LA Modern Noir: Chapter 8c Wilson

Link to previous Chapter 8b

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Chapter 8c - 2,035 words

Saturday morning traffic in LA wasn’t as bad as Friday afternoon, but it was still plenty bad enough and Wilson spent the drive from (where he lives) to (place in WeHo) mulling over the materials he’d refreshed himself on this morning.

If there was no one at the apartment, and it was his guess that was the case, then he’d try the neighbors.

He’d already made a call to NUMEAT, but only got a receptionist saying the office was closed at the weekend and personnel would be back in on Monday morning. Depending how things went with the neighbors a drive out to (factory location) would happen today or tomorrow because he guessed that the office being closed for the weekend didn’t mean the production area was and you never knew who could tell you something you needed to hear.

And come Monday, he’d need to justify the thousand-a-day Albarn had decided to pay him. If that meant a couple of hours drive for an hour nosing round a factory, and then another couple of hours back, then that was going to be the way the day shaped up.

He turned off (street) and eased along looking for a space, not finding one, and having to leave the car three streets over. As he walked back to (street) a police car cruised past. He recognised (name) and a was about to raise his hand to wave when they took him in with a sweeping glance which carried on to the person behind, and the one beyond them. They looked back at the road and were past and Wilson had it hammered home that now he was outside he was invisible. Not to say that (name) would have seen him if he’d just been off-shift, but Wilson would have waved without waiting to see if he recognized the driver, would have probably known who was on this patrol.

The apartment door didn’t open. He was pretty sure it had the last time he was here. He looked at the coms panel on the wall to the left and checked the buttons. He pressed the ‘Mail’ one and nothing happened. He pressed the number for Earl’s apartment, waited ten seconds or so, and pressed again. When there was still no response, he started pressing every number and number combination.

One of the apartments responded. ‘Who is it?’ The voice was thin and tinny through the small speaker.

‘Hi,’ Wilson said, ‘I’m-’ The door buzzed and he pulled it. ‘I’m in, thanks.’ As he entered the voice said it hadn’t let him in, but he headed to the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor.

There hadn’t been much need to look at the apartment layout last time he was here. He and Xavier went straight to the apartment where the screams had come from. But on coming out of the elevator he looked at it a little more. There were three apartments per floor. One on either side, and one at the rear. It suggested two smaller apartments, maybe just one bedroom, and then a larger two or even three bedroom one. Earl’s apartment was one of the smaller ones and to the left on exiting the elevator.

When the elevator got to the fourth floor Wilson went to the right and knocked on the door. There was the sound of someone walking on wooden floor and then the door opened. A man in his mid-thirties and wearing a headset held a hand out. He was talking and looking at a phone in his other hand. It took a moment for him to realise he hadn’t been given anything and he finally looked at Wilson.

‘Hold on,’ the man said. ‘Where’s my package?’

‘I’m not a courier. I’m trying to find out if you know where Earl and Allison have gone.’

‘Who the hell are Earl and Allison? No, not you, some guy at my door. I thought it was the package from Mattheson.’ He looked at Wilson and said, ‘You have the wrong apartment.’

Before Wilson could say anything, the door was closed, and he could hear the tone of complaint in the mans voice over the sound of his steps on the wooden floor.

He walked round to Earl’s apartment and was about to knock when he noticed the door was pulled shut, but the lock had been damaged. He knocked and the door rocked on its hinges. He pushed the door open and called, ‘Hello?’

As an officer going in wouldn’t have been an issue, there was a clear reason to do a welfare check. As a not yet licenced private investigator it was dangerous territory. He pulled the door back to rest shut and moved to the last apartment on the floor.

The door was the same as the other two, a laminate facing which looked like a pale beech with a peephole about five-and-a-half feet up, two locks, and a handle all of the same silvered color. Knocking the door was a comfort after the last one, it didn’t open. Wilson was still thinking about the possible ramifications of entering Earl’s apartment when the door opened.

‘Hey,’ the man said.

‘Oh, erm, hi, I’m Wilson. I’m looking for Earl and Allison from the next apartment. I don’t suppose-’

The man turned his head and shouted, ‘Corrina, it’s for you.’ He looked at Wilson and said, ‘She’s the one to speak to. I met Allison a few times. Nice woman. Earl, not so nice. A jerk.’

‘I’ll take it from here, (name).’ The voice was a woman and Wilson assumed it was Corrina. She said, ‘Hey, how can I help.’

Wilson said, ‘Hi, I’m looking for Earl and Allison.’

‘Who?’

Wilson pointed back towards the apartment. ‘Earl and Alison. They live next door. Your housemate seems to think you know them.’

‘No,’ Corrina said, ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Wilson. Look, Earl’s colleagues are wondering where he’s at. I don’t suppose you know if they took off for a surprise holiday, do you?’

‘Wilson. Nice to meet you. Do you work with Earl?’

‘Not myself. But I’ve been asked by some who do to check on him. Look, I’m a bit worried because their door is open, and the lock looks like it’s been broken.’

‘Do you work for Harry?’

‘Who?’ Wilson asked, and hoped his face stayed calm.

‘Earl’s boss, Harry,’ Corrina said.

‘Sorry,’ Wilson said, ‘Earl worked for NUMEAT, and there’s no one called Harry in his management team.’

Corrina stared at him, eyes impassive, and Wilson couldn’t help wondering if she would be as good around the poker table. The suspicion was she would. If he’d met her before her housemate, it was unlikely he’d question her responses. But the mere fact she’d been called when he mentioned Earl and Allison showed she knew them, despite her obfuscation.

Wilson said, ‘Look, do you know what happened to their door? It’s open.’

‘A couple of thugs broke it open this morning. We heard the noise. I wondered if you were from the letting agency.’

‘No. Just wondering where they are. I take it you don’t know.’

‘If I did, why would I tell you?’

Wilson nodded. He said, ‘Sure. Look, all I’m trying to do is locate them. And, I’ll be honest, what you say about someone breaking the door in is kinda worrying. Was it this Harry guy who did it? Did he say why he’s looking for them?’

Corrina said, ‘Are you really from, what company did you say?’

‘NUMEAT.’

‘And that’s where Earl worked?’

It felt like there were two different lines of inquiry being made at the same time, and Wilson couldn’t figure out why they were close but not joined. He leaned forward and said, ‘Can we talk?’

‘We are talking.’

‘Sure. But, more privately.’

Corrina leaned back, putting the distance between the two of them back to what it had been. She took a moment and said, ‘We could look round the apartment. Maybe you can see if something’s missing that I missed.’

The change in demeanour almost caught Wilson out. It was like holding a pair of Queens and being asked if he had Jacks. The impulse to underplay a hand he was already trying to overplay took as much effort as bluffing out a high card. He said, ‘Let’s have a look.’

Corrina called to her housemate and eased the door shut behind her. They walked along to Earl’s apartment, and she nodded at Wilson to go in first.

The entrance was as bland as his memory but going left into the sitting room fired up some recollections. There was the Lazy-Boy that Harry’s underling had been sitting in. The television was on the wall, and it looked to be the same model as the time he came in uniform.

Over by the back wall was a unit he remembered but there was something missing, what exactly wasn’t coming to mind. He looked at Corrina. She’d suggested they come to the apartment. There was something she wanted to say, he just needed to let her say it.

‘I remember something on the sideboard over there,’ Wilson said. ‘Otherwise in here is pretty much as I remember.’

‘The cocktail set,’ Corrina said. ‘You’ve been in here before.’

‘The shaker had an art deco type top, but not proper art deco, a repo. Wait, it was a plane. And, yes, I’ve been here. Like I said, Earl’s colleagues are worried about him.’

‘But you aren’t. Or you are, but you aren’t one of his colleagues. Tell me, are you a friend of his?’

There was a tone of disgust that took Wilson by surprise. So much so he said, ‘No, I met him once, but he’s no friend. I’ll be honest, there are things about Earl I find distasteful.’ The flash in Corrina’s eyes told Wilson he was on the right track. He said, ‘The way he treated Allison was-’ He hesitated, as if searching for a word.

‘Criminal. She should have gone to the police. If she had then maybe she wouldn’t have ended up in hospital.’

‘When was that?’

‘Last week. The only good thing to come out of it is she’s finally left him.

‘That’s good. Where’s she gone? Wait, forget that. I don’t need to know. But I still need to find Earl. Have you any idea where he may be?’

‘If there’s any justice the guys who broke the door here have him, the (location) cannibal has him.’ Corrina looked at Wilson with a frank and inquisitive stare. She asked, ‘Are you a cop?’

‘If I was a cop I’d have shown you a badge, and there’d be two of me, and we’d be detectives. Like I said, some of Earl’s colleagues are just wondering where he’s got to and knew I had time, so asked me to come see if he was okay.’

She nodded, but the expression on her face suggested he may as well have told the marines. She said, ‘Well, when you find him, tell him I hope he chokes.’ She looked at her watch then said, ‘I need to go get on a meeting.’

‘Thanks for letting me look round.’ Wilson turned and headed for the door. ‘What did the letting company say when you called them?’

‘They said they’d have someone here as soon as possible. That was (need to sort timeline) days ago.’ Corrina pulled the door behind her and made sure it looked as properly closed as possible. ‘For what we pay every month, an open apartment with folks’ stuff still in it feels like it would be a priority to deal with.’

‘I have a faucet that’s been leaking for a year. The letting agent says it’s on the list of things to do. That’s been nearly a year.’ Wilson pressed the elevator button. The mechanism came alive. ‘The water’s begun to stain the porcelain and I’m pretty sure when I leave, they’ll try to stick me for replacing it.’ The elevator door opened. He stepped in and pressed the down button. ‘Thanks for your help.’

Corrina nodded at him. Her eyes fixed on his as the doors slid shut.

Chapter Break

I wrote this post about a story where I had a first chapter written. I'm trying to push on and finish a first draft in 2024.

If you'd like to be tagged in for future chapters, let me know.

Thanks

Stuart

Link to collated chapters HERE

Link to the short story which is the seed for this is HERE

Any LA based or knowledgable folks who want to pitch in on local things I get wrong, please do. I've never been and there's only so much I can learn on the internet.

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