Alice In The Redwoods

 

DECEMBER 29, 2018 / DANIEL MCCARTY / EDIT

Alice In The Redwoods

Editors Note : Sept, 7, 2017, Leslie Van Houten was granted parole at her 20th parole hearing. Governor Brown has not made a decision yet. She has been in the California penal system longer than any other woman in California history.

Update: Jan. 29, 2018, Governor Jerry Brown overturned the decision of the parole board and denied Miss Van Houten release. In June, 2018, A Los Angeles Superior Court Judge upheld Governor Browns denial. 

Leslie Van Houten has spent 47 1/2 years  within the California penal system.

I started this tale on 9/8/17, the day after leslie was granted parole. Some stories sit on the shelf longer than others.

Leslie Van Houten at 66. Recently granted parole by the California State Parole Board. Jeyy Brown had not made a decision yet. MSCNC.com

By Daniel H. McCarty

Chapter 1 – Coffee and a Chorizo Scramble with the Prince of Darkness

“It is as inhuman to be totally good as it is to be totally evil.”                                                                                   -Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange

His right thumb and forefinger twirled his mustache. He was sitting alone in the back booth of ‘Poppy’s Place’, reading The Lost Coast Journal.

He smiled at The waitress when she refilled his coffee then turned and stared straight into my eyes.  I was 12 feet away. Suddenly it felt like twelve inches.

Life Magazine December 19, 1969

“First time away from home? I left when I was 12.  They didn’t even come looking for me. I was 6 blocks away.

Never knew my old man.”

Dancing eyes scanned the room.  He was leaning forward on the table, surrounding his plate and coffee cup with his arms.

“You spend a lot of time alone, you learn about yourself.  I found out I was quick.”

“Are you trying to outrun something?”

“Not anymore.  I’ve settled in.   Attached myself to something steady.

What’s your Daddy do?  Some kind of authority?   Cop? Preacher?”

I smiled.

“Pastor at the Church of the Nazarene in Crescent City.”

“You’ve been holding it in for a long time.  It’s in your posture. ”

He looked down at his coffee.

“I’m here Tuesday through Saturday at 10:00.  I start my week slow.”

I looked out the window then turned to smile at him.  He put  $10 on the table, a drivers cap on his head and then tipped the brim.

.      .      .

I was 18 years old the second daughter of an evangelical Minister.  I was careful, I  kept my emotions in check.

We lived in the most northwestern city of consequence in California.  Last chance for California coastline.  My neighbors had just enough money to make a reasonable stab at California cool.  They aimed to maintain that.

My Dad encouraged me to attend a state college instead of a Christian school.  He was confident my  faith would prevail as my worldview expanded.

He overplayed his hand.  Fathers see what they choose.

Though I love my Father, it was time to take control of my life.  It was 1976. I had a 68 Beetle and a license to fly.

I was Alice in the Redwoods.

Tuesday morning I stopped into Poppy’s for breakfast before my 10:00 a.m., Cultural Anthropology class.  He was in his booth.

“Sit with me?  It’s Charmin’s station.”

A brunette with hair past her shoulders and nervous eyes, appeared at his shoulder holding a coffee pot in a hand covered with a  blue anchor tattoo.

“This is Charmin.  She hustles food.  I’m Manny Bredeteau.  I hustle  smiles.”

Charmin’s eyes jumped from Manny to me.

“You gonna sit here Honey?   Poppy’s got a nice Hashbrown and Chorizo Scramble for $2.39.”

20 at most and calling me Honey.

“Where are you from Charmin?  You got a sweet Southern accent.”

“Sugar Mountain, North Carolina. I got out as soon as I could see over the wheel of a stolen car.” She laughed, ” I came from a very close and loving family. That’s how  Daddy and my brothers would describe it.

I ditched my brothers Dodge when I hit Asheville. Caught a Greyhound all the way to Ft. Bragg.   I met Manny at a pizza place off Glass Beach.  He bought me a calzone.”

Manny smiled as he laid his hands flat on the table, a blue anchor tattooed to the back of his left hand.

“What’s the blue anchor Manny?”

“Something steady.”

“My name’s Alice Page.”

Chapter 2 – Something Steady

” The aim is to balance the terror of being alive with the wonder of being alive” Carlos Casteneda

My Daddy’s name is John  Page.  He’s pastor at a Northern California church with an educated congregation.  People in Crescent City read Vonnegut, Vidal, and Judy Blume  They’re escaping the economic  pace of L.A. and San Francisco.

Daddy’s fairly progressive.  He came from Fire and Brimstone, Iowa,  but he’s perceptive enough to realize that isn’t going to play on the Northern California coast.  His sermons were more conversational, a lot of analogy, a lot of humor. Stories.

There are expectations for a preachers daughter.  My sister Ginny went to Wheaton College and ended up the wife of a Pastor in Springfield, Illinois.  Her daughters look like the ‘Children of the Corn’.

Daddy was aware but never voiced it aloud.  That’s why he encouraged me to attend Humboldt.  He knew I didn’t have the academics for Stanford or Berkley.  Humboldt was two hours away and turned out insurance agents, social workers and teachers in Duluth flannel.

.      .      .

Manny is a distributor.  He’ll buy 500 kilos of Kush in Fortuna or a kilo of coke in Palo Alto and deliver it to Oakland in a bread truck, then ship out in containers full of Japanese tractor parts to Henager, Alabama.  Never more than 200 kilos per container.  Manny played the odds, only one in every 150 shipping containers ever gets searched.  He worked from September until January and made enough to support a tribe of hedonists.

His energy level was off the charts.  People in Arcata thought he was wily, crazy, and highly entertaining.  Every party at the Holy Redeemer had a punch bowl laced with windowpane.  Manny believed in better living through chemistry though he never indulged himself.

He was the demented Ringmaster.

He was 5’7″ with a  hot-wired persona that illuminated him.  He took over rooms.  He lived in an abandoned church with a rotating cast of characters all sporting blue anchor tattoos on their left hands.  When Manny moved the tide would shift.

Arcata is a college town that attracts iconoclasts.  The local police condone most anything that doesn’t involve violence or attract the attention of the Federales.

He wore a red silk scarf when he held court.  He saw himself a spirit guide, or a rabbit in a foxhole.  Those living at the church were runaways from abuse or looking for love behind dancing eyes.  Manny wasn’t interested in those looking for truth. He provided refuge with a condition.  Allegiance to him without question. Manny was base control.

Chapter 3 – Bent Not Broken

“The human race tends to remember the abuses to which it has been subjected rather than the endearments. What’s left of kisses?                                                                                            Wounds, however, leave scars.’                                           Bertolt Brecht

His Mother was 15 when he was born.  The details were sketchy. There was never anyone around who really gave a shit.

He lived in an alternative universe, no souls, just flesh and bone.

Love is learned behavior.  It is nurtured.

Want to understand behavior?  Follow the trail.  Those that abuse will abuse. Those that were never loved have none to give.

He learned to live by his wits. He had no choice.  By the time he was 24, he had spent more than half his life in the Criminal Justice System.

Justice had not been served.

By the time he was 25, he was making a quarter million a year selling illegal pharmaceuticals. He wasn’t a user, he already lived in that peculiar Hell.

Manny was no fan of jails but he didn’t fear them either.  It was better than living in a cardboard box.

They say that the most dangerous creature in the world is the one with no fear, the one not afraid to die.

Manny had died a hundred times, his own blood on his hands.

.      .      .

I stayed at Poppy’s after Manny collected his paper, dropped  $10 on the table and floated out the door.

Poppy was at the hostess stand writing lunch specials on the chalkboard.  There was a counter waitress with ‘Clare’ spelled out on a white plastic name tag.   She was wearing a pink ruffles rayon apron over a short denim skirt.

Clare was standing on a step stool writing specials onto the board over the coffee station.  She adjusted the hem of her skirt every thirty seconds.

Poppy looked at her every 30 seconds and smiled.

Charmin slid into the booth next to me.  She was wearing a ‘canyoubelievethisshit’ grin and drumming out a private tune on the tabletop with eight of her fingers.  Occasionally she would slap down the sides of her thumbs as an accented beat. I couldn’t make out the tune.

She saw me zoning in.

“Expresso.  Not the tune, the buzz. I have two double expressos before my shift.  In a tall glass of milk.  Slam it. Poppy calls it Rocket Fuel.  Same recipe in every trattoria in the USA.”

“You’re wired Charmin.  How long does it last?”

“About three and a half hours.  Gets me through until the afternoon girl comes on at three.  It’s better than speed, you can sleep at night.

I like it here.  It’s California but rural and isolated, a lot of farming.  That’s why Manny moved us here.  Close to the source and  out of sight.”

“Not to be naive Charmin, but aren’t you speaking pretty freely about the family business.”

“This is Arcata Alice.  Manny donates to the Benevolence League and conducts all business outside the county.  He’s never had a shipment stopped.  He’ll tell you every time, “They search one in 150.”  He never worries about it.  He deals with things as they happen.  He’s dealt with a lot of shit in his time.  Manny’s a genius.”

“You know what they say about geniuses?  They either end up at Harvard, 6 feet under or in prison.”

“Well, he’s been there already. ”

I’d been surprised to hear Charmin mention her Father and brothers behavior so openly.  I had a feeling Manny was behind that.

I noticed Charmin kept her eye on Manny’s body language, constantly searching for clues to the mystery.

“Why don’t you come over to the church Thursday night.  ‘Friday Night in Fortuna’ is practicing on the stage.  They’re a Country/Alt Rock band from South Humboldt, friends of Manny’s. If they don’t have a gig they practice in front of the crowd at The Redeemer.

People from Humboldt State show up to party before the weekend starts. They even have a bouncer.  Big Samoan guy named Sami.  He stands at the door and riffs on the guests until he counts out 60, flashes a peace sign and shuts the door.  Nobody argues with him. He’s really big.”

Manny paid the rent at The Redeemer, kept the freezers full and windowpane in the Punch.  He drank sealed bottles of green tea.

If you lived at the Church, you lived in full surrender.  Complete faith in Manny or you were gone.  Manny handed out a lot of favors.  Occasionally he called them in.

When they lived in Hayward one of the sisters said no to Manny in front of the  Family.  She was gone the next day.  No one heard from her again.

No one said her name again.

Chapter 4 – On Thursday I Danced To ‘Friday Night In Fortuna’

” Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It’s that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public. That’s what the poet does”                         Allen Ginsberg

Thursday night I showed up at the Church at 8:00.  I recognized Sami from town.  He really stood out, built like an NFL Offensive Tackle, tall with massive shoulders.  He wore it well.  He had an ear to ear smile at all times.

I stood outside with my new best friend and shot the bull for an hour until he held up his index finger, flashed a peace sign and nudged me through the door.

“Go ahead circulate, make your way around the Parish. A lot of folks you need to meet.  They may not know you’re coming.  Have a couple glasses of punch first,  it will make it easier to understand them.

What city you say you grew up in?”

“Crescent City.”

“Just one glass of punch then.

I see one of my boys.  He’s not someone you  need to meet.”

the band was either mellow or trippy.   i never did determine.   a lot of partiers danced alone in front of the stage.  some of them were naked though they may have just been dancing fast.

half the pews had been removed to open up the dance floor.  there were stained glass windows that could not be opened.  i was bleeding sweat.

i was so thirsty i downed a second glass of punch.  i  vaguely remembered sami reminding me to stick to one glass.  too late.

i tried to focus on a stain glass window.  jesus was behind me singing along with the band.  he was holding a couple of dead fish and a loaf of wonder bread.

he couldn’t carry a tune, his hands were full so he left the tune on the floor where it leaked through the cracks until there was nothing left but ‘chopsticks’.

i decided to give up the conversation.  jesus wasn’t saying anything new.  i was a preachers daughter. i’d heard it all before.

it’s hotter than hades in here.  dad wouldn’t mind that.

daddy wasn’t fond of hell.  he may have lived there years back and just didn’t fit in.  could have been a cop but he chose an entry-level job with the holy trinity.

concentration was overrated.

manny was handing me a red freeze pop.  he had a red scarf on. the same color.  he had a whole wicker basket of pops.

he said he’d be back.

and then he was.

i wasn’t sure he’d left.

i wasn’t doing well with time.  i  tried tracing a few things back to the temporal and occipital.

“what color are your eyes?”

“grey.”

“what color would they be if I wasn’t asking you?”

“dandelion blue.  like cornsilk  .    .    .    .  in the rain.

you’re playing me manny.  i’ve been played before.

that’s ok.

i’ll let you.

alice will come out and play.

if she doesn’t like it, i’ll cut her off.”

in five minutes time, i went from failure to focus to total clarity.  i took a seat at the first pew and spread my arms. i was about to observe.

who says you need a control group?

manny slid away when he saw my eyes come into focus.  i  let him control the flow for a while.

i was totally submissive.

it was mind control and i gave him a free pass.

whatever he surmised hadn’t pleased him.

i saw a guy opening a wine bottle with a corkscrew and held up my glass for him to see.

Chapter 5 – Scrambled Eggs At Poppy’s

“If I don’t know I don’t know, I think I know. If I don’t know I know, I think I don’t know.             R. D. Laing

Eleven p.m. on Saturday I was awakened at Aunt Shell’s house by the signal from the Emergency Broadcast System.

48 hours ago, I’d finished my second glass of Crescent City Punch.

It was just a test.

48 hours in Manny’s world and I was ready to come home.

I climbed out of the recliner, turned off the TV and slipped into Aunt Shell’s room and pulled the covers up to her chin, kissed her forehead and closed her door behind me.  I went to the kitchen and sat down with a tall glass of orange juice.

I grew up on the coast.  I could walk down the shore,  sit on a rock and watch the sun go down over the Pacific.  The waves sweep you right into your own dreams.

I didn’t need electric punch.  The constant sensory bombardment had left my body weary, every synapse of my brain on vibrate.  I had my own kind of escapism and it didn’t deprive me of two nights sleep.

Manny was playing everyone in the Bredeteau clan.  He fluctuated between sensory overload and sensory deprivation.  Most were just fine with that as long as someone was maintaining control.  Some struggle for so long,  they just surrender.

.      .      .      .      .

Tuesday, 10:30 a.m.    Poppy’s Place

“You gotta try this Andouille scramble today.

Poppy grinds his own sausage, his own ground beef too.  He orders beef and pork by the side and then butchers his own.  He ends up with a lot of scraps and tailends that might have been a steak elsewhere.

He has this meat grinder in the kitchen.  Long handle with a razor-sharp blade.  Grinds up everything then mixes it with whatever’s on hand, carefully selected spices and minced onion to make the tube steak of your dreams.  Poppy’s a genius when it comes to portable pork and beef.

But that grinder?  That’s the kind of tool you see in your dreams.”

His eyes were dancing all over ‘Poppy’s Place’.  From the view through the window to the hostess stand and then to the kitchen door.  I have no idea what else he took in as his eyes slid.  He was carrying on a monologue interspersed with a direct glance, raised eyebrows and a shrug.  I think the pause was to suggest an opening but his body language continued to hold the floor.

He wanted that grinder.  For whatever use, I couldn’t imagine.  I deferred to his manic eyes and obvious relish of the Andouille.

Manny was sizing me.

He liked to dance on quicksand.

.      .      .      .      .

Charmin slid into the booth next to me with a tall glass of rocket fuel.

“I just have to make it to 3:00, then I’m gonna pull in my claws and hibernate for two days.  Between reds, tequila and tranqs, I feel like hard scrambled eggs.  Weeblo was shooting tin cans half the night.  He’s like one of those idiot savants.  The part of his brain that sights down the barrel of a .38 is the only part that hasn’t turned to mush. He carries a flask of tequila in his back pocket.  If Manny told him to blow your head off, he’d put one right between your eyes then sit down and chew his fingernails.  He’s a walking eggplant.”

“Doesn’t he scare the crap out of you?”

“He’s Manny’s puppy dog.  Him and Miss Gladys.  She’s so addicted to the Devils that you could buy her  for a weeks supply and a quart of Boones Farm.”

“Charmin, your face looks like it said, ‘screw it’ and called in sick.”

“My whole nervous system feels like it’s been vibrated into submission.  I need a day at the beach.”

“Come to Crescent City with me.  I don’t have any classes tomorrow.  If we leave at 7:00, we can take 101 through Klamath, kiss the balls on Babe the Blue Ox and still be there by 9:30.  I’ll show you my favorite place on the beach and have Mom serve dinner at 4:00 so we can be back before the sun goes down.

Trees Of Mystery – Klamath Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox

“Girlfriend, you got a deal.  Not so sure about the blue balls but sitting on the Dock of the Bay sounds righteous.”

“Righteous?  Wait till you meet my Daddy.”

Chapter 6 – Cool As Hell

When Charmin said she needed a day at the shore, she was thinking Myrtle Beach.  Alice’s Mom Ada bundled Charmin in a Thermal Hoodie and sat her down with a cup of cocoa.

“Alice, you should have told Charmin about the Northern Coast, she’s a Southern girl.  It’s hot and steamy in Carolina.  Aunt Shell used to say that’s why Southerners don’t fear Hell.  How much worse could it be?”

“But they do love dressing up on Sundays, don’t they Charmin?”

Rev. Page took a seat at the kitchen table next to their guest.  He had a new Shakespeare casting reel in a wooden box in his hand.

“That’s a beauty, Mr. Page.”

“You like to fish?”

“Been fishing since I  was 6.  That  brand new?”

“It is.  The mailman just delivered it today.  Haven’t even threaded in the line yet.”

“I’ll help you, I can hold the spool while you turn the handle.  My Uncle Lou took me fishing all the time when I was growing up.  Soon as we got around the corner of Lake Shiawassee he’d be pulling me on his lap and tugging out his worm.  I’d get that over quick so that we could get to the real fishing.

I love to fish.”

Ada Page choked on her cocoa and quickly raised her napkin to her lips.

John Page dropped his smile and his eyes to the table top for maybe 2 – 3 seconds and then looked up to Charmin as he patted her hand.

“Maybe you could go out on the Pacific with Alice and me some time.  She’s not a fisherman but she likes to go out on the boat.”

“That would be cool as Hell Rev. Page.”

John Page smiled,  “Oh cooler than that Charmin.  Much cooler.”

.      .      .

“Your Daddy is nice.  I’ll bet he’s nice to everybody.  Never met a man that was nice to me without putting a price on it.  He didn’t even try to preach to me.”

“He won’t, doesn’t believe in guilt or threats.  He tells a lot of stories and practices what he believes.  He’s a preacher by example.”

The ocean was calm, waves lapping, the sky full of clouds with blue poking through sporadically.

“You warm enough Charmin?  That’s Mama’s hoodie.  She’s had it about 20 years.”

“It’s nice.  Like your family, warm and comforting.  Makes me wonder why you hang around us.  Your life is so Ozzie and Harriet.”

I reached down, picked a shell up and flipped it into the water.

“I’ve always asked a lot of questions.  I always wanted to know why.  Why people accept things without proof.  Daddy says it’s about faith and either you have it or you don’t.  It’s a tough congregation in Crescent City.   The more questions people ask, the more aware they become, the less likely they will have faith.  Daddy even has a few atheists in his flock. They like his stories.

Are you feeling a little more relaxed Charmin?”

“Better than I was.  My nervous system has been in shock.  Manny has Weeblo shooting that pistol every day.    He picked up a side of beef in Ft. Bragg for Poppy.  He brought it back to the church first and hung it up in the baptismal and had Miss Gladys practice stabbing it about a hundred times.  He had her so cranked up she was laughing hysterically.

I slipped out the back door into the field before he could round me up too.  He’s manic as hell lately. He paces for hours.  Something is up and it’s making me nervous.”

“Does he know you’re here?”

“No, but he’ll find out.  He always finds out.  I don’t think he’ll mind because I’m with you.”

“Don’t be so sure about him not minding.  He tried to feel me out the night of the party.  He would leave for a few minutes and then come back like he had never been gone.  He was trying to mess with my perception.  He didn’t like what he saw.  Watch out for Manny.”

“He’s my family Alice.  He takes care of me.”

“There’s family everywhere Charmin.  It doesn’t always have a price.”

We got back to Poppy’s Place at 8:45 that night.   Manny was at his table reading the Lost Coast Journal.  When we walked in, he put his cap on, walked up to Charmin and took her arm.  He looked right through me without saying a word as he steered her out the door.

Chapter 7 – Unleash The Heathens

Manny grew up thinking he was invisible.

He was.

He slipped through cracks, slid in to back alleys, through open windows, down fire escapes and into the streets slipping through crowds. No one paid attention. Manny turned inward and set up shop.

Everyone he knew was named Manny or some derivative thereof. None of them possessed a soul or carried ID.

Manny Bredeteau wrote a biographical screenplay.

He and his friends wrote the script in a solitary confinement cell at Lompoc. It was chock full of painful truths. Six feet by eight feet of space leaves little room to hide.

The dialogue was a breeze. They wrote it down like the diary it was.

Not everyone appreciated it like Manny.

.     .      .

Robert Downing closed the cover on page 10.

This freak is manic. How did he ever get close enough to hand him a screenplay?`

“Shit. Pettis. ”

Bobby Pettis ran the canteen on Downing’s productions. He handed Robert the screenplay when he was getting breakfast.

“Friend of mine. I think he’s a genius. Should be pretty deep.”

“Did you read this shit?”

“Uh, no Mr. Downing. He just handed it to me the night before.”

“Well, your buddy is a psycho who can’t write worth a shit. I’m all into eclectic cinema but there has to be an audience and the only audience I can come up with is Psychos Inc. and I doubt they’re organized enough to get the word out. Crazies tend to exist in their own little world.”

.      .      .

Manny Bredeteau set down his fork and stared into Bobby Pettis eyes.

“So that’s the words he used? He thinks I’m crazy? A psycho? I can’t write for shit?”

“Manny, he threw it at me when he was getting a cup of coffee, I stock that Louisiana coffee just for him. So I brew a pot in a French Press. Takes about 3 minutes. That’s when we talk.”

“I thought you said you were close? That isn’t close. It’s fetch me a cup of coffee Dipshit.”

Bobby Pettis was resourceful but stupid. He made deliveries for Manny. Anything California, from San Diego to Arcata, at $2000 a trip. No questions asked. Tomorrow morning Bobby would return to Santa Monica,.Back to being a dipshit making Louisiana coffee in a french press.

.      .      .

Wednesday afternoon Manny canceled the Thursday night party at the Church. His mind was on Robert Downing and his hot new starlet, Jessica Loren. The LA Times had a photo of Downing, Ms. Loren, and Jack Ham at the Willits ranch Robert rented from Clive Benton.

Manny spent a month hiding out in Willits in 64. He sold coke to Clive Benton.

Robert had to finance the movie. Friday morning he flew out of Willits to Santa Rosa and caught a private flight to LA. He would be there four days, meeting with potential co-producers and financiers.

Sunday morning the LA Times held their morning edition for the first time in 11 years. At 4:15 the presses rolled with the headline. “Hollywood Murder In Mendocino County”

Chapter 8 – Dancing With The Devil

It was a three-hour drive from Arcata to Willits.  Duke Cassell was driving the Galaxie with Sonny Bell riding shotgun.  Sonny had the window down and tapping his barefoot on the right-hand mirror in time with The Stones ‘Sympathy for the Devil.’

“Git your goddamn foot back in the car. You’re blocking my view of the road. Bad enough I gotta deal with the two morons without having to smell your feet as well.”

Charmin was wedged into the backseat between Weeblo and Miss Gladys. Weeblo was spinning the cylinder on a 4″ Colt Trooper. He pointed it at the back of Duke’s head and then Sonny’s.

“Pop – Pop.”

Duke slammed on the brakes and pulled over on the side of 101. He whipped around to face Weeblo.

“You better not have any bullets in that damn thing. Point it at me one more time and I’ll shove it up your ass so far you’ll be farting gunpowder. Charmin, slap Miss Gladys. She looks like she’s about to have an epileptic fit. Stick a sock in her mouth before she swallows her tongue.”

Gladys was rocking back and forth in her seat and drumming her fingers on her knees.

“I gotta pee. I gotta pee. I gotta pee.”

“Shut the hell up Gladys. Willits is 20 miles away. You can pee when we stop for gas. God damn. This car already smells like piss.”

Charmin looked down at her boots to avoid Duke’s gaze. She felt the wet spot spread. Her hands were wedged between her legs. It wasn’t urgency.

She was scared to death.

.      .      .

Duke Cassel was sitting on the steps of the Church when Manny and Charmin returned from Poppy’s. He was tossing a baseball bat from one hand to the other, hands adorned with self-inflicted prison tattoos. There was no blue anchor.

“How long you been waiting Duke?”

“I got here about 30 minutes ago. Nobody knew where you were. I left Fresno as soon as I got your call. This one of your crazies?”

Manny had a firm grip on Charmin’s elbow.

“She’s just someone that doesn’t know her place. When I get through with her she won’t give you any trouble.”

“Makes no fucking difference to me Manny. Just so I get my money. I’m not carrying a piece in case anything goes wrong. They’ll throw me back in Lompoc for another 20 years.

I’m just the driver and trail boss. You understand?”

“Come on inside. I’ll talk it over with you. Sonny knows the script. He’ll take over when you get to the ranch. Weeblo is a deadeye. He never misses. Miss Gladys will be so cranked up she’ll be on automatic. I’m sending Charmin along because she needs to understand what family means.

You leave tomorrow at 5:00. It’s three hours to Willits. The ranch is three miles outside of town. You just get them there and back.”

.      .      .

When Duke pulled into the Sinclair gas station in Willits, Gladys bolted from the backseat. She was clutching her groin all the way across the parking lot. The cashier handed her the key to the restroom on the side of the building.

Weeblo was flipping through a copy of ‘Guns and Ammo’ in the store as Sonny filled the tank. Duke was standing at the front of the car watching traffic pass as he smoked a Camel.

Charmin was waiting on the side of the building rocking back and forth and biting her lip. Her nerves were frayed.

What was taking Gladys so long?

She looked to the back of the gas station, saw a field of overgrown weeds and glanced back at Sonny and Duke. They had their backs to her. She slipped into the weeds and lowered her jeans.

It wasn’t much of a relief. Her stomach was churning like a cement mixer full of bile. She convulsed and spewed a mouthful of vile and putrid detritus into fiddleneck and wild oats. She collapsed backwards, her jeans around her knees.

.      .      .

“Where is that bitch? We got a timetable here. I’m paid to deliver you lunatics, not babysit.”

Duke dug a $20 out of his watch pocket and thrust it into Sonny’s hand.

“Put your fucking shoes on Sonny. No shirt, no shoes , no service, dumbass. Look around the store after you pay the cashier. That moron Gladys still has the key in her hand. Check the restroom and get your ass back here. We got a party to crash and no time to waste. If we’re lucky, those Hollywood queers will still be asleep. A lot quicker and cleaner that way.”

Five minutes later, Sonny stepped out through the restroom door, turned to Duke and shrugged.

Duke climbed in and started the Galaxie and laid on the horn twice as Sonny skittered out the door of the convenience store.

“We ain’t waiting. Manny is going to skin that bitch alive. She’ll piss herself again when Manny gets sight of her. She’s 150 miles from home and too damn stupid to fend for herself. She’ll call. If I have to drive back for her, it’s gonna cost him another $5,000. This is turning into a clusterfuck.”

Chapter 9 – Thelma and Enos

Charmin felt a wet tongue licking her cheek. She opened her eyes to the face of a grey pittie with a head the size of a basketball.

“Enos don’t bite. Might slobber all over you though. He was barking his fool head off. Thought he smelled a rattler out here in the weeds. He may be fearless but he a little too old to tussle with a rattler.”

Charmin turned her head to knee high rubber muck boots and baggy dungarees rolled to the knee. Thelma tucked a few errant and whispy grey strands behind her ear. She was leaning on a garden hoe.

“Missy, why you got your trousers around your knees? Some man been messing’ with you? Left you out here in the weeds?

You ain’t from around here, is you? I know everybody in this town. Might not talk to em’ but I know’s em. If Enos don’t like em, then I don’t talk to em. That old dog know more about people then you and me both.”

Charmin sat up, wiped the sleeve of her jacket under her nose and collapsed in sobs. Enos climbed into her lap and licked at her tears.

“My boy likes you. Whatever happened to you wun’t your doing. Enos can sniff out bad in a heartbeat. Now lets get you up and over to my house. It ain’t much but its clean and got a good roof. I just picked some fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers from my garden. I’ll fix you up a feast and you can tell me your story. What your name chile?’

“Charmin Ma’am. Fresh tomatoes sounds right fine.”

“Now I know you ain’t from round here. You grow up in a Georgia shotgun shack Charmin?”

“Well, kinda.”

.      .      .

Charmin was curled up on a small settee in Thelma’s house sipping a pungent green tea. A fire burned in the old wood stove.

“That tea will settle your stomach. Got ganja, mint and chicory in it. I grow about 200 plants out back of the shed. Enos do a good job of keeping out any interlopers that be lurking around. I made $26,000 last year selling that weed. Taking care of my crops about the only thing I do these days. Only men keeping me company is Arther Itis and Jim Beam. Thass my love life.

Not really much work until harvest season. I work harder in my vegetable garden then I do growing ganja. The money pay my property taxes and allow me this life of leisure.”

She laughed, “Yes ma’am, living’ the high life.”

“The police don’t mess with you none?”

“Oh chile, this Mendocino County. If you ain’t a rich rancher, there no money to be made here. Police know that. After harvest, I make a little bonfire with the leftover stalks, stems and roots and Police Chief Hardin bring over a bottle of Jim Beam and a folding chair. We sit around telling lies and breathing wootie. Chief tell me that Harvest Moon is his favorite holiday. He ain’t smoking’, he just breathing.”

Thelma laughed and laughed until Enos got to his feet and did a little jig.

“My pup love to dance.

Now tell me your story chile. We got to figure you a way out your mess.”

.      .      .

The next morning, Charmin called me in Arcata and filled me in. A chill ran through my bones.

“I didn’t know who else to call Alice. You and Poppy the only people that I know outside of the family. Manny will kill me if he figures out where I am. I can’t stay with Thelma because Sonny and Duke will retrace their steps. They’ll find me for sure.”

“Charmin, did you watch the news, read a newspaper? There was a mass murder at a ranch just outside of Willits. One of the women had a 60 stab wounds to her body. I thought of what you told me about Weeblo and Gladys immediately. It’s not a coincidence is it?”

The phone was silent save for a gasp from Charmin.

“Tell me where you are. I’m going to call Daddy. I’ll be down to get you tomorrow around noon. Be ready.”

 

 

Chapter 10 – Crescent City Salvation

“I need some advice Daddy. I’m sure you’ve heard the news about the murders in Willits. I have every reason to believe they were committed by the group that Charmin was living with. She slipped away when they stopped for gas in Willits. She’s scared to death. She is staying with an elderly woman that befriended her. But the woman lives close to where they last saw Charmin. I’m afraid they are going to retrace  .  .  .”

“Bring her here Alice. Now! Are they familiar with your Beetle?”

“Well, they .   .   .   . yeah.”

“I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“No Daddy, I’m going to do this myself. I appreciate your offer,  but I should never have let Manny take her away that day. She knew something was coming.”

The line was silent for seconds.

“Then take Aunt Shell’s station wagon. In fact, take Shell with you. Wear a hat and sunglasses. Put Shell on the phone with me.  As hard headed as she may be, she would never abandon a child in need. When are you leaving?”

“I told her tomorrow morning.”

“No, leave now. Call Charmin back. You can’t waste time. Now get Shell on the phone. I’m afraid she’ll bring heavy artillery.”

Chapter 11- Manny

“What do you mean you left her?”

“You paid me to get the loonies to the ranch. Charmin was along for the ride, she had no role once we got there. I was tired of babysitting. We couldn’t find her after we stopped for gas. I wasn’t about to attract attention and she was a waste of fucking flesh.”

“She’s the one that can tie us to all of this you fucking moron”

“Watch yourself Manny. $5000 doesn’t buy you immunity from the wrath of God. One more word and I’ll waste you. Your crazy schtick doesn’t work on me. I’ll end your scrawny ass.”

“Weeblo could put one right between your eyes. He’ll drop you like a sack of shit.”

“Then you got one more dead body to worry about and this one is too close to home. Try covering that one up,”

Manny was pacing the floor. This was no time to lose composure.

“You want me to drive back to Willits, it’ll cost you 10 grand. With a triple murder just three miles outside of town, that town is on high alert. Just me and Sonny. Weeblo and Gladys will stick out like your runty little ass. That town ain’t that big. Where she gonna hide?”

Manny stood with fists clenched, staring down Duke.

“We aren’t going back to Willits. She don’t know anybody there and she’s scared shitless. She only knows two people outside the family and Poppy knows better then to cross me. I know where she’s going. Take your money and disappear. Sonny and Weeblo will take care of this.”

Chapter 12 – Aunt Shell and Thelma

Aunt Shell was sitting in the passenger seat of her 66 Ford Country Squire. She took riding shotgun literally. 

She pulled her oversized slouch purse onto her lap.

I glanced her way and chuckled, “Aunt Shell, it looks like you’re going on vacation hauling that big old thing around. You must have a lot of necessaries.”

“You just pay attention to the road Alice. I’ll take care of business.”

Shell reached into that bag and hauled out a pistol the length of my arm. 

“Holy cow Shell. I thought you told Daddy that you weren’t bringing heavy artillery.”

“Did nothing of the sort. Uh huh, uh huh does not signify consent. Just means I hear you little brother. You don’t walk into the OK Corral with a .22cal plinker. This nickel plated beauty is a .45cal Smith and Wesson with an 8 1/2” barrel. 8 1/2 inches for accuracy and 45 calibers to drop them in their tracks. That brouhaha in Willits is all over the news. That burg will be crawling with sheriffs deputies and State Police. 

That isn’t security, it’s a clusterfuck. Cops will be tripping over their own shoelaces.”

“Cluster WHAT?”

“Oh hush child. I’m your aunt, not some pious preacher.”

.      .      .

I pulled into Thelma’s driveway just as the sun was starting to set. There was a pit bull the size of a baby elephant standing guard on the porch. An elderly woman leaning heavy on a cane appeared in the screen door.

“That old girl isn’t showing any signs of caution and that dog is off the leash. But wait in the car for a moment until I introduce myself.”

When Aunt Shell took that first step that old dog stood up on his hind legs and laid beefy paws on each of her shoulders. A shiver ran through me. 

Not Shell.

Aunt Shell reached up, held that oversized head between her palms and licked Enos face. The woman standing behind the screen broke out in a hearty laugh. 

Enos started dancing.

.      .      .

Shell was sitting in an ancient overstuffed chair while Enos rested his head on her knees. The leg of Shells trousers was soaked in drool, Enos was blissed out on a little scratch between the ears. 

Thelma was preparing 4 cups of ganja tea. Well three cups anyway. She only had 3 coffee mugs so the 4th was steeping in a small mason jar.

“I know that smell Thelma. Living up there in Humboldt is no different then Mendocino County. What’s your recipe?”

“Ain’t no mystery Shelly. I throw in a little chicory weed to smooth it out and a sprig of mint just before I serve it up.”

“Well I’m glad that Alice is driving back. Weed relaxes me too much. I’d be asleep 20 miles down the road.”

“Aunt Shell, we have a four and a half hour drive to Daddy’s place I need you awake in case we get pulled over by a police roadblock or something. We need to get our story straight just in case. we don’t know how much information the police may have gathered.”

“Don’t you worry none Alice. I’ll do the talking. I’m not going to fall asleep. I’m just your fat old Auntie that come down to Willits to get her nieces back to the safety of family. Too many crazies in this town. I’m more worried about that Bredeteau family then I am the cops. My eyes will be wide open.”

I glanced Charmin’s way, “We need to be on the road.”

Thelma was standing behind Charmin’s chair, her hand resting on her shoulder. She was chewing her lip.

“Charmin, I know you  got no family. but Enos, he loves you and I been thinking about this next harvest and my arthritis. You probably best up there in Crescent City with Alice’ family but if you ever get to thinking about me and Enos .   .   .   .   . well you know where we live.”

.      .      .

When we loaded up the Country Squire, Thelma hobbled down the stairs with a threadbare army blanket in her grasp. She opened the back door of the station wagon, reached in and spread it around Charmin’s lap.

“Enos usually sleep on that so it may smell a little doggy but it will keep you warm. I’ don’t think our boy will mind you taking his blanket. I think he’ll understand.”

Charmin held the blanket to her face and smiled.. 

“Smells like love. Maybe I can bring it back.”

Chapter 13 – Highway 101

“Aunt Shell, do you know how to shoot that big old pistol?”

She chuckled;

“I’ve been dealing with that all my life. During the war, they were trying to shuffle every able bodied man into the infantry. They were sending them off to both Asia and Europe to fight Hitler and Hirohito. I was in the WAC’s. When an opening came up at the artillery range as an instructor, I put in for it. Now that was unheard of to have a woman teaching male recruits. but I made a bet with the range officer at the EMS club one night that if I could outscore him at the range, that he would talk to the CO about slotting me for the position. That Sargent was 6 beers into a sloppy drunk and feeling his oats. 

Big mistake. 

I shot a 98 and he scored a 67. The only way he could salvage his fragile male ego was to build me up to the CO as the reincarnation of Annie Oakley. I got the job. First female range officer in Army history.

Your Grandpop taught me to shoot before I was 8 years old. We were living in Georgia back then and your Daddy was still in diapers. Pop wasn’t sure he would have a boy to pass things along to. That was OK with me. I’ve always been a big girl and never had a doll in my life. I could dress a buck and skin a rabbit before I was 10.

Don’t you worry none child. I can hit a fly between the eyes at 50 yards.”

Shell looked back over the seat at Charmin curled up asleep- under the army blanket. 

“Why do you think your Daddy didn’t hesitate to have me along for the ride? I was the one that taught him to shoot. Taught him to fish too.

That girl was lucky she met you. I think your Daddy sees a bit of me in you. 

A .45 cal Smith and Wesson and a friend that don’t back down in the face of evil will accomplish more than a million thoughts and prayers. Deep down your father understands that.

You OK driving?

“Oh gawd yes, Aunt Shell. I never felt so awake in my life.”

“You’re a warrior Alice.”

.      .      .

“Sonny, we got a loose end to tie up. You should have never left Charmin behind in Willits. If that girl starts talking, it blows the lid clean off this gig. Duke fucked up but you listened to him. He ain’t family. You shoulda known better. I oughta skin you like a grape. 

I’m going to give you a chance to make this right. I know where she is. If she isn’t there yet, she will be by tomorrow. I’m sending you up there with Weeblo. Don’t fuck this up. Last man standing. Understand?”

Manny’s eyes pierced right though the fog behind Sonny’s eyes.

Sonny nodded.

“I’m going to Red Bluff and see some people. I need to establish an alibi. You take 2 boxes of shells and  the Dodge pickup and leave tomorrow. Don’t hand that moron his pistol until you get to Crescent City. He’d probably blow the balls off that Blue Ox before you get halfway there. You don’t need to be attracting attention.”

Chapter 14 – Grey Skys Over Crescent Bay

We pulled up to the garage in Crescent City at 11:20 at night. My dog Bubbles was all over the place, welcoming Charmin, Shelly and myself back to the fold. Daddy stood on the porch with a 12 gauge shotgun cradled in his arms. Aunt Shell remained on the passenger side of the station wagon until Charmin was into the house. She had the Smith and Wesson braced against the roof of the car.

Mom wrapped Charmin up in her Eddie Bauer hoodie and settled her into an easy chair with a mug of hot chocolate. 

There was a whining and scratching sound coming from the kitchen. I looked towards Dad.

Daddy gestured toward Aunt Shell, “Shelly, make sure that front door is secure.”

Dad opened the kitchen door and a huge German Shephard  came bounding out.

“Why is Trigger here?”

“Bubbles is a Welcome Wagon. Trigger is all business. When I called Chief Cage this afternoon, he was only too happy to loan him out. If anyone gets within 500 yards of the house, Trigger will let us know.”

Trigger cased the house in 30 seconds then propped his nose up on Charmin’s thigh.

Enos proved to be a good judge of character. Trigger settled in at Charmin’s feet. He knew immediately why he was there. 

Aunt Shell grinned and shook her head, “Can’t beat a German Shepard for smarts. I’ll take one shepherd over 6 cops any day.

So what are your thoughts John? Do you think they’re coming?

“Oh they’re coming all right. Eddie Cage has deputies in plain clothes spread through the woods. He wants to get something solid on them so he isn’t showing his hand. Right now it’s still just speculation with no names and faces attached. Charmin is the key.”

“What about her safety. Y’all seem to be playing a little loose with that equation.”

“There is no element of surprise here Shelly. We have one extremely capable police dog, that cannon in your purse, a 12 gauge Remington and a dozen officers spread through the woods and eating donuts in the barn. We got it covered.”

“Well, nevertheless, Trigger and I are going to be sharing her bedroom tonight.”

.      .      .

The next morning John Page got up early and called Chief Cage.

“I’m headed to the church to work on Sunday’s sermon. I contemplated staying at the house but all my reference books are in the church office. I shouldn’t be more the 4 hours.”

“You’re cutting your home security force in half if you do that. Not a good idea. I suggest you take Shelly, the girl and your Remington with you. I’ll meet you there in 15 minutes. Keep your eyes peeled. I’ll arrange for two deputies to camp out with Ada.”

.      .      .

Shelly Page pulled two chairs and a collection of seat cushions into the baptismal. There were no windows behind her and the elevation provided good sightlines. She pulled the curtains out one foot to provide a little cover. Charmin was bedded down against the wall and reading ‘Huckleberry Finn’. Reading was a chore, she was nervous as a cat.

She was conflicted. ever since Alice brought her to Crescent City, the family had seen to her every need. And now she had brought this turmoil into their lives. Her actions had put this loving family in danger. She couldn’t live with herself if anything were to happen.

“Aunt Shelly, I really have to pee. I don’t know if it’s just nerves or the coffee this morning. I really have to go.”

“Wait here just a second.”

Shelly descended the short stairway and whistled for Trigger. 

She motioned to Charmin, “Stay with the dog. Take him into the restroom with you. Keep the hoodie up over your head.”

.      .      .

Shelly noticed a shadow slip through the door to the sanctuary and tuck behind a statue of the Blessed Virgin. When he stuck his head out to scan the room, Shelly took in hollow eyes..

The door to the restroom opened and Trigger trotted out with Charmin right behind. 

Hollow eyes raised a pistol to eye level and pulled back on the hammer with his thumb.

“CHARMIN, DIVE. On the ground!”

A pistol exploded.

Skull fragments and brain matter desecrated the statue of the Blessed Virgin. The impact of the bullet spun Weeblo’s body 180 degrees before he collapsed in a pool of blood. 

Another man wearing a cowboy shirt and a bolo tie rushed forward holding a revolver at arms length. He rotated slightly scanning the auditorium for Charmin. As he pivoted he came face to face with a middle aged man with a 12 gauge Remington shotgun leveled at his mid section. Behind him stood  a police officer with a service revolver pointed right at his head.

“Drop it! You have three weapons pointed at you and one of them is a shotgun at 10 paces. Drop it now!”

Sonny’s eyes scanned the row of pews.

Another blast blew the cowboy flat on his back and clutching his right shoulder. 

“Damn it Shelly, why did you shoot him?”

“I’m surprised at you John. Profanity in the Lord’s house? 

I shot him in the shoulder. I didn’t kill him. If you had pulled the trigger on that 12 gauge, there wouldn’t have been a body to link this  to them doings in Willits. That cowpoke is going to spend the rest of his miserable life in prison with a bum shoulder. Now I suggest you tend to the child. She’s scared to death.

Cheif Cage, You best corral Trigger before he takes that evil bastards head off. You’re gonna need a body to present to the judge.”

.      .      .

Manny Bredeteau was pulled over by a vigilant CHP’s officer for driving an old bread truck with a broken tail light. After perusing a rap sheet that ran a half dozen pages, Red Bluff police held him over night in the City Jail. A message came across the interagency teletype at 0630 in the morning. A routine traffic stop captured the number one most wanted criminal in the state of California.

It took 6 months for the state to prepare their case. After a 5 day trial, the jury sequestered for 45 minutes. Manny Bredeteau and  Sonny Bell were sentenced to life in prison on three counts. Adeline ‘Gladys’ Burrows was sentenced to life at the California Institute for Women in Chino.

Charmin McFeigh was granted immunity as a states witness. She was released to the custody of John and Ada Page in Crescent City. The court recognized that she was not present at the murder scene and that an 18 year old runaway from familial abuse had already endured enough trauma in her life. All charges were wiped clean from her record.

Chapter 15 – If You Needed Me

Charmin was weeding around the tomato plants in Ada and John’s garden. Ada brought her a tall glass of lemonade.

“You like digging in the dirt, don’t you?”

“My Grandma had a little farm in North Carolina. I loved going there. I think I got a little farmer in my blood.”

Charmin finished off the lemonade and stood with her eyes cast downward.

“Mrs. Page  .  .  . I feel like, well .  .  .”

“What’s the matter child? Just talk to me. Everything will be all right.”

“Well, you and Rev. Page have been so good to me .   .   .   .and I just”

“Charmin, both of our girls are gone. I fell like an empty nester. You bring such joy to us.”

“I know, but you do every thing for me and I feel that I do nothing for you,after I brought so much trouble into your life.”

“Oh Charmin, no, you .  .  .  .”

“Let me finish before I run out of nerve, I been rehearsing this is my head. You know that letter I got last week?

It was from Thelma. She had a little stroke. She’s not doing well and I think she needs me. Nobody has ever needed me before. And I feel ungrateful to you for saying this.”

Ada stepped forward and wrapped Charmin in a tight hug as the tears started to flow.

“Sweetheart, it’s a wonderful thing to be needed . It might just be the best thing to happen to you. I’ll call Alice and see when she has the time to jitterbug on down to Willits. I believe you’re doing the right thing Charmin. Don’t worry about John. He’ll understand.”

.      .      .

“Shelly, you come all of this way just to see me?”

“Well, that and a cup of tea.”

Thelma laughed until her belly shook and Enos got up and jitterbugged around the room shaking his hindend to Nina Simone. 

“That dog will keep you young.”

“Well Shelly, it ain’t working so well anymore. I had me a little stroke a while back. Got me to thinking. I had Charmin drive me to Ukiah and I signed over the deed to her.”

“You don’t say?”

“Yep, I got no family and when I die the county just takes over the property. That don’t make sense. The girl has been good to me. I never did have a daughter and I guess it’s never too late. After what that child been through in life, she deserves it. Besides I’m worried about Enos if I pass before he do. Charmin love that dog and he love her.

You going to head back to Eureka tonight? If you don’t mind, you can just leave in the morning. You have to share my bed, but I don’t snore.”

“Sounds like a plan sister. By the way, who’s the young man out back putting in fence posts with Charmin and Alice?”

Thelma chuckled.

“That’s Miguel. Works at the service station on 20. Keeps my old pickup running like a top and all I have to pay him is a bag. He was out here last week tuning up that old Ford and Charmin was peeking round corners and twirling her hair round her finger. He’s a nice boy. Truck was running fine so I asked him to come put in a couple of fence posts for me.”

“What’s the fence for?”

“No fence. Just fenceposts and a smile on Charmin’s face.”

Shelly broke out in a belly laugh. 

“Since we’re spending the night, how about you brew up some more tea?”

“I got a better idea Shell. Let me load up the pipe, put some Benny Goodman on the box and we can sit out on the porch and watch the sun  go down.”

“And watch Enos shake his hiney.”

“Oh, he do like Benny Goodman. 

That’s a fact.”

“If you knew
How lonely my life has been
And how low I’ve felt for so long
If you knew
How I wanted someone to come along
And change my world the way you’ve done

Feels like home to me
Feels like home to me.” ‘Feels Like Home’ by Randy Newman

whistledownthewinddotorg1.wordpress.com

Editors note:   I began this story during Monsoon Season in the Pisgah Rain Forest in Western North Carolina in 2016. It rained for 18 straight days until the creek overflowed. I typed away under a tin roof in a mountain cabin. I had no internet so I would drive to Cashiers and cop the internet at the Ingles Grocery whenever I needed to send out a post. 

It was a rather productive period. But I could not come up with a hook for this tale. And then my world came crashing in. So it sat on the shelf for 4 years. Until now.

I agonized over a song for this one. It took me three days and over 150 listens. Evil, hopeful, sad .  .  .  .  . Randy Newman. 

One thing that changed about this tale was the focus on the Sisterhood (Alice, Charmin, Thelma and Shell). Once I decided on that, the words flowed. Enos just showed up for the dance. So thank you ladies.

All of you.

Tin roofed cabin in Pisgah Rain Forest.