DIRTBAG CHAPTER 30

    It was so unusual, Cecil never saw one before; he had to readjust his vision and peer again just to be sure.  Even with his bad eyes he could tell it was a drone, a small unmanned aircraft flying maybe 100 feet over his head, making a high-pitched noise, approximately 3 to 5 feet long.  “Military,” he thought; there was a navel base nearby in El Granada, near a coast side airport.  Continuing his hike in the hills north of Half Moon Bay, Cecil was bothered by the drone.  Hearing about these things on the news more and more, Cecil didn’t like them flying over head.  They were an invasion of privacy, or worse, in his opinion.
    He drove into town and went into a carpenter shop on Main Street and talked with someone who confirmed they did do some work for Victor Weiss on his house in Half Moon Bay, but they were sworn to secrecy as to say what that work entailed.  It was written into the contract and there was no way around that.  Other than that, they would say nothing, however Cecil was able to find someone who would talk with him, a former disgruntled employee, Weiss’s severed servant.
    The man had long hair now and he lived on a boat he kept in the harbor.
    Keeping an eye out, to make sure he wasn’t being followed, Cecil boarded the small vessel, rocking gently in the water.  He saw the long hair drinking a beer, watching a game on his portable TV, when Cecil knocked gently on his cabin door.
    Unwilling, or reluctant to speak, the long hair finally got up out of his recliner, turned up the television, looking around, as if predators were everywhere.  He got real close to Cecil and said, “What I have to say here, I have to know it isn’t going to come back on me.”
    “This is just between you and I for now, later maybe you’ll be called to testify.”  Cecil spoke real load and the former servant told him “to keep it down, the place may be bugged.”
    Lowering his voice, Cecil went, “No one has to know I’m here.”
    The answer satisfied him and he wanted people to know, he was unfairly fired.
    “Victor-”
    “Weiss?”  Cecil asked.
    “He prefers Victor.  He has an upstairs study.  The room has a window and a door.  That’s it; I left him alone in that room with the door closed and walked down the hall, then remembered something and returned.  If Victor came through that door, I would have noticed him, but no body came or went through that door.  I knocked and when he didn’t answer, out of concern for his safety, I went in.  The door was unlocked and everything was as it was before, with one exception: Victor was absent.  Later, I told him he gave me real cause for concern.  I was afraid someone abducted him through the window and I peered outside for any sign of foul play, but of course, there was none, nothing to indicate what happened to him.  When I told him what I observed, right there, on the spot, he fired me.  You believe that?”
    Cecil nodded and wanted to know if there was anything else.  In fact, there was: a business card, that had an orange triangle inside a blue circle, no name, just a web address.  “Don’t bother trying to find it,” he said, “it’s defunct.  I found that card in Weiss’s study trash.  I don’t know what it means, but it’s something.”
    Cecil took the card to the lab, had Conner analyze it and he found a name and address for a taxidermist, who worked out of a shop on a back street in Half Moon Bay.  A small man, around fifty was also sworn to secrecy, although he didn’t know why, from what he was told, he said, “It seemed harmless enough, but I can’t talk about it,” he said, “but yes, I did do some work for Weiss.”  Then he added as an afterthought, “When you think about it, it was kind of creepy.”  And this was a taxidermist talking.

    The next morning, Cecil was back in Half Moon Bay at the sheriff’s station.  The pudgy man in uniform was glad to see Cecil as he shook his hand on his way out the door.  “You arrived just in time,” he said, “I’m on my way out there now to interview Weiss.  Come on, we’ll take my car.”
    The electric gates opened wide to let his patrol car through.  A servant guided him and the detective to a waiting room, with a high ceiling and chairs lined up against the walls.  They sat together, as the portraits of people stared down at them.  Cecil faced the carpet and waited patiently, when another servant opened a door on the other side of the room and asked them to come in.  A lavish room with many couches and curtains drawn across a massive picture window.
    Cecil noticed the armaments on the walls, the shields, the swords and the hatchet, ancient weapons Cecil didn’t recognize with chains and wooden handles and spikes on iron balls and pointed them out to the sheriff.
    Then Weiss appeared before them, majestically sliding the double doors apart.
    “Gentleman,” he bellowed and shook their hands, “Cecil, what a pleasant surprise.”  He bowed his head slightly and said, “Sheriff Radcliffe, I understand you have a few questions for me.”
    Radcliffe showed Weiss a picture, “Does this man look familiar to you?”
    The billionaire suspect looked at the picture and said, “No, who is he?”
    “We think he may be responsible for the murder of your colleague.”  Radcliffe said.
    “Please, have a seat.”  Weiss gestured toward two seats.  They sat down in chairs with straight backs, that were uncomfortable, while the billionaire languished in a cushy dream seat.  “I’m seeing you against my lawyers advise.”   He chuckled and tried to put them at ease, “Cecil, I knew your father, he was a friend of mine.”
    “Really?”  Cecil was surprised.  “He never mentioned it.”
    “We were both Freemasons and he was sworn to secrecy to preserve the order.”
    Cecil opened a note book on his lap and read a page.
    “I hope you don’t take any offense…”  Weiss said to him.
    “Excuse me.”
    “Offense, we didn’t let you in.”  He said, completing his own thought.
    “Oh,” Cecil forgot he was rejected by the Masonic lodge, “oh, think nothing of it,”  he said, before going on, “I assume your organization is affiliated with the Grand lodge…”
    “Actually, our lodge is not affiliated with main stream Masonic practice.  You might say our organization is an offshoot of the Masons.  We inherit many of our… practices from them, but we diverge from… them in many respects.”  His ponderous look was disarming.
    “In what respects?”
    Weiss laughed.  “Your father asked a lot of questions too.  I guess that’s what makes you a good policeman.”
    For Cecil, it was time to get down to business.  “Would you mind telling me your affiliation with the Junk Yard Dogs?”
    Looking at him quizzically, Weiss smiled as if this was some kind of joke.  “The who?”
    “A motorcycle gang seen going onto your property, where you have a meeting hall here in Half Moon Bay?”
    He took a long moment to consider his answer, then said, “I don’t know anything about a motorcycle gang.”
    “So you’re saying a group of motor cyclists never entered your property here in Half Moon Bay?”
    “Not that I’m aware of, but I’m not always at that location with the meeting hall.  I allow certain individuals and groups to be there. on occasion…”
    “I want a list of those groups and there names.”
    “I’ll talk to my lawyers.”  Weiss was drawing a line in the sand, so far as this interrogation went.
    Holding back the anger, Cecil asked, “Where were you on the night of my abduction and the murder of Todd Jacobs?”
    “I’ve answered this question before.  Several people can testify I was on my island in the South Pacific resting at that time.”
    “People who aren’t being paid by you?”  That was a rhetorical question.
    The sheriff indicated he checked into that with a nod, but Cecil wasn’t convinced, “You could of had Todd Jacobs killed…”
    “I loved Todd Jacobs.  He was a sacred brother and I had nothing to do with his demise.”
    Cecil checked his notes.  “Did Todd Jacobs stand in your way of becoming Worshipful Master?”
    Taken aback, Weiss stared at Cecil in surprise.  Where did he hear Jacobs stood in his way to obtaining power?  “Todd was going to vote me in before his death, so where ever you heard that, you’ve been misinformed.”  He narrowed his eyes hatefully on Cecil, who went on to his next question.
    “What do you need a taxidermist for?”
    The question caught him off guard.  He asked to hear it again.
    “It has come to my attention you did some work for a taxidermist,” Cecil said, “and the taxidermist confirms that he did.”
    It took him a moment to think.  What, no ready answer?
    The detective waited.  The sheriff looked on in interest.
    Weiss put on a smile and said, “This-”
    “The taxidermist said, the work he did for you was ‘creepy,’ ” Cecil interrupted.
    “I’m afraid I can’t comment on that.”
    “I’m not a news reporter.  The DA can compel you to answer.  One more question.     Are there any hidden rooms in this house, say in the study upstairs?”
    “No,” Weiss answered cheerfully, “care to look?”

    On their way to the upstairs study, they passed a room with a pool table and video games, a bar and living room with a lavish couch, tables and chairs and a pool outside lighted patio, a mini movie theater in an adjacent large room.  There were small rooms, rooms lined with shelves, full of  lots of things, Indian head dress, skulls, prehistoric bones, paintings from antiquity, “Valued at” enormous sums, “and over here on this pedestal we have” a Rodin head piece and paintings by Rembrandt and a drawing by Di Vinche.  They passed ornate bedrooms and lavish bathrooms, finally, in an upstairs room, Weiss had an office with a desk and behind it: a picture window, with a scenic view.  On his desk: a Masonic Tamper and meerschaum pipe and a Master Gavel, shaped like a sledge hammer except the top looked like a peaked roof.  On one of the shelves he actually had a human skull.  Weiss stood in the doorway, while Cecil gave the area a cursory inspection.
    When it was time to go, the detective thanked him and shook hands.

    If his study had a secret room, Cecil didn’t see any way to access it, yet there had to be a hidden passage way.  How else was he to vanish unnoticed.  Perhaps he floated through the wall and ascended up to heaven, but Cecil didn’t think so.  He thought Weiss was full of you know what and hardly uttered a truthful word.
    The sheriff seemed to be coming around to his point of view.  “Yeah, he’s hiding something all right.”  He said.

        By the end of that week, Carlos was packing his bag, and Woodman was laying on his bed, facing another long weekend in this dump.
    “They say I have to go through the whole program again, if I want to be certified.”
    Carlos sympathized, but there was not much he could say to help his partner.  They chose different paths when they came to this institution, and Carlos stayed away from drugs.  He felt like he was on the right path for his own sake and his family’s sake.  “you could have chosen not to use drugs.”
    “So the councilor is going to have your baby?”  Woodman chuckled.
    Carlos had his bag packed, “At least I’m out of here.”
    “Love to see your wife’s reaction to the news: she’ll love you having another woman’s child.  ‘Oh, honey, isn’t that wonderful?’ ”  He mocked him, imitating her. 
    “Shut up.”  Carlos was clearly irritated.
    “What is the councilor going to tell the clinic she works for here?”
    “Obviously, she’s not telling them I’m the father.”
    “Are you sure you are the father?”
    Exasperated, Carlos had enough and picked up his bag to go.
    Woodman was thinking about getting a message to an old coke fiend whore he knew named Serena. “Hey, can you talk to Serena for me?”
    Carlos looked at him in disdain, like you’ll never learn.  “You can talk to her yourself.  Her contact information is on the bathroom wall.”
    Woodman laughed.  “Soon as I get out of here I’m gonna fuck your mother and your sister too.”
    “If you get out of here,” Carlos said, averting his words, as he left.



 Copyright 2016  William Leslie