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“The STONED PRIVATE EYE” – 1970’s Noir Thriller Tonight’s 1976 Episode: “Narcs”

August 5, 2019 00individual Leave a comment

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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.

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.

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Tonight’s 1976 Episode: “Narcs”

Will was at his local market, “The Grateful Food Store” getting some essentials and groceries for the week. This was a real mom and pop store owned and run by a local as couple. Will preferred his local businesses to the corporation and franchise businesses; as it supported the community while contributed just that much less to the big guys.

Will wasn’t much of a cook, at all, the time taken for preparation of a meal troubled him, it seemed like a lot of precious time spent just to be quickly consumed. Will’s staples were a scrumptious meal of cold cereal and toast with a glass of OJ, and coffee, or a slapped-together sandwich; otherwise, it was on-the-go take-out or fast food, but rarely a restaurant unless with a friend, or client – again too much wasted time.

On his way into the store, Will’s noticed a narc or undercover car parked across the street, this was Venice so it was not uncommon to see them cruising about, hoping to bust some kid with a joint, while real crimes were taking place.

Will made his humble purchases and left the store by the back entrance, he had felt a bad vibe coming from the narcs. He set his two bags of groceries down and peeked around the corner of the building, the car was still there; if it was a stakeout, Will was puzzled, who or what was going down? Or was this just downtime for narcs.

The bad vibe was a natural coming from them, so Will walked back home and placed his thoughts on a case he was considering while diving into breakfast. He liked to mix two or three different cereals to create a connoisseur’s cornucopia of rice, oats, and wheat, with raisins, if bran was included.

While eating spoonfuls of his crunchy milk-accented meal, he read up on the particulars of the new case when that damn narc car kept creeping into his thoughts. Will knew that if he couldn’t shake the vibe then it was probably something he needed to investigate.

He walked back to the store but on the same side of the street where the narc car was still parked. As he approached, his eyes concealed behind dark sunglasses, he could make out two men, both with sunglasses on, and of course, in what they considered “plainclothes”, which usually meant that they stood out just like the non-descript plain medium gray car that screamed “Narc!”

Will knew, or knew of, most of the local cops and narcotics officers, these two were not locals, maybe recruits from downtown, or maybe not real narcs.

Will passed by the car and wondered what was so interesting about the store, as that was what the two men kept eyeing. He kept walking then stopped at the corner and decided to end the mystery as he had work to do. So, he turned around and walked back and tapped on their window. As the window rolled down the man riding shotgun asked in a condescending tone what Will wanted.

Will introduced himself as a private investigator on a case and asked if they were both on the same case.

This took the men by surprise thinking they were incognito and they also showed signs of guilt – guilt for impersonating. If they were real cops they’d have recognized Will, or at least his name, but they didn’t. Will could nearly smell the criminality of these two but kept up the ruse.

Will: “Hey, maybe if we compare notes, we can close this case.”
Shotgun: “We don’t work with private dicks.” And then he rolled up his window.

Will felt he heard and saw all he needed to know and walked straight across the street and into the grocery store – he knew this would get the “narc’s” attention.

From the large front window Will made sure that once he had the owner’s attention he pointed at the narcs through the window so as to inform the owners of their “narc stakeout”.

Seeing their cover blown the narc car started up and drove away.

After brief questioning, the owners showed no concern, but when Will asked if they knew any reason for the cop’s interest, they both declined to answer.

Will intuitively knew that it wasn’t them that the narcs were interested in but a family member or friend, possibly an employee – that was who the owners were protecting.

Will had a potential paying client in the wings and really didn’t need to get into a non-paying side situation but the vibe he got from the narcs was sinister, and that made it a mystery Will couldn’t resist. So he crossed the street and entered the Bikini Bar, ordered a cup of Irish coffee, and sat by the dark-tinted window and watched the store.

It was nearly dark when he saw a young man enter the store; the fact that the young man made a feeble attempt to scan the area before entering was Will’s cue.

Will crossed the street, entered the store, and saw the man, an employee, enter the back room.

Will caught the eye of the owners and pointed to the back, they knew of Will’s good reputation and nodded in agreement. Will continued to the back room.

As he approached the man, who was obviously nervous, he explained who he was and asked him his name, the young man’s name was John Turley.

Will: “Why are you being “observed”.
John, very hesitant: “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, especially the cops.”
Will: “I’m not a cop.”
John hesistates.
Will: “Look, I do this for a living, investigate, I can see you’re in a lot of stress, I can help.”
John, a little relieved: “I used to work as an assistant to a public figure . . . not from L.A., San Francisco . . . Myles Mahoney . . . a do gooder, bad guy. I guess I saw things I shouldn’t have, I made myself scarce, left to L.A. with my daughter and moved to Venice and got this job here. Things were good for about a year . . . but they found me, and have my daughter, and if I don’t do as they say . . .”
Will, losing interest in his pending case, and building resentment in evil: “What do they want of you?”
John: “They think I have something, something very valuable to Mahoney, but I don’t, but they don’t believe me.”
Will: “What do they think you have?”
John: “I really don’t know, I was only put in the position as a temporary glorified gofer, but it lasted longer, and as time passed I knew that there were shady goings-on but just kept doing my job.”
Will: “And what was your job for this Mahoney?”
John: “Menial stuff, assistant stuff; picking up lunch, making calls, just daily, stuff. But things grew to be tense, something was up.”
Will: “Like what?”
John: “Mahoney was a typical lying conniving politician, only he wasn’t, he was the head of operations for a company called Domino Enterprises, they provided security for events, concerts, conventions. And there was this one night, I was working late so that the next day I could have the whole day off with my daughter and I had one last thing to do and that was to file some papers, which I did, and as I was leaving once I hit the street there was someone following me. When I got into my car the man closed in with a gun and said, “Give it to me!”
Will, intrigued: “And?”
John: “I punched it, and got out of there, packed and left town with my daughter.”
Will: “You must have something, or . . .“
Will gets a thought: “Was one of your job requirements to physically take out the trash?”
John: “Sure, in fact I did . . . late . . . that night.”
Will sees John’s mind connecting dots and realizing something innocent but dangerous.
John: “Shit, no, no . . ?”
Will: “What is it?”
John: “The trash, before I dumped it, I felt something heavy hit the side of the trash can, I reached down and pulled up a rock, but when I turned it over it was one of those rocks that have crystals inside, I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t turned it over. A lot of people pass through, tossing a rock in a trash can, while odd, was not that odd . . . so I pocketed it, and gave it to my daughter – is that what they want?”

This is what Will likes about mysteries, the series of reveals that only lead to another mystery, but as each is solved, or level of understanding is achieved, the closer to solving the main mystery.

Will: “Where is this rock?”
John: “Back at my place, but they’ve already been through it, it’s gone, but they still think I have it, and what if I did have it, maybe it’s not even what they’re after!’

Will is perplexed, no clues as to the rock’s whereabouts or where John’s daughter was held, and Mahoney, who really needs what he thinks John’s got.

Will ponders on that last thought, what could Mahoney want? Incriminating evidence is always the first thing evil wants to get rid of.

Will: “Was there anything odd or different about the rock other than the crystals inside?”
John: “Just that it had a dark crimson sunburst on the backside, the rock was a dark color so it wasn’t easy to see, just rock striations, Why?”
Will: “Man, I really hate to tell you this, but what you describe sounds like dried blood splatter on a murder weapon.”
John looks horrified.

Will saw another reveal get closer to the truth; Mahoney or someone close to him used the rock to bash in someone’s skull. And John inadvertently had it with him the whole time.

Will: “If you don’t have it and they didn’t find it at your place . . “
John, dismayed: “My daughter has it.”
Will sees John start to lose it: “Listen, look at me, the best way we can help your daughter is to unlock your memory.”
John: “Wha…?”
Will: “It’s been proven that the brain, mind, higher self has every moment of anyone’s life logged and ready to be retrieved. If a penny drops out of your pocket to the ground you may have not heard, felt, or noticed, but it registered; the memory of it hitting keys as it came up out of the pocket, came free, and fell to the ground with the dullest plink – it’s all there, every second, every moment.”
John: “If you say so.”
Will: “I do. Now I want you to take this.”

Will pulls a cigarette case out of his pocket opens it and takes out a pill and hands to John.

John: “What’s this, what’s this gonna do?”
Will: “You want your daughter back?”
John knowing he has no one other than Will, swallows the pill.

Will: “This is gonna be fast acting. Ever taken psychedelics before?”
John looks wide-eyed at Will.
Will: “I’ll take that as a no.”
Will: “I’m going to need you to concentrate on the last time you saw your daughter, what she was wearing, what she had with her, a purse or bag maybe?”
Will sees John coming on and trying to process the information: “She had jeans, a pink short-sleeved shirt, and yes, she had her Wonder Woman bag.”

Will realizes that anything in the bag would have been searched – and if it was found there would be no need for all of this, which meant it wasn’t in her bag.

Will: “OK, now I want you to think where else the rock could be, could your daughter have given it to someone, a friend maybe, or for fun hid it like treasure?”

John was definitely feeling this new world he was experiencing and Will had to keep him on track. Will begins to get him to focus when . .

John: “Wait, I think I might know where it might be, she really likes the Wonder Woman TV series, we made her a costume and she always had it hid until she wanted to dress up so that the “bad guys” wouldn’t get her costume. I never knew where she hid it, and possibly wasn’t uncovered when they searched the house – the rock could be with it.”
Will: “Great, a lead, good job, let’s go!”

They drive to John‘s place just a few blocks away from the grocery store.

As they slowly approach the corner Will notices a back alley and at the stop sees the narc car parked down the street, waiting. To not look suspicious Will drove on across the street and made a series of right turns to come back to the alley, turned left and saw that the back of the John’s place was not covered.

Will sighs: “This is going to be tougher with Mahoney’s monkeys. Once we get inside you stay out of view at a window and let me know if they move, I’ll search.”
John: ”I’m, I’m . . .”
Will: “Look at me , listen, just remind yourself it’s only the drug, you’ve done great so far, just stay focused and we’ll get your daughter back, OK?”
John seems to have a grip and vows to stay focused.

Once inside John stays by the front window monitoring the narcs.

Will begins the deep search, the kid search, the place that as a kid would not only be a great hiding place from “the bad guys” but from parents or siblings.

The easiest hide-in-plain-sight is the false bottom to any decent-sized drawer. Will had a couple of those back at his place. A thorough search of dresser drawers and desk drawers was fruitless. But what about a false bottom trash can. Will picked the can with Wonder Woman stickers on it up off the ground where its contents had been spilled, and reached to the bottom, it was too short of depth, and heavy, for an empty can. He saw the false bottom but it was vacuum-sealed against the sides. He took out his knife and lightly pried the side releasing the air and the false bottom slid out with the skimpy Wonder Woman costume and the rock.

As Will turned to go get John and tell him the good news, the two narcs blocked the door of the room.

Shotgun Narc, in soured surprised voice: “It’s you. This is one case that you’re gonna lose.”
Will: “Where’s the girl’s father?”
Shotgun Narc: “He’s out of it, just like you’re going to be.”
Will: ‘Whoa, guys, we’ve got what you want, why not return the girl and all’s forgotten?” “Whaddya say?”
Shotgun Narc: “We have orders that don’t include negotiating.”

It was about then that Will was glad he downed a pill too, a pill mixed and pressed personally that he had been coming on to all along, but since he was the master of himself, he knew how to control the psychedelic power that was energizing him by the minute, now by the second.

Will: “That’s too bad, Mahoney should trust you guys to have some control of the situation, ‘cuz that way you wouldn’t have to end up in the hospital, or underground, I don’t know which, yet.”

Mahoney’s monkeys look at each other and laugh.

Will casually picked up a Frisbee from the little girl’s table, spun it on one finger, and when he knew he had both pair of eyes on the disc, grabbed it and hurled it full force into Shotgun Narc’s throat. Then using the misdirect of the Driver Narc looking at Shot Gun in disbelief, Will kicked the Driver Narc in the solar plexus, immediately knocking the breath out of him, hitting his head against the wall, then sliding down the wall, unconscious.

Will then immediately did a leg sweep taking a choking Shotgun Narc to the ground, then grabbed a pogo stick that was leaning up against the wall and held it in a menacing position aimed for Shotgun’s throat.

Will: “Where is she, or it is over for you, and I’ll just get it out of him when he comes to and sees this pogo stick where your Adam’s apple used to be.”
Shotgun, still choking: “OK . . OK . . I . . think you damaged my . . .
Will: “Then choose your words carefully.”
Shotgun, wheezing: “She’s in the trunk.”

Will, motions for the keys.
Shotgun, holding his throat, points to the Driver.

Will, wielding the pogo stick like the deadly weapon it could be. Reaches in the unconscious Driver’s pocket and pulls out the keys.

Just as Will stands up, still keeping Shotgun at bay, the Driver Narc comes to and pulls a gun on Will.

He’s just about to shoot when a wild and crazy psychedelic John bursts into the room and dives at the Driver Narc, a bullet fires wildly and misses John as he plows into the Driver Narc sending him back to the ground, hitting his head once again against the wall, and unconscious again.

John wrests the gun from the limp hand of the Driver Narc and points it at him, and then over at the Shotgun Narc, then back again at the the Driver Narc.

Will, smiling looks to John: “Here, give me the gun.“
Will hands him the car keys: ”Your girl’s in the trunk.”

John smiles back, and then nods to Will for his approval, Will knew and couldn’t agree more.

John went over and kicked them both in the head, real good, creating possible brain damage – just a little last bit of satisfaction for what they had put his daughter though. Then he ran out to get her.

The “narcs” were arrested on kidnapping and impersonating officers, among other charges, the rock was the missing murder weapon involving a case against Mahoney, John and his daughter were under protective custody and fell within the newly formed Witness Protection Act of 1970.

It had been a good day, a very good day, and in many ways Will felt really good.
This was better than a paid in cash case, for it was priceless.

Copyright 2019 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during July 25, 26, 27, 2019 with only The Stoned Private Eye, the 1970s, Narcs, and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.

“The STONED PRIVATE EYE” – 1970’s Noir Thriller Tonight’s 1973 Episode: “The Endless Night Returns”

May 27, 2019 00individual Leave a comment

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Tonight’s 1973 Episode: “The Endless Night Returns”

Will awoke, sitting at his desk, feeling very groggy. All he remembered was a dark hood over his head and the stab of a needle.

He quickly scanned his office, got up and braced himself past the kitchen to the bedroom – everything was normal. As he turned he saw a note pinned to the front door.

Then it all came back like deja vu, but past the normal immediate action into the vivid premonition he had a year ago during the Ayahuasca experience.

He removed the pin and looked at the note, it read “We could use your help.” and below that was printed an address and a date and time. The date was for that day and the time was 12 o’clock midnight.

In the ‘70s things were still somewhat cool and doors were still trustingly unlocked. Will lived what some may call a spartan existence; but he had all he needed and since many of his clients met at his office home, his door was also usually unlocked.

However, the door was locked with no evidence of a forced entry.

Maybe, someone Spidermaned up the wall through his second story windows, that was a possibility, yet nothing looked disturbed, no movement of objects or trace of footprints.

Will was impressed. If “we” needed his help, “they” were very good in Will’s eyes.

But then he thought of his secret enter/exit trap door in his back room.
He checked it out, it also looked clean, no disturbances. But then ambient light lit up a glint of something very thin, something out of place.

Will got his flashlight and shined it on the rim of the closed trap door – it was a single hair, a long red hair. This being the ‘70s, long hair was everywhere in every color and length and worn by both sexes, so further investigation was needed. He took it back to his desk and lowered his desk lamp magnifying glass that was surrounded by a circular bulb.

Most women with long hair, as earthy as they wanted to be, still maintained their hair, while guys with long hair were, less concerned. This was a well-groomed protein rich healthy strand of natural red or maybe auburn hair.

Charlie Brown wasn’t the only one who had a natural red-haired girlfriend. Will stopped and thought, did Charlie Brown ever get the red-haired girl? Will did.

So, a female with long red or auburn hair used his “secret no longer” enter and exit. This made Will consider those who did know; there was his good friend Mike, and Abigail, a blonde, who Will helped reunite her with her estranged father, and beyond that he was puzzled; it was a secret for that reason, and only two people knew, but now three.

He realized that his place was cased when he was gone and even though from the garage angle of the ceiling it looked just like another panel of nondescript wood. To the perceptive eye certain elements of disguised yet visible hinges could be detected by, a detective.

Was this “help that was needed” by an off-duty member of the police force or a former member?

Whatever this was about Will felt a good vibe; these were people who knew their stuff, and Will believed that their request was serious and in earnest even though their tactics were a bit drastic. He figured that she could have just walked in with the request. However, as Will grinned to himself, what’s the fun in that? This was how “detectives” play.

Will got dressed, shook off the grogginess grabbed a bite from the ‘fridge and smoked a bowl and snorted a line of coke. It was 11:15 PM, he knew the general area of the address, it was near the Inglewood oil fields.

He got in his car, took a deep breath, opened his cigarette case and lit up a personally-rolled joint, took a deep inhale, held it, then exhaled. He then pulled out the pouch downed a couple pills, started the car and took off.

On the way he tried out different scenarios for this out-of-the-blue situation and the importance of the vivid premonition.

This was his current reality; he was being recognized by a different group than his Stoned Private Eye clients, this was special, interesting and intriguing. And even more so as he knew what to expect, up to a point.

As he pulled up to the old gas station on the outskirts of the oil fields he felt the warm embrace of the hashish-laced joint and the subtle surge of the Cocaine accented Psilocybin spread throughout his body out to his toes and fingertips.

Will got out of his car and walked up to the door of the station, and as he expected, as he opened the door the light from a flashlight crossed his face.

A female voice from the shadows: “Follow us.”
She flipped on a dimmed light, it was the red-haired woman. Two men came into view from the darkness. They turned and Will followed the two men and one red-haired woman to a door, that when opened, revealed an elevator.

As they all entered the elevator Will was again tripping on the opening sequence of the TV series “Get Smart” with the series of doors that kept opening. The premonition from months ago was still vivid in Will’s memory. When the elevator doors opened they were joined by two other men, and all six walked down a hall into a large conference room.

At this point was where the premonition abruptly ended and reality began.

As they all sat down around a circular table a ceiling light focused on the table top.

There were seven chairs but only six of them were seated.
A man came from the shadows, introduced himself as Godfrey Workman, then sat down and told them all to hold hands. Strangely, or not so strangely, no one hesitated and all held each others hands as requested. Will could sense and feel the vibes of the group but could not discern their origins, but one thing that was certain, these were unique individuals, the vibe was one of knowing and strength in focus.

Will absorbed a lot in the couple minutes the group held hands and when Godfrey released his hand so did the others. Will’s left hand held the red-haired woman’s hand and it felt warm, velvety, but firm, and he found himself unconsciously not letting go but as he began to release his gentle grip he realized that she was still holding on. Will looked up to her and just as she looked at him she pulled her hand back.

Godfrey: “It hasn’t been easy sifting through the humanity of L.A. to find this group. I have spent a lot of time, energy and money in what I believe to be in the best interests for our city.”
Godfrey continues: “There are certain things that all of you have in common and you’re here because you’ve already figured it out – that you’re the best in your field. No need for ego, when you’re the best, it’s the challenge and success in the mission, the mystery, the case; that is all that is needed by this group.”

Will was impressed, but still wondered, so?

And as if Godfrey heard his thoughts: “I’ll tell you why you are here.”

Godfrey turns, leaves the room and then returns momentarily.

He places what appears to be an old hand-made clay plate on the table.

Godfrey: “This plate is irreplaceable, it is an artifact from centuries ago when something as misshapen and ugly as this held wonder for those who used it.”

The six looked at the plate in the center of the table. For the life of him Will could not imagine where this was going.
Then suddenly Godfrey pulled a mallet out from behind him raised it and brought it down on the plate smashing it to pieces.

Understandably all six backed away, one guy jumped out of his chair and took a martial arts defensive pose.

Godfrey: “This is why you are here. As easily as I broke this, there are factions at work today that want to do the same, only the rare artifacts are humans.”
Godfrey continues: “This evil works at levels that even you six do not come in contact with, but this evil needs to be aware that they have adversaries.”

All six look to each other in a heightened state of intrigue.

Godfrey concludes: “This was just orientation, the next time you are contacted you may choose to be a part of something special, something important, where your talents and abilities will be tested and your sense of fighting evil exercised – or not – either way I thank you all.”

Godfrey turns and disappears back into the darkness.

With nary a word spoken between them, they all return to their cars to disperse into the night.

Will follows the Red-haired Woman to her car.
Will: “Excuse me, but how long were you in my place?
The Red-haired Woman turns to face Will and looks surprised.
RHW, trying to cast it off: “I don’t . . .”
Will cuts her off: “And what was with the hands, don’t think I didn’t interpret that body language?”
The RHW turns cold: “OK so I know you’re the Stoned Private Eye, so what?”
Will: “Hey, all I want is a little tit for tat – you show me your tits and I’ll show you my tatts.”
Thankfully that was a playful line that the psilocybin shot across Will’s mind and was not spoken vocally.
Will: “Hey, all I want is a little fairness; who are you, what’s your talent?”
RHW: “I guess there’s no harm, I’m Millicent Barnes, not Millie, Millicent.”
Will: “Well, not Millie, why are you here?”
Millicent, hesitates: “Let’s just say that I’ve developed a sort of sixth sense that allows me to read people.”
Will excited: “Me too!”
Millicent needs to top him: “I’m also a Black Belt in Karate.”
Will smiles: “Me too!”
Millicent: “A fifth degree Black Belt.”
Will smiles again: Ok, you got me, but I know a lot of street moves too.”
Millicent smiles for the first time.
Will feeling friendly and hungry: “Wanna get something to eat? There’s this cool Googie architecture restaurant just own the boulevard on La Cienega and Centinela . . . “
Millicent: “Pann’s.”
Will smiles: “Yeah, Pann’s.”

Once inside Pann’s the background ambient classic ‘50s and ‘60s songs by the original artists fit nicely with the counter stools and the window booths.

They took a booth facing the front door and within eye of the kitchen as that was a naturally smart place to sit to observe the comings and goings in a restaurant, theater, department store, or party, anywhere that may need an exit or position of advantage for any unknown possibility.
This immediate agreement confirmed Will’s feeling that Millicent has had either a lot of experience or training, or both.

While waiting for their meal they both were safely assuming that they both protect whatever personal anonymity they can, so personal questions were kept to generalities like, “Are you from L.A.?” During their meal however, discussions on how each read vibes was one of the most interesting conversations Will had ever had. Here was someone who sensed things about those around her and used her deadly martial arts skills to combat evil.

Something else was revealed within their conversation, her wording and exactness had a military tinge. Although there was an attempt to disguise it, she either enjoyed doing her own thing off hours, or needed room to fly without restrictions and quit, or was fired.

Beyond the esoteric, Will asked her if she had ever heard of Godfrey Workman. She confessed that it was he who hired her to leave the note at Will’s apartment, and other than tonight’s meeting she had no other previous contact with him.

Once finished with their meal they reached that point in the evening where they would part company, but Will felt a kindred spirit in Millicent and she in him so they exchanged phone numbers and vowed to stay in touch.

The psilocybin was still providing a psychic energizer and Will didn’t want the night to end and as he turned to go to Millicent she was already standing facing him, they smiled.

Will: “Want to . . “
Millicent: “Yes.”

It is rare to meet someone that you can share a deep mutual interest, and in this case even more rare as it is in each other. It is only they who can fully appreciate each other’s talents, and in doing so become strongly attracted.

Talk about Good Vibrations.

Copyright 2019 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during May 20, 21, 2019 with only The Stoned Private Eye, the 1970s, Endless Night Premonition, and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.

The Stoned Private Eye . . . . 1970’s Noir Thriller Tonight’s 1972 Episode: “Meditation”

May 5, 2019 00individual Leave a comment

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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 he 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.

“The STONED PRIVATE EYE” – 1970’s Noir Thriller Tonight’s 1972 Episode: “The Endless Night”

May 5, 2019 00individual Leave a comment

TSTONEDPE0

Tonight’s 1972 Episode: “The Endless Night”

It was late one Friday evening, Will had just finished a tough case and was driving home looking forward to a restful night’s sleep. He backed his car into the garage below his place, climbed the stairs unlocked the door and . . .

Will awoke, sitting at his desk, feeling very groggy. All he remembered was a dark hood over his head and the stab of a needle.

He quickly scanned his office, got up and braced himself past the kitchen to the bedroom – everything was normal. As he turned he saw a note pinned to the front door. He removed the pin and looked at the note, and although his eyes were still blurry he was able to understand.

Will proceeded to retrieve his secret stash in a brilliant hiding place, removed the lids of several containers of drugs, placed the pills and stash in a pouch, tied it off, and put it in his inside jacket pocket. He then went to the kitchen and removed his snub-nosed 38 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver from a coffee can, and strapped on his low thigh-level sheathed Bowie knife and tied the leather strap just above his knee.

Will had an encounter with a group who had sought him out, mainly because his Stoned Private Eye notoriety had begun to reach certain aspects of society who recruited certain individuals. These individuals understood and agreed to their involvement which only surfaced on rare occasions. Will was one of these individuals – this was one of those occasions.

He had only been called upon once before and it was of an initiatory state. The people behind it all were who Will deemed as good people. These recruited individuals were by no means numerous, a half dozen or so to Will’s knowledge. Will did not like clubs, or any organized groups, and saw them first and foremost as rule makers. The group Will was involved with broke rules.

As he pulled up to an old gas station on the outskirts of the Inglewood oil fields he felt the warm embrace of the hashish-laced joint and the subtle surge of the psilocybin spread throughout his body out to his toes and fingertips.

He got out of his car and walked up to the door of the station, as he opened the door the light from a flashlight crossed his face.

A female voice from the shadows: “Follow us.”
She flipped on a dimmed light as two men came into view from the darkness. They turned and Will followed the two men and one woman to a door, that when opened, revealed an elevator.

As they all entered the elevator Will was tripping on the opening sequence of the TV series “Get Smart” with the series of doors that kept opening.

When the elevator doors opened they were joined by two other men, and all six walked down a hall into a large conference room.

Will had not said a word to anyone, he knew why they were there, as well as why he was there.

Just then he heard knocking on a door, his office door, which woke him up from deep sleep and a detailed dream. He got up from his desk, stumbled to the door, and opened it to see Gwen, Big Kahuna’s sister who ran “The Head Shop” while he was in Hawaii.

Gwen, excited: “Will, you gotta come quick!”
Will, still dazed from the vivid dream: “What?”

Will and her had a short fling, and stayed friends, so Will was attentive.

Gwen: “There’s something going on back behind the Shop.”
Will, trying to discern the emergency: “Gwen, is this something that can wait until tomorrow morning?”
Gwen gives Will a look that he knows too well and gathers his jacket and follows her down the stairs to her car.

On the way she tells Will that when she was closing up she heard strange noises coming from behind the Shop. When Will asked what kind of noises all Gwen could say was that they were scary enough to come get him.

Will backed into a parking place in front of the Shop, and told Gwen to stay in the car. He then jumped up on the side wall, climbed to the roof, and went toward the back of the Shop; he wanted the aerial advantage over whatever it was.

As he crept to the edge he could hear something, it was a sound he could not identify. Then he heard a rustle among the bushes, he could see movement. Something was emerging from under the bush, something large.
Will was braced to jump on whatever it was until it revealed itself to be a local hobo having a restless night’s sleep. Will just smiled and thought, “restless or not, at least he’s getting some sleep.”

He climbed back down, and informed Gwen of the noisemaker.
She apologized and although Will’s place was only a couple miles away she offered for him to crash at her place only several blocks away. He felt abnormally worn out so he agreed.

Once at Gwen’s apartment Will sat down on the couch as she went into her bedroom to get some blankets for Will.
When she returned she handed them to Will and as he took the blankets from her he also took the only thing hiding her totally nude body.
Gwen smiled.
Will smiled back.
Gwen, taking his hand: “C’mon, the bed’s better.”
As they entered her bedroom a blinding light and loud harsh horns blasted Will’s sleepy, but lustfully romantic mood into the reality that he was in the middle of the street!

He ran to the curb and looked around, it was dark except for street lights and the amber glow from lights within a few houses and buildings. He was just down the block from his place. As he walked back in the darkness he wondered what was happening to him? Had his drug consumption finally taken toll? Had he taken too many drugs? Not enough? Or was he truly losing his mind?

Will’s mind reeled; this was very weird. These dreams were far too real, and how could they be dreams if he was never asleep? And now out in the street? Was he really in the street or was it just another realistic hallucination?

When he got back to his place he sat down on his couch, he looked at the clock on the wall, it was 2:30 AM. He rested a bit to get his bearings, then got up to go straight to bed when he noticed a piece of paper on the floor. He squatted down, picked it up, and got the shudders as it was the note that was pinned on the door from . . . a dream?

Will sat down at his desk. He needed to focus. The mind is limitless, he knew that sometimes drugs like LSD can create very convincing alternate realities, but these were too real and were like a revolving door.

He looked at the note under the light of his desk lamp. It was the same size, but not the same note, it was a receipt from the local 24 hour Chinese take out, Wing Dang Noodle’s.
But then Will realized that he hadn’t had Chinese take out in over a week. He looked at the receipt’s date, it was today’s date.

Suddenly, the smell of noodles filled the air. Will moved to the kitchen to see his friend Mike standing there slurping noodles with chopsticks from a takeout container from Wing Dang Noodle’s.

Mike, with a mouthful: “So, how’re ya feeling, good buddy.”
Will noticed the tone at the end, as if there might be a question about that.

Will, beginning to get the picture: “Mike . . . what are you doing here?
Mike: “They got good noodles and I was in the area so I thought I’d drop by.”
Will’s not buyin’ it: “So, what else did you do tonight?” He pauses, then adds: “But be truthful, Mike, good buddy.”

Mike knows he’s busted and knew he’d never get away with anything with Will, but thought that in the end he would thank him.

Mike, seriously: “OK, now sit down and remember that I only had your safety in mind, well, and some other stuff, but, well . . “
Will: “What?”
Mike: “A friend, a trusted friend, just got back from a South American jungle with some exotic stuff . . “
Will interrupts: “Stuff? What stuff?”
Mike: “It’s hard to pronounce, a-yahoo-aska, yeah, that’s it.”
Will, trying to control his mounting anger: ”And what, you slipped me a mickey of this stuff?”
Mike: “Not really . . .” He backs away from Will anticipating a physical reaction. “Actually you took it yourself, I just kinda monitored you.”
Will, shaking his head in disbelief and in general sheer exhaustion: “How long does this last?”
Mike: “Well, if you haven’t . .
Will suddenly needs to use the bathroom. The sound of retching can be heard.
Mike continues: “. . . vomited yet, about a couple more hours.”

Will emerges from the bathroom looking like one of the Night of the Living Dead and walks with outstretched arms toward Mike, grabs him around the neck, pulls him toward him, and embraces him: ”Thanks Man, I’ve never experienced that one.”
Mike: “I told you you’d thank me, in the end.”

And it was the end, the end of a seemingly endless night as daylight finally came and Will fell into his bed and into a deep cosmic sleep.

That evening when he awoke the brew was mostly out of his system – but not those so very real dreams, as they weren’t dreams, and they weren’t visions either, Will knew the difference.

This experience must be singular to the brew, realities become layered and appear physically real, but slip from one to another while still only in one place. That seemed to satisfy Will for the moment, then he remembered that he was physically in the street before meeting Mike in his apartment; that broke the rule of it being a mind alteration to a physical one.

And what about the hood, the darkness, the needle. As Will went to check in the bathroom mirror for any needle marks, he considered Mike’s explanation of downing some very bitter espresso that he treated him to that night. He looked in the mirror where he thought he was stabbed but there wasn’t a mark. Still a needle mark can disappear quickly.

Will had tripped many times but this Ayahuasca was different, the episodes seemed so real that Will wondered if they had a deeper meaning, so he set to writing them down as best as he could remember, which at this point was very vivid. The known/unknown association of recruits with a clandestine mission was straight out of a spy novel or a heist movie. The noise from a hobo behind the Head Shop led to seduction by Gwen that was coitus-interrupted by teleportation in the street near his place; both unexplainable.

These specific detailed encounters that seemed lengthy probably lasted minutes. Time becomes a nonlinear more fluid reality when tripping on nearly any psychedelics, hallucinogens, or mind-altering substances; minutes can seem like hours, and hours can seem like minutes.

Still, Will felt that this brew revealed something deeper; like the brain trying to access another reality or realities, but it needed a catalyst, like Ayahuasca.

While sitting at his desk he pondered these cosmic concepts and lit up an evening bowl when the phone rang.
Will exhaled and picked up the phone: “William Trent Private Investigations”
Gwen, excited: “Will, you gotta come quick!”
Will: “What?”
Gwen proceeds to tell Will what he already knows, and as his mind reels by what is happening he tells her he’ll be right over.

On the way Will now knew that they weren’t dreams, they weren’t hallucinations, and they weren’t visions either, Will knew the difference, they were prescient experiences brought on by the Ayahuasca.

He didn’t need to climb onto the roof, he just walked around the back to the alley to see a hobo covered in newspaper in the bushes trying to get some sleep.

He informed Gwen of the noisemaker.
She apologized and although Will’s place was only a couple miles away she offered for him to crash at her place only several blocks away.
Will now knew what was next and decided to just shut up and let the experience unfold. And once at Gwen’s place, as they entered her bedroom, it did.

The next morning Will took Gwen out to breakfast before she opened The Head Shop.

On the way back to his place his thoughts became obvious; vivid prescient experiences, that was the brew’s reveal, for him at least, but one that seemed to switch to another reality as it neared its climax.

Once parked and back upstairs, Will sat at his desk and lit up a joint. His thoughts led straight to the clandestine group out near the oil fields – were these people part of a near or future encounter? And for what reason?

Will awoke, sitting at his desk, feeling very groggy. All he remembered was a dark hood over his head and the stab of a needle.

Copyright 2019 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during April 1 – 3, 2019 with only The Stoned Private Eye, the 1970s, the Endless Night, and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.

“The STONED PRIVATE EYE” – 1970’s Noir Thriller Tonight’s 1977 Episode: “To Trip And Die In L.A.”

May 5, 2019 00individual Leave a comment

TSTONEDPE0

HIPNOTIQUEPhantastique11

Tonight’s 1977 Episode: “To Trip And Die In L.A.”

It was summer 1977, in the past ten years since graduating high school in 1967 Will had taken his obsession of solving mysteries and the psychedelic aspects of mind-expanding drugs and built a business as a successful private investigator, known throughout the “underground” scenes of L.A. as the Stoned Private Eye.

While most investigators were retired, moonlighting, or former policemen or detectives, Will needed to be free to do his job unencumbered by rules and regulations. He knew what he was up against, but he wouldn’t be deprived of using a gift given just because others did not approve or understand his tactics.

Will’s first professionally paid solved case was due to applied deduction, reason, and cosmic knowledge. What that means is Will was able to do what most people can; use their intuition. But with Will, he could feel the Vibe of a person, place, or thing, generally in a positive or negative way, and then intuition completed the picture.

While this was of great help detecting lies, it also allowed for quick elimination or addition of anyone along the path to a solved case.

Will was not psychic, what he had was a connection. A connection that was there all along but that psychedelics: LSD, Mescaline, Psilocybin, and others, triggered and served as catalysts for a level of thought and action that fit Will like a glove with a soft calm lined interior and a spiked armored exterior.

Before the Summer of Love became a historic event, the Beatniks of the late ‘50s and early ‘60s were gettin’ high on Marijuana with a little LSD spread lightly around the edges. But it was the mid-to-late ‘60s when the Psychedelic influence greatly flourished and held strong up into the mid-to-late ‘70s. This time period was embraced by Will, there was so much happening every day; one could sit back and watch the show, or get up and be a participant; Will did both.

Will wasn’t a loner, nor a joiner; he just had a path to follow long before he knew that he did. And just like a true artist, he had to experience some creativity every day or he was faced with the waste of his abilities. That was a sin to him; every moment he was not on a case was a moment lost forever.

That didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy life, as he was actually having the time of his life as it was the psychedelic swingin’ ‘70s – what other decade had the trailing underground innocence of Flower Power and Free Love with the height of Counter-Culture shenanigans?

And like a true artist, Will could not retire, he’d retire when he died. And maybe not even then.

While quickly scanning through his mail he saw a reminder letter from his high school, it was about his upcoming ten year reunion. Will stared at the invitation while flashing on the past; he had a few good friends in his class but he really hung out with guys a grade or two above him, and although it could be fun, he had slightly overbooked on cases and needed to concentrate on business.

One of the cases involved a background check and positive identification, the other was criminal; Will was asked to locate stolen goods.

Will was very good at blending in with whatever level of society required, however by the ‘70s people expected personal expression, so the established “suits” had been educated that appearances didn’t matter as much, it was about getting the job done – which is what Will was known for.

The members of a quasi-gang of biker hippies were suspects who supposedly robbed a well-known businessman and big collector of his erotic art – and as usual the client didn’t want his “interest” publicly known and just wanted his art back.

In this case, Will could slip into a former element, he rode a ‘69 Harley Davidson 900cc Sportster for awhile, but he was never part of a “gang”.

The other suspect was a close business associate of the collector. Will had already narrowed it down to these two different suspects; the associate had plenty of motive and the gang, well, it was an easy grab once one of the gang members knocked boots with a female stable-hand at the collector’s ranch house.

Will set the reunion invitation back down on his desk and picked up his notes on the other case, an investigation of one Riley Jones, alias Riley James, James Riley, and James Jones, none very inventive aliases, but all the same guy. Will needed one last verification about his background to file his report, get paid, and then focus on the stolen goods.

Will did his “drinking” in his mid-teens and switched to pot, pills, hash, psychedelics and other forms of mind expansion that didn’t bloat and cause lack of memory. Memory is a valuable thing for everyone, but especially for Will in his line of work.

For example he just remembered that there was an erotic art show up on Melrose at a well-known gallery. This otherwise unimportant memory would have dissolved soon as most do if never in need of retrieval, but since the stolen items were erotic art the brief catch of the ad in a newspaper or overheard somewhere at sometime was part of Will’s deciphering of not only memory, but of signs, important signs, signs that when acknowledged assisted Will’s abilities of deduction and of the cosmic aspects of any case.

With this in mind Will hit a couple of Venice beach bars well-known to the criminal element; the always shady “The Reef”, and the downright criminally-owned, but friendly neighborhood above-board appearance of “Castle In The Sand”.

The Reef’s ambiance was surfside sleaze; bar-hops in skimpy mermaid suits, lurid lighting, and a raunchy pirate motif, kind of like Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean on acid.

Will approached the bar ordered a beer that he never intended to drink and observed the room. He was beyond incognito these days, as he was well known by the local beach denizens and the “other side of life” that most tend to ignore, therefore he met each encounter head on.

When the bartender returned with his drink he motioned Will to the back corner of the bar.

Will picked up his drink and walked across the room and between the pool tables to a sequestered corner. There was T-Rex, Will’s old nemesis with a mermaid sitting next to him on each side.

T-Rex: “Well, well, if it isn’t the Stoned Private Eye.”
Will: “You’re looking comfortable.”
T-Rex: “That’s right I am, I just bought this joint, made a nice business investment, and upgraded the place with the mermaid babes ‘n’ pirate stuff.”
Will glances around: “Nice, good for you.”
Will knows that this is just a front for crime, but goes along with the legit attempt.
Will: “Does Riley Jones, or James Riley or any other combo sound familiar?”
T-Rex: “What’s in it for me?”
Will, as he holds up his beer: “Further patronage.”
T-Rex: “He’s a small timer, a gopher, a nobody.”

One of the mermaids kept giving Will the eye. Why is it always the bad girls, or worse, the good girls who were always so foxy and hot?

Will trusted T-Rex’ description as he could tell that he was high on his new bar ownership and felt it below him to lie on that mundane level. Plus with T-Rex’ verification that’s all Will needed to file his report.

On his way back he stopped at the Castle In The Sand beach bar to see if any gang members were there, they were, and had been drinking.

Will ordered another beer that he never intended to drink and surveyed the room. These guys were the kind that gave Hippies and Bikers both a bad name using both traits to spread pseudo-love and peace while ripping people off. They even had the audacity to name their gang The Gods Of Love. Although Will would like to see them go down, he needed the actual guilty culprit or culprits to be caught, but secretly hoped it was them.

He had a list of the stolen objects, pulled them out from his inner jacket pocket and began to read aloud the stolen items, their descriptions, and value.

At first, the gang members and other patrons were taken aback by his intrusion and loudness, but when the value of these items were announced by Will, people became interested, but not to Will’s intended response. None of the gang members reacted as to any knowledge of what he was reading off. If they had, there would have been evidence of knowledge, which could lead to guilt.

Will stopped reading and announced “drinks for all”, paid the bartender, and left – it is always good to stay in favor with enemies, possible enemies – and friends.

Will motored over to Beverly Hills to confront and instill a verbal acid trip to the Collector’s business associate and hopefully wrap this case up, but first he stopped off at the Erotic Art show taking place that evening – he wanted to familiarize himself with current trends in art – and the clientele.

Will was feeling edgy and he knew why, he hadn’t taken any psychedelics in a while, two or three weeks, at least, and his whole being missed the symbiotic flow into insight, the thrill of being, and a psychic energizer that could be counted on.

He pulled to the curb a block down from the gallery, got out, opened his trunk, and popped open an inner side panel and removed a large bag. He always kept a “jam bag” filled with essentials; a hermetically-sealed section was designated for a range of drugs and psychedelics, also in the bag were two bottles of water, a couple granola bars, a toothbrush, strike anywhere wooden matches, one roll each of paper towels and bathroom tissue, a nice-sized surgical steel Bowie knife in a custom leather sheath, a first aid kit, a roll of Jacksons and Hamiltons with a few Lincolns and Washingtons, and a few other items. He also had a .38 caliber Smith and Wesson back at his place – as well as one hidden in his car.

Will opened the sealed section and chose an excellent strain of LSD; Windowpane, dropped it, locked the trunk and car, and headed for the gallery.

Once inside “Gallerie Phantastique” Will saw all manner of sexually-explicit paintings, sculptures, and even a fashion show in the back. The attendees looked like most art show collectors and art lovers, and Will was not getting any negative vibes.

As he wandered the gallery he did get a strange vibe, not negative, but unusual, but as a human among the playfully erotic and the deviant erotic there was surely to be primal reactions with an accompanying vibe. As he absorbed it all, he was still getting a strange vibe.

He had some time to spare because he wanted to confront the business associate “after hours”, as that was when Will could truly exert his modes of persuasion. When night falls things seem more important, more mysterious, more romantic, more dangerous – all with a thrilling uncertainty that most times reveals the truth.

Will would usually run into someone he knew at a function like this, but he only saw people with melting faces, big eyes and mis-proportioned features, this cued Will that he was coming on to the acid.

There was a shadowy painting on the wall in front of Will of two lovers intertwined who began to slowly gyrate; first slow hip thrusts, then fondling, groping, and the gallery’s ambient music of a low-tempo African beat seemed to synch with the lovers.

Will looked away to see the expressions on the faces of the attendees – they seemed full of carnal lust with primal sexy looks, and the whole place had become the interior of a sacrificial ceremony with the fashion show in back as the altar where sadomasochistic acts were performed on the models.

Will was looking for his Psychedelic Buddy in his head but he was not there. Will had to administer the old “Maintain, it’s only the drug” saying as his Psychedelic Buddy would usually show up just when needed. But he was not there. Or was he?

Will stepped outside, leaned up against the wall next to a large potted plant and regained his cool.

Wow, he forgot the initial kick that the Windowpane had on him. Some acid and mescaline can have grinding come-ons before gliding along, some take a while then, bam, some are roller coasters, but this really threw some heavy hallucinogenics at him quickly.

For the first time Will had to consider the fact that maybe, just maybe his youth was slipping away. His grasp of everything with brawn and brain lately seemed to not be one hundred percent.

One look down the boulevard and he remembered what it was like back in his late teens; he was one of less than a dozen “dopers” in the high school population, and had a sense-memory of the rush of being stoned at night, and staring down the boulevard, bursting with life.

And that’s how he felt then, thrilled to be alive, bursting with life.

As Will let the acid simmer, he decided to make the commitment to attend his ten year high school reunion. Most of his class would probably not know him as the Stoned Private Eye – his clients and underworld activities were far removed from “normal” life.
He made this solemn promise to attend to the small trusted space bug that he had made friends with that resided in the gallery’s front planter.

Taking command of his car he drove to the business associate’s house, knocked on the door, and was greeted by the business associate.

Will: My name’s William Trent and I’m here about your business associate’s stolen property.”
ABA: “If you mean Quigley’s trash, he’s already accused me, he’s pathetic, if we weren’t in business together I’d . . . ” He doesn’t end his sentence.
Will: “Still there’s a lot of money in that trash.”
ABA: “For someone, not for me, besides, I want less involvement with him, not more.”
He pauses: “What are you, an insurance investigator?”
Will pauses a beat: “Yeah, just an investigator doing his job.’
Will turns to leave.
ABA with a loud voice, makes a statement: “They got you workin’ late hours!”
Without turning Will waves, and as he brings his hand back down to his side the LSD trails nearly form a wing, it took all of his mature control to override waving his arms up and down to make psychedelic wings and run down the block “flying” all the way.

While normally Will would have certainly given in to the fun urge he had a bigger issue that pushed fun into the background – if it wasn’t his two main suspects; the business associate or the Gods of Love – then Will was back at square one.

Solving cases relied on the ability to see many different perspectives, and while some cases were easy to solve in a few days, sometimes it took weeks, but rarely months as even Will couldn’t commit to that kind of time, even a great mystery can be solved in two hours on a TV show and Will liked to jump a few scenes ahead in real life to make up for commercials and unimportant plot developments.

Will found that by staying open to anything and everything solutions sometimes came to him – and as he drove he felt as though his third eye was emerging with a almost blinding throb coming from his pineal gland.

Then Will had an inexplicable feeling, a knowing, an understanding.
He needed to speak with his client Quigley, so he pulled over to the nearest pay phone and called.

At Quigley’s place Will informed him that he talked with the person who stole his art and it is being returned.
Quigley, a little surprised: “Really? Good! Great!”

Will could sense Quigley’s nervousness: “Mr. Quigley you need to put a halt to this charade, I know this is about collecting insurance on your “stolen” art, that is probably out at your ranch right now, and you needed proof by hiring me to “not find” the goods to help your insurance fraud case.”
Will pauses: “Did I leave anything out?”
Quigley, sheepishly, but very scared: “I needed the money, they’re going to kill me.”
Will could sense real fear in Quigley’s voice.

Even in Will’s psychedelic state he realized that this just went from a stolen goods case, to insurance fraud, to having a client with not long to live. Will didn’t want to know who Quigley owed money to, his mere association with Quigley put him in danger.

Will: “Listen, let’s just call us square – I am no longer working for you.”
Will turns to leave and Quigley pulls a gun: ”How much are you worth?”
Will turns back to see a couple select Gods of Love gang members come out from adjoining rooms to back him up.

Will, smiling: “Really? What are you even talking about?”
Quigley: “The way I figure is that you may just be worth more than I owe. I figure you have more value in your head than I owe.” “Why do you think I hired the Stoned Private Eye? Because either way I win.”

Quigley motions to the bikers he hired: “Take him out to the ranch.”

Will’s had enough, as the two bikers approach him Will allows them to get just close enough so when they grab each arm he is in the perfect position to jump straight up to come down with a karate kick on each bikers outside kneecap breaking both of their legs. And as they crumble to the ground in excruciating pain the now not so macho Quigley runs out the back to his car.

Will runs, gets in his car, and follows Quigley down the streets to a stop light.
Quigley’s car stops at the light.
Will is several cars back, the light turns green.
Quigley’s car does not move.
The other cars honk and pull out and around and drive on.

Will pulls up behind Quigley’s car, gets out, and as he slowly looks in the window he sees that Quigley committed suicide, he didn’t want to face his fate at the hands of those who would probably torture him before killing him.

It was probably the only time he had ever used a gun.

Four months later . . .

Will is preparing for his night out attending his ten year high school reunion just as he had promised the space bug.

He hadn’t seen any classmates over the years unless in isolated passings. But there were a few guys that he used to hang with in his early teens that would be great to see as they had some righteous juvenile adventures together.

As far as girlfriends, Will had a couple steadies, and a few week end/week night love affairs, but he was usually too busy to devote time to a serious relationship, then and now.

He decided against taking any psychedelics that night as it would probably be a trip all on its own.

Will felt great, finally a place where he could experience relative anonymity, a place where he could just be himself for a night.

Will wasn’t in the hotel event room a minute before someone pointed and yelled out, “Look who’s here, it’s the Stoned Private Eye!”

Copyright 2018 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during January 15 – January 16, 2019 with only The Stoned Private Eye, the 1970s, To Trip And Die In L.A., and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.

The Stoned Private Eye . . . . A 1970’S Noir Thriller Tonight’s 1974 Episode: “At The Movies”

December 7, 2018 00individual Leave a comment

A 1970’s Noir Thriller

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.

Tonight’s 1974 Episode: “At The Movies”

It was late June, 1974, and William Trent was taking a breather after a very intense case – solved, but intense. So he decided to take in a movie, just some fun diversion before deciding which case to choose next as he was now in demand in a city that was vast and sprawling and connected like a spiderweb – of crime.

He heard good things about “Chinatown”, a new movie with Jack Nicholson as a ‘30’s private dick on a case, and Faye Dunaway as the femme fatale. Naturally the subject matter intrigued him, but also because of the supposed true life manipulations through criminal and murderous actions over water rights between L.A. and the Owens Valley.

As a teenager with no money Will frequented The Paradise, a deco style theater on a street corner on the outskirts of the L.A. International Airport. It was an easy cheap date or double date as one paid and let the others in a side door. Will had taken advantage using that technique many times growing up in the area – tonight Will paid full price.

Will took no psychedelics prior, just smoked a joint on the way, he really didn’t want to solve the mystery, just enjoy it and watch it unfold; letting someone else do the heavy psychological lifting.

He bought a Coke at the concession stand, dumped the ice in the restroom and took his seat.

The theater was about a third full with a wide variety of people. Will instinctively “read” the room nearly everywhere he went, it had long become a natural part of who he was. This involved not just noting the people, but getting any out of the ordinary vibes. It wasn’t the range of emotions suppressed that mattered but the intent of the vibe. Angry, sad, happy, glad, those were extremely common vibes; tonight all seemed “normal”.

Sitting on the aisle left or right of center and at the very back was Will’s favorite seat at the movies for three reasons; there was no one behind him, quick exit if needed, and the view was all encompassing,

As the curtains parted and the lights dimmed he pulled out a flask of rum, poured it in with the Coke, sat back, and shared a drink with J.J. Gittes, Nicholson’s private eye character on the screen.

The cinematography, acting, dialogue, soundtrack music, and direction were superb, as was the screenplay. Will was impressed and also wiser of the depth of corruption that money could buy, and the consequences of those who couldn’t be bought. This was not news to him, but when shown through the magic of the big screen, dots connect quickly, and soon one realizes that this is just one representation of what takes place daily, in towns, cities, villages, and countries where people with money and influence can mold the future to their liking.

A couple of times during the movie there was a minor disturbance of raised voices that where quieted by a group “sshhhh!”

Will liked to stay for the credits, sometimes he even personally knew some of the names on the screen as past clients or acquaintances, but mostly it was to appreciate others hard work, others who go unknown or unrecognized but who contributed to the movie as much as anyone else. So he sat until the last credits rolled and the last movie-goers left.

After the movie, and heading for the back parking lot, Will was met with an unusually chilly night air accompanied with faint sea-salted fog. Before he got in his car he patted himself down for keys, wallet, and flask. He realized that in all of the movie’s excitement he must have left the flask behind.

As he returned to the theater and rounded the building to the front entrance he saw that there wasn’t an usher at the open door. Common-sense coupled with a weird vibe told Will that something was up. He crouched low and moved to the nearest edge of the door and slowly, slyly peeked around the corner – Paradise was being robbed!

An armed thief was demanding all of the night’s cash from the Manager and the Usher. This was the last showing and was an easy grab and run for the thief, but then Will saw another thief come from the manager’s office. Will pulled back. This wasn’t just about cash, they’d be gone by now, they wanted something else. He quickly thought; what would be worth stealing more than cash from a theater? Just then his question was answered as yet a third thief came down from the projectionist’s booth with two canisters of reels of movie film – Chinatown!

Once a movie left theaters they were replaced with newer releases; that meant it could take years before seeing it again – until it came to TV – edited and with commercials. Will was aware of this and would go see fave films at least twice before leaving the big screen forever.

So, the black market for reels of certain movies, especially ones that can be enjoyed repeatedly could bring decent money, enough to rob and get on a plane to deliver and cash in.

Will hung back, crept along the building to the parking lot and got in his car, it was the one closest to the exit to the street – he slouched down and waited. There were still several cars in the lot, one was the thieves.

On cue, three men, two carrying a film reel container-case each, came from the front to the back. They pulled out of the lot and headed down the boulevard toward the airport, but not to the passenger flights of LAX but under the runway and in the direction of the south side of the air freight forwarding area. Will followed as if a distant shadow mimicking every move but staying unseen.

It was about then that Will realized that he wasn’t on a case, he didn’t need to catch these guys or foil their plan – not over a couple reels of film and some petty cash, and certainly not worth risking his life. But just as he was slowing to stop and turn back he saw the thieves’ car slow down and park – out of surveillance conditioning Will did also.

Will now watched out of curiosity as another car approached from the other direction and slowed down to the thieves’ car. Will slouched down once again, but could see a transfer of the film for a package. As the recipient’s of the film cannisters drove past Will, he saw that it was Narc car – they tried so hard to blend in and look unassuming that they stood out and looked ridiculous in their effort.

Will gave in to his curiosity, hung a U turn, and followed the film.

As he followed, he projected a scenario whereby the men, Narcs, or off-the-clock Narcs were either collectors, dealers, or both, of black market movies, essentially a very low end crime, more like a high risk hobby.

Whoever paid for the film had projection facilities and probably at their house – or was yet another connection before arriving at its final destination. Will knew through his Hollywood connections that the interest in film was high, even higher in foreign countries; equaling too many suspects.

Will lost interest and decided to retrieve his flask back at the movies – the cops were probably on the scene by now. But as he pulled up there were no cop car lights, and no cops, they must’ve questioned the Manager and Usher already and processed the scene, and unusually quick.

Will parked as before, and approached the front of the building as before – the front door was ajar. He peeked through the crack in the door and saw two armed men pistol whipping the Manager and the Usher for information. That pushed Will’s action button and he quickly ran around to the side entrance worked the door open like he had done so many times before and made his way up the aisle stopping only long enough to grab his flask, then to hide behind the red velvet curtains separating the lobby and the concession stand from the theater.

He draped part of the curtain around him to appear like a dress and with his back turned and bent over just a bit with both arms around himself began to grab and grope himself giving the tried and true illusion and convincing appearance of two theater stragglers, a man and a woman making out.

Will started making amorous noises and smooching groans as he backed slowly into the lobby. Will could see the mirror image of the two men in the chromed concession stand trim.

As the man closest to Will grumbled something and made a move toward him Will quickly let loose his arms, whipped around into a crouch and used the momentum for a full extended leg sweep taking down the man with the gun.

Will jumped up in a quick Bruce Lee stance then picked up the loose gun and pointed it toward the other Man to join his buddy still on the lobby floor keeping the gun trained on them.

The Manager called the police. The Usher went to the restroom.

Will slowly moved the gun pointing at one, then the other and seethed, speaking through his teeth – Clint Eastwood style: “I can literally get away with murder right now, but I won’t, just tell me why you’re here, what you wanted – and you only get one chance ‘cuz scum like you need to be disposed of anyway.”

One Man: “We just needed to get the film, for a buyer, but those two said that they were already robbed of it.”
Will: “So beatin’ a kid was gonna change that?”
Will tempers his anger with another question: “Who were you to deliver?”
The two robbers look at each other, one speaks: “No name, just a place, the south end of the airport, by the air freight . . .
Will stops him: “Got it.”

The sound of sirens signaled Will that help was on the way and it was time for him to leave, he didn’t want to get caught up in this mess, too many questions. He locked the two men in the bathroom with no windows and gave the gun to the Manager, and left them both to tell their tale, of which surely the highlight was Will’s dual role “acting” and Martial Arts that won him accolades from the Manager and the Usher, as well as a few amused cops.

On his drive home he lt up another joint, and pondered the evening’s weirdness. With the distraction of the after movie “entertainment” Will wanted to see Chinatown again, to do that he’d obviously have to go to another theater.

His thoughts of the black market for films turned to the businessman’s well-known quote, “there’s a market for just about anything”.
Those words gave Will the goosebumps – that happens when he has nailed a concept or is
very close to the truth, or of a reveal.

He quickly pulled to the curb to focus on his thoughts. He had rightly assumed the Narc’s involvement was just another part of their usual level of criminality. But what if this wasn’t about film, but about narcotics? What if this was a robbery of narcotics between rival dealers?

The Manager! He was the front, and the Narc’s got there first.

Again, this was just a theory, and again Will had to shake off the fact that he was not on a case, and to leave well enough alone, and that he just wanted to have a nice evening out at the movies. So he continued home and got a good night’s rest.

The next day after his morning bowl of Marijuana accompanied with hot coffee he decided to go to the local record store, “The Vinyl and Tape Explosion” and it really was, the owner was either an eclectic interior designer, or the orderly king of chaos – the place looked like it blew up.

Will purchased the Chinatown soundtrack album, brought it home, and took it for a musical spin back to ‘30s Los Angeles. And while listening to this rich atmospheric music he went through his requests for cases.

Out of three there was one that seemed to be interesting so he phoned the potential client, and arranged a meeting at his office. The meeting went well, Will took the case, and agreed to begin in earnest the next morning after making preparations. His preparations included going to see Chinatown again, this time in one of the theaters in Westwood Village, just below UCLA.

His new case involved some psychedelic interaction with a group of people he peripherally knew; members of a local Venice improv group whose leader had disappeared. Before calling in the police, the client, the manager and owner of the club “Laffyerassoff”, like many others chose to seek out Will’s expertise in solving cases and avoid any negative publicity.

Will did his research on the missing person, and by early evening he was ready to go see Chinatown again.

As he drove to Westwood his mind wandered back to all of the strangeness of last night. Some bad guys got caught, but others got away. He did what he could, it was over.

He parked in the lot behind the theater and walked to the front entrance, and while standing in line to buy his ticket he looked into the lobby, the manager was directing a couple of ushers and as he turned Will recognized him – he was the Manager from last night.

Will turned to the side to avoid detection, bought his ticket, and patted himself down as if he forgot something and headed back to his car. Once inside he cleared his head by stokin’ a bowl and taking a long slow full hit. As he held the inhale he deduced that his theory was right, that the Manager was a front and that somehow, someway, narcotics, probably coke and the movie Chinatown are connected.

Then Will exhaled in total satisfaction as a grin crossed his face. It wasn’t coke, it was heroin CHINA white! The pure raw form of Heroin. The theaters showing Chinatown were all drops and fronts for a sly and very under the radar operation as a “floating crap game” of drug deals – last night Will stumbled into one gone wrong.

This was big, pure China White packed in just two film reel canisters full, once cut, could bring in an incredible return on the investment – and Chinatown was playing citywide at select L.A. theaters – that’s a lot of Heroin.

Will looked at his ticket for the movie that was starting in just a few minutes, and uttered half pissed and half enjoying his own schadenfreude: “Damn.”

Will started up his car and headed straight for his local police department; he had a connection there that, after all of the years of giving him inside tips that solved or helped solve cases, had been promoted and was always ready to listen to anything Will had to say.

Just like in the movie Chinatown, the truth behind the headlines is rarely publicly known. The papers made no mention of the movie Chinatown or its key connection that, through a “reliable anonymous source”, led to simultaneous raids on theaters amounting to the largest Heroin bust in L.A..

A couple of days later, after locating the “missing comedian”, who was moonlighting and making deals at a rival crosstown improv company, Will finally was going to see Chinatown again.

He borrowed a projector from a studio friend, and acquired an actual “silver” screen that unrolled for home viewing and two rolls of film off the black market – Chinatown.

The popcorn was ready.
The movie started, the quality looked real good.
Will sighed and smiled.

Then the phone rang.

Copyright 2018 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during December 4 – 6 2018 with only The Stoned Private Eye, the ‘70s, At The Movies, and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.

The Stoned Private Eye . . . . A 1970’S Noir Thriller Tonight’s Episode “The Treasure Chest”

August 20, 2018 00individual Leave a comment

A 1970’s Noir Thriller

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.

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.

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Tonight’s 1973 Episode: “The Treasure Chest ”

It was a Sunday night and Will was in the middle of watching his favorite TV show “Columbo” when his phone rang and at the same time someone knocked at the door.
He picked up the phone: “Hold just a sec.”, set it down on his desk and went to the door.
Will: “Who is it?”
There was no answer.
Will opened the door, there was an envelope on the mat. Will caught sight of the delivery boy running away down the alley.
Will shut the door and picked up the phone: “Sorry, two things at, (he stops) yes, what can I do for you?”
The person on the other end of the phone hung up.
Will figured if important they’d call back, unless – he looked at the envelope and wondered – unless that call was just a verification of receipt for the sender.

Will sat down at his desk and opened the envelope and inside was a letter that read;
sit down and finish watching Columbo and then meet me at the Reef at 10:30
Will did just that, but during the commercial breaks and before Columbo was over at 10 PM he had a new mystery to solve: who was he to meet?

At the first commercial break Will deduced that it was someone who knew that he’d be watching Columbo, where his office was, and was possibly a local, due to the employ of the local “messenger”, a kid Will had seen around the neighborhood.
Then Columbo came back on.

At the second to last commercial break Will deduced that if the ultimate message was to meet at 10:30 PM then it was probably about business, but why all of the mystery?
Columbo was back on and Peter Falk’s character was just about on the murderer’s last nerve; Will smiles.

It was the last commercial break before Columbo forces the murderer to confess or get caught.
Will had his mystery down to three possible people, but it was just one hint of a moment that gave it all away.
When Will picked the phone up off of his desk and just before the person on the other end hung up there was a sound, a familiar sound, a low breath, a sigh, a sigh that Will knew. He had heard it in his ear many a time. A sound that started with a sigh, that turned into a moan, and then a sexy growl. Yes, Will knew who it was, and so did Columbo, all along, but now the murderer was charged and arrested, and Will solved his little mystery too, it was Daphne.

The Reef was a beachside bar and grill that was known as a sometime hangout to certain levels of criminal clientele. It was not a family restaurant. The waitresses wore skimpy “mermaid” outfits and there was a fight every week that needed to be settled out on the beach.
Other than that, the food was great, the drinks were not diluted, and the pool sticks were straight – it was the table that was warped.

It was 10:30, Will walked in and saw her in a corner booth. Will smiled and sat down across from his friend and sometimes girlfriend, Daphne Rogers.
Daphne smiles: “Shaggy.”
Will acts ashamed like anyone heard or cared: “I thought the Scooby Doo stuff was only for the bedroom.”
Daphne: “It’s for anywhere I want it.”
Will: “You know I never got why I wasn’t Fred, isn’t Fred the obvious guy that would hook-up with Daphne?”
Daphne: “Fred was no fun. Shaggy was an animal in bed.”
Will, now proud of his Shaggy persona: “Why yes, he was.”

After a bit more of fun playful repartee, Will gets down to business.
Will: “What can I do for you?”
Daphne: “I want to hire you to help me locate . . .” she hesitates and is now the one whispering as if anyone heard or cared ”. . . a treasure chest.”
Will trying to hold back any sarcasm: “Really?”
Daphne, building good will and incentive: “We were good together on that jewelry store case.”
Will agrees: “That was fun.” “So what’s the treasure and where’s the chest?”
Daphne: “Well, that’s the tough part, I don’t know, but I know that it exists.”
Daphne opens her purse and unfolds a map.
Will: “Really? A map?”
Daphne: “Yes, my Aunt passed recently and she used to tell tales about a map and a treasure chest, we all just went along with the fun, we all knew that he was just kidding, but look, this was in among her things.”
Will looks at the map: “Where is this supposed to be?”
Daphne: “I don’t know, that’s why I want to hire you, if anyone can decipher this it would be you.”
She continues: “I don’t have any money, but (she says excitedly) I’ll split the treasure with you when we find it.”
Will finds the venture more like chasing an old lady’s fantasy, but sees the expectation in Daphne’s eyes, she really wants Will to join her on this quest.
Will: “Alright, I’m in!”
Daphne gives Will a big smile, folds the map and hands it to him.
Will: “I’ll study this tonight; come over tomorrow around noon and we’ll get started.”
Daphne agrees and they both leave.

Back at his office and home Will sits down at his desk, turns on the lamp, and unfolds the map.
The map is crude with little symbols representing parts of the map. There are triangles that appear to be mountains, an oblong circle that maybe represents a body of water, and an X to mark the spot where the treasure chest is.
Will shook his head thinking that this was really obscure; it could be anywhere, the elements were too generic to be anyplace noticeable.
To get a better look he pulled his extendable round magnifying glass lamp surrounded by a tubular bulb and focused it level and then slowly moved the map.
At first this only revealed the magnified world of paper fibers, discolorations, smudges, foreign particles, and . . . a fine line, and then another, lines so fine that without the magnifying glass it was not seen by the naked eye.

Will noticed that the paper was a sort of cheap vellum, a kind of paper that has different grades of transparency.
He set his favorite old ‘50s lamp on the floor, took apart a framed picture from his wall, removed the glass, laid the glass on the large flat top of the shade, and laid the map on top of the glass, then he turned on the lamp.

The fine lines were everywhere. As Will stood over the map he could see that the symbols that were plain to see before, were now parts of a bigger picture. There were even thin North, South, East, and West initials at the edges of the map.
Will was sold, this was a bona fide map that someone took a lot of time and care to prepare.
Will was so stoked that he spent the next couple hours taking notes; mental and paper ones.

The next morning he called Daphne and told her to forget noon and to come over as soon as possible as he had good news.

When she arrived Will had drawn the drapes to darken the room. He walked her over to the map on the glass on the lampshade.
Daphne: “What’s this?”
Then Will turned on the lamp.
Daphne: “Will, how did you, look at all, this is amazing!”
Will: “Yes, it is. Now does any of this look familiar to you or would have been relevant to your Aunt?”
Daphne seems deep in thought: “Well, she had a cabin . . .”
Will stops her and points to a place on the map: “Look close.”
Daphne focuses and sees the barely visible lines of a structure, a cabin.
Daphne: “I know where this is, it didn’t look familiar until the cabin, this is up at Malibu Lake.”
Daphne continues: “We only went there a couple weekends in the summer when I was just a kid; she sold it long ago.”
Will: “That’s alright as the X is near, but not at the cabin.” “C’mon, let’s take a ride.”

They drove up Pacific Coast highway to Malibu Canyon into the Santa Monica Mountains to Mulholland Highway and then onto Lake Vista Drive.
Will: “Should I just cruise or do you remember where your aunt’s place was?”
Daphne: “It’s on the other side of the lake.”
Once on the other side of the lake Daphne pointed: “Will, turn up this next street.”
The street was in a wooded area as was the whole area surrounding the lake.
Daphne told him to keep going, and at the end of the rural street was the cabin, it hadn’t changed, it looked the same as she remembered it.

Will: “Well, Mystery Incorporated have arrived.”
Daphne smiles at Will: “Now we just have to find the X.”

Will starts to get a strange feeling; so far the vibes have been fun in detecting clues and getting to this point, but something was off.

Will: “Does anyone else in your family know about this map?’
Daphne: “Not that an actual map exists, but sure, like the treasure chest It was just a little family fun that no one really believed.”
Will: “Then why did you?”
Daphne: “Because one night when I was a kid I stayed at her house in town while my parents went out for the evening and she told me something very seriously, she said, “When I’m gone don’t forget about the treasure.” “Then I grew up and forgot, until now.”
Will: “Did she ever say what the treasure was?”
Daphne: “No, that was the mystery, no one believed she had anything of real value, or what would constitute a treasure.”

Will motioned to Daphne to follow him. There were no cars about the cabin so Will went to the front door and knocked, there was no answer. They both peeked through windows to see what they could see. The place was vacant, no one was living there.

Will pulled out a magnifying glass from his car’s glove box and put the flashlight under the map near the cabin and the X. There, through the magnifying glass and underneath a smudge were what looked like tiny dots or little tiny footprints that led from the X to the cabin. While they could have been part of the smudge, Will thought not.

Will and Daphne went around behind the cabin and Will jimmied the door open, they went in. Will told her to look for a hidden door. They searched the whole house there was nothing that looked or acted like a hidden door, but as Daphne passed by a window she saw an old barn out back and remembered that her aunt told her not to go into the barn because it was dangerous; she never said why and Daphne never asked.
Once she told Will they both headed for the barn.

Will opened the barn door just enough for them to slip inside. It was dark and dank. Will used the flashlight to quickly scan the insides; there were old rusty tools, remnants of musty hay and straw on the ground, some wooden pallets, tarps, and an old ‘53 Ford pickup truck flat on the ground with no tires or engine.

Will was stumped. Even though the map was not to scale, Will wanted to check out the area between the cabin and wherever the X may be.
Daphne, from over behind the truck: ”Will, you need to see this.”
Will joins Daphne looking at the truck bed missing a tailgate.
Daphne: “Does that look like, a doorknob?”
Will reaches down and pulls the truck bed “door” open to reveal an opening in the ground with a few wooden steps that stop and become rock steps that lead down.

Will and Daphne look at each other with kid-like smiles.
Daphne was a lot like Will in her curiosity of mysteries and her adventurous nature. Although she was an employee at a major department store her night and weekend amateur sleuthing was her obsession, and she actually helped Will out on a successfully-solved case.

Will turned on his flashlight and took the dozen or so steps down and then Daphne followed. Will shined the light down an apparently man-made narrow tunnel. They both walked cautiously and Daphne took Will’s hand. The tunnel seemed to be on a descending path and had a couple turns, and around one a faint illumination could be seen reflected on the walls, then around another bend the illumination was brighter. Will turned off his flashlight.

Will and Daphne both peeked around the edge of the tunnel wall – Scooby-Doo style.

They had gone deeper underground than they thought. The light source came from what looked like a filtered hole in the cave’s ceiling and shone down on an old chest.

Again, Will and Daphne look at each other with kid-like smiles.
Daphne starts to move toward the chest and Will stops her.
Will still sensed a negative vibe.
Daphne: “What? C’mon let’s see what’s in the chest!”
Will: “Hold on a minute, what was it your Aunt told you about the barn, to never go in there because it’s dangerous.”
Daphne: “But it’s not, there’s the treasure, right there.”

Will realizes that the Aunt not only told her not to forget about the treasure, but also to beware of the barn, which seemed a contradiction as the barn led to the treasure.

Will: “Maybe the barn wasn’t the only entrance.”
Daphne: “So?”
Will: “So look around the chest, see that white around it on the ground, that looks like Sodium Hydroxide and when mixed with water is caustic, it will dissolve your skin.”
Will deduces: “There’s a tripwire or activator between us and the chest that will trigger the water source and activate a moat of lye.”

Will scans the walls with his flashlight and stops on a rock wedged at the corner of the floor and wall. There was the slightest discoloration from water around its edges, probably condensation from a minute underground tributary from the lake – unplugged it was the water source.

At this point Will didn’t want to test deactivating any trigger where there may even be a second one. That rock looked innocent and not tied to anything, but Will was smart when it came to this level of derring-do, it was derring don’t.

Will: ‘“C’mon, let’s see if we can find another way in.”
Daphne: “But, but . . “

They backtrack through the tunnel and up out of the truck bed as Will rewalks a mental above ground route in his mind.
He takes Daphne’s hand and starts walking in the direction of the underground treasure chest.
As he mentally walked off the steps and bends in the tunnel, he began to feel the vibe, they were near.

The overgrown brush was thick around the trees but opened to a little clearing where an ornate circular headstone served as a solo pet cemetery for Daphne’s Aunt’s family dog, Buster.
Will walked behind the headstone and looked closer, there on the backside bottom seemed to be a hinge disguised within the base’s antique designed cement sculpture. Will reached out and pulled on the headstone; it tipped backwards revealing a hole.

Will took out his flashlight and shined it down the hole.
Will: “Daphne take a look at this.”
Will held the flashlight as Daphne looked down the hole – there directly below, about twenty feet down was the treasure chest!

Just then Will and Daphne heard leaves crunch to see two men in skull masks with guns.
Skull 1: “Where’s the treasure?”
He cocks his gun pointed at Daphne.
Skull 2 cocks his gun pointed at Will: “We’re not kidding, don’t end up like the ol’ lady.”.
Daphne is angered, these were her Aunt’s killers, Will grabs her arm to restrain her.

Will acting all chummy and nonchalant: “Hey, guys no need for violence, we found a way in but she got scared (Will casually points to Daphne with a “chicks, man” attitude) so we turned back and were looking for another way in when you guys showed up.”
Skull 2: “Show us this other way in. Not both of you.” He motions for Will to show Skull 1 the way in. “I’ll stay here with the girl.”
Skull 2 sits down on a boulder with his gun trained on Daphne.

Will goes back underground with a gun to his back. When they finally reach the opening in the cave with the treasure chest in the middle Skull 1 moved to Will’s side to get a better view, that’s when Will took advantage of the moment, nailed him with his flashlight, and knocked him up against the rock wall which caused his gun to hit the ground and skid across the cave floor into the Sodium Hydroxide. Will ran back through the tunnel to rescue Daphne.

Skull I shakes off the hit, forgets about Will, and yells to Skull 2: “I found it, I found the treasure.”
I can’t open the lid, it’s . . . AAAAAAGHH!

Skull 2 stood up, and as he moved toward the screams coming from the headstone, Will’s running leap from a small rock ledge took down Skull 2 but did not dislodge his gun. Will was up and ready for action with Skull 2 ready to shoot him, when Daphne, with a tree limb bigger than herself, whacked the mask off Skull 2’s head along with some scalp – he was out.
Will was impressed: “Thanks Daphne.”
Daphne: “Back atchya Shaggy.”

With the killer unmasked Daphne makes a discovery: “That’s my brother-in-law!” “He killed my Aunt!”
She goes over and kicks him hard a couple times.
Will: “He’ll pay.”

Will rips the unconscious killer’s shirt off of him and uses it to tie his hands behind his back and at his ankles.
Will: “Now let’s get that treasure.”
Will runs back to his car, gets his trusty rope with a metal hook, and returns to play fish with the chest’s handles. While not a good fisherman, he was good with space relationships and gauged the hook-up correctly.

Once above ground they carried the chest off to Will’s car, loaded the chest in the trunk, and left for the nearest payphone. Will reported to his local P.D. guy that the two killers of Daphne’s Aunt were underground and in the woods; both needing an ambulance, and warned of the Sodium Hydroxide underground.

Back at Will’s place they lugged the chest upstairs and set it down on the floor. It was old and it looked just like the ones that pirates kept their treasures in, only smaller. The brass bands were oxidized and the lock popped open with just the right amount of applied crowbar pressure.

Will removed the lock, stood up and looked at Daphne: “Well, here it is, the result of the treasure hunt, open it up.”
Daphne looked at the chest, got down on her knees, reached out, and was just about to open it when she stood back up.
Daphne looking enlightened: “Will, if I open it one of two things, well, maybe three, but two for sure; will come about; there will be something of value or nothing of value.”

Will, knowing where she was going with this line of thinking: “You won’t know until you open it.”
Daphne: “What if I never open it. What if that is the treasure; the value of the unknown, the exciting possibility of something that could be life changing, positive or negative, or neither, or just an empty chest filled with an old lady’s dreams?”
Will, with a response he knew she’d appreciate: “You have come along nicely Grasshopper.”
Daphne smiles and is glad she made this journey with Will.

After a pause, and while they both look at the mystery treasure chest before them.
Will: “The decision is always which is more valuable; an answer, which will become a fact, or the unknown, which will maintain the thrill of mystery for as long as you want.” “It’s your choice.”

Copyright 2018 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during August 17 – August 19, 2018 with only The Stoned Private Eye, The 1970s, The Treasure Chest, and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.

The Stoned Private Eye . . . . A 1970’S Noir Thriller Tonight’s Episode “The Halloween Party”

August 15, 2018 00individual Leave a comment

A 1970’s Noir Thriller

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.

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.

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Tonight’s 1974 Episode: “The Halloween Party”

October 31, 1974, it was All Hallow’s Eve and everyone at the party was in costume, including Will, he was enjoying the evening fun by dropping some reliable acid and showing up as a Priest. While maybe not an original choice, the last ten months of the aftershock of the “scariest movie of all time”, “The Exorcist”, was still fresh in everyone’s mind; Will felt vindicated. And he also felt that he may need to perform an “exorcism” that night.

The party was given by a music producer who was one of Will’s past client’s. He had a Gothic styled mansion on the beach cliffs of Broad Beach in northern Malibu.
The interior was designed and rigged by Hollywood special effects crews to resemble a haunted mansion with cobwebs, suspenseful lighting, and remote-control ghosts, monsters, and skeletons around every corner.

There was a secret surprise scheduled and timed as a “midnight special” Halloween sight and sound extravaganza with all of the scary elements and some as yet unseen coming to life. Will knew about this; he had a friend on the crew.

One of the Producer’s bands, famous for their “Shock Rock” performances, hit albums and singles, played live for the ballroom filled with monsters, vampires, witches, outer space aliens, and the undead.

Halloween was always a fun day and night to trip, as the night’s fantasy took on a surreal parallel universe where everyone is the same, only different, with masks to cover their personality for a night, to be free to take on another.

Will was unmasked, deliberately, he never wanted his peripheral vision blocked. In his line of work, evil took joy in a sucker-punch, Will took joy in seeing it coming – and cutting it off.

But tonight it was all fun, just seeing old acquaintances, meeting new people, and tripping out. Will was nearly as well known as some of the celebs, rockers, and stars in attendance; only his notoriety was not worldwide, nor nationwide, but within the “discreet” locals of Los Angeles.

The party was rockin’; there were wild creative costumes, people were drinking, dancing, getting high, and having a great time. Will stood at a second story railing overlooking the ballroom of gyrating monsters, vampires and ghouls.

People were moving up and down the second story walkway until one stopped near Will, and from behind him he heard in a sexy voice: “Forgive me Father for I have sinned.”

For a second there Will felt what it was like to have someone confess their sons to him. In his psychedelic state, he realized that no mortal can give absolution to another mortal, heck, he didn’t believe that even immortals could, that’s something that someone can only do for themselves.

He turned to see a friendly face, Melody Anders, the younger sister of a childhood friend.
Melody: “Will!”
She put her arms around him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
Will, surprised: “Melody. Wow, nice makeup, you’ve got the sexiest zombie award for sure.”
Will, a bit hesitant: “It’s been a couple years.”
Melody: “The Stones, the Palladium, my freedom, and you. I had a great night.”
Will: “Me too.“
Melody, kinda proud: “You must wonder why I’m here, I made myself a nuisance around town until I got an A&R job after I brought the label two talented bands.”
Will: “That’s great, really, congratulations, and your Brother would be, is, very proud of you, I am sure.”
Melody: “I miss him.”
Will: “So do I.”

Will takes her hand and they descend the stairs to the dance floor where Will starts to playfully dance with her.

Will lets the psychedelia take him away, these are rare moments, where the real world has been transformed into a supernatural reality – a usual fun aspect of a normal acid trip. But now Will was on another level where everywhere he looked was real, therefore any hallucinatory aspects would be beyond the anthropomorphic beings all around. It is moments like that when it is easy to let go, give in to the cosmic, live the realistic illusion.
And this was it, the realistic illusion: Will was giving absolution to a beautiful undead girl while dancing and rockin’ out to some serious fun Shock Rock.

Then, all of the lights went out. The only visible image was the ballroom’s second story windowed dome that framed a full moon and stars.
Before anyone could panic the lights came back on to everyone’s applause, and the band in typical Rock tradition picked-up right from where they were unplugged.

When around so many people Will’s vibe reading was hard to single anyone out, it was all a blur, unless something very evil was introduced into the mix.

Will asked Melody if she wanted to go outside and catch some sea air. They walked out to the cliffs where other monsters and outer space creatures where taking in the full moonlit night.

Sexy as she was in her undead mini-skirt, Will could see that she was cold, and gave her his Priest’s robe. Will and Melody had this weird hot relationship; he knew her as a little girl, a teenager, and a young woman, and as the younger sister of a good friend who died in Vietnam. They had history.

Will held her close and as their tongues slowly intertwined, Will savoured the moment as he, a priest, was makin’ out with a beautiful undead woman that he had feelings for – this was psychedelic love.

Will always, well almost always, gave in to the psychedelic excursions into the wild, as long as he had his Psychedelic Buddy there to remind him: “Maintain, it’s the drug, Man.”.

He had experienced many things on hallucinogenics, but knew that even though his Psychedelic Buddy’s words were Tribal Truth, there was an unspoken truth that sometimes those experiences were real.

Psychedelics have the power to provide access to another plane, another dimension, or a separate reality; which could merely be a vibration away, and as real as the current universal “agreed upon” reality.

And sometimes, psychedelics provide straight access to one’s higher self.
Right now Will’s higher self was obliterated by primal urge.
Will looked into the undead woman’s eyes and said: “Let’s go.”
Melody smiled, agreed, and they made their way to the mansion’s back door.

About halfway through the mansion toward the front door the lights went out again.
Less than a minute later the lights came back on to an aborted round of applause.
There were men in clown costumes – with guns.

From Will’s view he could see an armed clown at the back door and an armed clown at the front door and two more to the sides with another probably in a getaway clown car, five clowns total; Will had a quick psychedelic image of clown after clown coming out of a Volkswagen Beetle, and couldn’t believe he could clown around at a moment like this.

The demands were simple; wallets, cash, jewelry – and under the threat of death everyone complied – no one wanted to test the threat.

As the Clowns gathered their loot, Will waited until a Clown came for his valuables. Will was wearing a very valuable-looking fake cross and when the Clown demanded his wallet and cross, Will said no.
And before the situation devolved into a “hand it over or I shoot the girl” situation Will made an unexpected move.

Will, after glancing at his watch and in a loud voice: “I don’t know who you clowns are, but there are Demons that just love your kind, unlike me, a man of the cloth, they have no mercy.”

The Clown at the front door, stepped forward as the leader.

Will raised his hand looking at his watch again: “On this Hallowed evening, let the dead rise and celebrate the good and damn the evil.”
Will ended by pointing his damnation at the Leader Clown.
Leader Clown, angry: “Who is that, clown, er, a, priest? Take him . . . ‘
With one last glance at his watch Will interrupts loudly: “May God smite you Clowns!’”
Nothing happened.
Will again, loudly: “May God smite you Clowns!’”
The lights went out again only this time spectral ghosts appeared and drifted around the ballroom, accompanied with horrible howls and groans. Monsters moved out from the shadows and bats flew about – and people screamed – it was the timed midnight celebration of special effects!

Will smiled and used the distraction to easily disarm the Clown next to him and execute a quick gunfisted karate chop to the neck.

Will moved Melody off to the side and motioned for her to stay as he moved low among the scared people toward the back door, and used the blocked peripheral side view of the armed Clown’s mask to blindside him with one perfectly-placed punch, and he was out. Will motions for people to leave out the back.

As even more effects, emerging dry ice, shrieks and wails, lightning flashes, strobes, and more animatronics join in the cacophony, the Leader Clown sees that he has lost control and yells to his men and heads for the door.

In the meantime Will had exited through the kitchen out the side and to the front of the mansion and approached the getaway car driver.
The second that the driver looked at Will’s priest collar, a normal distraction, Will punched him in the face unconscious.

The Leader Clown and the two others with their bags of loot ran for the getaway car.
Just as they are ready to grab the car door handles, the car moved ahead a few feet, they try again, the car leaps forward out of their reach.
Will is having a little fun knowing the risk so he lines up the car and with the leader on the driver’s side and the other two on the passenger’s side, unlocked the automatic doorlocks and punched it in reverse, kicked open the passenger’s door and opened the driver’s side door wide – hitting all three and taking off two doors.

Will felt incredibly invigorated, ready to go another round.
By then someone had called the cops; there were sirens approaching.
Will could see Melody amongst all of the other partiers leaving a Halloween Party they’d never forget.

Melody sees Will, and hand in hand they run off to their cars. She gets in her car and Will tells her to follow him.
Will sees in his rear-view mirror the Clowns get up and limp away with the other costumed partiers, some of them clowns as well. These guys were gonna get away with it.

Back at Will’s, Melody asked him: “That was some Hellfire Preachin’ – you were scaring me.”
Will: “I knew about the midnight timed celebration and preachin’ allowed me to take advantage of the distraction.”

While both were experiencing exciting adrenaline rush residue from the insane Halloween party, Melody, still in undead makeup, and Will, all in black in his priestly white collar, decided to consummate the fantasy in Will’s bedroom.

After bathing in the psychedelic afterglow of a lustful and devout union of necrophilia, Will’s mind began to take on the baser elements of being the Stoned Private Eye, nagging questions, things just enough out of place that they create a mental itch.

As Melody dosed off, Will realized that wasn’t a random robbery, it was well-planned in advance, but not planned too well, more of an opportunistic robbery, as they weren’t aware of the midnight special. That would safely eliminate any crew involvement, they pulled it off as scheduled and inadvertabtly helped foil most of the robbery.

Although this was an invitation only party, there were staff who planned and carried it out, within those groups there was someone with enough juice to know a “gang” that could pull this off.
The culprit would be pretty easy to spot if Will were given the chance.

The next morning Will’s priestly duds were on the floor and Melody had risen from the dead and removed her zombie makeup. They were two people who had survived one Hell of a Halloween night.
It was Friday, a workday for both of them.
Melody gathered her things, and Will walked her down the stairs to her car. She gave Will a warm kiss, got in her car and drove off.

Upstairs Will’s mental itch would not go away so he called the Producer and got the names of the companies providing the food and the firm handling the payments and contracts.

Thinking that it would be more efficient to weed out the suits first, as the instigator was probably some out of place underling, he headed over unannounced to the Producer’s attorney and accountant law offices of Dunaway, Redford, and Sydow.

Without saying a word Will had assessed the half dozen employees present, resulting in nothing.
The Receptionist: “Can I help you?”
Will, as he flashes a convincing ‘60’s toy Man From U.N.C.L.E. badge: “Don’t be alarmed but can you tell everyone that they need to leave quietly, the bomb squad is on the way.”

Will holds up his badge as he motions for everyone to quickly leave.
As the employees, accountants, and lawyers file past no one registers with Will.

Then he sees him, Ill-fitted clothes just bought from a used clothes store, sure sign of an ex-con, and out of place here, but obviously being given a chance, yet he already looked guilty as sin for something, he was the “inside man”. This was not the way to begin your life outside prison bars.

As the man walked by, Will felt compassion for the man whose vibe was suppressed anger. But Will felt the man’s anger was not against his employers, but against his controllers.
Will read the man’s name on his badge as he walked by.

Once everyone was out in the lobby Will announced that it was a false alarm.

Will waited outside the building at quitting time and followed the man to his car.
Will, from behind the man: “Ed Barnett.”
Ed Barnett turns and faces Will.
Will: “If you want to save us both some time, and by that I mean prison time for you, just tell me who you’re into and I’ll leave you out of it, before you tell me they’ll kill you or something, what do think they’d be thinkin’ right now, if they saw you talkin’ to me, they’ll find out who I am, a private investigator, and you become a liability; expendable.”
Ed: “You don’t know what it’s like in there, it follows you outside.”
Will: “You help me now and worst they’ll maybe just extend your probation, you get caught up in this any deeper and you’re back in for assault with a deadly weapon, robbery, grand theft, and a lot more, even as an accessory before the fact, you’ll still see a few years, so . . .”
Ed: “Fuck you, you’re just like the cops, act like you give a shit until you get what you want.”
Will: “I can call right now and have you arrested for breaking probation, don’t ask for what, whatever will get you in a room where the questions won’t be so nicely presented to you like I am doing.”
Will: “For God’s sake man, give yourself a break, start over, I hear Arizona’s nice, or any place where no one knows you, but right now I need a name.”
Ed knows Will is right, and realizes he needed to get out of sight and out of trouble’s mind.
The name Ed gave Will felt true, and if so, roadies’ took a hit.

The name was “Wild Bill” Halloran ex-cellmate of Ed Barnett and current roadie for the Shock Rock Band that played at the party. Wild Bill probably pressured Ed with his life for the party information and to add them to the guest list in order to plan the robbery with other ex-cons; only Wild Bill didn’t know about the midnight special either.

Will took all of this to his local P.D. connection with only Wild Bill Halloran as the instigator, there was no mention of Ed as Wild Bill was too angry at the cons who he blamed for the screw up, so he took them down with him.

Will took credit for breaking and solving the case and his P.D. connection made the collar.

This case pissed-off many cops, for while they were out taking down “information” from the celebs and stars who were at the party, Will was out solving the case.

Will didn’t really have a client for this “case” but he did receive a hand-delivered envelope full of one hundred dollar bills from the Producer with a note of thanks and to please meet with him at his earliest convenience.
Will called him up and arranged a meeting for that afternoon.

Copyright 2018 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during July 30 – July 31, 2018 with only The Stoned Private Eye, The 1970s, The Halloween Party, and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.

The Stoned Private Eye . . . . A 1970’S Noir Thriller Tonight’s 1971 Episode: “Out Of Body, Out Of Mind”

August 13, 2018 00individual Leave a comment

Tonight’s 1971 Episode: “Out Of Body, Out Of Mind”

The sun had set, darkness took over.
Street lights came and went on Wilshire Boulevard as William Trent, the Stoned Private Eye, took a drag on a cigarette-sized joint, as he headed home after closing another case.

Home was his standalone apartment/office above garages in Venice. He liked his place, the rent was good, the functionality was perfect, and he had a great view – the only drawback was that it was on the outskirts of Ghost Town, a notorious crime area dominated by the Black and Mexican gangs.

Will had made peace with the denizens of Ghost Town by offering free services that didn’t involve crime or violence, and early on these free cases helped hone his craft.

When presented with his first professional case he used that acquired knowledge with the assist of psychedelics, fine deductive reasoning, and the ability to sense a vibe to solve the case.

He advertised in the L.A. Free Press, and took an ad out in the telephone book’s Yellow Pages.

After successful solved cases within a cross-section of society over a two year period, Will’s business no longer needed advertisements as “word of mouth” clients kept him busy.

Around that time he became known in certain circles as The Stoned Private Eye; the reason was simple, Will did some of his best work while tripping on psychedelics, and joints were like cigarettes to him.

As he pulled into his back alley parking area, he saw the now familiar flashing lights from a police car bouncing off the walls of the homes and businesses at the other end of the alley.

Will backed-in his parking space, and as he climbed his rickety but sturdy stairs he admired the placement he had made of a mirror at the top of the stairs under the eave. From his desk inside he had a perfect view of the stairs and the garage area.

Will was stoked that he solved his latest case in time as he had a ticket for the next day, Sunday June 14th, to see The Who live at Anaheim Stadium. He and his seven Rock Fiend friends in a two car caravan were totally privileged to be able to see, hear, rock. and experience The Who.

The Who performed on a raised stage at home plate, Will and friends literally staked-out third base with a flag ninety feet from the stage, but they were miles high as they all took Double Dome or White Lightning LSD, or both. It was as if the whole stadium was apart from this world and the Who’s sound was the energy that powered their wedge of the world and charged their bodies and minds. It was the first and last concert Will went to where everyone was high on LSD – everyone.

Will was so jacked and high from the incredible feelings of empowerment, of virility, of life – the power of Rock ‘n’ Roll – that he decided to never let those feelings go, never let them fade away, to always remember those feelings for as long as he lived.

Will’s introspection and self-improvements were honed on LSD and other mind-altering psychedelics; for at some point in the trip the real Will would stand before him with questions, hard questions. And honest answers showed ways to prioritize and eliminate those things that hindered his progress.

People who don’t know what they want to do with their lives, which career to pursue, what path to take, all have a choice. People who are given a gift, can see it as a blessing or a curse, but none of them have a choice.

It took a long time before Will realized that people did not see the world the way he did. He saw and experienced everything just as everyone else did, but from a different angle, not visually, but, creatively, in thought and perception, like seeing past the obvious and then past that.

After a great apres-concert celebration and group Hashish smoke-out at one of the Rock Fiend’s pads in the L.A.X. area, Will had to jam as he had a client to meet first thing in the morning.

On the short drive to Venice Will cranked up the Who’s “Live at Leeds” cassette and rocked all the way home.

After smoking a morning bowl and somewhat still psychedelicized from the previous day and night’s rockin’ festivities, Will sat awaiting a hot cup of coffee at The Grotto, a small restaurant in the Marina. He checked his watch, he was early for his meeting with Roy Archer, a friend of a past client.

Will thanked the waitress as she set his mug of coffee on the table.

After sipping the hot coffee, Will looked up to see a man scanning the Grotto for Will.
Will stood and waved him over. They shook hands and sat down.

Mr. Archer: “Thanks for meeting with me Mr. Trent.”
Will: “What can I do for you Mr. Archer.”

As Archer spoke, Will assessed his vibe; this was a guy who just claimed that he had an OOBE, an Out Of Body Experience, and was visibly shaken by it, because while in that state, he saw a murder, or attempted murder.

Will: “What caused, . . . have you had any recent trauma?”
Archer: “No, nothing, I was at home, and I felt weird and sat down and as I closed my eyes I felt myself get up but I was still in the chair, then I was walking down a street, no one was around, and I heard a scream, and when I looked down an alley to see where the scream came from I saw a man strangling a woman until she went limp, I couldn’t move, I froze, he just looked at me and gave me an evil grin and pointed at me, and then ran away. I walked toward the dead woman, only she wasn’t dead, she was choking and coughing, and when I went to help her I looked around and I was still in my chair.”

Will: “You could have dozed off. What makes you think that this was something other than a vivid dream?”
Archer: “This wasn’t my first OOBE experience, I’ve had a few, but not like this.”
Will: “What made this one different?”
Archer: “Because I saw him, yesterday on the bluffs, he’s real.”

Will’s read on Archer was strong, not only was he telling the truth, but he had a weird vibe, not of a psychic, but of a sensitive, one who like Will can sense a vibe, only with Archer it’s in the form of an OOBE, with Will, a connection.

Will: “I’m not sure what you want me to do.”
Archer: “I heard you dealt with these kinds of cases, so I need you to stop this guy, he knows who I am.”

Will fears his quick rise to underground P.I. notoriety came with tales bordering on the supernatural, when in the end it was just deduction, action, and a little cosmic knowledge.

Will understands different states of consciousness can be as real, if not more than real, on some levels. For Archer this was all too real.

This “case” was interesting but Will realized that Archer needed to speak with someone whose specialty was how to approach what at the time was considered lunacy.

Will got it, but even with the ever expanding raising of consciousness of society as a whole, there was a stigma attached to the whole Counter-Culture extremists that in turn trivialized the realities of cosmic concepts for the masses.

Will actually saw this disregard as a natural safeguard, a filter that kept Occult (hidden knowledge) where it belonged; among those that held respect for the possibilities given.
And for those reasons Will took Archer’s case.

After moving the conversation to Will’s office and going over all of the details Will decided that they should literally cut to the chase and set Archer up for bait, and see what happens.

Although Archer was not too keen on the idea, Will assured him that he would be right there, he needed proof that this was real, and if so, to end it.

Mr. Archer knew he would never get this far with anyone else and wisely agreed.

That night Will met Mr. Archer near where he saw the Strangler, it was on the bluffs in Santa Monica, high above Pacific Coast Highway overlooking the Santa Monica Pier.

The plan was for Mr. Archer to walk one end of the bluff, that being south to the pier, and then return with Will shadowing him undetected.

They waited until dusk turned to night and began the walk. As they got closer to the pier Will began to consider that even if true, it could be tonight, or any night, or day, for anything to happen.

The closer to the pier, the more people were walking around enjoying the bluff’s palm tree-filled park-like “strand” and the view.

Will hung back as Mr. Archer made his turn back-tracking to the car. Will waited as Mr. Archer passed him by while eyeing everyone within view, then he leaned forward from the pole he was leaning against and continued shadowing Mr. Archer.

A few blocks before the end and near where their cars were parked, the palm-tree lined bluff took on a spooky look, just then Will got a chill and a man rushed Mr. Archer from out of nowhere, took him down and began to strangle him but Will dove in and pulled him off.

As they rolled, Will grabbed on to the Man’s coat. The Man just pulled himself from out of the coat, looked at Will with an evil grin, pointed at him, and like an animal, dove off the bluff into the heavy vegetation.

Will stood up holding the coat, and looked down over the bluff: “What was that?”
Mr. Archer comes up from behind: “That was proof.”

It was rare to have another level, dimension, reality, whatever one calls it, bleed into this reality, but people experience that nearly every night in their dreams. A normal reality disrupted by fantastic tales of limitless realities.

But why would an encounter during an out of body experience manifest into reality?
There had to be an explanation, because for Will, even with a foot in two worlds, they never crossed, they touched, but they never crossed.

Will took the license from the wallet of the coat the Strangler left behind and ran it straight over to his connection at the local police department; Will’s past tips had earned his guy points in the department. Will waited for the results which came back quickly. The coat and credentials were from a dead man.

Will was on an uphill learning curve with this case that now seemed like a rollercoaster ride that could plunge to its depths at any moment.

Will needed to stop the cosmic stuff and look at this like the Stoned Private Eye would.
He was sitting with strong evidence of the possibility of a corporeal manifestation triggered by an OOBE, a dream manifestation, or the dead coming back to life.
Or Mr. Archer was wrong, and he didn’t have an out of body experience but a premonition. Will deduced that a premonition as being the most probable.

Will convinced Mr. Archer that if it were a premonition, that with his help they might still be able to save her, and even solve the mystery.

It is said that the brain’s capacity in its fully operative state would be able to literally move mountains, and as far as memory storage – limitless. Therefore, there exists a very probable theory that one’s brain remembers everything. It has logged every second of one’s life, and everything surrounding those seconds; the environment, weather, time of day, mental state, clothes worn, and so on.

Will went to his car and returned with his trusty shiny pocket watch to hypnotize Mr. Archer in hopes of getting him to remember specifics of the area where he saw the woman attacked.

He realized that Mr. Archer’s altered-state visuals were probably framed in fog. Like most dreams, hallucinations, OOBE’s, premonitions, NDE’s (Near Death Experiences), and most memories for that matter, the peripherals of what is being experienced seems to fade to the degree that only the primary images are “seen”. However, even in those states the mind sees all, remembers all, senses all, it just has to be tapped.

Will’s pocket watch did the trick; Mr. Archer’s revisit of the crime scene revealed the entire picture which directed them not only to the place – in the alley across from the TrustUS Bank off Wilshire Boulevard, but at the time it would take place – the bank had a time and temp electronic readout under the bank’s logo; the time was 10:32, the temp was 64 degrees.

Mr. Archer was hyped, his latent memory had just given them solid clues, now they needed to know the date.

Will had to throw out all of his past theories as there was only one real theory; Mr. Archer “saw” an attempted murder and the suspect, the Strangler, was real, on the loose and probably not dead, but deadly, and there was a woman in danger.

Will told Mr. Archer to follow him to the alley off Wilshire Boulevard. They both got in their cars, drove up Wilshire, pulled over and parked a street down from the alley.
It was 9:45 PM, they had a forty-five minute wait to see if any women approached the area.

Will to Mr. Archer, now in Will’s car: “Does the name Frank Sands ring a bell?”
Archer: “No, why?”
Will: “That’s the name of the Strangler, or he was wearing Sand’s coat.

Will’s balance of the real and the unreal was being tested; the power of deduction and reason was strong but so was his knowledge of the power of the cosmic.

Will had finally reached the point of understanding whereby he believed in everything, well that’s not true, he believed that everything existed; all religions, myths, gods, histories, geographies, dimensions, stories, idols, animals, minerals, and vegetables and anything imaginable. No one on this plane of existence has the ability, insight, or right, to say what is or isn’t.

Once everything is accepted as a possibility then there is no doubt, no need for debate about that what has been, is, or will be.

Will knew that premonitions on grander scales could take years or decades to come to pass, but that personal, emotional ones usually come to pass quickly, at the height of their energy, and of their emotion.
Will felt that tonight was the night, the night that the energy was the strongest.

Archer, as he points across the street: “Look.”
A group of five women were walking up the block to a parking structure.
Two of the women got in a car parked on the street and waved goodbye to their other three friends.
The threesome walked to the edge of the alley, said goodbye to their friend, and continued on up the block as their friend entered the alley.

Will looked at the time and temp; it was 10:31. He got out of the car and sprinted across the street as did Mr. Archer.
The woman continued to the parking structure’s entrance.

Just as Will rounded the corner of the alley he saw the Strangler, much like Mr. Archer described, choking the woman to death, only Will didn’t freeze, he ran straight for the Strangler while screaming like a wild animal thus quickly getting his attention.

The Strangler looked surprised and dropped the woman, turned and ran, then looked back and with an evil grin pointed at Will.

But then something unexpected happened, when the Strangler turned back to continue running he tripped and fell head first into a dumpster.

Will, seeing that the woman was coughing but alive, started to run toward the Strangler when Mr. Archer stepped out from behind a dumpster.
Will ran up to see an unconscious Strangler and an out of breath beaming Mr. Archer.
Archer: “I remembered which store was down from the attack, I tore through there, out the back, and boom!”

Mr. Archer calls an ambulance for the woman and the cops for the Strangler using the payphone at the end of the alley.

Will handcuffed the Strangler to a dumpster using a spare set he kept in his car.
The Strangler was not the undead, the blood that ran down his face from head-butting the dumpster was red.

Mr. Archer pointed out the woman and the Strangler to the ambulance driver, and to avoid having to answer questions when the cops arrived, Will and Mr. Archer slipped around the corner got in their cars and met back at Will’s.

————————————————————

Mr. Archer didn’t get high, he never had, he was an accountant at a law firm and never had the opportunity presented to him. Will changed that.

There was a myth of sorts that the first time one gets high they don’t really feel it. That would be the case if they didn’t inhale. If you inhaled, you got high every time, including the “first time”, especially the first time.

Will told Mr. Archer to inhale and hold it in his lungs and then slowly exhale to prevent from coughing. Mr. Archer was a quick learner and was allowing the restrictions of his position in society to be put on hold to enjoy these glorious moments of a freedom and exhilaration he had never known.

Once they were both sufficiently high, Will told Mr. Archer: “I’ll find out who the Strangler is, and his relationship with the woman, my local guy will be able to give me that info.”

Mr. Archer is too stoned to continue with the charade: “No need, I know who he is.”

Will looks at him in the most surprised look he could muster with his eyes going from mere slits to half open: “Wha’ ?”
Archer: “I wasn’t sure, which is why I hired you, everything I told you was true, except one thing.”
Will waits: “And that is?”
Archer: “That while I now see that what I thought was an out of body experience was really a premonition of the immediate future, and . . .”
Will getting impatient: “And?”
Archer: “And I knew who the Strangler was, and I guess he knew who I was.”
Will, impatient: “Because?”
Archer: “He was the coke-head husband of the woman I was having an affair with.”
Will, now wide-eyed: “What?”
Archer: “You see, I wasn’t sure, it could’ve been her speed-freak boyfriend.”

With that response Will just looks at Mr. Archer and is speechless.

Archer: “Hey, I may look unassuming, but the ladies, they like “The Archer”, what can I say, except, can I get some of this Marijuana Weed from you?”

Copyright 2018 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during August 9 – August 12, 2018 with only The Stoned Private Eye, An OOBE, The 1970’s, and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.

The Stoned Private Eye . . . . A 1970’S Noir Thriller Tonight’s 1975 Episode “The Psychic”

August 8, 2018 00individual Leave a comment

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.

William Sage, 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 stairs that led up to his office door was open for anyone who needed his services.

Sage 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.

PSYCHICTSPE2

Tonight’s 1975 Episode: “The Psychic”

It was Saturday night and Will was with his date at a standing-room-only event at a Century City Hotel banquet room. The featured guest was the renowned psychic/ medium, and popular TV celebrity, Terrence Leighland.

Will knew of this guy, he ran into him once at a Beverly Hills party; it was the ‘70s, there were parties every night, and Will was invited to many of them. Some were hosted by past clients, many of whom were rich and famous and stayed that way because of Will’s solutions to their problems. Today Will would be called a Fixer, but in the ‘70s it wasn’t glamorous, Private Investigators were Private Dicks, Gumshoes, guys that handled other people’s dirty laundry, and were mostly looked down upon by society as failed cops or reformed criminals.

At that Beverly Hills party, Will and Terrence mentally sparred a bit. Will was not impressed; in his specific line of work he had met psychics, spiritualists, mediums, spoonbenders, and cons, and people with a gift that liked to exploit it, like Terrence Leighland.

Will’s date, Kathryn Snow, was a UCLA student working toward her Masters degree in Psychology. Will would not have been at this event if not for her, she thought it would be fun.

The audience applauded as Terrence Leighland took the stage. For most of the evening’s “entertainment” Terrence Leighland relayed messages from loved ones who had passed on, and made predictions.

Will managed to get Kathryn a seat as he stood next to her at the back of the crowded room.

At one point Terrence Leighland put his hand to his forehead as if deeply connecting to the spirit world.
TL: “I’m getting a, wait, I’m getting an animal, yes, an animal with fur, a dog.”
And as the words came out of Terrence Leighland’s mouth he looked straight at Will.
Will felt like he was struck by an arrow – his Border Collie, his best friend, had passed a few years earlier.
TL continues: “I hear an angelic name, the dog’s name is Halo. Does that mean anything to anyone.”
Once again as he says those words he looks straight at Will.
Not to spoil the emotional fun for everyone there, Will raises his hand as the emcee with the microphone unrolls the cord to reach the back of the room. Will is handed the mike.
TL: “Wait let me . . . your name is Will, William Treenut.”
People suppress laughter.
TL: “Sorry, I mean Trent, William Trent.”

Will knows what is going on, Terrence didn’t need to rely on his psychic skills, just a little investigation of his own after their last encounter; which was exactly what Will did.

Will plays along: “Yes, that is my name.”
Crowd applauds in confirmation.
Will continues: “And I lost my best friend a few years ago, her name is Halo.”
Crowd in low unison: “Awwww.”
But before Terrence Leighland can continue his focus on Will . . .
Will looks straight at Terrence Leighland: “I’m getting a Rob, no, Ron, Ronald, Ronald Busby? Does that name mean something to you?”
The audience all turn as if at a tennis match in surprise with baited breath for Terrence Leighland’s response.
Terrence Leighland shouldn’t have messed with the Stoned Private Eye.
TL: “Well, yes, he was a friend who passed on many years ago.”
The audience applauds and is amazed at another “medium” in the audience.
Kathryn watched in awe at what was taking place.
Terrence Leighland counters by outing Will: “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce my good friend The Stoned Private Eye himself, William Trent.”
The audience applauds them both.
Terrence Leighland takes back command: ”I’m getting a strong pull to this side of the room.” And as he walks across the stage he gives Will a quick sneer.

Will to Kathryn: “Had enough?”
She agreed, and on the way back to his car with a teasing voice: “I didn’t know you were a medium?”
Will smiles: “I’m not, I’m an Investigator, that’s what I do.”

They decided to hit a couple clubs up on the Strip for drinks and some slow dancing.

Will stayed at her place, but they were both up early; she to classes, and he to meet a new client back at his office.

Once there Will packed a bowl and inhaled long and deep as he went through his mail and checked his answer machine. The mirror at the top of his stairs alerted Will to the man he was to meet.

After the man came in and introductions and pleasantries were traded, the man told him that he thought his wife was having an affair and wanted proof.

Will never considered these “proofs” as cases, there was no mystery to be solved, just the confirmation of two people who were usually guilty of being in love.
But there’s no level of pain and betrayal that makes their issues any greater or less than any other, which is why he took on these clients; they’d find out sooner or later – and sooner is always the best, for everyone.
So Will agreed, got all the information he needed and walked the Man to the door.

He packed all of his camera gear and took off to follow the wife. The man said she had another one of her “women empowerment meetings” that night, which to Will was code for a quick and easy night of “proof”.

He followed her, not to a seedy motel, or Hollywood bungalow, but to an upscale house in Brentwood.

Will sat parked in his car deciding whether to wait it out or stealthily check each window of the house to get a nice shot of proof. He was about to get out of his car when he noticed a brand new white Volkswagen Rabbit pull up down the street and park. No one got out of the car, so Will took out his binoculars and as he focused in on the driver, he saw that the driver was looking through binoculars right back at him.

That was weird, was someone else trying to get proof? Will was about to get out of his car again to confront the other driver when the front door of the house opened and two women came out. Will quickly grabbed his camera, zoomed-in and focused, and shot two or three photos, then watched as the two women got in the wife’s car and drove out onto the street. Will saw the VW Rabbit turn on his lights and pull out from the curb to follow them.

As the Women drove past Will, the Driver in the Rabbit that followed smiled and waved to Will as he passed by.
Will wondered what kind of circus he was involved in, but realized his part was not over yet, as maybe they really were going to a women’s meeting, unless it was a lesbian affair, and if so, Will had the proof. So, he really had all that he needed, but to be sure he followed the two cars.

The “caravan” pulled up into the driveway of a lit-up mansion in Beverly Hills where a huge party was taking place. People were everywhere. Cars were directed where to park; but by the time Will parked, the women were off into the party, but he did see the driver of the Rabbit turn back and wave at Will as he too disappeared into the party.

As Will walked up the mansion’s steps and through the front door he laughed to himself, he felt like some twisted version of Alice in Wonderland; following a smiling and waving “White Rabbit” down a hole to now emerge in a world of a full blown party. But this was not a normal upscale party, this was another “event” with featured guests, comedians, costumed characters, and a live Rock band all performing in the spacious ballroom.

Will hung back and lit a joint while he assessed the room. The place was jumpin’, the band was rockin’, and people were dancin’.

From around the other side of the marble column that Will was leaning against he heard a voice: “So, Trent, nice move last night.”
Will sees Terrence Leighland step into view.
TL: “I don’t like to be shown up.”
Will takes a hit and offers the joint to Terrence as he exhales: “Then you should’ve left my friend out of it.”
TL: “Fair enough.” He takes a hit, holds it then exhales. “What brings you here?”
Will: “A couple chicks and a white rabbit.”
TL hands the joint back to Will: “Cryptic.”
Will takes another hit, then slowly exhales and jokingly says: “Yeah, well, tell me Mr. Psychic, what’s this party all about?”
TL: “It’s a benefit for Vietnam Vets – hopefully they’ll take in more than they spent on this soiree.”

On the main stage of the mansion rounds of laughter and applause is heard as a Comedy Store regular finishes a quick set.

TL: “Well, I’m up next, thanks for the high.”
Will gives him a nod, and watches him head for the main stage.
Will had seen Terrence’s act and decided to cruise “Wonderland” instead.

Walking among the party-goers, celebs, and rich donors, Will saw a few familiar faces, clients and acquaintences present and past. He made his way to the backyard, which was more like a small park with manicured grass and trees everywhere, and dirt pathways that all led to a large pond with a waterfall.

Will sat down on a park bench and watched and listened to the water’s movement over the rocks falling freeform into a continuous rejoining of self with the celebration of foam and outward ripples; a soothing natural wonder.

By 1975 Will had experienced a lot. His experiences although mostly physically local, were worldwide in the knowledge that he received, and cosmic in the abilities attained.
He had always seen things differently, which contributed to his investigating skills, and after many psychedelic trips he attained a mode of seeing things in a controlled near psychedelic state.
When he saw the waterfall, he saw another lifeform that existed for the survival of man and beast.
Being a Pisces and living by the Pacific Ocean was yet another gift Will had been given; and the pond and waterfall that were before him were sacred in their own right.

Just then the noise of a small crowd following two guys in a fight escalated into the backyard and out to the pond.
Suddenly both fighters, locked in wrestling holds, cannon-balled together into the tranquil pond.
Will stood up from the bench, stepped out into the pond, came up to the two fighters who were knee deep, and cracked both of their heads together, and then grabbed their ears and did it again just for good measure.
They both crumpled. Will dragged them both by their collars to the edge of the pond, and walked back over to the park bench and sat down.

The crowd that had seen all of this go down were speechless. In fact, they all slowly walked away, backwards.

While on the park bench reflecting his most recent actions, Will realized that he might have reacted a little too strongly and decided that it was probably a good time to leave.

In his mind he ended a fight and no one got hurt, except for the two fighters, but more importantly he restored the tranquil pond’s environment; however, others may have seen it differently.

Obvious of his pond experience, Will was soaked from the knees down, so he stayed to the edge of the room as he headed for the front door.

Terrence Leighland was just finishing his set when he spotted Will heading for the front door and shouted: “Ladies and Gentleman, attention please, many of you know him as The Stoned Private Eye, he’s here with us tonight, William Trent.”

The spotlight falls on Will just as he was about to exit.

To polite applause, Will is caught in one of those freeze-frame moments where, like a deer in the headlights, it takes a moment to register that everyone is looking at him and waiting for some kind of a response.
Will’s dark blue jeans semi-hid the waterline so he confidently acknowledges Terrence Leighland’s continued annoyance with a wave to the partiers.

A very nervous man rushes in on the stage and takes the mike from Terrence Leighland: “The benefit money for the Vets has been stolen!”

Will did the equivalent of facial recognition but only from memory. And as he scanned the crowd looking at every face he could to detect the face of a criminal, it wasn’t until he saw the Driver of the White Rabbit that he nailed the vibe, it was him holding the stolen donations and a few feet behind him were the Two Women, with guns to their sides.

As they moved across the ballroom melding with the crowd. Will looked straight at Terence Leighland, caught his eye, looked at the three headed for the front door and Terence Leighland knew, he just knew. He grabbed the mike back and said whatever would give Will the opportunity to catch the three off guard: “Will Trent get those three robbers headed for the door!”

The threesome were startled at being found out so they stepped up their pace and continued to the front door.
Will quickly yanked a tablecloth, leaving everything on the table still standing, ran as if a blur, and did a blindside takedown of the Driver while leaving the tablecloth trailing behind him, then quickly pulled the tablecloth out from under the Two Women as they stepped on it. They fell to the ground hard, and their guns skid across the floor. Will picked up their scattered guns and at gunpoint, kept all three on the floor.

Police sirens could be heard in the distance coming closer.

An excited Terrence Leighland runs down off the stage and meets up with Will: “Nice eye, we got the psychic vibe, we’re a good team!”
Will looks at Terrence and gives him an appreciative, but it will never happen again, smile: “Yeah, a good team.”

The next day at his local coffee shop, Will picks up the local weekly paper and takes a seat at a table. He turns the paper over and below the fold in big headline type it says: “Famed Psychic And Local Private Eye Foil Vet Robbery” with an accompanying photo of Terrence Leighland.
As Will takes a sip of his just served coffee he reads how “they” solved the robbery.
Will was glad a photo of him was not included, he did not want to be perceived as professionally associated with “the psychic” – one trip down the rabbit hole was enough.

Copyright 2018 00individual TLL
Written spontaneously over a few hours during August 06 – August 07, 2018 with only The Stoned Private Eye, The 1970s, The Psychic, and a Noir Vibe as inspiration.

THE STONED PRIVATE EYE

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