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 1972 Episode: “Meditation”
Will gazed out of his second story windows; it was early morning, the scene outside was mellow, the beach fog was burning off, grayed colors slowly became brighter, the ambient volume was raised a bit by the sounds of occasional voices, birds, and cars; but still a very nice environment for deep thoughts.
Will understood the basics of Meditation and tried it, but even though he could quiet his monkey mind it was his Connection that stepped in and told him that time was precious and he had work to do. Deep in the recesses of his mind he could also hear his Psychedelic Buddy’s disapproval, ”Taking naps, really?”
So Will’s “meditation” came when available in the form of early to mid morning gazes out his windows when he could appreciate his immediate surroundings, just like millions of people were doing right that moment. Only with Will, moments of tranquil deep thoughts always surfaced as relevant to a case, or an ongoing mystery, or the fact that he had a meeting at noon.
There he thought, was the benefit of meditation it reminded him to get off his ass and to work.
Will arrived at a mansion in Beverly Hills and was greeted by two men in suits. Normally he would take meetings at his office or locally but the client wanted to meet at his home. Referred by a past client, Will agreed to the meet and followed the two men up a flight of stairs to the front door. They opened the door, Will walked in, they closed the door.
Will stood alone in the foyer expecting another of the employ to appear, none did.
The person he was to meet with was Jonathan Quint Public the successful leader of a self-help group for the common man.
Under one lone light John Q. Public emerged, walked to Will, they shook hands and as they exchanged introductions John Q. Public motioned for Will to take a seat. As he did the lights dimmed and a projector ran behind him lighting up a screen on the wall in front of him.
The five minute film was a promotional piece to drum up business, or more likely followers, and to spread the word of John Q. Public.
As Will sat he absorbed the softened Eastern philosophy, made very interesting to the members of the counter-culture and now interesting to the everyman, the common man, John Q. Public.
People were looking for the right guru to fill their needs. Rarely, did people emerge any better than they went in, usually the “awareness” only made their individual issues worse.
Still Will paid attention as that was his job. At the end of the film John Q. Public delivered the final convincing phrase to seal the deal and that was, “Who do you love?”.
This was the basis for the self-love movement; one had to love themselves before they could really love another – or so goes the self-help conventional wisdom.
And of course people latched on to this as it seems easy, unfortunately some people just aren’t lovable, hence the reason John Q. Public wanted to hire Will. It seems that his girlfriend didn’t share all of his beliefs and had run off.
Will responded by asking what he could do for him. If it was a locate and report case, Will was good at that, but locate and retrieve was something he shied away from – things can get messy, quick – like if the subject was not wanted by the law, then citizen’s arrest becomes kidnapping.
Will professionally declined the job, then John Q. Public offered him a bonus that Will knew could cover the costs of an extended wing to Will’s neighborhood animal shelter. An offer he couldn’t refuse, and this wasn’t even from the Godfather.
Besides, there was always the possibility that she’d come quietly, it all depended on how Will handled it.
Will agreed, got all the details and headed back to home base, but first stopped off in Westwood Village at a hair salon next to the famous Fox theatre. This salon sold special bottles of conditioner to special customers, Will was special.
He parked, walked around the corner, and just as he reached the salon’s back alley he saw two men beatin’ on a little guy.
Will shook his head, looked up and yelled: “Stop!”
The two men stopped and looked at Will.
One Man laughed.
The Other Man: “You want some of this, or how ‘bout I just double up on this double-crossin’ punk?”
Will shook his head again, this was none of his business, but he felt that whatever the situation was it needed to be fair.
Will: “Sure, me ‘n’ the little guy against you two – two against two – that’s fair.”
The One Man shoves the little guy over toward Will and laughs.
The Other Man: “Let’s have at it, I’m feelin’ extra nasty today.”
And as they approach each other Will just grins and flips a shiny silver dollar end over end up in the air and for the second the two men are distracted by the shiny object Will crouch-spins and foot-sweeps high, breaking the leg at the knee of the Other Man.
Will springs up and with the power behind the upward momentum delivers a nicely-placed fist to the jaw for an immediate knock-out.
Will to the Little Guy: “I’d make myself scarce if I were you.”
The Little Guy runs down the alley and disappears around the corner.
Will continues on to the salon.
Once inside, the smell of a potpourri of hair styling fragrances intertwine and make a heady mix when combined with the evident sweet smell of Marijuana smoke.
Will proceeds to the back of the store and asks to see a bottle of conditioner on the top shelf. The female employee knows Will and gives him a quick sly smile as she hands him the bottle. Will hands her cash, smiles, and leaves.
Will passes by the alley and sees the Two Men; one still out and the other unable to stand crying in pain. Will walked on, got in his car, and left. It didn’t matter if the Little Guy deserved it, it was unfair odds. And like evil, Will did not like unfair odds. When odds are even then the outcome will at least be fair, regardless.
Once home Will unscrewed the bottle of conditioner and carefully removed two vials from inside. One vial was filled with white crystalline powder, the other with a thick black goo. Will put them both into his secret fool-proof stash place.
Will felt good, the quick sparring with those Two Men in the alley really loosened him up, he felt good. So he decided to walk out onto the Santa Monica Pier to its end, and standing above the rolling waves, watch the sun set and “meditate”.
And as the sun set with a smog-filled purple glow, Will realized that the amount of money he was offered for this “case” wasn’t really about love of a girlfriend but more about his protection, either she had something on him that he either needed back, or needed silenced.
Will’s meditation was working, his mind was clear, except for all of the possibilities now tied to this case. But just as the sun submerged below the ocean horizon Will knew that only once he found the girlfriend, Molly Dirkson, could he get any answers.
According to John Q. Public she was seen by a friend hanging out at a boutique up on Melrose. Melrose back in the ‘70s was one of the “Boulevards”; Santa Monica, Melrose, Sunset, and Hollywood, where hip happened.
Will had a current photo so recognizing her wouldn’t be a problem.
He parked and walked down half a block to the “Hipnotique Boutique” and casually walked in. There were a few customers, and laughter coming from the back room. The store clerks, nor customers were Molly.
Will needed answers so he asked the cashier if she’d seen Molly today ‘cuz he wanted to wish her a happy birthday.
The cashier perked up and waved the store clerks to come over.
Cashier: “We didn’t know it was today.”
Will: “I’m an old friend, do you know when she’ll be in?”
Store Clerk: “Oh, she doesn’t work here, she owns the store.”
Will: “Oh, OK, do you know how I can contact her? I’m only in town for a bit, so . . .”
The Store Clerk hands him a card from a drawer: “Sure, here’s her home phone, but she’s usually out – although she sometimes stops by at closing.”
Will thanks her and remembered seeing the store’s hours posted in the window: Closed 8PM.
This was now a stakeout; Will returned to his car pulled around the block and parked across the street from the store.
Will was hep to rich guys setting up shops, stores, and boutiques for their wives, girlfriends, or mistresses; it serves the dual purpose of satisfying, for the moment, the female’s trendy “hobby” and allows the male more time for “business”.
Around 7:45 PM a car pulled up in front of the store and a woman got out, it was Molly Dirkson.
As she went into the store, Will felt weird, if John Q. Public knew of her whereabouts he must’ve known she owned the place. This got Will to consider this was a set up of some kind. Something wasn’t right, when a guy with money and notoriety wants something done it would probably be a clean job, just like the one Will was doing for him where whatever happened would be unknown to the press.
Something was going on that would taint, or even jeopardize John Q. Public’s self-help empire, something that Molly knew, or was going to expose, or was blackmailing.
If he could hire Will, then he surely could hire someone to do the same only finish the job also.
Now Will was in a quandary, his knee-jerk reaction was to inform her, but just as he was about to get out of the car he thought, “What if he was part of the plot?”
Just then a land yacht cruised up the street going slower as it approached the store.
Will had to make a move, he got out of his car, shut the door, and heard a click from behind him.
A Muffled Voice: “Don’t move a muscle.”
Will felt the barrel of a gun push into his back.
Just then the store exploded and burst into flames and a rush of heat crossed the street.
Will knew that if he were to blink his eyes, then so would the gunman.
Will closed his eyes, felt the hot wind hit his face, dropped, spun, opened his eyes and pushed up into the off guard gunman, and took him down. Will wrenched the gun out of . . her hand.
He pulled down the thick scarf, it was Molly Dirkson.
Female or male she had a loaded cocked gun at his back, Will took no chances and kept the gun on her.
They both stood up.
Molly: “I know who you are.”
Will, keeping the gun on her: “Get in.”
She does, he starts up the car, drives around the corner, and parks.
Will, still with the gun on her: “Unless you staged that for the insurance, then somebody’s sending a strong message.”
Molly stares intently at him.
Will: “OK, why don’t we just go back to John Q. Public’s and you two can hammer out your differences.”
Molly: “So, you’re the one hired to return me, not the one hired to kill me.”
Will: Yes, the first one.”
Molly: “Well, I needed to know, which is why I had the gun. The explosion was not a strong message but a warning. Fortunately, I have another six stores throughout the Southland that he’s not aware of. He thought I just wanted a store to “keep me busy”, instead I took the profits, reinvested, and now I can be free of him and his weird ways.”
Will never thought of Eastern religions as weird ways, maybe it was the way it was presented that was not in the video.
Will does not give her back her gun, but does lower the sight.
Will: “I know that’s not all of it, but for whatever reason, you’re gonna be in constant danger from here on in.”
Molly, thinking, then blurts out: “How about I hire you? Everything will be in confidence and you can act in my best interests.”
Will’s inner “glass” was always half full and half empty. Years of honed deduction made distilled options come naturally and helped him solve cases, sometimes with ease. Here he would have conflicting clients, but there was no law or moral code that said he couldn’t work for both as long as he did not favor either client, and as she said, only worked in their individual best interests.
A normal P.I. would drop both cases as there were too many “what ifs” and exploding buildings – that usually eventually evolved into exploding cars, and in that case the extended wing of the animal shelter would have to wait.
But then again Will had never done it with two clients, well, actually he had, separate cases, and they were both women, but this could be a new experience of Will’s discernible will.
Will: “Yes, I’ll take your case, but first I need to know the catalyst, what’s the big deal? What do you have on him?”
Molly: “I can’t say.”
Will: “You mean you won’t.”
Molly: “No, I’ve been told that if I reveal what I know many people will find out and it will affect their lives, and not in a good way.”
Will feels the other shoe about to drop so he uses a quick form of meditation and pulls out his cigarette case of personally hand-rolled joints of fine Marijuana, lights one up, offers Molly a hit, she takes a drag, and hands it back.
Molly, after she exhales and with a smile: “I know who you are, you’re the Stoned Private Eye. We have a mutual friend, Suzy Cheze.”
Will: “Suzy and I go way back, she’s good people.”
Will takes a deep hit, holds it, then exhales: “Look just be straight, is he a homo, married to a woman in an asylum, got a criminal record, illegitimate love child, what?” “What’s the deal breaker?”
Molly: “John Q. Public is Jane Q. Public.”
Will pauses to take in the one factor he hadn’t even thought of.
Will: “Wait, I saw and talked to him, that was a man.”
Molly: “Well, you’re half right actually she’s a hermaphrodite.”
Will: “So, you’re . . “
Molly: “A lesbian, but I’m bisexual too.”
Will quickly brushes it all away to focus: “So, you were going to expose, er, uh, divulge his secret?”
Molly: “No, that’s just it, that was never my intention, but she’s been really weird lately and even a bit scary, so I thought I better let her cool down for a few days.”
Will: “Well, at this point, not as your attorney, but as a professional that you’ve hired, I’d advise you to . . .”
Will stops mid sentence as he sees something very strange running toward them from down the residential street.
The figure was running wildly and became clearer under each street lamp.
It was about three houses down that Will saw what it was; a woman with an axe screaming and closing in fast.
Molly: “It’s her, it’s her!”
Will started up the car, threw it into reverse and burned rubber, when suddenly an axe burst through his windshield right between them both. He slammed on the brakes and the woman flew over the top of the car crashing head-first into another parked car and then down onto the pavement behind them.
Will and Molly got out of the car and ran over to the near lifeless twisted broken body.
John Quint Public had gone mad, and in his male persona, propped on an exposed elbow, addressed them both before dropping dead; “Who do you love?”
.
They stayed at the scene until the ambulance arrived, Will took Molly home to her apartment, and then he drove back home.
On his way, with the radio off and with no cassette tape playing, he meditated on a thought.
Those were intriguing last words from any dying person, but from J.Q. Public it was especially sad because Will knew that she could not do what he preached; to love himself first before he could truly love another.
And it caused Will to ponder that question to himself.
Who did Will love?
Will knew the answer, as it wasn’t a matter of who he loved, but one of could he allow himself to fall in love. He led a dangerous life, a loved one would be a constant liability, one who could easily be in the cross-hairs for revenge. That’s a price too high to gamble with. He tried it once.
Will loved his job, and for now that would have to be enough.
.
Copyright 2019 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during April 11 and April 12, 2019 with only The Stoned Private Eye, the 1970s, Meditation, and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.
“California: World’s Largest Legal Marijuana Market” Copyright 2020 00individual TLL
00INDIVIDUAL 