PALM CANYON

PALM CANYON

JERRY THOMAS

A veteran Los Angeles policeman retires to his bit of countryside paradise only to find he hasn't escaped the madness, mayhem, and murder of the big city. Former detective Billy Meyers takes the reader into the realm of psychological suspense while examining Human evil and the anatomy of a forensic investigation. The tough realism and spellbinding prose leaves the reader eager for more.

About The Author

Jerry Thomas completed his military service and then attended college in southern California. He has since directed his writing talent toward novelizing the diverse California lifestyles he found so fascinating. This story is expertly crafted and moves at top speed. The author now lives in Arizona where he maintains a vigorous writing schedule. His next book is about a lottery winner's wayward wife.

e-BOOK

Maverick Publishing

HOUSTON, TEXAS

PALM

CANYON

JERRY THOMAS

A Detective Thriller

e-Book 2002

www.mittymax.com

PALM CANYON

JERRY THOMAS

e-Book

Maverick Publishing

HOUSTON, TEXAS

PALM CANYON

JERRY THOMAS

FICTION

Any resemblance of characters in this book to persons living or dead

is coincidental.

e-Book

PALM CANYON

JERRY THOMAS

AA coffin is the only thing a dead man owns@

KANE KEI

Ghanaian Coffin Maker

PALM CANYON

JERRY THOMAS

CHAPTER ONE

For almost seventeen years, Billy Meyer had worked in the Crenshaw District of Los Angeles as a homicide detective, and before that time, he had manned a Ablack and white@ for almost five years. His time in the United States Army as an MP qualified him to enter the Los Angeles Police Academy and he graduated third in his class. He enjoyed police work. For a while, it was stimulating and motivating, there was something new every day. It was as good as any other profession, along with a fairly secure retirement, that=s if you can stand the pace and the police department baloney. Right now, the pressure was getting to him and along with a bad divorce, as if there could be a good one, he was ready to start a new life. Now he was involved with anyone who would jump in bed with him. He had already dumped one girlfriend who wanted to marry him and have him go to work for her father as a security guard. It would be less of a grind, but marriage was out. Besides, security guard work doesn't=t pay as well as other police work, he thought.

Billy was tired of looking at dead druggies and overdosed kids. They, and the suicides found under the freeway overpasses, were starting to get to him. He supposed it began several years ago, when he had investigated the rape and death of a ten-year-old girl, whose battered body had been dumped alongside the Santa Monica Freeway. Since then, he found it harder to be a policeman and not terminate the bad guy on the spotCany bad guy! Billy had suggested this idea to his police partners over the years: it would be easy to do, as any policeman knows. This, along with his heavy drinking and nightmares didn't=t help. He had been warned on three separate occasions and had been investigated by Internal Affairs twice. The third time was the charmCyou were out!

Lieutenant Roger Peterson had told Billy he would have his final hearing with the Internal Affairs people in a week, and to take that time off to think things over. It was to be Billy=s decision: to put up a defense or to retire. Billy had already decided to retire, that way, he wouldn=t have to answer the charges brought against him. He would have his hearing with the Internal Affairs Officers on Wednesday of next week, and give his termination notice with a retirement request at the same time. Billy would give them a Ano contest@ plea on the charges brought against him, then he would go his own merry way. His Ano contest@ plea would go on his police record, of course, but he was tired of being a cop; besides, no other police department would hire him with his recordCthree Internal Affairs investigations in a year. It was time he got out before something really serious happened. In his present state of mind, someone might get hurt bad or even killed. He wouldn=t like doing time in any prison. It was time for him to retire!

Retiring and living in the high desert near Palm Springs appealed to him. Out in the desert, he would be away from people and their troubles, and the trials and tribulations of life in the big city. Also, he would be away from the daily grind of police work with its procedures and regulations.

Now, he sat in his almost empty apartment sipping on a cold beer. He had given his landlord the normal months notice and was going to leave the big city. Looking around the room, he saw the furniture left over from his marriageB-a marriage that ended in divorce many years ago. He remembered when he and Beth were first marriedB-their shopping for furniture and their plans and dreams for the future: a house, a family and all that cliched romantic stuff. It was all gone years ago, although it seemed like yesterday.

Well, he told himself, I=ll go have a couple of drinks tonight and go down to the desert in the morning. The house should almost be ready to live in. The parcel of land was the only thing he got out of the divorce settlement. Beth got the bank account and all the furniture; he got the six acres in the desert near Palm Springs. Beth had pushed him into buying the land in Palm Canyon. That was the only decent thing she ever did for him. He had made the monthly payments faithfully for almost fifteen years. Billy was proud of that, and now, realized it was the best move he had ever done in his life. A year ago, he had decided to build on that parcel of land. A prefabricated house was the only way to go and was less expensive. Billy had saved a little money over the years and had already paid over half the cost of the house. His monthly retirement check would easily make the rest of the payments and he would have enough money left over to live fairly well. He wasn=t in debt for anything except the house, and living is cheap when there=s only one person.

Closing the door to his apartment, Billy walked out into the smog and haze of West Los Angeles. Getting into his car, he decided to check out the Red Rooster Grill, a bar near the beach. There usually were a lot of loose broads there and he just might Aget lucky.@ Tomorrow, he was going to Palm Springs and escape from the trials and tribulations of Los Angeles.

Billy woke up with the sun shining in his eyes again; he would have to remember to close those damn blinds at night. That warm California sun was a nuisance in the morning. He heard the slow, deliberate breathing of someone next to him. Who was it this time? A hooker or some broad from the local bar? He was a little hazy about where he had been last night.

Rolling over in the bed, he saw it was a blond, with long curly hair, sleeping contentedly next to him. Sliding over to the other side of the bed, Billy stepped out onto the cold linoleum floor, and went into the kitchen to put on the morning coffee. Going into the bathroom, he stepped into the shower stall, he turned on the water and turned the water faucet as far to the left as it would go. Taking an ice cold shower in the morning always cleared his head of the cobwebs; no matter how drunk or smashed he got the night before. His mind and brain started to come together now. He tried to think what had happened last night. Where did he pick up this broad or did she pick him up? He didn=t remember much after the fifth drink.

Drying off, he put on his shorts and went into the kitchen. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag on it. Coughing, he vowed to quit smoking as soon as he finished this pack. Billy knew that he was lying to himself. He took a sip of the hot, black coffee. It tasted just like how he likes his womenCblack, hot and sweet!

The form in the bed began to stir, lifting herself up on one arm, she asked Billy, AGod, is it morning already? I could sleep all day. Is that coffee I smell? How about pouring me a cup, sweety?@

AHow do you like it?@ Billy asked.

ABlack. I=ve got one hell of a headache. You don=t have any aspirin, do you?@ she asked.

Pouring her a cup of the coffee and taking two aspirins from an aspirin bottle, Billy asked her, AWhat=s your name? I don=t remember much from last night.@

ASharon,@ she replied. AThanks for the coffee.@ She opened her mouth and swallowed the two aspirins with a gulp of the coffee. As she sat up in the bed, Billy saw she was well developed and a real blonde.

AIt=s a nice apartment you have here, small but clean. I like that,@ she said. Looking around the room, she added, AThese efficiency apartments are the only way to go nowadays. Easy to keep clean and gives you more time to party.@

Taking another sip of the hot coffee, she asked, AWhere the devil are we? All I remember is getting out of the car and walking up some stairs.@

AWest L.A.,@ Billy answered. ANorth of U.C.L.A., a couple of blocks.@

AOh, you teach there or something?@ she asked.

ANo, Sharon,@ Billy said. AI=m a cop, I mean, an ex-cop. I=m retiring soon and moving out of this Godforsaken place. Anymore, this town sucks.@

AWell, that=s your problem,@ she replied. AIf you don=t like your job or this town, it=s time to move on. As for me, I like it here. There=s lots of guys and plenty of work. Beats the devil out of Butte, Montana.@

ANo kidding, you=re from Butte, Montana?@ Billy asked.

AIs there any other?@ Sharon replied.

Feeling better now, after her breakfast of coffee and aspirins, Sharon said, AWell, I=ve got to get going. Are you going to give me a ride or do I call a taxi?@

Thirty minutes later, Billy stopped his car in front of the Red Rooster Bar in Santa Monica. Stepping out of his car, Sharon said to Billy, AIf I ever get down to the desert, I=ll give you a call.@

AYou do that,@ Billy said, as he watched her walk away and out of his life.

Turning his Buick two-door sedan into the morning traffic, Billy headed for the Santa Monica Freeway and Palm Springs.

Driving down the Santa Monica Freeway and passing through the downtown Los Angeles Interchange, he turned onto the Santa Ana Freeway. What a God-damn mess, L.A. is. There are too many people, cars, trucks, buses and the smog. Not to mention the crime, drugs, prostitutes, murders and the gangs. Why didn=t he see it before? Too wide-eyed and bushy tailed probably. But time had changed all of that. It was hard to look the other way at times, like some cops do. Billy couldn=t.

Turning onto the Corona Freeway, he saw a hint of blue sky on the horizon. He was almost out of the smog belt, and in less than an hour, would be in the High Desert of the Imperial Valley of Southern California. There might be some haze and dust in the air, but no smog or eye burning gases, and best of allCnobody to try to screw him around. He didn=t quite have the pioneer spirit that other people had, but now he understood why some of the early pioneers wanted to get out of the crowded eastern cities and move west. He wasn=t moving west, but he was moving out of the crowded city.

Turning off of the Interstate Highway, he was soon at the city limits of Palm Springs. Stopping at the Palms Motel, he checked in and decided to wash the smog out of his throat. Putting his suitcase in his room, he headed toward the restaurant-bar at the corner of the motel complex. Entering the bar, he heard the music coming from the jukebox in the far corner of the barCgood old country musicCit was everywhere.

Taking a seat at the bar, Billy motioned to the bartender, an ex-boxer by the look of his face. Walking over to where Billy was seated, he asked, AWhat will you have?@

AJust a Coors,@ Billy answered.

AOut of Coors, but got plenty of Bud and Schlitz.@

AOkay, make it a Bud.@

Bringing the cold bottle of Budweiser and a glass, the bartender poured the glass half full. ACosts a buck or do you want to start a tab?@ he asked.

AStart a tab,@ Billy said. AI may want more than one.@

Taking a sip of the cold beer, he glanced around the bar, noting everybody at the barCan old police habit that he would have to break.

Finishing his beer, he ordered another. He looked at the patrons at the bar. There were three that he could see. The man at the end of the bar was probably a salesmanB-he had too many pens and pencils in his shirt pocket. The guy talking to the bartender had the name AAl=s Garage@ sewed over the left pocket of his shirt. That solved his occupation. The third man, sitting to Billy=s left, was toying with his drink and was probably a regular. He looked at Billy and smiled in a sensual way as only a gay person would do. That solved the question of whom he was.

Finishing his beer, Billy left a tip for the bartender and headed for the door. What he had missed in his observation of the bar=s patrons were the two people holding hands in a dark booth in the back of the bar. They were Roger Hooper and Benny HobbsB-Billy=s neighbors in Palm Canyon.

CHAPTER TWO

They had met by chance, if either one had joined the Army or any other branch of the United States military, instead of the Navy, they would have led totally different lives. As it turned out, they fell in love and lived to regret it. It all started in San Diego, California . . .

AAll right, Sailors,@ Chief Petty Officer Bayless barked. AWhen I call out your name, stow your gear on the bunk assigned to you!@ Continuing talking, he called the names of the new recruits: AJennings, Hobbs, Hooper . . . @

He was Roger Hooper, Seaman Recruit, U.S. Navy. His bunk mate was Benny Hobbs, Seaman Recruit, U.S. Navy.

That was how they met, in the United States Naval Training Center in San Diego, California, assigned to Company 141 for their boot camp training.

Roger was from Huntington Beach and came from a well-to-do, middle class family. After he finished high school, where he excelled in sports and nothing else, he was told by his father to Aget a job or get out!@ So Roger decided to Aget out.@ He joined the Navy. It turned out to be the sorriest decision that he could have made!

Roger looked at his bunk mate and said, ALooks like we are going to be shipmates for a while. My name is Roger Hooper. I=m from Huntington Beach, where are you from?@

Benny Hobbs smiled and putting out his hand said, AI=m Benny Hobbs from Fresno. Glad to meet you.@

So started the adventure, or rather, the misadventure of the two young sailors. They would, eventually, become very good friends and loversB-one of them would die a ghastly death alone in the California desert and the other would spend the rest of his life in a mental institution.

Benny Hobbs was eighteen years old and had joined the Navy because there was nothing for him to do in the San Joaquin Valley town of Fresno, California. The only things for Benny to do there were to pick grapes or go to college, and neither appealed to Benny. He was the youngest of four children. He had three older sisters and had been born when his youngest sister was sixteen years old, leaving a gap of time between the two siblings. This lead to many jokes about his dad only getting laid every sixteen years, which was probably true.

Benny=s mother was a little crazy, to say the least. Because of her mental illness, she would be away from home for weeks or even months at a time. When she was away from home, his older sister, Gladys, took care of him. This circumstance caused Benny to think of his older sister as his mother. When his Areal@ mother would return home from the mental hospital, she would become his mother and Gladys would become his sister again. This lead to mental confusion on the part of young Benny, so his childhood was very disordered, and at times, very difficult for him to comprehend. He didn=t realize that his mother was mentally ill and that she was in a mental hospital when she went away from home. He thought she left home because he had been bad or had misbehaved, and that, she didn=t like him anymore. Her actions caused Benny to become very shy, and at times, he would not speak for days. Many people thought he was retarded, and in a way, he was.

Benny=s older sister, Gladys, was married and had a daughter several months younger than Benny. When Benny=s mother was away, Gladys would take care of Benny, practically raising him as her own. This led Benny to think of Gladys= daughter as his sister, further muddling Benny=s mind. At times, Gladys would dress both of them in girls= clothes and let them play together with dolls. Benny=s father was too busy to pay much attention to him, so Benny grew up in a feminine atmosphere being treated as a little girl by his sister.

Yet, when his Areal@ mother returned home, he was dressed different and treated like a boy. This changing of mannerisms made Benny very insecure, and at times, he was not sure what he wasCa boy or a girl?

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