Chapter One
The man staggered down the street. Set against the pitch black of the night, the streetlights caused his blubbery, pale skin to glow. He crashed into a parked car and let out a moan as tears streamed down his face. A large pacifier hung from a thin band that had been stapled directly into the skin on his chest and blood oozed from around the wounds.
He was naked, except for a giant white diaper.
More blood gushed from a deep gash in his midsection that spanned the entire width of his belly. He had pressed one of his forearms against it, in an attempt to staunch the wound and possibly hold back his insides, but the attempt was not successful.
“Help me…someone…” the man cried out, the words pushed from his mouth with a gasp.
His bare feet made slapping sounds on the asphalt and then stopped as his legs gave out and he fell on his side. He rolled over onto his back and his arms fell to his sides. Blood gushed from the wounds on his stomach.
A car approached, slowed, and then sped up once the occupants took in the man’s condition.
It took several more cars to pass before someone called 911.
The first cops arrived on the scene twenty minutes later.
By then, the man was dead.
The two cops stood and looked down at the deceased. One of them knelt down beside the man to check for a pulse. He looked up at his partner.
“Nothing sadder than a dead baby,” he said.
Chapter Two
“Shhh, here he is.” The director of the intervention, a psychologist named Dr. Paulette Blevins, turned to the assembled Coopers, seated on folding chairs hastily arranged into a semicircle. They were in a conference room of a chain hotel on Ocean Avenue in Santa Monica.
“Who the hell set this up?” Kurt Cooper asked. “I’ve got an audition at noon.” He was a disheveled man well past middle-aged, wearing a Ralph’s supermarket shirt, 100 % polyester, and jean shorts. He had on black socks and purple Crocs.
“If you’re trying out for the part of a homeless pedophile, I think you nailed it,” Alice Cooper said. She was Kurt’s sister.
“You should talk,” he responded. “Those jeans are so tight your stomach is pushing up against your chin.”
“Come on you two,” Mary Cooper said. Mary was a private investigator in Los Angeles, and the niece of both Kurt and Alice. She had been raised by Alice after her parents were lost at sea when she was very young.
“As much as you two could use some counseling, we’re here to help someone else,” Mary said. She turned to the psychologist. “And exactly who are we here to help?”
The woman started to answer but just then the door to the conference room opened and Jason Cooper walked in. He was Kurt’s son, in his early twenties, tall, thin and stooped. He had an attractive face that was mostly hidden by long hair. The usual cloud of marijuana stench accompanied him into the room.
“Looks like the party has arrived,” Mary said.
“Do you know what the hell this is about?” Kurt asked his son. “I’ve got some new material I need to tweak before I slaughter them at the LaFFactory.”
“Your material doesn’t need tweaking,” Alice pointed out. “It needs to be euthanized. For everyone’s sake.”
“This is an intervention,” Jason said, interrupting Kurt and Alice. He sat down in the chair next to the shrink, with a look on his face of great solemnity. Or he was totally stoned, Mary couldn’t quite guess which.
“You’re one to talk,” Kurt said to Alice, ignoring Jason’s announcement. “You look like a ball park hotdog just before it explodes.”
Mary held up her hand.
“Please, you two,” she said. “We’re here to help someone and I’d hate to get things off on the wrong foot by shooting one of you.”
“Thank you,” the psychologist said, her voice wary. “Now, I assume you all have your prepared statements you’d like to share with Jason.”
Mary looked at the psychologist, then at Jason, then back at the psychologist.
“The intervention is for him?” Alice said, pointing at her nephew.
The psychologist raised an eyebrow. “Yes, of course. You mean you aren’t prepared?”
“I’m prepared to kick someone’s pathetic ass,” Kurt said.
“Who set this up?” Mary said to Dr. Blevins. She had been dragged along by Alice, who had only said it was an important meeting about a family member’s health.
“I did,” Jason said.
“Good Christ,” Kurt muttered.
“Unbelievable,” Alice said.
“Oh my,” Dr. Blevins said. “This is a first.”
“Are you telling me you scheduled your own intervention?” Mary said to Jason.
He nodded. “It’s a cry for help.” On cue, a small tear formed in the corner of his eye.
“For crying out loud, I’m outta here,” Kurt said. He got to his feet abruptly, then grabbed his lower back in pain. “Goddamn fruit crates!”
“Dad,” Jason said to him. “Please.”
Mary looked at the calendar on her cell phone. Her morning had suddenly cleared up.
“I want to change direction in my life,” Jason said. “And I need the support of my family.”
“Son, your life hasn’t had direction since you shot out of your mother’s cooker,” Kurt said.
“What is it you’re trying to do?” Alice said. “Besides piss us all off.”
“I want to cut down on my pot smoking and beer drinking, and become a professional surfer. Or a bodybuilder.”
“Cut down?” Alice said as she got to her feet.
Kurt hobbled from the room.
Alice put her hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Why don’t you stay and talk to him? You know all about struggling careers.”
Jason also stood. “They said this was going to be difficult; they were right.” His lower lip quivered.
“Please, Jason,” Dr. Blevins said, but he ignored her and left the room.
Mary looked at the doctor and shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t help people who don’t want to be helped.”
She got to her feet, but was stopped short by Dr. Blevins.
“Miss Cooper?” the psychologist said.
Mary looked up from her phone.
“Is it true you’re a private investigator?”
“Sure is,” Mary said. “And I have no intention of cutting down on my drinking.”
“Well, at least something good could come out of this unusual situation, then.”
“Such as?” Mary said.
“I might want to hire you,” the shrink said.
Mary waited.
“It’s one of my patients. He was murdered.”
Chapter Three
Mary took the seat next to Dr. Paulette Blevins. It was still warm from Jason’s sorry ass. She made a mental note to kick that ass the next time she saw it.
Who scheduled their own intervention? Mary idly wondered if Jason had brought a little speech he’d prepared in which he talked about how much he loved himself. It wouldn’t have surprised her.
“Well that was certainly interesting,” Dr. Blevins said.
Even though it was a conference room at a crappy hotel, Mary felt strange sitting next to a psychologist. Many of her friends and all of her family had strongly urged her to see a shrink at various times in her life, pointing out the many incidents that seemed to suggest serious mental issues on her part. Naturally, she had told them to go to hell. Then added a bunch of facial tics during the delivery to confuse them.
“Yes, another sad chapter in the Cooper history,” Mary said.