Murder in Marina Del Rey

CHAPTER 1 

LINDA: COLLINS

It’s a sunny day over Marina del Rey. Sailboats are in their slips and on the ocean. People are sunning themselves on the beach.

Linda Collins is sunning herself on the beach. She is long, lean and tan and is wearing a white bikini swimsuit. Her blonde hair is long over her shoulders. Her eyes are blue, and they are set into a softly beautiful face. 

That’s me. I’m Linda Collins.

She gets up from the sand.

I recently had the experience of cracking up, meaning I had a nervous breakdown. 

She puts on her beach cover-up.

I’m doing better now.

She folds her towel.

I do have, however, PTSD. 

She rolls up her mat.

I got it from a violent, deadly incident that happened around me a few months ago. That caused my nervous breakdown.

She puts her beach bag on her shoulder.

I work for James Bridges, on his sailboat, which is his office.

Linda walks off along the sand.

He’s in Military Intelligence, though he pretends he’s retired, and he masks what he really does in Military Intelligence now by working behind the false front of being a private detective.

She makes a gesture with her hand like, He’s not fooling me.

He connected me up with a military psychiatrist, who was an old friend of his, and the military psychiatrist is now treating me for my PTSD.

She walks over to a trash can. 

I have a shrink. 

She tosses an empty water bottle into the trash can.

How strange.

She again walks along the sand. 

My psychiatrists tells me, among other things, to sit in the sun, so I do, sometimes on the sand and sometimes on the deck of James’ sailboat.

She heads towards the walkway running along the far edge of the beach. 

I was making progress dealing with the deadly trauma I went through, and then I had a set back.

Linda reaches the walkway.

It was another incident of violent death I got caught up in.

She heads down the walkway. 

It’ll make more sense to you if I tell you the whole story.

She makes a gesture with her hand.

I call this story Eddie Bacon.

She continues down the walkway.

It goes like this.

Linda looks out at the sky above the water, remembering back.

CHAPTER 2  

EDDY BACON

It’s night. A full moon is rising up over the ocean in the Marina. The sky is foggy.

A large house sits on top of a bluff overlooking the Marina. The house is mostly dark, but a faint light comes from one of the lower floor rooms.

Lynnette Parker is inside of the house. She is in her 30s. She has long brown hair pinned up tight into a bun. She wears a dark, loose-fitting dress over a lean but buxom body. She sits alone in the sunroom, drinking a glass of red wine and looking out the large window at the moon and the fog moving past it over the water. She narrows her eyelids and tightens her lips, her mind focusing on some inner thought.

The only light is a candle next to her on the wooden table top. A large ceiling fan rotates above her head, flickering shadows from the candlelight across the walls and across her body. Suddenly, the phone rings. She gets up from her chair and picks up the receiver.

I’m waiting for you, Eddy.

She sees the headlights of a car pulling into the driveway.

I’ll unlock your door.

She hangs up. The shadows of the rotating fan flicker across her face as the left corner of her tight lips turns up. She moves to the stereo and clicks on Lena Horne’s Stormy Weather.

Eddy Bacon is inside his car. He disconnects his phone and steers his car around a turn in the driveway that winds back into the dark.

Lynnette walks through the dark house, carrying the candle in a brass holder.

She gets to a window and pulls back a curtain in her hand. She looks out through the glass at the approaching car. Her face seems pleased, her eyes reflecting a smugness, like a person living out her own little secret. She lets go of the curtain and moves away from the window.

The glow of the candle burning in her hand is reflecting on her face. Her eyes are eager. She goes over and slowly undoes the locks on the door then walks off, leaving the candle on a table.

Eddy comes in through the door. He’s in his mid thirties, has dark brown hair that’s cut short. He is a large athletic looking man. The room is dark except for the light from the one candle. He stops, adjusting his eyes.

Lynnette goes up the spiral staircase, reaching up her hands and pulling the pin out of her hair. She glances down at Eddy watching her, and then she shakes her head and pulls back her long brown hair. She walks onto the second floor landing, and  then she heads down the hallway toward the large bedroom. 

Lynnette walks into the dark large master bedroom. She lights a match and then lights a single candle in a holder.

She unbuttons her dress and slowly takes it off, then stands in the middle of the room wearing a slip.

The candle flame casts a shadow of her body on the wall.

She turns around to hang up her dress, moving with a slow ease, and sees Eddy standing in the bedroom doorway watching her.

She hesitates a moment, and then her eyes begin to glow sexually, and her mouth curls up into a subtle, provocative smile.

He still stands in the door watching her. 

She continues undressing, dropping off her slip and stepping out of it, then easing down her hose.

Eddy Bacon still watches her from the doorway.

She turns away from him, again facing the closet, and lowers the straps of her bra from her shoulders down onto her arms. She reaches behind her and unsnaps the back strap of her bra, still holding the front of it close to her breasts.

She turns slowly back toward him and gives him a look and then she again turns her back to him. She eases away her bra from her breasts and drops it on the floor, still standing with her back to him.

He still stands watching her.

She slips a finger of each hand into the side of her panties and slowly slides them down a few inches, then a few inches more, and then she bends forward and slides them all the way down her legs, stepping out of them and leaving them on the floor near her bra.

Lynnette moves into the bathroom. A single candle burns by the basin and reflects in the mirror, as does the image of her nude body. She steps into the shower and then steps back from the water, rubbing the soap over her breasts, her stomach and her inner thighs.

The door to the shower is open, and Eddy Bacon still watches her from the bedroom.

She moves back under the water and rinses off the soap as the mirror steams over.

Lynnette walks out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Her body is damp from the shower. She lowers herself down to the bed, sitting on the sheet next to Eddy Bacon, who is lying face down with a towel around him.

She reaches out her hands and rubs his neck, and then she raises up her leg and sits astride him, rubbing his shoulders and back with her hands. She’s barely visible in the flickering shadows, her body subtly writhing as she utters a deep sound, a primal beckoning sound, teasing him.

She slowly twists away, rolls over to the side of the bed and reaches her hand under it, wanting to grab something she thinks is there. She pulls out her empty hand, her face worried. What she was reaching for isn’t there. Eddy laughs, eerily. 

Eddy Bacon holds up her small automatic pistol she was reaching for under the bed. He has a sardonic grin on his face, he now taunting her. He twists around and throws back his left hand to strike her but she ducks her head under his hand. He grabs her by the hair, throwing her to the floor next to a chair. His coat is hanging over the chair, and under his coat is his holstered  .38 revolver.

She reaches up under the coat, again grabbing for something, and this time her hand comes out with Eddy’s gun. She immediately aims it up at Eddy and his sardonic grin and fires, hitting him in the stomach.

He falls back, his eyes wide with surprise.

She springs up from the floor, looks down at him with her own sardonic grin and shoots him in the head.

She quickly puts back on all her clothes.

Lynnette Parker then looks down at Eddy Bacon’s body lying on the bed as a gust of winds blows outside the house through the trees. She takes her unfired small automatic pistol out of his dead hand and puts it in her dress pocket.

She takes the bedsheet and uses it to wipe off her fingerprints from the fired pistol, and then she puts his fingerprints on it and drops it on the bed next to his body.

She takes his wallet from his trousers, which are hanging over another chair, opens it and takes out all the cash. She takes his gold watch off his wrist. She takes his diamond ring off his right index finger. She goes out of the bedroom. 

________________________________

James Bridges is in his mid thirties and is lean and athletic looking with brown hair that is a little longer than Eddy’s. He pulls his car to the curb, along the street running along the top of the bluffs overlooking the Marina. The fog that earlier had been out on the ocean is now drifting up over the bluffs.

A few feet up the sidewalk from where Bridges gets out of his car, a group of men and women from the neighborhood stand looking over toward the water.

Bridges walks down the middle of the street, passing other groups that linger in yards.

A  black-and-white patrol car, red lights flashing , is parked  at the curb.

Bridges crosses a street and heads up toward the house, where the police have a barricade reinforced by three more black-and-whites with their red lights flashing in the fog. A police officer steps in front of Bridges, then recognizes him and eases his demeanor, nodding to him and gesturing up toward the house.

Tilton’s expecting you, Bridges, the officer said to Bridges.

Where is he?

He’s back in the house.

Thanks, officer.

It’s ugly stuff up there.

Worse than ugly, Bridges said.

The officer steps aside, and Bridges goes across the lawn up toward the house.

Uniformed Officers, some with flashlights, move about in the fog on the grounds around the house. Bridges walks up to the house, toward where two officers are kneeling by the entrance taking prints and searching for bits of evidence. He walks past them and goes into the house.

Bridges walks into the large master bedroom. He looks down. Directly below him lies Eddy Bacon’s body with its eyes open and looking straight up at Bridges. Detective Richard Tilton, a big plainclothes officer, comes up behind Bridges.

This is how we found Eddy, Bridges, Tilton said, without much emotion.

Bridges, arms folded across his chest, turns to Tilton, acknowledging him with a reserved but friendly nod.

Thanks for the call, Tilton.

Sure.

What do you know about it? Bridges asked.

A car responded to a report of shots fired.

When?

An hour before I called you.

Then?

Then the officers looked around the house, found an unlocked door and went in.

And?

They found Eddy here.

That’s it?

For now.

It’s not suicide, Bridges said. No powder tattooing on the gut shot.

I can see that easy enough, Tilton said with a frown.

I’m thinking out loud, Bridges said without looking at him."

What else are you thinking?

Did the neighbors hear anything else or see anybody leave?

Several people heard two shots from inside their homes then looked out their windows, but they all say they didn’t see anything.

So they say.

In a night like this, what would anybody see? Tilton asked

What else do you know?

His wallet is empty of cash. His gold Rolex he wears on his left wrist is gone. His diamond ring he wears on his right hand is gone.

Could be the killer wanted it to look like a robbery, Bridges said.

What do you know about it?

Not enough.

You know more than you’re telling me.

Not much, Bridges said.

You got to talk to me about it sometime, James.

I’d rather talk to you about it tomorrow.

Bridges looks down a final time at Eddy Bacon and at his open eyes that are looking back up at him. He then nods to Tilton,  turns away and walks out of the room.

––––––––

_______________________________

The Cove is a café  bar near the beach. The café is the back and the bar is in the front. It’s after hours, and The Cove is closed. A clock on the inside wall says 4:05 as Bridges switches on the light behind the bar.

He tosses his coat and scarf over the end of the mahogany bar counter and walks down behind it. He returns back to the end of the counter with a glass of ice and a bottle of water, and he comes around in front of it. He sets the glass on the bar next to the bottle, lowers himself onto the barstool in front of them and looks out the window at the fog drifting past the glass panes. 

________________________________

It’s a little before dawn. Fog is hanging over the water. Bridges is sitting on a deck chair of his sailboat, looking out at the water, his fingers working into a knot on a rope. He hears heavy footsteps of men on the wooden walkway. He sits back in his chair, nodding up at Tilton and a second large man, Lieutenant Perkins, walking up to him.

What are you and your boss doing out here this time of night, Tilton?

Looking for answers to our questions.

Why now?

Last night you said you wanted to wait to talk until tomorrow, Tilton said.

It’s now tomorrow, Perkins said, bluntly.

A pleasant Hour of the Wolf to you, Lieutenant, as a girl I know once said to me, Bridges said.

Perkins looks at him bluntly and takes a step forward. What’s that suppose to mean?

The hour before dawn when death stalks the Earth, demons are most powerful and the wolf  lurks outside the door, she told me. 

What? Tilton gives Bridges an odd look.

She said it’s an Ingmar Bergman movie, Bridges said.

Knock off the nonsense, Perkins said.

This is serious stuff, Tilton said.

So is Bergman, she also told me, Bridges said.

Tilton makes a gesture with his hand over toward land. You weren’t at your house, so we came over here.

Perkins makes a gesture with his hand around the boat. What kind of gun do you keep on the boat?

A .357 magnum, Colt, short barrel.

Perkins looks right at him. Fire it tonight?

It didn’t kill Eddy.

Tilton gives him an easy nod of the head. We know that.

Then why are you asking about my gun?

We got our reasons, Perkins said.

Such as?

Perkins keeps looking right at his eyes, looking for a flinch. You mind if I look at your gun?

You mind telling me what you want to look at it for?

Bridges stiffens and looks harder at Perkins. Tilton steps forward, forcing himself into a relaxed bearing. We came here looking for answers to a murder.

Then make your next question sensible.

Perkins looks hard at Bridges. We’ll decide what questions are sensible.

Bridges nods and eases up, and then he gestures down toward the cabin below. He heads down into the cabin. Perkins and then Tilton follow behind him.

Bridges turns on a light inside the sailboat cabin. He walks over to his desk and unlocks the top side drawer. He takes his short barrel Colt .357 Magnum out of the drawer. It’s in a saddle leather shoulder holster. He removes it from the holster and hands it to Perkins.

I had a long day yesterday, and I’ve got another long one coming up today, Bridges said.

We all do, Tilton said.

Perkins takes the gun out of the holster. He looks it over. He sniffs it to see if it’s recently been fired. He opens the cylinder and revolves it, looking at the front of the cartridges, seeing if any have been fired.

Tilton watches Bridges, who is watching Perkins.

Perkins closes the gun back up, puts it back in the holster and hands it back to Bridges. Bridges puts it back in the holster and back into the drawer. He locks the drawer. He then gestures back up to the deck.

The three of them come up on the deck. Bridges studies Perkins face, wanting to see what Perkins is thinking, then he steps away from Perkins. He turns his head to Tilton.

Ask your questions and get on your way so I can get on mine.

Perkins again looks hard at Bridges. I've told you Eddy’s friends would pull you into a mess.

That’s not a question, but Eddy’s friends were always his business.

This time they’re your business.

How come?

Because this time they pulled you into one hell of a mess.

I’m still waiting for the next question.

Lieutenant Perkins comes around the end of the boom, growling from deep in his chest, and moves in toward Bridges.

What did you do when you left Eddy’s house? Perkins asked him.

Nothing important.

What did you do?

I told you, nothing important.

I’ll decide if it’s important.

That’s what worries me.

Perkins again looks hard at Bridges and takes a step toward him. What did you do when you left Eddy’s house?

I went down the peninsula, along the edge of the ocean.

What did you do down there?

I listened to the surf, but it didn’t say anything I understood.

Then what?

Then I went to The Cove.

What did you do there?

I sat in the dark at the bar, thinking about Eddy.

Perkins takes a step back. Thinking what about him?

I was thinking about Eddy telling stories there, and everybody laughing with him.

Tilton nods to Bridges. I remember that.

Bridges nods back to Tilton. Eddy told good stories.

Tilton nods again. Yeah, he did.

Bridges gives a wistful smile. People liked listening to them.

Sure, Tilton said.

He’d build up a head of steam and really get rolling with the BS.

Yeah, he would, Tilton nodded.

Sometimes he’d even get me believing his BS was true, Bridges said.

He was good that way.

It was fun times listening to Eddy’s stories.

Yeah, it was, Tilton said, with a nod of agreement.

I liked thinking back on it.

Lieutenant Perkins glares at Bridges, and then he moves back around the main sail toward him. Knock it off. This isn’t a wake. It’s a murder investigation.

It’s a hard night, Lieutenant, Bridges said, a note of protest in his voice.

If you don’t want to give me answers to my questions about the murder, that’s your business, for now, Perkins said.

I’m answering your questions.

You told Tilton you’re holding back what you know.

I told him,  I’m not holding back much.

Perkins glares at Bridges. I’m tired of listening to your nonsense.

I couldn’t care less.

Perkins takes a step back but still looks directly at Bridges eyes, studying him. I’m leaving now.

About time.

But if I don’t get my answers somewhere, I’ll be back, and then I may put you behind bars until you give them to me.

A judge will laugh you out of court.

Perkins gives Bridges a hard look then shakes his head, and he, followed a second later by Tilton, turns and  walks off the boat.

––––––––

________________________________

It’s early morning and fog still lingers around the water.

Bridges walks along the sidewalk up to a  two story house along the sand of the Marina Peninsula beach.

The interior of the beach house is dark. Bridges comes in through a rectangle of daylight from the opening door, and then he closes it, again darkening the interior. He hears footsteps coming down the stairs from the second floor.

Good morning, Jenny, Bridges said, his eyes studying her.

Jenny Everhart stands at the bottom of the stairs looking up at him. Her long black hair hangs down to her shoulders. Her body is full, shapely not heavy. She is wearing black sunglasses and a black robe. She turns, retreating back to a room in the rear of the house.

Bridges follows Jenny to a rear room of the beach house. She steps up to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He steps back.

Did you get much sleep last night? Bridges asked, still studying her as she responds with a slight shake of her head.

No, none at all.

You need to get sleep.

Jenny takes off her sunglasses without breaking focus with his eyes. Her right hand come up to her heart, the fingers pressing against her black robe. Her breathing is fast enough for Bridges to notice it. Her teeth bite down on her lower lip.

I need to get more than sleep.

Meaning what?

Meaning I need to get answers, Jenny said.

Answers to what?

She studies Bridges’ face. Do you know who killed Eddy?

No, Bridges said.

Do you know why he was killed?

No.

Jenny makes a small gesture with her hand to him. You must have some idea.

Why would I?

You knew him as well as anyone did, Jenny said.

I don’t know anything about his killing.

Jenny covers her eyes and sighs softly into her hands, and then she lifts her eyes up to him. I think you know who killed him and why, and I think you don’t want to tell me.

You don’t want to go out today, Jenny, not the way you feel.

You’d tell me if they wanted to kill me too, wouldn’t you?

He takes her arm and walks her to the stairs leading up to the second floor, then he points up to the upstairs.

Get some rest, Jenny.

Jenny hugs him, then disappears up the stairs.

________________________________

––––––––

It’s still morning. Linda is waxing the wooden steering wheel on the sailboat. Her tan radiates under coconut oil, but she’s in a grim mood.

Bridges comes walking down the pier and steps onto the boat.

Linda puts down the wax and the polishing rag and nods to him. Her eyes are cautious as they greet him. He nods back to her and heads below deck. 

Bridges is in the cabin below deck. He rustles through some papers on his desk, like he’s looking for something in particular but isn’t finding it. He gives up on that. He leans back against the desk and looks with an emotionless face at a picture on the wall of Eddy, Jenny and Bridges at the bar in The Cove.

Linda comes down the steps and enters the cabin. Her movements become uncertain when she sees Bridges looking at the picture, and her voice is cautious and sympathetic.

OK to come in? Linda asked.

Bridges doesn’t say anything and doesn’t move his eyes from the picture. Linda hesitates then comes up next to him.

I was just over to see Eddy’s fiancé, Bridges said.

How’s she taking it?

Bad.

What do you mean by bad?

Her mind is fraying at the edges.

Fraying how?

She thinks I know who killed Eddy and why he was killed, and she thinks I don’t want to tell her.

Is she right about that?

No, not about any of it.

Why would she think that?

Bridges doesn’t answer at first, then just shrugs. Who knows?

Linda ponders a moment and then nods. She seems to be refraining from saying something but then she nods and says it anyway.

Jenny could think like that, all right, Linda said, with a sharp nod.

Why?

She lives in a fantasy world, one tinged with paranoia.

Meaning? Bridges asked.

She’s at the center, and everybody else orbits around her.

How so?

Everyone else’s actions are because of her or for her or against her, Linda said, with another sharp nod.

Hmmm.

Yes, Jenny could think you know who killed Eddy but you won’t tell her just to torment her. Likely does.

Linda straightens up the rustled sheets of paper on his desk. Bridges still stands looking at the picture.

Lieutenant Perkins thinks I’m out to kill someone, Bridges said.

Really?

Yes.

Kill who?

The person who killed Eddy.

Are you? Linda asked.

I never gave it a thought.

Jenny could have killed Eddy.

You’re not serious? Bridges asked.

It’s possible.

Why do you figure that?

Because I don’t like her, Linda said.

That’s no reason.

She’s not what you think she is.

What do you think she is? Bridges asked.

She wears a mask around you and acts in a way she knows you think she should act, even though it’s contrived and manipulative, and you seem too fooled by her to see what’s underneath the mask.

Anything else?

I’m not fooled by her mask, Linda said.

I don’t see a killer under it.

You might not, but I do.

Bridges frowns, dismissing the idea with a shake of his head and a flick of his hand. He opens the center drawer and spots a piece of paper with a name and address written on it and takes it out. This is what he was looking for when he rustled through the papers on the top of his desk.

He then opens a lower drawer and takes out a thin lock-opening tool.

I’m going to go talk to somebody who might know who did kill Eddy, maybe to more than one somebody who might know, Bridges said.

He nods to her, gets up and heads up toward the deck.

Bridges, up on the deck, looks over at the knotted up rope, then looks back at Linda who’s coming up from below and is behind him. She comes around in front of him and looks straight into his eyes,