Life's a beach
Chapter 12
It was late afternoon and Connie was driving west on Highway 10 heading towards Malibu, while at the same time listening to Mike.
"I let Paige down this afternoon, didn't I?' Mike asked, in connection to Bennett's successful cross earlier that afternoon. He was looking at her from the passenger side of Connie's Mustang.
"No, " stated Connie firmly, "Both you and Paige did your best."
But Mike was not convinced.
"I could not believe how quickly the case fell apart," Mike voiced, "Damn! I should have been smarter, better prepared!"
He shook his head, disgusted with himself, as Connie exited her car off the freeway.
"Mike, it happens," Connie pointed out, as she continued driving, "Let's just hope that ridiculous story Bennett pulled out of thin air won't fly with the jurors."
"Not jurors, Connie, juror...he just has to convince one of them of reasonable doubt!" Mike stated the obvious, "and if he does, those privileged defilers will walk!"
"I admit, we may have underestimated Bennett due to his smugness," Connie stated, "but the case is not over yet. Hopefully, we'll find some answers when we get to the beach house."
Mike and Connie were on their way to interview Larry Cantrell, the third roommate of the two defendants, to see if they could solve the mystery of the two names, Jesse and Phoenix.
A welcoming blue/green sign posted on the side of the road read, "Malibu: 27 miles of scenic beauty".
They had arrived.
Famous for warm, sandy beaches and for being the home of many Hollywood celebrities, the tiny community of Malibu was nestled alongside prime Pacific coastline.
The aforementioned house on the beach that the two defendants and Larry Cantrell shared was more like a spacious mansion overlooking the Pacific.
Larry Cantrell answered the door and did not look pleased to see them. With his mousy wavy hair and black-framed glasses, he looked more like an accountant, unlike his two other more charismatic, attractive roommates.
As Mike and Connie entered, they were impressed by the architectural structure of the home. It was designed with a breathtaking full view of the ocean from any room, any window.
Although the house itself was brilliantly designed with its tri-level panoramic views, the flawless interior design contrasted sharply with the living style idiosyncrasies of three single bachelors. The place was strewn with food boxes, beer cans, various sweat clothes, and shoes. A bike leaned against an elaborate abalone-inlaid wall.
An expensive oak bookshelf embedded inside one wall contained not the great works of Shakespreare, but DVD movies of zombies, super comic heroes, and even some porn. There was a special shelf displaying various video games and equipment.
Cantrell did not bother to offer them refreshments or even to sit, so Mike and Connie had to stand as they identified themselves.
"I really don't know how I can be of any help," Cantrell stated evenly.
"Do the names Jesse and Phoenix mean anything to you?" Mike asked.
Cantrell looked inconvenienced, "I already went over this with the detectives. No, those names mean nothing to me, nothing at all ... should they?"
"Those names obviously meant something to your roommates," pointed out Connie, "surely they had mentioned those names to you before, Mr. Cantrell? After all, you do see them on a daily basis."
"Actually we really don't hang out together. I merely split the rent with them. They lead their lives, I lead mine," Cantrell explained.
"Was there anyone at the house party that night Paige was there named Jesse or Phoenix?" asked Connie.
"You mean, did I invite two guys with those two names to the party? No I did not." Cantrell replied with certainty.
"Then tell us this, Mr. Cantrell, " Mike asked civilly, "what do you remember from that night of the alleged attack regarding Paige Regan?"
Cantrell shrugged, "Like I told the detectives, I was drunk, I don't recall a thing."
"How about," suggested Connie, "do you recall anything Miss Regan said or did after-"
But Cantrell was insistently shaking his head back and forth.
"I. Don't. Remember..."
He folded his arms. Larry Cantrell had clammed up and Mike and Connie could see they were getting nowhere.
Cantrell was done talking, obviously wanting Mike and Connie to leave.
Mike heaved a sigh of frustration.
"Alright then...thank you for your uncooperation," he remarked acerbically.
Cantrell had been obstinate; now he decided to be obnoxious as well.
"Actually, I hate to see you drive all the way out here for nothing, " Cantrell flippantly remarked, "So I'll do you a favor. You two can leave via my back door, which leads to the beach outside. Feel free to appreciate it, courtesy of me. "
Cantrell's tone had a sarcastic bite to it, and Mike didn't like it.
"You know what you can do with your suggestion?..." began Mike, until he felt Connie's light touch on his arm.
"...Why, thank you for the invitation, Mr. Cantrell!" inserted Connie sardonically, "Don't mind if we take you up on your offer! Now if you'll be kind enough to point the way to the back..."
That wiped the stupid, self-satisfied grin from Cantrell's face.
"Fine," he stated coldly to them, "Suit yourselves. This way."
They walked towards the back of the house.
Once the two prosecutors stepped outside, Mike turned back around to face Cantrell, who was standing just inside the opened doorway.
"By the way," asked Mike, "I've noticed you have not been to court at all to support your two roommates. Any particular reason for that?"
Cantrell gave Mike a hard stare.
"Then he slammed the door in their faces.
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The backyard of the elaborate house did indeed lead to a secluded beach area. Due to the bright sunlight, Mike and Connie slipped on their sunglasses as they began their trek down to the beach.
"Well, that was certainly a waste of time!" snapped Mike, as they reached the stoned steps.
The sounds of the ocean waves could already be heard.
They had to go down a rickety twisted stairway that led down to the beach. Following the winding wooden handrails, they descended the stairs and before long, stepped onto the soft surface of the sandy beach.
Connie thought it had been a stressful afternoon; starting with Bennett's ruthless cross examination, Mike's dissatisfaction, and ending with Cantrell's unresponsiveness.
A large shadow of frustration also crossed his face.
"Cantrell's lying about not knowing the names Jesse and Phoenix, I'm sure of it!" Mike stated.
"I agree," Connie concurred, "but did we really expect him to help us?"
Mike looked back towards the luxurious residence they had just left.
"I suppose not... " he said, "nevertheless, I have a feeling part of the answer regarding those names lies back there at that house! Damn! I just thought once I got in there, the clue would just pop up right in front of my face!"
Mike's emotions were strung high, still reeling from the earlier courtroom testimony. Connie knew to be patient. She had seen him like this before and knew the best way to handle it was to slowly ease him out of his mood.
Meanwhile he paused slightly and bent down to pick up a pebble. Whipping his arm, he flung it as far as the air could carry it out towards the water. They saw the pebble land on the sand before the ocean tides rushed in to carry it back home.
"Are you lashing your frustrations out on that tiny pebble?" questioned Connie, hoping to take his mind off of his worries, if even for a second.
"It's just…I should have done more!" Mike said it more to himself, "Instead, Bennett scored big in court today."
"Mike, it doesn't help to huff and puff to blow the house down. " advised Connie, "Knowing what you know now, what would you have done differently? When we get back to the office, we'll strategize our next move…we have all the clues, we just don't have the answer—yet."
When Mike looked over at her, his annoyance with the case slowly began to ebb with each step he took. He realized she was right. There was nothing they could do until they got back to the office.
So instead he looked around to take in the tranquility of the beach.
The shimmering expanse of the sand spread out in an endless golden color, cushioning the ocean's eternal arrival. He took a moment to feel the California sun beaming down its soft rays everywhere.
And then, of course, there was the awareness of being here alone with Connie.
At that thought, Mike's body began to feel even warmer as his heart began to thump in a mad rhythm. Mike wondered why Connie's mere presence was sometimes enough to ignite such a smoldering heat in him, why he had such a palpable reaction every time she was near him.
He looked off in the distance to settle his reactions before he could speak to her.
"You're right, Connie, it's not over yet,"admitted Mike, "but the defense hammering Paige Regan on the stand makes me more determined than ever to annihilate Bennett in court!"
"Really, Mike," teased Connie, "Hammering? Annihilate? Is that how you should be talking on a lovely day like today?"
A soft breeze gently blew against their clothing as they strolled. The salt-filled air wafted their senses, along with the ocean waters that continually crashed upon the shore.
Connie's right, he thought to himself, how could he be in a foul mood when Mother Nature was at her splendor best?
"Okay," determined Mike, "no more talk of today's court proceedings or our unsuccessful talk with Cantrell until we get back to the office."
"The best decision you've made all day!" agreed Connie, "After all, we don't always need to be doing or discussing something, sometimes it just nice being!"
From a distance they heard the lonely squawking sounds of seagulls, and the powerful roars from the ocean. Waves upon waves combined into foamy crests before they came tumbling onto the sand, and then back into the blue waters once again.
They walked in silence for awhile as they absorbed their surroundings. Time seemed to standstill as worries faded into the blue horizon.
"This is nice," remarked Mike at last. He turned and stared intently at her, "and I was wrong to call this a waste of time."
He wondered what she was thinking, but she stared straight ahead.
Inside Connie's heart was pounding, but outside her expression was placid.
"LA certainly has lovely beaches, don't they?" she asked.
It wasn't lost on Mike that she was trying to keep the conversation neutral, imperosnal. Mike was reminded of his own promise that he didn't become personal with co-workers.
They continued walking down the sandy beach that seemed to stretch for miles as the sun had started to make its descent, signalling the end of another day.
At one point when Connie glanced discreetly at Mike, she did a double take. He had turned just in time to see her regarding him with a smile lurking at one corner of her mouth.
"What?" he asked, "Do I have something on my face? Did I have some leftover taco splattered on my face the entire time I was in court? Because that would so explained the Judge overruling all of my objections!"
Connie's smile became wider.
"No, it's just that…I've never seen you with dark sunglasses on…and along with your suit, you look like an FBI agent, or perhaps, someone who should be guarding the President of the United States!"
"Really, now?" Mike asked, lightly, "Well, we can't have that!"
Connie watched as Mike took off his sunglasses and then placed them on top of his head. For some reason, she found that she was enjoying this "California Mike" look...casual with the sunglasses atop his ocean- blown hair, yet still looking office-smart with his professional attire as he continued to plod through the sand.
"How's that?" he asked, the deep blues of his eyes now easily showing, as he pointed to the shades on his head. He then added a playful smile at Connie.
"Better," Connie laughed at his efforts, "You now look like a lawyer...a lawyer who will eventually triumph against all odds, so that justice will prevail!"
She always knew how to make him feel better. He suddenly stopped in his tracks, forcing Connie to also halt her steps.
"Mike, what is it?" she asked.
He held her in steady regard as his blue eyes gleamed with heat and intensity.
He tried, oh he tried to keep their working relationship amiable, but instead, every time he was near her, he became bothered and disconcerted by her presence, especially when she was being accepting of him.
Like now. And it's time he told her his appreciation of her.
Meanwhile the beach continued on its ceaseless wonders as the cool breeze touched their warmed bodies. Beneath their shoes, the soft sand glistened as it absorbed the remaining warmth of the sun's heat .
"Connie, I don't say this enough," his voice was low, "but thank you. Thank you for everything you have done for me regarding this case."
"Mike," responded Connie, a wash of color on her cheeks, "all I've done is to be here for you."
"But...that's all I've ever needed from you."
He then took one step closer to her.
His face was so close to hers as they stood face to face. Connie felt she was drowning in the blues of his eyes. She felt her heart thump against the cage of her ribs in impatient blows.
Mike's hand unexpectedly reached up and touched the side of her face, his fingers curving over her cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.
The gentle touch sent Connie's pulse racing.
"Mike, what ...what are you doing?" Connie questioned, although she didn't discourage him, she didn't pull away. Her entire body seemed aroused in response to him.
"I don't know," he raspily answered.
From somewhere in the distance, they heard the rushing of the waters crashing up on the shore before retreating away in repetitive powerful rhythms.
Like the way their hearts were beating now.
Connie's hand reached up on its own accord and also gently felt Mike's cheek, her shimmering eyes never leaving his. She enjoyed the sensation of feeling his shaven skin.
Their captivation of one another seemed to obliterate any rational hesitations they might have had earlier.
Sensations rushed throughout both their bodies, spurring their pulses to an even faster, wilder pace. Desire swirled deep inside each of them.
Both knew what would happened next.
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