being a part of the Regenerative Medicine/Stem Cell Research team at USC; now that was a huge honor! It was what put the spring in her step and the shit eating grin on old Edward’s face, her traditionalist Scots/Irish old man (father). He was a "tough as nails" retired longshoreman who emigrated from Glasgow to the United States during the cold war, 1962 to be exact. He brought his blushing new bride straight from the Chapel in Edinburgh proper to the Port of Los Angeles where he put in thirty five years loading and unloading containers from all around the world.

The young couple called San Pedro home, settling into a small five room cottage within spitting distance of Ports of Call. Sure, it was a little dicey fitting into their Cabrillo St. neighborhood with its thick Yugoslavian population but they managed to weather the ticklish transition by respecting their new home as much as the one that they left behind. In May of 1968 Edward's wife Trina bore him a daughter, the apple of his eye, his pride and joy. They named her Judith Theresa Looney, after his great Aunt who'd raised him. His own parents had been killed in 1943 during the Nazi blitz of London, a tragic way to begin one's life. Tragedy seemed to follow Edward to the new world as well when two years after Judith, Trina died giving birth to their second child, a wee girl he called Cassie (short for Cassandra). She too would pass at the tender age eight, after a short and fierce battle with consumption, an old world term more commonly known as cancer.

That was the defining moment in big sister Judy’s life. It changed her forever. It's what drove her to medicine and inspired her Looney Tunes nickname. I should probably explain that. You see, prior to Cassie’s death Judy could have been best described as a wallflower, shy and reserved to the point of appearing autistic. For whatever reasons, reasons only she could know, "wallflower Judy" was buried along with her sister. The pre-teen reborn at the gravesite became a hellion of legendary proportions. The shy little girl whom Edward sometimes worried about became a fearless woman-child who filled him with pride one minute and something between terror and anger the next. Fast forward a few decades and here she sat, thirty miles from where she grew up, still Daddy’s little girl, when she allowed it, and working non-stop on the cure that would fulfill a secret promise she'd made to her kid sister.

Judy punched off her desktop computer and watched as it powered down, then swiveled her chair 180 degrees to make her getaway for home. Standing slowly she yawned and did a big girl stretch, both of her arms reaching high for the ceiling as her lungs filled with air. In mid-exhale the phone rang loudly, startling her into a freakish leap, like a garden gnome on crack.

“SHIT,” she shrieked, spinning around quickly and lunging at the offending piece of office equipment! She picked up the handset and screamed into the receiver.

“PISS OFF!" she hollered, slamming the handset back into the cradle as she sat back down to catch her breath. She waited for the phone to ring again. She knew it was me; nobody else would be calling at this hour expecting to get an answer. Judy also knew that I wouldn’t sleep until she told me what I needed to know. She watched the phone with an unblinking stare, drumming her fingers on the desk impatiently. I didn’t disappoint her, and she picked up a millisecond after the first ring.

“What Whitey, WHAT?”

“Take it easy doll, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” I replied defensively.

“Hey, leave my underwear out of this DICK! Why are you bugging me at this hour anyway? Didn't I tell you to call me in a day or two? ”

“Hey, hey, just because you coaxed that family secret outta me in a weak moment doesn’t mean you can throw it back in my face whenever you please. Besides, you promised never to call me that Judy. A promise is a promise!”

That felt a little pathetic and I could tell by the silence on the other end of the line that Judy picked up on my self loathing. I heard her stifle a giggle and waited for her sarcastic come-back line. I didn’t have to wait long.

“Awww, sorry bout that Nancy, maybe we can chat more about that when you’re done with your period,” she said with a grin that I could feel through the phone.

“Come on Whitey, I just want to go home, feed my cats and crash for a couple of hours before the freaking alarm screams at me to get up and do this all over again!”

“Funny Judy, you’re a real riot! Look, just tell me what you know about the threads I left you this morning and we can both call it a day!” I snapped.

“Alright, this is getting boring anyway. So, about the threads, well you were right. They’re off a LAPD uniform. Whoever was wearing it was a male with O positive blood. He is likely over forty and is graying slightly. I can’t tell you height, weight, or shoe size, but I can tell you that he smokes and that he likes his sandwiches with brown mustard. How’s that for a freebie? This is a freebie, right Whitey?”

“Ahhh, natch on the freebie doll, I’ll have to owe you for now, you know how it is.”

“Yeah, I know, gumshoes don’t make dick, no pun intended.”

“Okay, I deserved that. But I have to know, how did you glean all of that from three tiny threads?”

“It’s not rocket science Whitey. The threads must have been off a shirt sleeve, near the cuff I’m guessing. Since it's winter time the LAPD is dressing out in their winter gear, right? I figured near the cuff because the hands are next to almost every action we take. Like for instance, eating, smoking, drinking, washing up after taking a leak, or mixing it up on the job with a feisty perp. Am I right?”

“Sounds plausible, I guess that makes sense?”

“Trust me, it makes perfect sense.”

“Still, humor me,” I pleaded.

“Sheesh Whitey, you’re a piece of work,” replied Judy! I could hear her squirming in her chair looking for a more comfortable position. She yawned deeply and then began her dissertation.

“Alright gumshoe, by the numbers then. ONE, three blue cotton fibers, no great stretch, easily traced to the manufacturer, who by the way has an exclusive contract with the city for the fabric; which I identified by lot through the dye in the material. TWO, blood type recognition, also a no brainer. The fella may have got a paper cut issuing a citation or maybe cut himself shaving, I don’t know, but the samples tested as O positive and had traces of testosterone in the sweat also found on the fibers. THREE, the gray hair was a lucky find as one of the fibers had a small follicle on it, likely from his arm. That was another indicator that we are dealing with a male subject here, well that and the testosterone. FOUR, the age is an educated guess based on the follicle. FIVE, traces of nicotine were on the follicle as well as the threads. And finally SIX, the fella must have gone to the same charm school as you did because this little piggy likes his deli with spicy brown mustard. Just like you, right Whitey? There, is that enough detail for you?”

I offered up my praise with a long and low whistle over the telephone line and I could hear her snicker tiredly on the other end.

“Very impressive, you’re just too cool for school Miss Looney, why aren’t we sleeping together anyway?”

“You’re a class act Roode, unfortunately you’re also an asshole. Besides, I’d rather do the deed with your ex, you know that.”

“That’s right; you two are still thick as thieves aren’t you. Thanks for rubbing it in.”

“My pleasure, on both counts,” she replied softly.

“On that note I’m hanging up and going to bed,” I said, half hoping she felt like talking more. I always had a soft spot for Looney Tunes even if she was a rival of sorts.

“Okay, I’m doing the same. G’nite Whitey, hope that helps you earn a buck or two.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see. G‘nite…”



(“I would give everything I own, just to have you back again…”)…David Gates…1969

For Tuyet, Katrina, KaSandra, and Luc

my inspiration

Chapter Nine

Nanjing, China 1999

I’m told she was a precocious child, not a bad little girl really, but one could easily describe her as naughty. It amazes me how early females learn to use their sex to manipulate the male world. Men, they are so easy. It was here where I first laid eyes on Mei Li Teng. She was ten years old, soon to be eleven. It was here when I first decided to kill her. Not right away mind you, one likes to savor a meal before devouring it. I remember studying her as she laughed and giggled through her everyday. I remember her sweet voice, the voice of a child on the cusp of puberty, completely unaware of the changes she would soon experience. I watched her interact with family and friends, as they trod through life in their tenement neighborhood. Their apartment building was a very modern high rise structure, but it could not mask the adverse effects of a communist society. Not even the McDonalds and KFC franchises scattered around town, just like in the larger cities, like Shanghai and Beijing could mask the reality that 'The Party' was large and in charge.

Such a droll and dreary existence was her life. I could see straight away that there was little hope of her ever escaping the future planned for her by proxy as wife, mother, and shrew, a common fate in much of this sad world. Not to worry though, she had me to save her from that maudlin destiny. I would see to it that she never live a life like that. I am puppet master now, until the moment of her death, I will guide her on a path of my choosing. How many times have I played this role? How many souls have I sentenced to purgatory? I stopped counting long ago. It’s not important.

Japanese Village, San Pedro St, Los Angeles…Tuesday, Feb 17, 2009…2:30pm

Any cop will tell you that stake outs are the worst! Unless you are Lon freaking Chaney, everybody, and I mean EVERYBODY knows you’re on the job, which more than likely includes the perp you're tailing! Seriously, unless you're totally mental, it ain't hard to spot someone who doesn't belong where they are, especially when that someone is sitting in an unmarked car swilling black coffee and noshing on Krispy Kremes. That sort of cover only works in Hollyweird sweetheart. If you really want to blend in you have to do your homework. You can’t just show up disguised in a handyman's onesie with a fake mustache and expect to be invisible. Good police work, specifically good detective work requires a balanced equation:

(i + p) + g / l

Essentially equal parts of instinct, planning, and guts divided by LUCK, that all important random element.

That said, I adjusted my JETS cap and walked across 1st street with a small crowd as the light changed. I know what you’re thinking, a New York JETS cap in LA, so much for blending in, right? Well you’d be wrong! It turns out Little Tokyo is lousy with transplanted New Yorkers, so a little Kelly green would likely go unnoticed. It was a minimal risk at the most. My only real concern was whether or not Lt. Wanker had any goons tailing me. Now that would be down right embarrassing, staked out while on a stakeout! Wouldn’t exactly be a glowing testament to my qualities as a gumshoe now would it. But I digress. My guy was sitting in a window seat at a popular shabu-shabu joint about thirty yards ahead of me. The place was always packed because a.) the food here is wicked good and b.) it's cheap! Of course the young girls working the hostess station in their Geisha outfits didn’t hurt either. You could count on waiting in line twenty to thirty minutes at this time of day, which worked out perfectly for me given my task at hand, which was watching and waiting. I was certain that I wouldn’t have to wait long as I was pretty sure that I was tailing the right fella.

Now, Marco may not have seen Lu's cop friend’s face earlier at Bella Terra, but he did manage to catch enough of the license plate for me to make a few calls to a buddy on the job. He didn’t take long to put a name with the squad car in question. LAPD dispatch is positively anal when it comes to accounting for city property. Raymond Abernathy, Ray–Ray to his friends, looked like he was really enjoying his meal, at least from my cat-bird seat out front as I waited my turn to enter and be seated. Clearly he wasn’t too worried about being seen since he was making an absolute spectacle of himself. He had the tablecloth tucked into his shirt beneath his chin (both of them), and I swear I think I heard him slurping his Miso soup from way out here! Ray-Ray was a fifteen year veteran, having spent most of that time in bunko. But the last two years he’d been assigned to Hollenbeck’s homicide task force. Now that’s not the usual path to the big time, most homicide shields come through the narcotics ranks. He must have been living right or maybe he caught a “higher up’ in a compromising position with one of the working girls? Who knows for sure? Regardless of how he got from there to here, he’d landed a plum spot with an elite group. Well, elite except for the leadership, he was working under Lt. Celaya after all. I shouldn’t pass judgment I guess, but I calls em like I sees em!

I blended in with the lunch crowd as best as I could. Most of them were Wall Street types in thousand dollar suits; and I couldn’t exactly stand around reading the Wall Street Journal in my blue collar get up, now could I? So I covered my bases with a copy of Sports Illustrated, the swim suit edition of course. Hey, no working man should leave home without one, am I right? At one point Ray-Ray looked up from his meal and made eye contact with me, just as I was about to finally enter the restaurant. He didn’t seem to recognize me and judging by his expression he was looking right through me anyway. I let the hostess seat me on the opposite end of the joint, far enough away to go un-noticed but close enough to listen in on any conversation that might occur. I knew that Jai would arrive any time as I had contacted Lu on the way over. He had mentioned that Jai had a pressing lunch date and armed with the G2 from my cop buddy I knew where and when that meeting would rake place. What I didn’t know was why? All I had was a gut feeling that Jai was more than Lu’s partner in love and life. Like I said earlier, when my gut talks I listen! I took my seat and thanked the kimono clad teenager who was grinning at my choice of reading material.

“Thanks sweetheart,” I said with a wink.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, pointing at the Sports Illustrated.

“Is that this year’s swimsuit edition,” she asked?

“As a matter of fact it is, why? Are you in here somewhere kid?”

“Oh no, of course not; I was just wondering why guys get all worked up about that magazine is all. I mean it’s a sports periodical, right? What do half naked women have to do with sports? I guess I just don’t get it,” she replied in a huffy tone. I chalked it up to a hard day on her feet. Or, she was PMS'ing, either was a plausible guess I guess.

“Because we’re guys silly, duh,” I answered just as quick.

She giggled and walked away. What a bubblehead I thought as I watched her warm young form make its way back to the hostess station. I scolded myself for my wicked thoughts and turned my attention back to Ray-Ray. He was on his cell now and from the looks of things not particularly happy with whoever was on the other end? His pink face was turning red and he looked as if he was about to slam a fist through the table top when Jai Lai walked in. Jai walked up to the table, snapped his flip phone shut abruptly and sat down in a heap. No need to continue wondering who Ray-Ray was talking to, mystery solved! The two men, well, one man and one male, instantly fell into a heated but controlled conversation. Ray-Ray was clearly upset and Jai seemed to be doing his best to calm him.

For a second there I thought that the big cop was going to pull his piece and shoot the little homo right there in front of God and Country. And then, just as suddenly, Ray-Ray leaned back and burst into an attention grabbing belly laugh. Jai looked stunned and relieved at the same time. He must have been thinking the same thing I was. Whatever he said seemed to have done the trick, and the two of them eased back into a more normal, much calmer conversational posture. To quote George Thoroughgood, “Lord, they were lovey dovey.”

The waitress came and took my order and I settled on the Kobe beef and Kurobuta pork combo with the usual sides of veggies. Shabu Shabu isn’t my favorite Asian bill of fare but it fills an empty hole and right now my stomach was pushing the red zone on the old tummy scale! The food came quickly and I busied myself dipping the veggies first and then the meats into the pot of boiling water. I watched the two men continue their conversation with one eye and my lunch with the other. I had just dipped my first mouthful in the sauce when the two of them got up and walked out of the restaurant. So much for lunch! I pulled a twenty out of my shirt pocket and stuffed as big a bite as I could into my mouth before I hurried after the odd couple.

As soon as I stepped outside I saw them get into Ray-Ray’s unmarked police cruiser. I was screwed! Wherever they were headed it was going to be without my shadow on their tails. Whatever they were up to was yet to be discovered. Time for plan B, back to USC to see what my favorite nut-bar, Looney Tunes, had come up with, although I was pretty sure the blue fibers would lead me back to Ray-Ray somehow? Anyway, there was no use wasting a perfectly good meal. I went back into the Shabu Shabu joint and finished my lunch!