Back in December I wrote this post about a story where I had a first chapter written.
I thought I was ready to move forward on it then.
I wasn't.
I am now.
This is hoped to be a chapter a week write with a final word count for a first draft somewhere between 60-80 thousand words.
At that point it'll be time to start working on structure and plot holes etc.
Right now, it's about getting it written.
Chapters are likely to be longer, 2-3k words and unless they are hitting 4-5k I'm unlikely to split them up.
If you commented on that first chapter and indicated you liked it, I've tagged you here. Let me know if you want that changed going forward. And if you want to be tagged in for future chapters, let me know.
Thanks
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Chapter 2 - 1900 words
Early spring and LA was already hotter than we needed it to be. The hotter it gets the squirrelier the residents get, and folks in Dream Town start from a high level of skittish. We’d got a call about an argument between a car and a dog-walker, exactly the kind of thing that could turn a Sunday afternoon very tedious. We turned into the street and there were cars parked on both sides leaving a single channel down the middle, and a Prius stopped behind an Escalade.
We’d heard the horn from round the corner and, as we drifted up behind the Prius, the driver leaned on their horn again. While we prepped to get out a door of an apartment building on the left opened and four men stepped out.
‘Is the camera on Xavier?’
‘Of course!’
His indignation was that of a newbie beyond the first flush of training, but not far enough towards the end to have got used to everything they do being questioned.
‘Good. Now, can you tell me who that is ignoring us and scuttling into the Escalade?’
‘Should I know?’
‘If you’ve been looking at files for that route to Detective you want to take, he might have caught your attention.’
‘It’s years before I can apply for detective. I’m concentrating on getting through basic with you.’
‘Never to early to start learning the stuff you need to know. And you definitely need to know Ammon Dalbar. He’s the shorter one who got into the back second.’
‘He’s sat between two guys, has another in the front, and the driver. He’s scared of something, whoever he is. Who is he?’
‘It’s not fashionable to call it The Mob these days, but prostitutes, drugs, smuggling, you name it and Dalbar is involved somewhere. If this was seventy or eighty years ago, there’d be a film about him and his exploits by now.’
‘Shouldn’t he be up one of the canyons in a big gated place?’
‘Yes. Or one of the clubs he’s reputed to have interests in. This is low rent for him.’
The Escalade moved off smoothly and the Prius followed it, the driver glancing in the rear mirror anxiously. We were about to belt up and follow along the street when there were shouts from two different men, a gap of five or ten seconds, and then a woman’s pained cry. They came from an upper apartment in the same block Dalbar came out of.
‘Call in a welfare check, and let’s go see where that came from.’
Xavier radioed the call to dispatch and we headed into the block. It was a nineteen-seventies build and probably being eyed for redevelopment, but the floors and walls were clean, the doors well maintained. The elevator even worked.
The elevator door opened and out steps a fellow with an afro which reminded me of nineteen-seventies Jackson Family Specials. He paused.
‘You from the apartment with the shouting and screams?’ I asked.
‘Screams?’ His gaze flicked up and sideways, like he could see through the walls back up to where he’d come from. ‘I was in 3A. Had an argument with my friend and we shouted a bit. No one was screaming.’
Xavier leaned and pressed for the elevator. The door opened and he got in, holding the door open.
‘What’s your friend called?’ I asked. ‘Are there any women in the apartment?’
He looked as if he was about to pull a ‘I don’t answer questions’ thing, but his eyes flicked up again. His concern for someone up there overrode distrust of my uniform.
‘It’s Earl’s place. His girlfriend Alisson lives with him, and he’s got some work friends in watching a game.’
‘He work for Ammon Dalbar?’
He shrugged. ‘Don’t know the guys name. Think it’s something to do with these new fake meats that are all over.’
‘You gotta name?’
‘Am I being detained, brother?’
‘No.’
‘Do I need to give you my name?’
‘No.’
‘Then, I’m gonna go.’
‘Hey,’ Xavier called after him with indignation. I waved him quiet and got in the elevator. ‘Why’d you let him go?’ Xavier asked when the doors shut.
‘If there’d been shots I’d have held the guy.’ I said. ‘But the shouts, gap, and then scream followed by afro guy being in the elevator as we arrived suggests his not knowing of any scream was truthful. It’s gut reasoning and I’ll look foolish if we get upstairs to a bloodbath and the main suspect has whistled past us.’
‘I think I’d have held him.’
‘And in a few months, that’ll be your decision to make.’
We got out the elevator and I rapped on 3A. The door opened on the third knock. It was good to see Xavier stepping to where he’d have clear sight past me, and space to pull his weapon without me being in the line of fire. He might be frustrated by me checking his every move, but he’d been listening, and learning.
-
The door was opened a little way by a man of mid-late thirties. He was maybe five-ten with hair dyed blonde, but brows which were darker. His forehead and lips had the stiff lifeless look of recent botox.
‘What! Oh, hey, officers, how can I help?’
‘Hi, I’m Wilson, this is Xavier, LAPD. we’re looking for Alisson.’
His Adam’s apple slid up and down and it took effort for him to not turn round. ‘Why?’
‘Is Alisson here sir, we need to talk to her.’
‘Why?’
‘Are you Earl?’
‘Erm, yes.’
‘Earl, we’re doing a welfare check on Alisson at this address and we have information she is in. We have reasonable grounds to force entry if we have to.’
Earl looked round. I stepped forward and pushed the door firmly. Earl stumbled back. The door swung wide to reveal a wall covered in good quality photographic prints. Arty stuff, but nice and easy on the eye. The wall had a door at the end, probably to a bedroom. The left opened straight to a lounge.
It was a square room, maybe twenty-five by twenty-five. A bigger space than it would become if the place got torn down and rebuilt. There were more photograph prints on two walls, a massive television against the one opposite the windows and balcony, and the seating was a brown leather lazy boy, two seater cord sofa, and some fold down chairs obviously brought in for folks to watch the baseball.
Faces stared back at us. I recognised two of them, both Ammon’s men. I stepped into the hall and faced the room. ‘We’re looking for Alisson.’
‘Hey!’ Earl shouted.
A woman stepped into the room from what I guessed was the kitchen. She was holding a pack of frozen peas to her face.
‘I’m Alisson,’ she said. She was maybe five-seven with a shoulder length bob of chestnut hair. The eye not covered by the pack of peas was walnut brown.
‘Ma’am, this is a welfare check. We have reports of a woman in distress at this address. Is that you, or is there someone else in the apartment?’
‘Who called this in?’ Asked one of the men I knew by face, but not name.
I turned to him. ‘Who are you?’
‘A guest.’
‘Well, guest, what I need to know is if Alisson is the only female in the apartment, or if there are others. You don’t need to tell me your name, but if you aren’t going to offer any help, I suggest you shut up and wait until Ammon Dalbar sends someone to tell you what to say.’
Seeing someone think about denying something you both know to be true is about as much fun as you can have as a cop without paperwork being involved. Dalbar’s henchman flushed red and shut up. I turned back to Alisson. ‘Ma’am, could we step into the kitchen?’
She stepped back and I followed her.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I’m Officer Wilson. We need to be happy you feel safe remaining here or would rather move somewhere else. Or if you feel someone else is in danger in the apartment.’
‘I’m fine officer.’
‘Is your face fine?’
‘An accident, I tripped trying to prevent an argument.’
Experience told me she wouldn’t take the opportunity, still, I eased a card from my breast pocket and held it toward her between my index and middle fingers. Her eyes flicked over my shoulders before she reached the few inches between us and took it. Her movement was minimal and as smoothly as I’d retrieved it from my pocket, she’d disappeared it into her top.
She said, ‘We appreciate you stopping by, but there’s nothing to worry about here officer, is their Earl?’ Her face turned decisively to past me.
I turned, Earl was standing in the opening between the kitchen and lounge. His face was mottled, as if he was trying to figure out where he should be in the balance between rage induced redness, and fear produced paleness.
‘Earl, sir,’ I said, ‘we appreciate your assistance in this matter. We’ll be on our way. Enjoy the game. Who you got? Xavier thinks the Dodgers, but I kinda fancy the Diamondbacks to maybe take this one.’
‘Erm, Dodgers, erm, yeh, Dodgers. Gotta pitch the local team, right?’ The stutter as he stumbled onto safe territory, even as his pulse was probably still racing, was a good way to ease us out without him demanding that he knew his rights.
I glanced back at Alisson. ‘Ma’am.’ She nodded, but her head was turned and she stared at the wall by the fridge. Oddly, I took that as a good sign. I’d be more worried if she hadn’t taken the card, and was focused on the floor. Whoever she was, or had been, enough of her remained to maybe get away from Earl before it was too late.
Earl stepped aside as I went back into the lounge and took a good look round. The two faces I knew I’d put names too back at the office. I wanted to fix the faces I didn’t recognise, see if we could get them identified. Someone like Ammon had a constantly shifting coterie of henchmen, bagmen, and the like. Keeping on top of new faces would help the whole department.
‘Y’all up on the Dodgers like Earl, or is any one else looking at the outside team?’ I asked.
‘Why? You putting up Benjamins?’ The same henchman as before. Obviously the leader of whatever pack had remained when Ammon left. It was definitely worth checking up on him back at the station.
‘Just some friendly chat about the game. You fellas enjoy the rest of it, and don’t go stretching Earl’s hospitality like his friend we met downstairs.’
The atmosphere in the room dropped by a few degrees. Bodies stiffened, eyes flicked back and forth, most of them seeking the chatty guy, then Earl, then chatty guy again.
‘C’mon Xavier, I said. Let’s go find this dog walker who caused the ruckus we got called to.’
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words by stuartcturnbull pic by igorelick on Pixabay