tough. Wayne manages a couple dozen young computer junkies that repair commercial and residential computers with the Geek Squad by day and hack their way through all kinds of mischief by night. His only touch into rugged comes through his card and pool playing around Jim and a relief from the boring ‘other life’ making him a living. Jim’s reason for liking Wayne may be no more complicated than opposites attract. Jim has always been a protector of the oppressed; and when Wayne is in the tough bar scene Jim likes to frequent, he definitely falls into that category.
Jim made his living by photo chasing wayward husbands and wives at night, and bringing back not-so-nice guys that jump bail to avoid facing whatever justice the law attaches to their resumes. It made him enough money to get through next month’s bills, but more importantly places him on the edge between insanity and mayhem. It also gave him a legitimate reason to carry a .40 caliber pistol, supporting the addiction to weapons developed on his Grandfather’s farm years ago.
Because of his youth, Jim’s shooting of Odis was sealed by the court in Texas and he slid under the radar when the State of California ran their background check to get a weapons permit for his private investigator line-of-work. The job connected him to the law and lawless. Many of the people he knows are cops that came to him because he ran the streets and has a feel for which way the wind is blowing when standard police procedure didn’t work. Several on the force hang out with Jim, all cut from the same cloth constantly on the prowl seeking energy coming from trouble. Jim rarely disappoints.
Wayne walks around the table and hands Jim a twenty earned as eight-ball partners. Two bikers, displaying more ink than the U.S. Constitution, lay eight quarters on the table to pay for the next game and challenge Jim/Wayne to a round of eight-ball. Wayne drops the coins in the slot, pushes the lever in with the quarters and the pool balls hit the end of the table ready to be racked. As Wayne racks the balls, Jim finishes his beer and glances at his watch. He walks over to Wayne.
“Got to go...can’t play anymore tonight,” Jim relays. Wayne looks at the bikers and back to Jim. “These guys can’t stay with us, easy money.”
Jim walks over and puts the pool stick back into a rack on the wall.
“Have no doubt you’re right, but got an early day tomorrow,” Jim asserts. “Henry’s at the bar, he can partner with you.”
Jim is torn about leaving at this point even though it is close to 1:00 a.m. Something about the two bikers looks familiar and that usually means trouble. He shrugs off his instinct and heads out into the night getting home hours earlier than usual. Jim doesn’t live in the best of neighborhoods; partly a reflection of his finances, partly a kinship with the unwashed masses and equally wayward souls fighting through life against the odds. He pulls into the driveway, positive of movement in the second floor bedroom window. Someone is in his house. In Jim’s usual style, he meets trouble head on pulling his weapon and easing into the backdoor.
Winston, a worthless English Bulldog, glances over at Jim’s entrance exhibiting little interest. The fact someone is on the second floor and his dog sits in the kitchen lying on blanket does not surprise Jim. The dog is damn lazy, only barking and farting when inconvenient for Jim.
Jim looks into the small living room and adjoining dining room turned Man Cave not seeing anything out of order. He approaches the stairwell cautiously, moving up slowly avoiding the third step that makes a loud noise under the slightest of pressure. At the top of the landing area he checks out the second bedroom and small bathroom with similar results. His bedroom door is shut at the end of the hall. He’s sure it was open when leaving earlier in the day.
Having someone in the house didn’t come as a total shock. Jim has a long list of people having numerous reasons to want him hurt or worse. Ex-husbands paying large child support and alimony abound in his profession, not to mention dozens of felons going to jail because he’s good at what he does. He once found a crack addict in his kitchen rummaging for food next to a resting Winston. He fed the man and gave him a ride downtown after a warning the next time a break-in wouldn’t end so nice. All of this added to a naturally suspicious mind bordering on paranoia.
An ear placed on the bedroom door confirms something is happening behind it. Jim leans into the door and pushes through. Somebody is taking a shower in his bathroom pretty much eliminating any crack head’s visit and most of the crooks he dealt with in the past. Still cautious, he goes through the door and sees the outline of a well-endowed woman washing out a thick mane of black hair behind the foggy shower door glass. Jim is not sure exactly which lady friend is in the shower. Numerous options abound; but he’s not exactly unhappy this one decided to join him.
A tap on the glass with his pistol makes the showering body jump. A “damn” interrupts the silence from the mystery woman.
“Give me one reason not to shoot the shower full of holes,” Jim threatens in less than a menacing voice.
“Blow job,” the confident voice of Janey Shaw announces as she goes back to rinsing her hair.
Jim’s expression shows a quick approval. He walks back into the bedroom and undresses, soon returning to the shower stepping in.
“So,” he asks calmly. “How did you get in?”
Janey smiles looking at his cut-body lathering up next to her.
“A ladder is leaning against your bedroom window.... climbed in.” She answers rather simply.
“Really,” not hiding his surprise. “That’s a little scary.”
Janey looks pleased. “It wasn’t hard, got a lot of Tom Boy in me,” she relates proud of the climbing skills and taking what she thinks is a concern on his part.
“Not talking about you,” he states dealing out little grace. “The ladder doesn’t belong to me...shouldn’t be leaning against my house,” he laments as a threat Janey doesn’t understand.
“Bastard,” she retorts with great aim. “I could fall to my death...that should be first on your mind.”
Jim focuses on a stream of water flowing down her bare ass and slaps it.
“Nice ass, but you don’t carry a gun intent on shooting me. Whoever put it there probably does. That’s just the way my mind thinks.” He underscores his last few words trying to regain favor on the previous blow job offer.
They soon get out of the shower and head to bed. Jim goes to the window and looks out into the night in either direction seeing nothing unusual except a twenty-foot ladder lying against the window frame. He pushes the top of the ladder toward his backyard to get rid of the threat and it falls against his house. The moment it leaves his hand, he knew it was a mistake. It slides down the house and shatters a light fixture hanging next to the back porch.
“Damn it,” he shouts into the non-caring night as the glass and ladder fall to the ground.
Janey is tired of the ladder. “Get in bed,” she demands.
Jim does as instructed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Bird Man
THE SUN POURS into the open window, and Jim gets up to assess the damage caused by the ladder the night before. He sees John David Glover, the next door neighbor, picking up the ladder and placing it back on his house.
“Hey J.D., how did your ladder end up on my house?” Jim yells.
John
