Kamis, 27 Januari 2011
Prince Hippo 1
"Do you remembered me?" said the girl with her tears fallin' in her cheek."no!! who are you??" "who are you?" said someone"i'm your math teacher!! wake up, miss lazy! now get out of my class!" said her angry. oh she caught me sleeping in her class.half of my friend in class was laughing but i didn't care about that. i'm totally sleepy and that was a weird dream. kinda nightmare. 'cause i already dream like that for 5 times this week! geezso i stand up and step forward to out of class. oiya, i havent introduce my self. uhm, my name is Dio, and im in second senior high school. well, this is not my first time being out of class because sleeping.i went to canteen and start thinking about that dream again. im quite sure i've seen that girl. but im totally forgot. she's like my mother but im 100% sure she's not my mother.bells just rung, the math lesson ended. i went upstairs to go back to my class. "geez, prince hippo!" said my friends, Rey"what are you doing every night?seems you're always sleeping at least one lesson every day" said Farah"you know, imma bussy man. a lot of girl send me message ask me to chat, and also i play a game until midnight" said me"lol is that what you call bussy? hhahha once prince hippo, always prince hippo" said Rey
Missing Person - Episode #12
Episode 12: Kathy to the Rescue
Without thinking another second, I kicked Bill in his right knee. He screamed in pain and fell backwards on his back. The gun fell to the ground. I picked it up and pointed it at Bill.
“The game is over, Bill.” I said, moving the gun closer to his face. “ I know that you killed John Costello, too. Was he your partner in kidnapping Sarah?”
“Costello was an idiot. He was supposed to kill Anne and then keep quiet. But he told me he wanted more money or he would tell the police everything he knew. So I had to kill him so he wouldn’t blab to the cops.”
“And you came to Costello’s apartment tonight to get rid of any evidence that connected you to him?” I asked.
“Costello had my name written down on a sheet of paper I gave him. I had to find the paper and get rid of it.” Just then I heard a knock on the door, and someone came in. It was Kathy Chang.
“Kathy! Right on time!” I said. “Did you call the police?”
“Yes, they are on their way here right now. I have a camera person from the television station outside. We’re ready to report the story.”
The police arrived a few minutes later, and arrested Bill Salas for the murder of his wife and John Costello. Anne would be devastated, of course, but at least now she would know the truth.
Now it was really over, and the murderer had been found. A week later, I met Kathy at her apartment for our usual dinner. Of course she wanted to know all about the case of Sarah Salas’ kidnapping. We talked over a wonderful meal of baked chicken.
“I understand that Bill killed his wife, Sarah, for her money,” Kathy said, “but how much money was he going to get?
“Bill had a two-million-dollar life insurance policy on Sarah,” I responded. “Bill would get two million plus half of the money from Pardo Computers.”
“And how was John Costello involved in this whole thing?”
“John Costello lived in the same apartment building as Bill and Sarah,” I said. “He moved-in a few months ago, and became friends with Bill. But John liked to go to Las Vegas and gamble. He also liked to smoke and drink. So he needed money--lots of money.”
“And Bill gave him a chance to make a lot of money by helping him kidnap Sarah,” Kathy said.
“Exactly. Bill told John he would give him $500,000 if he helped him kidnap Sarah.”
“But how did they take Sarah? Where did they keep her?”
“Bill had planned everything out very carefully,” I explained. “He told John Costello to call Sarah on the phone to ask her for some help with his computer. When she got there, John tied her up and kept her in his room. Bill left Los Angeles for two days in a rented car, so people would think both he and Sarah had disappeared. And it worked: Anne called the police, because she thought that both Bill and Sarah were in trouble. That’s when Anne asked me for help.”
“What went wrong with Bill’s perfect plan, then?”
“The problem was that John Costello wasn’t a very good helper,” I said. “He was supposed to kill Anne on the freeway, but he didn’t. Then he told Bill that if Bill didn’t give him more money, he would tell the police about the kidnapping.”
“That’s when Bill decided to kill Costello, to make sure Costello didn’t tell the police?”
“Exactly. He went to the bar where Costello worked and killed him,” I said. “Then he went back to Costello’s apartment to kill his wife. He cut her throat and put her body in the street. But when I discovered that John Costello lived in the same apartment building, I knew it was no coincidence, and that’s how I figured it out.”
I took a drink of the wine and looked at Kathy. She really was a very beautiful woman.
“Well, let’s not think about Anne or Bill or John Costello,” Kathy said. She smiled and raised her glass of wine. Perhaps I’ve been working too hard on this case. I’ve forgotten the simple pleasures of life. It was time to spend some more time on the good things in life, like a good glass of wine, a good meal, and Kathy’s wonderful smile.
Without thinking another second, I kicked Bill in his right knee. He screamed in pain and fell backwards on his back. The gun fell to the ground. I picked it up and pointed it at Bill.
“The game is over, Bill.” I said, moving the gun closer to his face. “ I know that you killed John Costello, too. Was he your partner in kidnapping Sarah?”
“Costello was an idiot. He was supposed to kill Anne and then keep quiet. But he told me he wanted more money or he would tell the police everything he knew. So I had to kill him so he wouldn’t blab to the cops.”
“And you came to Costello’s apartment tonight to get rid of any evidence that connected you to him?” I asked.
“Costello had my name written down on a sheet of paper I gave him. I had to find the paper and get rid of it.” Just then I heard a knock on the door, and someone came in. It was Kathy Chang.
“Kathy! Right on time!” I said. “Did you call the police?”
“Yes, they are on their way here right now. I have a camera person from the television station outside. We’re ready to report the story.”
The police arrived a few minutes later, and arrested Bill Salas for the murder of his wife and John Costello. Anne would be devastated, of course, but at least now she would know the truth.
Now it was really over, and the murderer had been found. A week later, I met Kathy at her apartment for our usual dinner. Of course she wanted to know all about the case of Sarah Salas’ kidnapping. We talked over a wonderful meal of baked chicken.
“I understand that Bill killed his wife, Sarah, for her money,” Kathy said, “but how much money was he going to get?
“Bill had a two-million-dollar life insurance policy on Sarah,” I responded. “Bill would get two million plus half of the money from Pardo Computers.”
“And how was John Costello involved in this whole thing?”
“John Costello lived in the same apartment building as Bill and Sarah,” I said. “He moved-in a few months ago, and became friends with Bill. But John liked to go to Las Vegas and gamble. He also liked to smoke and drink. So he needed money--lots of money.”
“And Bill gave him a chance to make a lot of money by helping him kidnap Sarah,” Kathy said.
“Exactly. Bill told John he would give him $500,000 if he helped him kidnap Sarah.”
“But how did they take Sarah? Where did they keep her?”
“Bill had planned everything out very carefully,” I explained. “He told John Costello to call Sarah on the phone to ask her for some help with his computer. When she got there, John tied her up and kept her in his room. Bill left Los Angeles for two days in a rented car, so people would think both he and Sarah had disappeared. And it worked: Anne called the police, because she thought that both Bill and Sarah were in trouble. That’s when Anne asked me for help.”
“What went wrong with Bill’s perfect plan, then?”
“The problem was that John Costello wasn’t a very good helper,” I said. “He was supposed to kill Anne on the freeway, but he didn’t. Then he told Bill that if Bill didn’t give him more money, he would tell the police about the kidnapping.”
“That’s when Bill decided to kill Costello, to make sure Costello didn’t tell the police?”
“Exactly. He went to the bar where Costello worked and killed him,” I said. “Then he went back to Costello’s apartment to kill his wife. He cut her throat and put her body in the street. But when I discovered that John Costello lived in the same apartment building, I knew it was no coincidence, and that’s how I figured it out.”
I took a drink of the wine and looked at Kathy. She really was a very beautiful woman.
“Well, let’s not think about Anne or Bill or John Costello,” Kathy said. She smiled and raised her glass of wine. Perhaps I’ve been working too hard on this case. I’ve forgotten the simple pleasures of life. It was time to spend some more time on the good things in life, like a good glass of wine, a good meal, and Kathy’s wonderful smile.
Missing Person - Episode #11
Episode 11: Right on Schedule
Things were starting to make more sense to me now. I was beginning to see what had really happened to Sarah Salas, and why she was killed. But I had no proof to show that I was right. I needed to get some real evidence. I went home and rang up Kathy Chang. I asked her to do me a big favor that night. Fortunately, she said “yes.” Now I was ready. I turned on the television and watched the baseball game. I had some time to kill until it was dark outside. When it was nighttime, I got in my car and started driving.
When I got near Bill and Sarah’s apartment building, I turned off the lights of my car and parked about a block away. I didn’t want anyone to know I was here. It was now 7:30 p.m. I was right on schedule.
Very quietly I walked up the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. I needed to break into Costello’s apartment, which was on the first floor. I looked into the apartment through the window. There was a light on. I took out my gun and made sure I had bullets in it. I slowly began to open the front window, which was already cracked open. After about a minute, I got the window open and stepped inside the living room of the apartment.
I saw a light on in the kitchen. There was someone in there, and this time it was no cat. I walked to the kitchen door. I needed to surprise the person if I were going to catch him. As I opened the door, I yelled as loud as I could, “Don’t move!” The man turned around suddenly. I had guessed right: it was Bill.
“What?! What are you...” Before he finished his sentence, Bill took the frying pan he was holding and hurled it toward my face. I ducked down and the pan flew over my head. Bill came at me. He pushed me to the ground, and hit me in the stomach.
I hit him back in the face. We hit each other several times, until I noticed that my gun was now on the floor next to us. I stopped hitting Bill and reached for the gun. But Bill saw what I was doing, and jumped up. He grabbed the gun before I could get it in my hands, and pointed it at me.
“Don’t move, Reeves.” Bill had a big smile on his face. I was not smiling.
“So you figured out the truth, eh?” Bill said. “You think you are so smart, don’t you, Reeves? Well, you were right. I did kill Sarah, and now I will get all of her money. But you will just get a bullet in your head. That’s your reward for being so smart.”
Bill looked at me with real hatred. I have seen men kill before. I know the look in their eyes before they kill. I knew that I didn’t have much time to think of something.
Bill stood in front of me with the gun pointed at my face. Suddenly I remembered the pills I found in Bill and Sarah’s bedroom for Bill’s bad leg.
Now I knew what to do.
Things were starting to make more sense to me now. I was beginning to see what had really happened to Sarah Salas, and why she was killed. But I had no proof to show that I was right. I needed to get some real evidence. I went home and rang up Kathy Chang. I asked her to do me a big favor that night. Fortunately, she said “yes.” Now I was ready. I turned on the television and watched the baseball game. I had some time to kill until it was dark outside. When it was nighttime, I got in my car and started driving.
When I got near Bill and Sarah’s apartment building, I turned off the lights of my car and parked about a block away. I didn’t want anyone to know I was here. It was now 7:30 p.m. I was right on schedule.
Very quietly I walked up the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. I needed to break into Costello’s apartment, which was on the first floor. I looked into the apartment through the window. There was a light on. I took out my gun and made sure I had bullets in it. I slowly began to open the front window, which was already cracked open. After about a minute, I got the window open and stepped inside the living room of the apartment.
I saw a light on in the kitchen. There was someone in there, and this time it was no cat. I walked to the kitchen door. I needed to surprise the person if I were going to catch him. As I opened the door, I yelled as loud as I could, “Don’t move!” The man turned around suddenly. I had guessed right: it was Bill.
“What?! What are you...” Before he finished his sentence, Bill took the frying pan he was holding and hurled it toward my face. I ducked down and the pan flew over my head. Bill came at me. He pushed me to the ground, and hit me in the stomach.
I hit him back in the face. We hit each other several times, until I noticed that my gun was now on the floor next to us. I stopped hitting Bill and reached for the gun. But Bill saw what I was doing, and jumped up. He grabbed the gun before I could get it in my hands, and pointed it at me.
“Don’t move, Reeves.” Bill had a big smile on his face. I was not smiling.
“So you figured out the truth, eh?” Bill said. “You think you are so smart, don’t you, Reeves? Well, you were right. I did kill Sarah, and now I will get all of her money. But you will just get a bullet in your head. That’s your reward for being so smart.”
Bill looked at me with real hatred. I have seen men kill before. I know the look in their eyes before they kill. I knew that I didn’t have much time to think of something.
Bill stood in front of me with the gun pointed at my face. Suddenly I remembered the pills I found in Bill and Sarah’s bedroom for Bill’s bad leg.
Now I knew what to do.
Missing Person - Episode #10
Episode 10: The Bartender Shows Up
Episode 10: The Bartender Shows Up
It was time to try a different approach. I decided to find John Costello first and talk to him. I wanted to find out why his car hit Anne’s and almost killed her. I knew Costello lived in Santa Monica, so I drove up the freeway and got off near Main Street. I went to the address Officer Cho gave me and knocked on the door. No one answered. I knocked on the apartment manager’s door. An old woman answered. “Excuse me, I’m trying to find John Costello. He lives in number 503.”
“Mr. Costello lived--past tense--in 503. He moved out two months ago,” she said.
“Do you know where he lives now or where he works,” I asked.
“I don’t know where he moved to, but I think he still works at the bar on 4th Street.”
“Thanks for your help.” I got back in my car and drove down to the bar. It was only 10:00 a.m., and already there were cars parked outside the place. Some people like to start drinking really early.
As I walked down the street toward the bar, I heard two gun shots. I immediately reached for my gun, which I keep on my belt. The gun is registered, of course, but I only carry it with me when I think there might be trouble. I ran toward the bar, and I heard another sound, like the wheels of a car turning very fast. I slowly opened the front door of the bar and looked around. There was a man standing over a dead body. The floor was covered with blood.
“Don’t shoot!” the man yelled at me.
“It’s okay, I’m a private detective. What happened here?” I asked.
“Someone just ran in here and shot John! I think he’s dead,” the man answered.
“John? The dead man’s name is John?” I asked.
“Yeah, he is--was--the bartender. His name’s John Costello.”
“Someone call the police,” I said. “Did anyone recognize the man who shot Costello? Did anyone see what he looked like?” There were four men in the bar. Each man looked at the other. Everyone just shook their head.
“Uh, I didn’t really see him very well,” said one man.
“Yeah, it’s dark in here. I didn’t see his face,” said another.
I decided not to stay at the bar. I didn’t want the police to find out about Sarah’s kidnapping, and how Costello may have been connected. I drove back toward downtown. I stopped to have lunch at my favorite sushi bar and thought about the case. I was now more confused than before. This morning I guessed that John Costello might be the kidnapper. Now Costello was dead. The girl at the beach store might be involved, but I had no evidence of that. I was stuck. At around 2:00 p.m. I went to the hospital and picked up Anne. She was feeling much better, and was happy to see me.
“Have you heard anything from Bill about giving the money to the kidnappers?” I asked her.
“No, Bill hasn’t called.”
“Well, let’s go over there and see what happened.” We drove over to Bill and Sarah’s apartment, and we were surprised to see two police cars outside the building. Bill was sitting on the steps of the building crying.
“What happened?!” Anne said to me as we parked the car. “Why are the police here?”
“I don’t know, Anne,” I said. “Let’s just try to stay calm and find out what is going on.” As we walked toward the apartment building, I had a feeling in my stomach that something was wrong--very wrong.
“Oh, Anne, she’s dead! She’s dead!” Bill cried. He jumped up to hug Anne. “Sarah’s dead!”
“Bill, what happened?” I asked. “Did the kidnappers call?” I saw that Anne was in shock. She couldn’t believe what Bill was telling her.
“No, I made a terrible mistake,” Bill said. “I got scared, so I called the police this morning. I told them everything. I told them that Sarah had been kidnapped. Then two hours later...she was dead! I found Sarah’s body in the street in front of the apartment building!”
Bill began to cry again, and Anne looked like she was going to fall down. I grabbed her arm and helped her sit down on the steps. I turned to the police officer standing next to us. “Where was the body found?” I asked.
“In the street, like Mr. Salas said,” he answered. “We got here about 30 minutes ago. She was already dead. She had been cut in the throat by some type of knife or piece of glass.”
It was over. I had tried my best, but Sarah was now dead. I thought about all the things that had happened. I even blamed myself. Maybe I should have...? But you can’t blame yourself. Sometimes, you just have bad luck. There was nothing more I could do. I shook hands with Bill and gave Anne one last hug. I decided I would call my friend Officer Cho and tell him what I knew. Maybe they could find the person who killed Sarah. As I was about to leave, I noticed a list of names on the mailboxes of Bill and Sarah’s apartment building. I don’t know why I decided to look at the list. Sometimes you just do the right thing at the right time and get lucky. This was one of those times. I recognized one of the names on the list. I couldn’t believe my eyes, so I looked more closely a second time. Yes, I was right. The name on the list read “Costello, John--Apt. 1A.” John Costello lived in the same building as Bill and Sarah Salas
Episode 10: The Bartender Shows Up
It was time to try a different approach. I decided to find John Costello first and talk to him. I wanted to find out why his car hit Anne’s and almost killed her. I knew Costello lived in Santa Monica, so I drove up the freeway and got off near Main Street. I went to the address Officer Cho gave me and knocked on the door. No one answered. I knocked on the apartment manager’s door. An old woman answered. “Excuse me, I’m trying to find John Costello. He lives in number 503.”
“Mr. Costello lived--past tense--in 503. He moved out two months ago,” she said.
“Do you know where he lives now or where he works,” I asked.
“I don’t know where he moved to, but I think he still works at the bar on 4th Street.”
“Thanks for your help.” I got back in my car and drove down to the bar. It was only 10:00 a.m., and already there were cars parked outside the place. Some people like to start drinking really early.
As I walked down the street toward the bar, I heard two gun shots. I immediately reached for my gun, which I keep on my belt. The gun is registered, of course, but I only carry it with me when I think there might be trouble. I ran toward the bar, and I heard another sound, like the wheels of a car turning very fast. I slowly opened the front door of the bar and looked around. There was a man standing over a dead body. The floor was covered with blood.
“Don’t shoot!” the man yelled at me.
“It’s okay, I’m a private detective. What happened here?” I asked.
“Someone just ran in here and shot John! I think he’s dead,” the man answered.
“John? The dead man’s name is John?” I asked.
“Yeah, he is--was--the bartender. His name’s John Costello.”
“Someone call the police,” I said. “Did anyone recognize the man who shot Costello? Did anyone see what he looked like?” There were four men in the bar. Each man looked at the other. Everyone just shook their head.
“Uh, I didn’t really see him very well,” said one man.
“Yeah, it’s dark in here. I didn’t see his face,” said another.
I decided not to stay at the bar. I didn’t want the police to find out about Sarah’s kidnapping, and how Costello may have been connected. I drove back toward downtown. I stopped to have lunch at my favorite sushi bar and thought about the case. I was now more confused than before. This morning I guessed that John Costello might be the kidnapper. Now Costello was dead. The girl at the beach store might be involved, but I had no evidence of that. I was stuck. At around 2:00 p.m. I went to the hospital and picked up Anne. She was feeling much better, and was happy to see me.
“Have you heard anything from Bill about giving the money to the kidnappers?” I asked her.
“No, Bill hasn’t called.”
“Well, let’s go over there and see what happened.” We drove over to Bill and Sarah’s apartment, and we were surprised to see two police cars outside the building. Bill was sitting on the steps of the building crying.
“What happened?!” Anne said to me as we parked the car. “Why are the police here?”
“I don’t know, Anne,” I said. “Let’s just try to stay calm and find out what is going on.” As we walked toward the apartment building, I had a feeling in my stomach that something was wrong--very wrong.
“Oh, Anne, she’s dead! She’s dead!” Bill cried. He jumped up to hug Anne. “Sarah’s dead!”
“Bill, what happened?” I asked. “Did the kidnappers call?” I saw that Anne was in shock. She couldn’t believe what Bill was telling her.
“No, I made a terrible mistake,” Bill said. “I got scared, so I called the police this morning. I told them everything. I told them that Sarah had been kidnapped. Then two hours later...she was dead! I found Sarah’s body in the street in front of the apartment building!”
Bill began to cry again, and Anne looked like she was going to fall down. I grabbed her arm and helped her sit down on the steps. I turned to the police officer standing next to us. “Where was the body found?” I asked.
“In the street, like Mr. Salas said,” he answered. “We got here about 30 minutes ago. She was already dead. She had been cut in the throat by some type of knife or piece of glass.”
It was over. I had tried my best, but Sarah was now dead. I thought about all the things that had happened. I even blamed myself. Maybe I should have...? But you can’t blame yourself. Sometimes, you just have bad luck. There was nothing more I could do. I shook hands with Bill and gave Anne one last hug. I decided I would call my friend Officer Cho and tell him what I knew. Maybe they could find the person who killed Sarah. As I was about to leave, I noticed a list of names on the mailboxes of Bill and Sarah’s apartment building. I don’t know why I decided to look at the list. Sometimes you just do the right thing at the right time and get lucky. This was one of those times. I recognized one of the names on the list. I couldn’t believe my eyes, so I looked more closely a second time. Yes, I was right. The name on the list read “Costello, John--Apt. 1A.” John Costello lived in the same building as Bill and Sarah Salas
Missing Person - Episode #9
Episode 9: At the Beach
So now someone wanted to kill me. But how did anyone know I was working on this case? Was Lenny part of this kidnapping in some way? I still had more questions than I had answers about this case.
I called my friend Officer Cho back at the police station. He had the car registration information I requested earlier. The mysterious red car that hit Anne last night on the freeway belonged to John Costello, age 37, living in Santa Monica. Tomorrow I would visit Costello. Tonight, I just needed to get some sleep.
The next morning I got up early and went to visit Anne in the hospital. Luckily, she was doing just fine. I told her I would pick her up later in the afternoon and give her a ride home.
First, I went to visit June Brown, the other ex-employee of Pardo Computers that Anne and Bill thought might be involved in the kidnapping. She now worked at a clothing store on the beach, Stern’s Fashions. I love going to the beach in L.A. The sun is always shining, the surfers are riding the waves, and the people all look so beautiful, just like movie stars.
I walked into the clothing store and looked around. The customers were mostly college students. “Excuse me, miss?” I said to the young sales clerk. “I’m looking for one of the employees here, a June Brown?”
“Who’s looking for her?” she asked, a little suspicious.
“My name is Darron Reeves. I just want to ask her a few questions.”
“What kind of questions do you want to ask her?” she replied.
“Just some questions. Look, is June Brown here today or not?” I was getting impatient with this girl.
“I’m June Brown, and I don’t know if I want to answer your questions, mister.” She crossed her arms and looked at me with a very unfriendly face. “Who do you work for? The police?”
“No, I don’t work for the police. I’m a, eh...private detective,” I answered. “I just want to know where you were three days ago, in the morning. Can you just tell me that?”
“I don’t remember. I think I was with my boyfriend,” she said with a smile. “Yeah, that’s right, I was with my boyfriend.”
“Can I talk to your boyfriend?”
“No, you can’t,” she said, suddenly getting very angry.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because he doesn’t want to talk to you!” June said. “Look, buddy, I don’t have to answer your questions. Now why don’t you just get out of my store?” She turned around and walked away.
I couldn’t force her to talk to me, so I didn’t try. I left the store and got back in my car. Maybe this girl was involved in the kidnapping, Maybe she and her boyfriend were trying to get even with Pardo Computers. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
So now someone wanted to kill me. But how did anyone know I was working on this case? Was Lenny part of this kidnapping in some way? I still had more questions than I had answers about this case.
I called my friend Officer Cho back at the police station. He had the car registration information I requested earlier. The mysterious red car that hit Anne last night on the freeway belonged to John Costello, age 37, living in Santa Monica. Tomorrow I would visit Costello. Tonight, I just needed to get some sleep.
The next morning I got up early and went to visit Anne in the hospital. Luckily, she was doing just fine. I told her I would pick her up later in the afternoon and give her a ride home.
First, I went to visit June Brown, the other ex-employee of Pardo Computers that Anne and Bill thought might be involved in the kidnapping. She now worked at a clothing store on the beach, Stern’s Fashions. I love going to the beach in L.A. The sun is always shining, the surfers are riding the waves, and the people all look so beautiful, just like movie stars.
I walked into the clothing store and looked around. The customers were mostly college students. “Excuse me, miss?” I said to the young sales clerk. “I’m looking for one of the employees here, a June Brown?”
“Who’s looking for her?” she asked, a little suspicious.
“My name is Darron Reeves. I just want to ask her a few questions.”
“What kind of questions do you want to ask her?” she replied.
“Just some questions. Look, is June Brown here today or not?” I was getting impatient with this girl.
“I’m June Brown, and I don’t know if I want to answer your questions, mister.” She crossed her arms and looked at me with a very unfriendly face. “Who do you work for? The police?”
“No, I don’t work for the police. I’m a, eh...private detective,” I answered. “I just want to know where you were three days ago, in the morning. Can you just tell me that?”
“I don’t remember. I think I was with my boyfriend,” she said with a smile. “Yeah, that’s right, I was with my boyfriend.”
“Can I talk to your boyfriend?”
“No, you can’t,” she said, suddenly getting very angry.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because he doesn’t want to talk to you!” June said. “Look, buddy, I don’t have to answer your questions. Now why don’t you just get out of my store?” She turned around and walked away.
I couldn’t force her to talk to me, so I didn’t try. I left the store and got back in my car. Maybe this girl was involved in the kidnapping, Maybe she and her boyfriend were trying to get even with Pardo Computers. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Missing Person - Episode #8
Episode 8: Tracing the Plates
“Be careful! She may have broken bones,” the ambulance driver yelled.
I arrived at the accident scene just a few minutes after the police. Anne was already in the ambulance and ready to go to the hospital.
“Wait just one second,” I said to the police officer closing the back door of the ambulance. “I’m a friend of the victim. Can I talk to her?”
“Okay, go ahead,” she said, “but hurry up.”
“Thanks.” I turned and looked at Anne. She had hurt her arm and leg, but she was awake and able to speak. “Anne,” I said softly. “Anne, it’s me, Dr. Reeves.”
Anne opened her eyes slowly. “Dr. Reeves, wha--what are you doing here?”
“I heard about the accident on my police scanner. Anne, what happened?”
“A...a car...red car...going very fast...hit me. Hit me from behind...tried to kill me...” It was difficult for her to talk.
“A red car, Anne?” I asked, hoping to get more information. “Did you see the driver?”
“No...didn’t see...but...I got the license plate...3XZW...4...5..1” she said, running out of breath.
“Anne, that’s wonderful! Good work!”
“Thanks, Dr. Reeves.” She smiled a little and touched my hand softly.
“Okay, buddy, you’ll have to go now,” the policewoman yelled. “She needs to get to the hospital.”
I jumped out of the ambulance and it drove away. I got back in my car and drove to the nearest pay phone. I had to find out who owned that car.
“Hello, police department?...yes, get me Officer Cho.” Cho was an old friend of mine. When I needed a favor, he was always willing to help.
“Cho? This is Darron Reeves. Yeah, look, I need some information on a car registration. License number 3XZW451...right, I’ll call you back in an hour. Thanks, Cho. You’re the best.”
It was now 7:45 p.m. and I still needed to talk to one of the ex-employees of Pardo Computers who worked at a club near the airport. I drove down the freeway and arrived about 20 minutes later.
When I got to the club, I walked inside. The bar smelled of old beer, old cigarettes, and old men. I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. I was here to speak to Lenny MacKay, an ex-employee of Pardo Computers.
“Excuse me, bartender,” I said to the man serving the drinks, “I’m looking for Lenny, Lenny MacKay.”
“I never heard of Lenny MacKay,” he answered very quickly. “You got the wrong place. There ain’t no Lenny MacKay working here.”
I looked into his eyes, and I knew he was lying.
I got up from the bar and walked to the back of the place. There was a door to the left. The door had a sign on it that said, “DO NOT ENTER.” I entered.
“Hey!” A man yelled at me as I went into the back room. “Who are you?”
“I’m looking for Lenny MacKay. Are you Lenny?”
“Yeah, I’m Lenny. Now who are you?” he replied.
“My name’s Reeves. Look, I’m not here to waste your time. I just want to ask you a few questions. Now, where were you two days ago, at about 8:30 in the morning?”
“I was in Las Vegas with my girlfriend. Ask her. She’ll tell you that I was with her.”
I believed Lenny when he told me that he was in Vegas, but I needed to be sure. “Who’s your girlfriend? What’s her name?” I asked.
“Her name is Tanya. She’s working here tonight. You can ask her!”
I walked over to the table and found a girl sitting by herself, drinking a beer. “Are you Tanya?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m Tanya. What do you want, bud?”
“I just have a quick question for you: Where were you two days ago?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m investigating a girl who’s gone missing, and I just want to clear someone of suspicion, that’s all.”
“I was in Las Vegas with my boyfriend, Lenny, Lenny MacKay.”
“That’s all I needed to know. Thanks.” I walked out of the bar and got back into my car. As usual, Kathy was right: Lenny wasn’t involved in the kidnapping.
I got back on the freeway and drove to my apartment. It was now 10:30 p.m. and I was tired. I needed to sleep before I could continue my investigation. As soon as I got into my apartment, I checked my voice mail for messages. There was only one. It was from a man with a very deep voice.
The message was short but very clear: “Darron Reeves, stop trying to find Sarah Salas! If you don’t stop looking for her now, you will die!”
“Be careful! She may have broken bones,” the ambulance driver yelled.
I arrived at the accident scene just a few minutes after the police. Anne was already in the ambulance and ready to go to the hospital.
“Wait just one second,” I said to the police officer closing the back door of the ambulance. “I’m a friend of the victim. Can I talk to her?”
“Okay, go ahead,” she said, “but hurry up.”
“Thanks.” I turned and looked at Anne. She had hurt her arm and leg, but she was awake and able to speak. “Anne,” I said softly. “Anne, it’s me, Dr. Reeves.”
Anne opened her eyes slowly. “Dr. Reeves, wha--what are you doing here?”
“I heard about the accident on my police scanner. Anne, what happened?”
“A...a car...red car...going very fast...hit me. Hit me from behind...tried to kill me...” It was difficult for her to talk.
“A red car, Anne?” I asked, hoping to get more information. “Did you see the driver?”
“No...didn’t see...but...I got the license plate...3XZW...4...5..1” she said, running out of breath.
“Anne, that’s wonderful! Good work!”
“Thanks, Dr. Reeves.” She smiled a little and touched my hand softly.
“Okay, buddy, you’ll have to go now,” the policewoman yelled. “She needs to get to the hospital.”
I jumped out of the ambulance and it drove away. I got back in my car and drove to the nearest pay phone. I had to find out who owned that car.
“Hello, police department?...yes, get me Officer Cho.” Cho was an old friend of mine. When I needed a favor, he was always willing to help.
“Cho? This is Darron Reeves. Yeah, look, I need some information on a car registration. License number 3XZW451...right, I’ll call you back in an hour. Thanks, Cho. You’re the best.”
It was now 7:45 p.m. and I still needed to talk to one of the ex-employees of Pardo Computers who worked at a club near the airport. I drove down the freeway and arrived about 20 minutes later.
When I got to the club, I walked inside. The bar smelled of old beer, old cigarettes, and old men. I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. I was here to speak to Lenny MacKay, an ex-employee of Pardo Computers.
“Excuse me, bartender,” I said to the man serving the drinks, “I’m looking for Lenny, Lenny MacKay.”
“I never heard of Lenny MacKay,” he answered very quickly. “You got the wrong place. There ain’t no Lenny MacKay working here.”
I looked into his eyes, and I knew he was lying.
I got up from the bar and walked to the back of the place. There was a door to the left. The door had a sign on it that said, “DO NOT ENTER.” I entered.
“Hey!” A man yelled at me as I went into the back room. “Who are you?”
“I’m looking for Lenny MacKay. Are you Lenny?”
“Yeah, I’m Lenny. Now who are you?” he replied.
“My name’s Reeves. Look, I’m not here to waste your time. I just want to ask you a few questions. Now, where were you two days ago, at about 8:30 in the morning?”
“I was in Las Vegas with my girlfriend. Ask her. She’ll tell you that I was with her.”
I believed Lenny when he told me that he was in Vegas, but I needed to be sure. “Who’s your girlfriend? What’s her name?” I asked.
“Her name is Tanya. She’s working here tonight. You can ask her!”
I walked over to the table and found a girl sitting by herself, drinking a beer. “Are you Tanya?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m Tanya. What do you want, bud?”
“I just have a quick question for you: Where were you two days ago?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m investigating a girl who’s gone missing, and I just want to clear someone of suspicion, that’s all.”
“I was in Las Vegas with my boyfriend, Lenny, Lenny MacKay.”
“That’s all I needed to know. Thanks.” I walked out of the bar and got back into my car. As usual, Kathy was right: Lenny wasn’t involved in the kidnapping.
I got back on the freeway and drove to my apartment. It was now 10:30 p.m. and I was tired. I needed to sleep before I could continue my investigation. As soon as I got into my apartment, I checked my voice mail for messages. There was only one. It was from a man with a very deep voice.
The message was short but very clear: “Darron Reeves, stop trying to find Sarah Salas! If you don’t stop looking for her now, you will die!”
Missing Person - Episode #7
An Accident?
Kathy came back in the room with tonight’s dinner, Italian pasta with chicken. As we ate, I told Kathy about Anne and her missing sister.
“A strange man came to Sarah and Bill Salas’s apartment building two days ago, forced them both into a car, and took them away,” I explained. “Today, the man let Bill go and told him to get a half a million dollars, or he would kill Sarah.”
“And how did you get mixed up in all this?” Kathy asked.
“Sarah’s sister Anne is my student at USC. She asked me to lend her a hand, and I said ‘yes’.”
“So who do you think the kidnappers could be?” she asked.
“Well, Bill and Anne gave me the names of two ex-employees of Pardo Computers. I am going to see one of them tonight.”
“Where does this person work?” Kathy asked.
“He now works at a strip club near the airport.”
“He’s not the person who took Sarah,” Kathy said confidently.
“Why do you say that? I haven’t even talked to him yet,” I said, surprised.
“Trust me. The man you want is smart, very smart. Smart men don’t work at strip clubs.”
Kathy was probably right. I thanked her for the wonderful dinner, and told her I would call her tomorrow if I found out anything. Even though I trust Kathy’s judgment, I decided to go visit this former employee anyway, just to be sure he wasn’t the one who took Sarah.
I drove my car down La Brea. Suddenly I heard an emergency announcement on the police scanner in my car. The radio picks up all of the police communication in the city. I had it put into my car so I could hear any important police action related to my cases. I immediately pulled over and cranked up the volume.
There was an accident on the freeway involving a black Mercedes. The woman in the car was hurt. I listened closely to the name as the radio operator gave the details: young Latina female, age 22, name--Anne Pardo.
Kathy came back in the room with tonight’s dinner, Italian pasta with chicken. As we ate, I told Kathy about Anne and her missing sister.
“A strange man came to Sarah and Bill Salas’s apartment building two days ago, forced them both into a car, and took them away,” I explained. “Today, the man let Bill go and told him to get a half a million dollars, or he would kill Sarah.”
“And how did you get mixed up in all this?” Kathy asked.
“Sarah’s sister Anne is my student at USC. She asked me to lend her a hand, and I said ‘yes’.”
“So who do you think the kidnappers could be?” she asked.
“Well, Bill and Anne gave me the names of two ex-employees of Pardo Computers. I am going to see one of them tonight.”
“Where does this person work?” Kathy asked.
“He now works at a strip club near the airport.”
“He’s not the person who took Sarah,” Kathy said confidently.
“Why do you say that? I haven’t even talked to him yet,” I said, surprised.
“Trust me. The man you want is smart, very smart. Smart men don’t work at strip clubs.”
Kathy was probably right. I thanked her for the wonderful dinner, and told her I would call her tomorrow if I found out anything. Even though I trust Kathy’s judgment, I decided to go visit this former employee anyway, just to be sure he wasn’t the one who took Sarah.
I drove my car down La Brea. Suddenly I heard an emergency announcement on the police scanner in my car. The radio picks up all of the police communication in the city. I had it put into my car so I could hear any important police action related to my cases. I immediately pulled over and cranked up the volume.
There was an accident on the freeway involving a black Mercedes. The woman in the car was hurt. I listened closely to the name as the radio operator gave the details: young Latina female, age 22, name--Anne Pardo.
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