All Have Sinned

By W. H. Beswick

Private detective Ned Kelly is desperate for a case. His rent is due, and the bills are piling up. Then a man from his past offers Ned a simple case. Easy money, but Ned doesn't trust this man as far as he can’t throw him. It has something to do with a broken heart, but he needs the money. He decides to milk the old man as much as he can. The problem is, there is no such thing as easy money. When the bodies begin to pile up, Ned might be in over his head. He might need the help of his friend, Parker Kahn. A very dangerous man. Ned better solve the case before he ends up in a box.

• Language: English
• Publisher: W. H. Beswick
• Release date: Jul 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476109855

W. H. Beswick

Lives in Corvallis Oregon

Book preview

PROLOGUE

I was born again on the third of June, 1972. I began to question my salvation in 1984. A short time later, I left the First Christ Church of Redemption. That was the second most important decision of my life.

The first occurred in 1989 when I poured a bottle of wine down the sink. It was Chablis. I haven't touched alcohol since.

My name is Ned and I none longer drink. For the past year, I have been a private detective.

I inherited the Delta Detective Agency from my Uncle Stan. He opened the agency in 1950. Uncle Stan never made a lot of money, but he made a living.

I worked for Delta while I was in college and loved every minute of it. I really wanted to go into the P.I. biz, but my father talked me into getting a degree in accounting. After I graduated I got a job with MacLean Aircraft, became an internal auditor, made a lot of money and hated going to work every day of my life.

When my uncle passed away, he left me the agency and a short note.

Ned,

I leave you my small office, old roll top desk, file cabinet with the broken lock and the wish you find what you are looking for.

Uncle Stan

I had intended to just close the office, but one day while I was waiting in line at my credit union, I overheard two employees talking. After thirty years with our beloved company, one of the men was about to retire and begin collecting his well-deserved pension, yet he had no idea what he was going to do with himself. I gave my notice the next day, and the Delta Detective Agency reopened a week later.

My father called me a fool. My sisters called me an idiot. My friends suggested I seek professional help.

A year later, a hundred bucks in the bank and four cases to my credit, I was beginning to think they were right. Then in 1996, Jay Connor walked into my office, and I made another decision that would change my life.

Seriously, it did. I know you have heard that before but it is true.

CHAPTER ONE

They say people move to L.A. for the weather, but not that day. Dark clouds covered the city, releasing a cold, hard rain, the likes of which we hadn't seen in years.

Three days earlier we all had said, We need the water.

But as our streets turned into raging rivers and the Malibu homeowners frantically filled plastic bags with sand in a feeble attempt to stop nature's onslaught, we threw down our useless umbrellas, looked to the heavens and cried Enough already!

I've lived in Santa Monica for the last twenty years. My family moved here because of the beach; now I stay because of it. I'm not a sunbather or a surfer. I just like to go down to the water and watch the ocean. I find the sight and sound of the waves pounding on the shore soothing. It's a great place to try and make sense of this thing we call life.

My office sits on the corner of Third Street and Santa Monica Blvd. in an old building that has been renovated. They kept the iron fire escape hanging on the outside and the clock tower, even though it doesn't keep the right time. I think they give the building a lot of character and charm.

One side of the building faces the Third Street Promenade, three blocks of trendy stores, movie theaters and over-priced restaurants and bars. It represents all the new Santa Monica will be.

A lot of old Santa Monicans like myself stood on the sidelines and watched our beloved city slowly lose its small-town appeal and disappear into the shadows of the new high-rise hotels towering over our beaches. I knew our old Santa Monica had passed away when our city council gave approval to build a fun zone on the pier.

No more long walks on the pier to ponder the universe or to share a quiet moment with a loved one. It's just not the same with a roller coaster thundering over your head.

My office is down the street from a popular English pub which gives me a place to go for lunch when I want to enjoy an Americanized version of the food I was raised on. Mom and dad were English.

Which makes me wonder why they named me after an Australian Robin Hood?

Ned Kelly’s claim to fame was that he wore metal armor to protect himself from bullets. It was a good plan, except Ned forgot to put armor on his legs. A British officer used a shotgun to blast his legs out from under him. They took him to jail, bandaged his wounds and then hung poor old Ned. At least that's how the story was told to me.

It's hard to let a dream die. This agency was my uncle's dream, now it's mine. So I continue to go to my office until the building manager throws me out. Which could be pretty quick if I didn't get a case.

My fourth floor office has one small window, which I usually sit by because my roll top desk, wooden file cabinet and two old wooden chairs take up most of the space. Out of boredom I've gotten into the habit of staring out the window, which gives me an excellent view of the alley. It's usually filled with trucks, deliverymen, merchants and the homeless taking care of some personal business. But that day it was empty, except for the flowing water and brand new Mercedes SLK 230.

It must be nice to have money.

I was watching the newly born river engulf the car. I was pretty sure it belonged to my building manager because I had seen it parked around the building before. I was hoping the water would carry it out into the middle of Santa Monica Blvd. It would be amusing to watch my building manager's car float away.

I was even thinking of getting my camera out and taking some shots, but I couldn't remember if I had any film.

I was also thinking a hot cup of tea would taste great.

Both plans were forgotten when my office door swung open.

I turned from my window, my chair squeaking in high-pitched agony as it spun around. I found myself looking at a man I hadn't seen in years. Next to my bill collectors, he was one of the three men in the world I could kill - or at least hope they would die a long, painful death.

CHAPTER TWO

Jay Connor was looking over my office with the same critical eye he'd used to look me over the night his daughter introduced me as the man she loved and wanted to marry.

I could tell he liked my office as much as he liked me.

He was taking in the battered roll top, which didn't work because one day I'd slammed the top up too hard. It's been stuck ever since.

Jay noted the file cabinet's broken locks and raised an eyebrow at the swimsuit calendar.

Kathy looked especially good that day.

It might not be politically correct, but I figured the day I stopped looking at a beautiful woman in a swimsuit is the day they cart me away. Besides, it was a gift from JoJo. He gave it to me the day I opened my office.

I was giving Jay the once over myself. He was still as skinny as O.J.'s wallet after his dream team handed it back to him, his face wrinkled from constant frowning and grimacing. The once red hair was pure white, and thick glasses covered the cool, gray eyes. He was wearing a light pink shirt with dark green slacks and a wide white tie. A white belt and loafers completed the eye-catching ensemble.

I was about to comment on his sharp fashion sense but quickly remembered I was wearing a black vested suit that was new ten years ago.

Who was I to judge?

Of course, I wasn't a millionaire twenty times over like my present company.

Ned Kelly, he said in a form of a greeting - or was it an insult. I couldn't tell, but maybe I was being overly sensitive.

Jay, I said. It's been a while.

I heard you left aerospace. A smart move considering the recent government cuts.

A compliment?

I was confused. This man did everything to stop me from marrying his daughter. Hell, he even offered me a bribe. He threw Jyl a party the day she broke off our engagement.

Jyl. Ouch.

There was a name that cut through my heart. She was the only woman I ever even considered marrying. The breakup had been ugly. We both said things we didn't mean and would later regret. At least I would, because not a day would pass without me wishing I could have a second chance.

So much for my love life.

Jay spoke again, interrupting my walk down memory lane. Dr. Taylor is considering retiring from the pulpit, he said.

Dr. Walter Taylor was the pastor of the church I used to attend. He started preaching at the church when it was just a small one-room building with vacant lots surrounding it and a bar across the street. Forty years later, the church and all its buildings now covered the vacant lots. The bar was now a parking lot used for overflow parking. All this because of Taylor's charismatic preaching and teaching and a better class of people moving into the area.

Jay was still babbling on about the church. Some of the people he mentioned I knew, others I didn't. To be honest, I really didn't care. The church was part of my life I wanted to forget. I was wondering why Jay was standing in my office giving me a church update.

Oh, yes, he smiled. Jyl is thinking of getting married.

Wrong button, Jay. I felt my face burn red and every muscle in my body tighten.

Jay, I snapped, what the hell do you want? Is this some pathetic attempt to let me know you won? Your daughter is finally marrying some big bank account that meets with your approval? Well, congratulations and don't let the door hit you on the way out.

No, no, he sputtered, I want to hire you.

I leaned back, my chair making another squealing plea for just one drop of oil.

Let me guess, I said. You want me to check the guy out. Make sure his bankroll is big enough. That's just your style.

Of course not. You remember Rich Crow?

I remembered Rich Crow. He had been a snot-nosed spoiled brat who liked to remind everyone how much money his family had.

I taught him in Sunday School. He can't be more than twenty-six. A little young for Jyl, I said.

He's twenty eight, Jay, said, but very mature. He's a police detective, the youngest detective in homicide.

Rich didn't need to work. He must have thought it would be fun to be a cop. I had heard about his meteoric rise in the department. My friends in LAPD told me it was because of who he knew and not what he knew. I never did like him as a kid. Now I hated him. Just the idea of him dating Jyl galled me.

So what do you want? I asked.

I want you to follow Tami.

Tami? I said with genuine surprise. You've got to be kidding. Tami can't be more than ten.

Twelve, he corrected as he sat down in one of my uncomfortable chairs. It gave off a deep squeal, making Jay look down.

I was hoping it would break. I really wanted to see Jay fall on his skinny butt.

I want to know who she's seeing, Jay whispered as his chin dropped to his chest with a long, deep sigh.

You want me to find out which hormone-crazed, teenage boy is chasing your daughter around? I don't think so. Wait a sec; Tami was in the papers a few months ago. She disappeared for a week. Everyone thought it was kidnapping until she showed up one night safe and sound.

She ran off with this older man. Jyl found her and brought her home. I think she is seeing this pervert again.

I sat up and tried to relax my body, but it only seemed to twist itself even tighter.

What makes you think that? I asked.

Jay sat back and ran a hand through his hair.

Did it move? Was that a toupee?

Jay took off his glasses and looked at me.

She sneaks out at night, he said, "comes back late. She avoids me. Then last Saturday; she didn't come home at all. I got up for church, I looked in her room, and her bed hadn't been slept in.

She could still be dating a kid, I said. Jyl and I dated behind your back for months. Not to mention she spent the night at my house more than once. We were both still kids.

Nice shot, Ned. Now if I could only twist the knife a little.

I found this, Jay snapped as he pulled out a crumpled sheet of pink paper from his pants pocket.

I took the paper and smoothed it out. I smiled at the ink filling the paper with hearts and flowers, and I looked up at Jay.

I must be missing something, I said.

Turn it over, He snarled with a wave of his bony hand.

I turned it over. It was filled with beautiful wavy writing. Why is girls' handwriting always nicer than guys? It must be a genetic thing.

My dearest Love,

I dreamed of you last night. You came to me in my room. We made mad passionate love until dawn. I awoke and burst into tears because it was only a dream. I long to feel your hands caressing my body and the sweet taste of your lips on mine. Not a day goes past when my thoughts don't turn to you. Do you remember these words? Do they strike yours they do mine?

But love is blind

And lovers cannot

See the petty follies

That they commit

Yours forever,

I thought I knew this. I did know this.

Shakespeare, I announced. She is misquoting the bard, but all is forgiven when your heart is filled with love.

Wait a second. This is the same poem Jyl put into a card she sent to me after going away to school. I looked at the letter and frowned. This was a pretty intense letter for a twelve year old.

She put that in a card, he muttered.

Jay looked at me as if I understood where he was going. I didn't. My blank face must have told him that.

Would she send that kind of letter and poem to a pimple faced kid?

I was pretty sure Tami didn't write this letter. She could be plagiarizing Jyl's love letters to Rich. Damn! I hope not. The creep didn't deserve this kind of passion. Probably a letter she wrote to me and never mailed.

Boy, am I fantasizing or what?

Jay.

My eyes focused on the pile of bills on my desk. I had been hoping the tooth fairy would float me a loan, but she wasn't returning my phone calls. My roommate had left a message on my machine demanding - not asking, demanding - the rent I should have given him two days ago.

I leaned back in my chair with a loud creak and did some quick calculations in my head. I looked at Jay and saw a fat cow wanting to be milked.

All right, Jay, I said with all the sincerity I could muster, you may have something.

Jay's smile told me I had him.

I charge two hundred a day plus expenses. Five-day minimum. That's a thousand up front. Non-refundable,

In my most businesslike tone.

This would give me enough to pay my rent and bills plus put a few hundred in the bank. You may be thinking I was really sticking it to the old man. I was. I admit it. He had screwed me years ago. Now, I was returning the favor.

That's a little high, he muttered.

You can go down the hall to Bayman Investigations, but he'll charge you more. Let's face it. He'll be starting from square one; I on the other hand know the family.

What kind of expenses?

Gas, meals. I'll be living out of my car while I follow Tami. You'll get receipts.

You'll take a check?

Of course. I'll need a little information. Is Tami still going to church?

Of course, he said with real shock in his voice. He stopped pulling out his checkbook and eyed me with contempt.

These are questions I have to ask, I said as I pulled a contract out of a drawer. Where does she attend school?

The church school, he said as the checkbook came out and landed on my desk.

Jay flipped open the check book and pulled out a gold pen from his pocket. He slowly and carefully wrote out my check. I quickly put the contract in my old IBM typewriter and typed in the blanks. I snatched it out and noticed him studying the check before he carefully tore it out.

I assume you want me to start right away?

I glanced out my window at the pounding rain and let out an inward moan. I noticed the SLK 230 was gone and wondered whether nature or the owner had moved it.

No, he said. It won't be necessary.

Yes! I inwardly cheered.

She's visiting some friends in Oakland. Tami will be back late Saturday night. You can start Sunday morning. Church would be a good place to start.

Terrific.

First Church of Redemption. Why was I sweating? It was just a building. A building full of memories I thought I had buried.

Does Jyl know about this? I asked.

She does not, he said. I prefer to keep her out of it. Seeing you again could make her uncomfortable. No need to upset her. She's so happy with Rich.

Was this worth a thousand bucks?

What if Jyl is involved?

I'm hiring you to find my daughter's lover, not to go snooping into my private life.

Snooping is what I do. You may not like what I find out.

Jay stood up and held out the check. He waited a second before he put it down on my desk but kept two fingers on it and then slowly pushed it in front of me. It was Jay's way of reminding me who was the boss.

I pushed the contract toward him with two fingers. I watched him sign the dotted line and look up.

I'll need to come by and look at Tami's room, I said.

I tried to ignore the check and look professional.

Why? he asked.

I may find something to lead me to Tami's boyfriend.

Good idea. I have a meeting at the church tonight. Jyl is going out with Rich. The house will be empty. I'll leave a key under the doormat. Just be sure you're at church on Sunday. You do this right you could make some real money.

Jay smiled an icy grin, winked, then quickly turned and left my office.

I suddenly had an urge to clean my office and take a long, hot shower. I stared down at the check. You sold out cheap, Ned.

You get hungry, you get stupid.

CHAPTER THREE

Was that a client?

I looked up and grinned at the six-foot-four, three hundred pound African-American man filling the doorway. He was wearing white Dockers and a black cotton shirt, looking like the picture of success. A bright smile spread across JoJo Bayman's face as he spotted the check.

It certainly was, I said.

Looks like you got some money.

A thousand up front.

Yes, touchdown! Congratulations, my man.

Come to the bank with me and I'll buy you lunch.

Can't. I got a client in ten. How about I meet you at Subway in an hour?

Subway nothing. I want some greasy onion rings and pile of messy ribs.

I can feel my arteries hardening already.

Tony Roma's. I'll see you there.

You okay? You look a little down for a man who just made a thousand bucks.

That's what I want to talk to you about.

Go cash your check. I'll see you in an hour.

JoJo winked at me and disappeared down the hall.

I met JoJo the first day I opened my office. He showed up with coffee and a bag of Danishes. I ate two cheese Danishes but turned down the coffee. My English upbringing: hot tea with milk and three sugars, thank you very much.

JoJo looks at me with disgust every time he sees me drink it. As far as he's concerned, a real man drinks coffee. Black. But we became friends anyway.

It was during that first morning visit JoJo told me what it was like to be a private detective. After two hours, I knew this was what I wanted to do for a living.

My new neighbor ate the last Danish and finished his coffee, wished me luck and left. Two hours later, he came back with the swimsuit calendar and stuck it on my wall.

That brightens up the place, he said. I'll buy you a new one next year.

I hope I'm here to accept it.

You'll be here. I can feel it. It's a P.I. thing.

Two hours later, I had money in pocket and a stack of ribs in front of me.

JoJo finished off a rib and licked his fingers.

So what's the problem? he asked.

I'm taking money from a man when I'm pretty sure there is no case.

There is always a case. What's the case? JoJo asked as he carefully picked up a rib.

I've been hired to follow a man's twelve year old daughter. He is convinced she's seeing an older man.

You don't think the daughter is doing the dirty deed?

Not Tami Connor, she was that kid I told you about, the one that disappeared.

Oh, yeah, the rich kid, everyone thought she'd been kidnapped; turned out to be just a runaway. How did you know this kid?

I used to date her sister about fifteen years ago.

This girl wasn't even around when you dating this woman? Ned, Ned, wake up; it's the nineties. People grow up. People change. More important, everyone has secrets, even sweet little Tami. You'll have to accept the fact that Tami could be sleeping with an older man.

So, I should follow her?

This is what people pay us to do. We follow people, we spy on people. We snoop into their lives and uncover their dirty little secrets. Then we give these secrets over to our clients. You do know why we do this?

It is what our clients pay us to do. What if we don't like our client?

If you don't like the client, don't take the case.

I really need the money.

Ned, don't let your empty stomach make the decisions for you. That's what your brain is for.

I remember what you told me. You get hungry, you get stupid.

Let me tell you a story. Fifteen years ago, when I opened my agency, I was just like you. I had the same dream you have. I was going to be the next Phillip Marlow. It didn't take long for reality to hit me in the face. You know how many people were hiring a black detective back then?

I'd say the same number that are lining up outside my door.

You got that right. I was starving, just like you are now. I was about to close the doors and go back to repro work. Then I got the case.

I waited while JoJo found another rib to his liking and picked it up.

What was the case? I asked, as I picked up an onion ring and dipped it in the ketchup.

I was hired by an old friend just like you were today.

He's not my friend.

Whatever. I knew this guy from college. We played ball together. He made it to the pros, lives North of Montana in a big house. He hired me because he thought he could trust me.

Was he right?

Absolutely. He hired me to follow his wife. Sure enough, he was right; she was sleeping with one of his teammates.

Not good.

It gets worse. While I was snooping around, I found out my old buddy was betting on the games, which we both know is a big no- no.

What did you do?

I gave him the pictures of his wife and her lover. I collected my fee and closed the case.

You did nothing about the gambling?

I was hired to prove his wife was having an affair. That's all.

JoJo polished off two more ribs while I toyed with a rib.

You should have done something.

Done what? Who would I have told? Who would believe a cheap black private detective's word over a world famous football player?

Maybe I'm not cut out for this business.

Ned, if I would have told, it woulda ruined my buddy's life. Even with pictures, the wife still got half of everything, plus the teammate. It just seemed better to keep it to myself. We are professionals. We deal in people's dirty laundry. Just remember we are hired to find the dirty laundry, not clean it. One more thing -we all have dirty laundry. So don't be so quick to judge. You better be sure before you blow that whistle. It could come back and kick you in the ass.

I thought about what JoJo was saying while I polished off another rib.

Why was that case the turning point for you? I asked.

Word got around how I handled my friend's case. My phone began to ring. People were calling because I could be trusted. That's important in our business. It separates the pros from the amateurs.

Word got around?

Believe it or not, L.A. is a small town. People talk about you whether you know it or not. Word gets around. That's why you got to be careful. One wrong word and you are out of business.

So I follow the girl.

Follow the girl. You never know where it'll lead.

Hopefully to a better class of clients.

You got to start somewhere. Alice followed a rabbit and ended up in Wonderland.

Nice metaphor. It makes no sense, but it’s a nice metaphor.

JoJo finished the last rib and picked up the wet nap. He used it to clean his hands.

Ned, don't make this case more important than it is, he said. Follow the girl for a few days, and give your client a report, and call it a day.

And if he wants more?

Your call. Either tell your client he's wasting his money or charge him for more surveillance. The important thing is to know when to close the file and walk away.

Have you ever walked away from a case?

Nope.

We stared at each other for a long moment.

So does this lunch include dessert or what?

CHAPTER FOUR

The powers that be took pity upon the city, rolled back the clouds and let the sun shine through. JoJo and I came out of Tony Roma's and basked in the warmth of the sun. The old California was back. We stood in the open courtyard of the newest part of Westside Pavilion. The huge three-story mall stood on two corners of Pico and Westwood like two huge monuments to modern retailing. I had never been to this part of the mall and took a minute to look over the stores surrounding me. Clothing and gift shops took up most of the spaces. JoJo wandered over to a clothing store and studied the suits on display.

What do you think of the gray pin stripe? he asked.

Kind of yuppie, but you look good in anything, I said.

Thank you. Yuppie? I don't think so. It's a classic.

My suit is a classic, I said as I loosened my tie and unbuttoned by vest.

JoJo looked at my suit and shook his head.

Ned, your suit is old, he laughed.

Excuse me. Aw, forget it. I got to head home and get out of my old suit.

Yeah, I better get going. I'm working tonight. Some rock and roll wannabe has hired me as his personal bodyguard.

Is he in danger, or is it just for show?

He's just trying to impress his friends. Not even the critics want this guy dead. This time next year he'll be a trivia question on some game show.

We walked to the parking lot. I watched JoJo climb into his black Lexus and wondered what he charged. Probably a lot more than me.

I climbed into my beat-up, faded, red 69 Camaro convertible. When it started on the first try I thought my luck was really changing. I drove back to my apartment on 25th Street.

I shared a three-bedroom apartment with my oldest friend, Ben Williams, and a guy we called the phantom. We had seen him about a dozen times since he moved in. He was a law student at UCLA. So when the poor guy wasn't in class or the library, he was in his room studying. As far as we're concerned, he was the perfect roommate.

Our apartment is filled with furniture passed down from roommate to roommate. Nothing matched, especially the exercise equipment Ben kept buying and setting up in the living room. You might call it Early American Sporting Goods.

I came into my apartment and noticed several more boxes spread out around what once was our living room. Ben had started his own phone installation business and was doing quite well. The only problem was, he was running it out of the apartment. So, instead of a living room, we had a combination warehouse-office. I made a mental note to ask Ben to pick up his junk. I tossed my portion of the rent into Ben's plastic box sitting on our TV.

I trotted up the stairs, yanking off my jacket as I did.

My room was the smallest, but somehow I had managed to jam a queen size bed, dresser, TV, desk and chair into it and still had room to move. That is if you call turning around moving. I clicked on the TV and found a talk show discussing lesbians and how hard it was for them to find a date.

That makes two of us, I said to the TV as I changed out of my suit and into a pair of old jeans, a blue tee shirt and some well-worn sneakers. My last date was six months ago. Sex was an even more distant memory.

I went into the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror. The salt and pepper hair, dull gray eyes behind wire rimmed glasses made me feel old.

You're only as old as you feel, I thought. You know you've gotten old when your dreams have turned into regrets.

I had a lot of regrets, but the dream was still alive. So I wasn't old. Yeah, right, and Santa Claus is going to bring me that black Dodge Viper I asked him for.

I splashed cold water on my face and ran my fingers through my short hair. I went down to the kitchen, put a kettle of water on the stove and checked out the empty shelves in my fridge. At least the milk was fresh.

The kettle began to whistle. I put the milk carton on the counter, pulled out a couple of tea bags and a sugar bowl from the cupboard. The tea bags went into my cracked teapot and were quickly drowned in hot water.

I paced around my apartment while waiting for it to brew. I felt like hitting a wall and couldn't figure out why. Then it hit me. I was nervous. It was like I was going out on my first date. I was terrified at the thought of going over to the Connor house. Jyl wouldn't be there, but the memories would be.

I went back into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea. The tea was almost black. Good and strong. I poured in the milk and my three teaspoons of sugar to give me that extra buzz. I took a long drink and savored the caffeine and sugar hitting my system.

Ben walked into the kitchen. He was about six-three with long brown hair falling over his shoulders. Women considered him attractive. He was wearing black Levis, a green and red Hawaiian shirt and green cowboy boots.

Green boots? I asked.

Dyed armadillo, he said. Thanks for the rent money.

I noticed a stud in his ear.

You got your ear pierced?

Yeah, yesterday.

Ben pulled back his hair and gave me a better look.

Nice, I lied. What's next? A nose ring?

Ben ignored the remark as he got a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge.

You got a client? he asked as he took a drink.

Walked right into my office this morning.

In the rain? He must have wanted your services real bad. What does he want you to do?

Sorry, I can't discuss my client or his business. It's confidential.

"You've