I walked Erin to the parking garage, looking around to make sure Jack wasn’t hanging around. When she saw my car, she looked at me with a big smile and said, “Nice ride!”
After handing Erin in, I got in and took off, getting directions from her to her apartment. When we arrived, I spied the beat-up Chevy pickup truck that belonged to Jack parked on the street. I cautioned Erin to get low while she gave me the code to open the gate to get into the apartment parking lot. I found a spot to park and sent Erin up to her apartment to pack and make her calls. Meanwhile, I decided to go and have another chat with Jack.
I went out the pedestrian side entrance and strolled up the street until I came up next to Jack’s Chevy pickup. I saw that it was Jack, but he was so focused on watching the car entrance that he didn’t notice me until I rapped on the window and made him jump. When he turned to me, his eyes went wide. I motioned to Jack to roll down the window. Instead, he just started up the pickup and took off, apparently not wanting to face me again. I smiled as I watched him drive away, satisfied that he wasn’t one for confrontation. That would make it easier for me to convince him to leave Erin alone, although it might take a little longer.
While I walked back to the apartment complex, I planned my next moves. I would have to search my database for someone who could do the type of favor I needed to get Jack to leave Erin alone. Hopefully, I’d get him to go back to Wisconsin or at least out of state. I’d also have to contact Chris Graham, a detective with the LAPD, to let her know about Jack and if she had any information on him that could help me with my case.
Erin apparently had quickly packed and made her phone calls. Just as I returned to my car, she was coming out of the security door with her bag. I tucked her bag behind the seats before handing her in and getting in myself. We took off, and I looked around to ensure I didn’t see Jack’s pickup truck following me as I headed back to Santa Monica Boulevard. I headed west until I came to Veterans Boulevard and turned north, winding my way past the Los Angeles National Cemetery. When I reached Levering Avenue, I turned left and pulled into the driveway of a house set back from the street.
As we got out of my car and while I was retrieving Erin’s bag, an older man who looked fit with gray in the temples of his dark, close-cut hair came out the door to meet us. “Hello, Ray,” he said, a big smile splitting his face.
“Hello, Sir,” I replied, returning his smile as I approached Colonel Matthew (Matt) Underwood, Ret., my teacher and mentor when I was in the Army CID.
“I’m retired, Ray. You don’t have to ‘Sir’ me anymore.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said, my smile widening.
His chuckle told me he knew that wouldn’t happen, so he asked, “Who’s your friend?”
“Matt, this is Erin Bowman. Erin, this is Matt Underwood, a very good friend of mine.” They shook hands, and I could tell they would get along immediately. I continued, “Matt, I need to keep Erin secluded and safe for a few days. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He turned to Erin and said, “I’m pleased to be your host for a few days, Erin. Let me show you where you’ll be staying.” He led Erin inside, and I followed, toting Erin’s bag. Matt showed Erin to his guest bedroom, and I put her bag on the bed. I walked out with Matt, letting Erin settle in and unpack.
“What’s the situation?” Matt asked when we headed into the kitchen.
I spent a minute telling Matt the story while he retrieved two beers from the refrigerator, popped the caps off, and handed me one. When I finished, he said, “The mild-mannered ones are the worst. They’ll lull you into complacency and then strike.”
I agreed with his assessment, and as we sat down at the kitchen table, we discussed options for what I could do about the situation. Matt had retired from the Army several years ago, but he still kept his hand in the game, so I was glad to have his input.
By the time Erin came out to join us, Matt and I had devised a strategy to follow until the situation with Jack could be resolved. Matt got up and got a beer for Erin while I told her what I would try to accomplish over the next few days. When I finished my beer, I got up and excused myself. I said goodbye to Erin before Matt walked me out to my car.
I said, “Thanks, Sir. I owe you for doing this.”
Matt smiled at my ‘Sir’ but shook his head and said, “No, Ray, you don’t. I could never make up for what the Army did to you, and anything I can do to help is only the interest on what is owed you for the shameful way you were treated.”
I stuck out my hand, and he took it and shook it while I said, “Nevertheless, I appreciate you doing this for me.”
I got into my Sting Ray and took off, ready to start phase one of my campaign to get Jack to go away voluntarily or get the police involved, if necessary. When I got home, I started up my computer to run a query on my database of people who owed me favors to find the ones I could use for this case. I built my query, and I started it once I had all the parameters entered. While it ran, I turned off the answering machine and called the LA Times to pull my personal ad until this case was done. Once that was done, I called my primary contact in the LAPD, Detective Chris Graham, to get what information I could on Jack Howard.
I had run into Detective Graham on the first case I worked on after moving out to the LA area nearly twelve years ago. She had been a rookie cop, but she proved to be intelligent, impressing me with her toughness and resourcefulness. Since then, we’d built a good working relationship, one where I would pass on information I had found on the streets to her, and in return, I could have her check on things for me.
After three rings, I heard, “Detective Graham.”
“Chris, this is Ray.”
“What have you got for me?”
“I’ve got a stalker. His name is Jack Howard. Have you heard any chatter?”
“No, I haven’t heard anything about him. Tell me what you have.”
I went on to give Chris the details that I knew about Jack. When I was done, she asked how she could help. I asked her to find out where he lived and if he had a job. She told me she’d ask around and for me to call her in the morning. She said, “By the way, that tip you gave me a few weeks ago panned out. We shut that car theft ring down and also nailed the dealers who were laundering the papers for the cars.”
“Glad it worked out.”
“Anything else?”
No, that’s all for now. Thanks, Chris.”
“No problem, Ray.”
I ended the call, looked over at my computer, and saw that my query had been completed. I printed out the results before going into the living room to read them while watching the evening news. I needed to find a place to stay in the area based on my anticipation that Chris would tell me that Jack lived and worked somewhere in the West Hollywood area. Looking through my list, I found one of my clients, Jim Whaley, who lived off Laurel Canyon Boulevard in West Hollywood Hills. He had a guest house on his property that would work for me if it was available.