The Door Into Summer
Chapter 23Stu and Jeff drove back to the office and turned their cars over to Jimmy Jacks to park, pulling Kookie into Dino's with them and heading for the purported Bailey and Spencer booth in the rear of the restaurant. "This must really be serious," Kookie remarked as Stu did the ordering for them.
"It is," Jeff assured him while they waited for their drinks.
Mike brought three glasses over – two scotch rocks and one scotch and soda. "Do you want to order, gentlemen?" Mike asked, and winked at Kookie.
"Yes, Mike. Bring us the shrimp appetizer, three large chef's salads, and some dinner rolls. One salad gets Ranch Dressing, one gets the same but on the side, and the third gets . . . Kookie?"
"Thousand Island."
"And another round of drinks, Mike," Jeff added.
Once Mike left to put in their order, Kookie asked, "Really, dad? You're gonna feed me grass?"
"It's good for you, Kookie. Besides, you haven't seen the size of the shrimp appetizer. Ask Jeff."
Jeff nodded, too busy working on his scotch to stop and talk. When the appetizer came Kookie just about fell over.
"See? A man could die trying to eat this." Stuart saw the look on Kookie's face and laughed. "Now do you know why I ordered the salads?"
"Cool, dad. I got ya."
"Look, we've still got two problems – Rachel and Daggett. And we don't know where either of them is," Jeff reminded the other two men in the booth.
"Or, if Gil's right, we have one problem. The two of them together," Stu extrapolated. "Could Rachel have seen you when you went back to the motel?"
Kookie thought for a moment. "Yeah."
"Well, that doors closed. She probably saw me, too. The only one she hasn't seen is Stu," Jeff chuckled for a moment, then got serious again.
"That doesn't do us any good. I'm much too mature to scour the beaches in a bathing suit." Stu wasn't about to say he thought he was too old.
"I agree. But where does that leave us?" the carhop asked.
Stuart did his best to ignore Kookie's implied agreement that he was too old. He and Jeff sat for a moment, looking at each other, trying to find the piece that they were missing. While they were waiting for the answer to come to them Mike delivered the second round of drink and their salads.
"Roscoe!" Stu and Jeff shouted at the same moment. Fortunately, it was so loud in Dino's that no one else could hear them. Kookie just stared at them like they were crazy.
"Roscoe? On the beach?"
"No," Jeff shook his head. "We send Roscoe out to see if he can find any trace of Daggett."
"Roscoe's good at finding rats that crawl away to hide," Stu added.
"You've got to know where to look and who to send to do the looking. Roscoe knows a lot of the ne'er-do-wells. And if he doesn't know them, he knows how to find them," Jeff finished explaining.
"Look, let's finish eating and we can go back to the office and call Roscoe. The sooner we get this started the sooner we'll see what he can turn up. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky."
Fifteen minutes later the three men were back in Stu's office, listening to Roscoe's phone ring on the speakerphone. There was no answer. "Probably went to the track," Jeff speculated.
"There's one other place he could be. Joey's Bar. Kookie, do you know where that is?"
"Joey's? Sure, dad. It's beatsville. Should I bring him back to the cave?"
Stu looked at Jeff, perplexed. "He's speaking in a foreign language again."
"Just go, Kookie, find him and bring him back here." At least Jeff understood enough to translate.
It was long past quitting time when Kookie and Roscoe slipped in the side door. Or rather, Roscoe was pushed in the side door by Kookie. "Alright, alright. Shoving is not necessary, Mr. . . . What is your last name, anyway?"
"Kookson. Gerald Lloyd Kookson, the third."
Roscoe shook his head. "No wonder they call you Kookie."
"Enough, Roscoe. Thanks, Kookie. You did an excellent job. See you tomorrow."
Kookie nodded and left via the door he'd just come in. Stuart turned his full attention to Roscoe. "What's gotten into you?"
"I was playing poker at Joey's and winning, actually winning. Of course, I didn't want to be interrupted. But now that I'm here . . . "
"I need you to find Tony Daggett for me."
Roscoe blinked twice and gawked at Stu as if he'd grown another head. "The same Daggett that tried to kill you, twice?"
Stuart nodded as he lit his pipe. "That would be the one."
"You gonna give him a third shot?" Roscoe asked facetiously.
"NO, Roscoe, but I still need you to find him for me. He could have a blond teenager with him."
"This one's gonna cost you, boss." Stu held up a twenty dollar bill. "Two of those, at least. Maybe three."
Stuart peeled off two more twenty's and handed the money to Roscoe. "Go in peace; your way in which you are going has the Lord's approval."
"Huh?"
"Judges 18:6. Go before I make you go in pieces," Stu answered.
"Yes, boss." Roscoe scooted out the door, and Stu chuckled.
XXXXXXXX
A day passed, then two, and nothing was heard from Roscoe. On the afternoon on the third day he was was finally located in the reception area sweet-talking 'Frenchy.'
"Roscoe," Stuart called. No response. "Roscoe," he called a little louder. Still no response.
Jeff walked into Stu's office and yelled, "ROSCOE!" The aforementioned man came running in.
"Jeez, you don't have to shout!" he protested.
"Evidently, we do," Stu informed him quietly. "Where have you been for three days?"
"I been everywhere, boss, all over Los Angeles. Every dive and dump that criminal could possibly be hangin' out in, I been there. No trace of him. Nobody's seen him or heard from him or has any kind of a clue where he might be."
"And Orange County?" Jeff asked.
"Well, no. I need transportation to get down there, and I don't have any."
Jeff walked over to the side door and opened it. "Kookie, can you come in here a minute?" Once Kookie was inside, Jeff asked his question. "Can you help us out the next couple of days?"
"Sure, dad, whatta you need?"
"I need you to play chauffeur to Roscoe. Take him to all the bars in Orange County to see if he can stir up any trace of Daggett."
"Your car, dad?"
"Take the T-bird," Stu answered.
"Oh no," Jeff protested. "That's brand new. Take my car. I don't have anything going until Friday."
"I need money, Jeff." Roscoe held out his hand.
"Broke already?" Stu questioned.
"Tracking down Daggett ain't cheap, boss. If you want me to find him . . . "
"Here," Jeff peeled off two twenty's.
"Just in case," Stu added, as he produced another twenty.
"First thing tomorrow morning?" Roscoe asked Kookie.
"How early is first thing?"
"Nine."
The carhop nodded. "I can dig that. Here at the cave?"
"No, come get me at my place. I'll be ready."
"Got it. Nine o'clock."
"And don't be early," Roscoe chided.
"Isn't that don't be late?" Stu asked innocently.
"Not in Roscoe's case, dad. He means don't be early."
"Both of you, go," Jeff instructed. "And don't come back until you have some information."
As the side door closed, Stu shot a look at his partner. "You realize we may never see them again?"
"I've thought of that. If they don't come back in three days I'll call the police and report the car stolen."
"Brilliant, Watson."
Jeff grinned. "Thank you, Holmes."
XXXXXXXX
Once again Tony was distracted and out of sorts. It also seemed like he was planning something. The only thing good about that . . . he was willing to take Rachel to one or another of the local beaches every day. Doheny, Crystal Cove, Corona Del Mar, San Clemente. And he made sure she had plenty of money. Either he was independently wealthy, or he was doing something illegal with his time. Whichever it was, she had no desire to know. She often wondered if she would see Kookie on the sand, but try as she might she never spotted the man that had been her golden suntanned god. Until she found out he was a private investigator.
One morning Daggett told her he would be occupied all day, and when he retrieved her he smelled like gunpowder. It was a smell she'd come to know too well.
"Where do you go all day, Tony?" she asked innocently one morning.
"I have business to conduct, Rachel."
"What kind of business?" she continued, pushing him just a little.
"The profitable kind." With that remark he shut her up completely, and the everyday disappearing act came to an end. Once or twice she noticed him looking at her; the kind of look that sent chills up her spine. She lived in fear that one day he would force her to do something she didn't want to do. At least not with him. Little did she know that was just what he had planned. But his need to use her was not at all what she expected, imagined or feared.