The 1960’s were a historic era of cultural and political upheaval worldwide, and Los Angeles along with San Francisco were at the west coast epicenters.
The 1970s amped the Vibe; from the grit of L.A, and glitz of Hollywood, to the sunny beach-lined communities north and south of the Los Angeles International Airport.
There was a thriving evolution of new ways to live, to expand one’s mind, and new ways to do business. And one of the rising big businesses was within the Drug Culture.
The times were ripe for anyone to grab the reins and take hold of whatever they could. All ideas, trends, and concepts if not new, were brought forward from the past to be celebrated. With these near daily new enterprises and concepts came great ideas implemented for the good and some for the bad.
William Trent, a young private investigator, maintains his office and living space above the garages of an adjacent apartment building in the “Ghost Town” area of Venice, California. The rickety, but sturdy stairs to Will’s office were open for anyone who needed his services.
Will was experienced in both deductive reasoning and altered states of consciousness. He had taken nearly every drug, hallucinogen, and psychotropic known, and used those experience’s benefits to become successful enough to hold down his own one man investigation business.
There was much to be said for certain stoners’ abilities to use their clouded stoned appearance to actually gain detailed insight on those who momentarily let their guard down due to thinking that they were dealing with just another stoned Hippie.
Tonight’s 1971 Episode: “Chasing The Synchronistic Dragon”
Will was sitting at his desk, it was night, a single candle was the only source of illumination in his above garages second story office and home. The windows were shut, the air was still. He slowly took a drag on one of his perfectly rolled joints, held it, then gently exhaled watching the cloudy smoke interact with the candle flame’s burnt aether. Both intertwined and made a quick sideways spiral toward a slight opening of the front door.
Will dove to the floor as a bullet penetrated the back of his chair.
He aimed his Smith and Wesson snub-nosed .38 revolver and fired two shots straight through the door. He heard movement and fired two more shots through the door and heard the wood railing break followed by a thud.
Will got up off the floor and opened the bullet-riddled door.
As he slowly descended the stairs he saw a body lying lifeless on the ground below.
Twenty-four hours earlier . . .
It was December 23, 1971, William Trent was full of Christmas cheer and on his way to meet a couple of his friends in Westwood Village to see the evening premier of Clint Eastwood’s crime thriller “Dirty Harry”.
This was a seasonal gift Will gave himself, for once back in his late teens he saw every movie worth seeing, and some that weren’t. And although he still did, it had become a very selective endeavour. Eastwood as a present day San Francisco Inspector; this was gonna be good.
And it was good, exhilarating really, Will was enthralled, everything about the movie was top-notch; directing, acting, dialogue, action, plot, all with a jazzy ‘70’s Lalo Schifrin soundtrack. It would become the seminal imprint for the modern day “anti-hero”; the guy that goes up against evil, regardless.
Even though it was a movie for entertainment, Will had a real life connection to the main character Harry Callahan, as he too was a guy who went up against evil, regardless.
Will’s crime solving abilities always came with the potential for violence; even in the most benign situations things can escalate.
He and his good friend Mike took Martial Arts lessons back before “Kung Fu” and Bruce Lee mania. The lessons were in lieu of payment for a client’s closed case. Will also took his hardened client’s lessons of efficient street combat; both had served him well.
After the movie, and a burger in the Village with the guys, Will shook hands goodbye that consisted of the “brother” grip that slid down into a normal handshake. There were many more handshake prestidigitational moves that while amusing, seemed excessive past the first two.
On the way home, Will’s mindset returned back to business, there was a cold case his friend at the local police department had asked him to look over.
Will’s “inside man” at the local P.D. was Eric Valdez an aspiring detective; his father was Mexican and his mother Scandanavian, hence Eric’s sandy blonde perpetually tan look. Eric was the young buck of the P.D. and had a much more open mind than most. Their unspoken kindred spirits created a mutual respect that helped each other fight evil – and solve cases.
This cold case was like most; no perps, no motive, no murder weapon, no witnesses – nothing. The only odd piece and the reason Eric chose to give it to Will to look over was that it was the murder of a young girl who had just turned eighteen – she was killed on her eighteenth birthday. But that could have been a coincidence had it not been at midnight, which was about the time the Coroner estimated the time of death and the time that her watched stopped – broken from the impact of her death.
After his formative years as a ”good little boy”, which he was, Will eventually questioned everything. He did his comparative religions, mythic legends, and read cosmic theories and comic books until his brain hurt. He knew that there were coincidences, and then there were synchronicities, which were meaningful coincidences. This allowed him to connect a couple of dots.
The young girl was from San Francisco but was in L.A. apparently not long before she was murdered; so she was tracked, probably from Frisco, or she met someone in L.A., as it didn’t seem random, it was too specific. The murder was extremely personal, dramatic even, and definitely had ritual elements, which even if used as a ploy to divert from the real reason or person, was still done by a sick human, and for a reason.
Everyone involved in the case before Will wrote off the timings as coincidences, and had questioned all who were peripherally involved, it all came to no avail, the case went cold.
Will telephoned Eric and told him his take on the findings which only deepened the possibilities.
Normally, Will would have been intrigued to explore further, but he was working on a missing persons case by a paying client. So while going through his notes he played a classic blues album by the original Fleetwood Mac band entitled “Then Play On”. He had both versions of the album, the original release, and the immediate re-issue that included Peter Green’s epic nine minute track “Oh Well”. That track went from hard rockin’ blues with the classic lyrics (from God): “Don’t ask me what I think of you, I might not give the answers that you want me to.” to its majestic spaghetti western ending.
A past client, now a friend, referred Will for this missing persons case. Most of the time the person is not missing, just leaving a past life behind, seeking peace, or deliberately distancing themselves from those who make them feel trapped, or threatened. Sometimes they are on the run, and unfortunately, some do end up like the girl in the cold case, death for unknown reasons with bodies found months or years later, sometimes never.
But in the ‘70s missing person cases were ubiquitous as people of all ages were “dropping out”; exploring different lifestyles and/or beliefs, traveling, taking drugs, joining communes, having indiscriminate sex, and basically persuing anything one was motivated to do. And for many it was just a phase or good for the soul, and then a return to “reality”. Many others never returned, with family and friends never knowing why. It’s hard to locate a missing person who wants to stay “missing”. Therefore, he would not have taken the case if not for the friend factor because anyone he passed on the street could be “missing” or had “dropped out”.
This missing person was Jan Smith the eighteen year old son of a divorced woman, Ms Marjory Smith. An eighteen year old in 1971 was at his peak times for full-on freedom and fun, Will knew the feeling, he still had it, and while not at the same level, he was still able to maintain his verve, and the key was to cultivate wonder in his life.
Wonder, the word itself says it all; as a verb it is what all humans do, about everything, as an adjective it helps describe the extreme pleasure of something, and as a noun it is a cosmic energy that Will cultivates.
Will was constantly navigating the streams of consciousness in his mind; it was always welcomed, as when streams of consciousness intersect he knew he was in the area of synchronicity, and therefore needed to pay extra attention to his every move. Synchronicity had played a significant part in solving several cases. Will had learned to never “excuse away” coincidences in his life, especially in his line of work.
Ultimately, however, he realized the futility of this case as he recalled himself at eighteen on a road trip with a couple guys in a step-van headed for wherever they ended up and having lifetime adventures the whole way. Jan was probably skinny dipping with a hippie chick in Topanga Canyon, or hangin’ with friends at the beach, or on a road trip, or at a concert. He was probably out doing what he should; creating memories.
Will could take her money, try, but never get close, and even if he did, once face to face with Jan what’s he going to say – he’d be looking at himself at eighteen – there would be no convincing him. No, he needed to explain this to Ms. Smith and return her check.
On his way to meet with Ms Smith at her home in Santa Monica, he stopped off at a gas station to fill up his ’66 Pontiac GTO. He was at one of the self-serve stations that were replacing the full-service stations that had employed attendants who would check your oil, tire pressure, and clean your windows, all while they pumped your gas.
Will got out, paid the cashier, and started to pump his gas when he noticed a car parked along the street with a couple guys that he thought had been following him, now he knew for sure.
Immediately he thought of who would have reason to follow him or be interested in him. He kept a reasonably low profile since he stopped advertising in the L.A. Free Press due to a growing word of mouth from past satisfied clients with closed cases. And he didn’t currently have any outstanding enemies that weren’t in jail, and he hadn’t stepped on any toes lately.
He finished filling up, got in his GTO, and pulled back out onto the boulevard heading for Ms. Smith’s home. But decided to find out just how dedicated these guys were and led them on a journey down a few streets, then left, then right, a couple more right and lefts, then he was gone. Will was only playing with them until he cut loose with his upgraded 389 cubic inch engine with dual carburetors that helped the V-8 pump 360 horsepower.
By the time they realized they had lost him he had pulled up behind them.
Although they were at a stop light, Will revved his engine for them to get a move on.
Agitated, the driver looked in his side view mirror to see Will, mean, but amused.
When the light turned green Will motioned for them to pull over, he waved his hand and put his right turn blinkers on. Surprisingly, they pulled over, Will parked, got out and yelled for them to get out of the car. They were two teenagers who still had respect for . . . an elder? Will didn’t know whether to feel respected or old.
Back then anyone a grade or two or a year or two older than oneself seemed to have a greater grasp of life, not necessarily maturity, but the experiences and advantages that came with ”age”. At eighteen a guy may think he’s the Man, until guys in their early twenties come on the scene. Again, it’s all relative, but back then days, weeks, months, and years moved very slowly; according to society’s agreement of reality.
Will, not sensing bad vibes: “What’s with you guys, why are you following me?”
Driver: “You’re the guy Ms. Smith hired to find Jan.”
Will, interested: “Yes, still why are you following me?”
Driver, motions from himself to his friend: “We’re his friends, we want to help.”
They explain that Jan was hanging out with older guys in their twenties, guys they knew to be bad; dope dealers, thieves, not a good bunch. This was getting more and more just like Will’s late teens, he broke away from his same age group friends and started hangin’ out with older guys; some were drug dealers, and some had petty crime records, but most were just your normal fun and entertaining long-haired freaks enjoying the counter-culture vibe.
Will tried to relate the possibility that Jan had just made some new friends, it happens.
The Driver and his Friend looked dejected, as if Will didn’t get it, Will did, it was called growing up, and sometimes apart.
Will turned back to get into his GTO when he heard something, or thought he heard something that stopped him cold in his tracks.
He whipped around, and approached the Driver: “What did you say?”
The Driver was startled and looked at Will: “What?”
Will grabs his arm: “I heard you, you said a name.”
The Driver pulls his arm from Will’s grip: “I said, Die T-Rex.”
Will backs away and points at the Driver: “How do you know T-Rex?”
Driver: “That’s who Jan‘s been hangin’ with, and some other creeps.”
This changed everything, Will knew T-Rex all too well; from his early teen days of summers at Gillis Beach Will became the focus of T-Rex’ taunts. This guy was Will’s Moriarity, his Joker, his “evil nemesis”, Thomas Rex Walsh. He got the nickname T-Rex early on because of his large size and attitude. He was a bully then, and a criminal now.
Of all of the possibilities, this one became personal; recently T-Rex took to a one-sided “game” whereby he would deliberately interfere in Will’s cases, he thought it was funny.
These weren’t fun-loving freaks if T-Rex was involved. Will looked at the two teenagers and realized that this was about real friendship the kind that goes out of its way to help a brother out of potential danger, even if he doesn’t realize it.
Will would not be responsible for two teenagers, so after they told him all they knew he thanked them and told them he would do something about it – alone. He explained that Jan’s mother was his client and that they couldn’t be involved.
The two would have none of that; if they weren’t included then they would just follow him.
Will: “We know how well that worked out.”
Driver: “C’mon, we’ll just get your address from Ms Smith.”
Will, against his better judgement: “Alright, for now, but when I say it’s over, it’s over, clear?”
The Driver, Brian, and his friend Carl, both agreed.
On the short drive to Venice from Santa Monica Will knew he lied; obviously he couldn’t include those two.
Earlier that year after the “Help! incident” he knew that T-Rex was more than a criminal, he was a mesmer of sorts, he could get people to do his bidding.
It was late afternoon by the time the three had worked out a plan. Brian knew where they hung out, he even had the address, inland from Redondo Beach; they would just go over and have a talk. Will had convinced them that once they saw their friend they would be able to tell if they were still friends.
Will knew he had no real power with Jan in this situation. Ultimately, it was one young man making a bad choice. But unknown to most, bad choices could actually be good choices, put there for the opportunity of needed specific life lessons to be learned.
Will made a bad choice and spent thirty days in L.A. County jail.
It was an unpleasant experience, but one he obviously needed to experience; he walked the walk, gained much insight, and it gave him an empathy for many who, like him, ended up there due to “no good deed goes unpunished”.
Still, if it was possible to steer a young soul away from known evil, Will needed to try.
Before they all got in their cars to head to Redondo Beach, Will stopped them and asked to see their driver’s licenses, telling them he needed proof of who they were before hitting the road.
Brian pulled his car keys out with his wallet, Will quickly grabbed the keys from him, apologized, got in his GTO, and left. From Will’s rear view mirror he saw Brian and Carl running down the alley after him.
Will had the image of the photos Ms Smith had provided of Jan, he knew he would recognize him if he saw him, Will was excellent with facial recognition.
He pulled up in front of a house on a street inland from Redondo Beach, bordering the city limits of Torrance. It was dusk. Will knocked on the front door. Then knocked again. The door opened and a guy with tattoos opened the door.
Tattoo: “Who are you, whaddya want?”
Will: “I’m here to see Walsh.”
Tattoo: “Who?”
Will: “T-Rex, and tell him its William Trent.”
Tattoo: “Wait here, I’ll go get him.”
Before Tattoo closed the door Will saw into the front room, no one was there.
Moments later the door opened.
T-Rex: “Will, boy am I glad to see you, come on in.”
Will walks in, T-Rex motions for him to follow, they walk through the kitchen to a back room where four guys are passing around a bowl. One of the four was Jan.
T-Rex: “You know I was just tellin’ the boys about you, what a coincidence. I was tellin’ them what a great private investigator and friend you are.”
Will, not buyin’ a second of T-Rex’ bullshit, stays in character but is semi-sarcastic: “Yes, we’ve had some great times.”
All the while Will was reading everyone’s vibe, all of them except Jan had a negative vibe about them, one guy in particular was bad news.
As T-Rex relates days at the beach, Will realizes he recognizes the Bad News character, this guy was worse than T-Rex. His local P.D. connection Eric had shown him photos of “usual suspects” from another unsolved case that involved murder, in Redondo Beach.
T-Rex winds up a tale with: “So, Will why the visit?”
Will: “I need your help.”
T-Rex, with a big grin: “Well, isn’t this the day, the great Stoned Private Eye needs my help.”
Will was monitoring Jan to see his reaction to this display. Jan seemed amused. This was not good. T-Rex had him in his grasps.
Will motions to T-Rex as if in confidence: “It’s something personal.”
They both walked over to a corner of the room.
T-Rex drops the jovial bit: “Yeah, what?”
Will: “I need to talk to your boy over there, Jan.”
T-Rex: “You mean Robin Hood, that’s his name now, he steals from the rich and gives to me.”
Will, speaking in a low tone: “Yeah, well he’s got a girlfriend, she needs to speak to him, she’s pregnant.”
T-Rex smiles: “That’s my boy. Why’re you so interested, you on a case, did the little girl hire you to find her baby’s daddy?”
Will: “All I want is a private moment with him and I’m gone.”
T-Rex: “Times must be hard if you’re resorting to this.”
Will, to dissuade any further mental questioning from T-Rex: “She’s a long time family friend.”
T-Rex: “Hey, Robin Hood, Trent here wants to speak with you.”
Jan gets up and approaches Will and they both move to the kitchen for privacy. Bad News keeps his eye on Will.
Will to Jan: “Look I gotta make this quick, I told T-Rex you got your girlfriend pregnant.“
Jan, wide-eyed, interrupts: “Rhonda’s pregnant?”
Will: “No, that’s what I told him so we could talk. Don’t say anything until I finish. This may be fun and exciting, but under the laughs T-Rex is a bad guy, he’s dangerous, he hasn’t been arrested because he has others do his dirty work, like you. You’ll be the chump to go down, and he’ll just replace you with another. The longer you hang with these guys the higher your chance is of getting popped.”
Will could tell that Jan knew he spoke Tribal Truth.
Will: “Your friends, Brian and Carl are concerned, and so is your Mom, she hired me to find you, they love you and miss you and fear for your safety.”
Jan looks troubled.
Will: “We can leave together under the guise of seeing your pregnant girlfriend, he’ll buy it.”
Just then Bad News entered the kitchen to grab a beer from the refrigerator.
His eyes locked on Will’s as he crossed the room.
And it was then that the mother of synchronicities nearly blew Will’s mind.
Bad News was wearing a necklace with a unique bloodstone pendant. The same pendant that the murdered eighteen year old girl’s mother had said she wore and was in one of the photos of her in her case file. Bad News caught Will’s quick glance of the necklace.
Will had stumbled upon the girl’s murderer. He knew it, he could feel it, and a confirmation cold chill passed through him as Bad News walked by, still glaring at Will.
Will, in a lowered tone: “Tell T-Rex that I’m taking you to see your girlfriend.”
Jan hesitated, he was torn between good and evil, right and wrong, he was his own man, he can make decisions on his own, he didn’t need some unknown guy to tell him what to do.
Jan: “I go with you and then what, I go back to being a nobody?”
Will: “We can discuss all that later, we need to go now.”
Jan: “Alright, but it’s my decision.”
Will: “And a wise one.”
Will and Jan leave the kitchen. Jan goes to tell T-Rex.
Will could see and feel Bad News reading Will; when good and evil are in the same room the vibe is palatable. Each can sense their opposite’s level of positive or negative.
T-Rex: “Nice of you Will to take such an interest in this whole “family affair.”
Will doesn’t respond he just walks with Jan to the door.
T-Rex: “Once you get things square, you come on back, Hood, we got business to tend to.”
Jan nods.
As they are leaving Will catches Bad News whispering to T-Rex.
T-Rex: “Hold on a minute, my buddy here thinks you’ve got somethin’ up your sleeve, you know, an ulterior motive.”
Will stops short of the front door: “And what would that be?”
T-Rex: “He thinks you know something.”
Will: “I know a lot of things.”
As Will opens the door one of the guys, Dean, who was standing by the door shuts it.
Will with his back turned to T-Rex: “What?”
T-Rex: “You know ever since those days at the beach all I wanted was to be friends.”
Will turns to T-Rex: “C’mon, cut the bullshit, I have stuff to attend to and I’m sure you do too, so?”
Will gestures at the door.
T-Rex: “Alright, I was just funnin’ with ya, Dean open the door.”
Dean opens the door. Will and Jan leave and get into the GTO.
As they pulled away from the curb Will looked in his rear view mirror to see Bad News cross the street, get in a car, pull a Y turn, and start to follow them.
Bad News knew Will knew, Will’s glance at the necklace alerted evil to Will’s knowledge.
Will to Jan: “Listen, that guy back there, one of your new friends, the angry-looking one, he’s following us, do you know why?”
Jan looks at Will: “T-Rex probably told him to.”
Will, monitoring Bad News in his side view mirror on the sly: ”And why would he do that?”
Jan: “I don’t know.”
Will: “Well I do.”
The GTO pulls up to a red light with Bad News a couple cars behind.
Will: “While we were in the kitchen, I made him for the murderer he is, and he now knows I know. Is this real enough for you?”
Jan looks forward, dazed: “How do you know this?”
Will: “I’m in the business to know.”
The light turns green.
Will takes a set of car keys from his pocket and hands them to Jan: “These are Brian’s. I’m going to drop you off at your mom’s, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep all of this between us, this is serious business, it’s become police business. You were in a dangerous snakepit, but now you’re out. And I feel, just in time.”
They pull up in front of Jan’s mom’s house. Bad News pulled over down the block, he was after the threat, Will, not Robin Hood.
Jan, gets it together: “I get it, I’m out, if T-Rex questions me I’ll just tell him I gotta get straight now with a kid on the way. He won’t need that hang up. And you’re right, he’ll just get some other chump. I’m no longer that, thanks Mr. Trent.”
They shake hands, Jan gets out of the GTO and heads for the front door.
Will pulls away from the curb, as does Bad News.
The sun had set, and the amber glow of the day gave way to twilight as city lights emerged.
Will knew that a killer, so brutal as to what he did to that girl, would have no trouble taking out Will if he felt threatened, and he obviously did.
There was no way out of this, from here on in Will knew it would come down to either him or Bad News.
Bad News was packin’ for sure, Will had a backup gun, but it was in the trunk, his main piece was at his office. He needed time to get either so he made a couple of evasive moves and punched the GTO down the boulevard toward Venice.
Will guessed that T-Rex gave Bad News Will’s address before he left and would not be far behind, so once at his place he backed into his garage parking space, closed the garage door, hit the stairs, went inside, kept all of the lights off, left the door unlocked, shut all of the windows, and lit one candle.
Will was sitting at his desk, waiting, it was dark, a single candle was the only source of illumination. The windows were shut, the air was still. He slowly took a drag on one of his perfectly rolled joints, held it, then gently exhaled watching the cloudy smoke interact with the candle flame’s burnt aether. Both intertwined and made a quick sideways spiral toward a slight opening of the front door.
Will dove to the floor as a bullet penetrated the back of his chair.
He aimed his Smith and Wesson snub-nosed .38 revolver and fired two shots straight through the door.
He heard movement and fired two more shots through the door and then heard the wood railing break followed by a thud.
Will got up off the floor and opened the bullet-riddled door.
As he slowly descended the stairs he saw Bad News lying lifeless on the ground below.
.
Copyright 2019 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during August 27 – 31, 2019 with only The Stoned Private Eye, the 1970s, Dirty Harry, and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.