Juniper

Chapter 1

Alexis Brown

Open up, Police! The officer says, rapping hard with his knuckles on the solid wood, front door of apartment # 6b.

Just wait a minute damn it, can you wait just a freaking minute! A young woman’s hoarse voice replies from inside the apartment. The Police Officers glance over at each other, glad to hear that someone is home.

Alexis Brown was asleep, deep asleep. She likes to smoke at night when she gets home from her dancing job down the street at the club. She’s found that smoking pot after she gets home from work helps her to unwind and then allows her to easily fall asleep. Plus, like a lot of other people around the world, Alexis just really likes smoking pot. The only down side to smoking is that it puts her into a deep, deep sleep that she sometimes has trouble waking out of very quickly. Right now her brain feels somewhat fuzzy as she shakes her head from side to side while lying in the bed trying to wake up.

Wearing only her panties, Alexis turns on the bedside lamp and sits up on the side of the bed. She rubs her eyes and is trying hard to get adjusted to the light from the lamp that is now invading the darkness of the small bedroom. She looks over at the alarm clock. Shit, its five-o-clock in the fuckin’ morning! What in the world do those bastards want now?

Open up, police! The officer yells, rapping even harder on the door this time with the butt end of his big, black, Mag-Lite flashlight. Both of these gentlemen want to get this visit over with. They are not accustomed to waiting.

Just a minute, I’ve got to get some clothes on ya know! What a bunch of rude bastards! Alexis says, mumbling to herself. She begins opening and closing her bureau drawers looking for something, anything to put on.

Alexis starts laughing. Gotta get some clothes on! She says while she giggles to herself. I’ve just spent half the night taking my clothes off for guys and girls and now I’m worried about getting them put back on. I guess that joke is on me!

Alexis is very proud of her looks and her body. She’s only 23 years old, with a very pretty face and beautiful, long, naturally blonde and wavy hair, a wonderful set of real boobs and a very tight ass. She dances at a local strip club, The Palace, just right down the street about two blocks away and she makes damn good money for a 23-year old High School dropout. She tried the fast food job route, but the pay sucked and she hated coming home smelling like hamburgers and French fries every night too. She was about ready to give up and head back to her hometown, but she decided to stick it out for another month to see if anything came her way and eventually, her patience paid off.

One night, about a week later, a friend of Alexis came in the fast food restaurant where Alexis was working and told Alexis that she had been stripping for over two months now and about how much money she had made during that time. Alexis figured that if you got it, you might as well use it. So, she went to The Palace the next day she had off and she was hired on the spot. When she started stripping, she made more money in one night than she did in two weeks working fast food. She’s never looked back.

Alexis finds an old t-shirt and also grabs her bathrobe. She quickly puts the shirt and then the bathrobe on. She heads into the kitchen and over to the front door.

Alexis and her neighbors are used to the cops coming and going in their apartment complex and in their neighborhood. The police are always around trying to stop the prostitution, the small time drug dealing and responding to domestic violence calls. The residents are always trying to get away with selling or buying drugs, selling their bodies or buying some time with someone else’s body, and beating the shit out of each other. It’s a never-ending game of cat and mouse.

Alexis flips the dead bolt and cracks the door with the chain still on. What’s the problem officer? She asks. Alexis blinks her eyes a couple of times, trying to see out in the dark hallway.

Can you open the door miss? We need to talk with you.

Talk to me about what? She asks. Alexis peers out the opening in the door and sees that they are cops. They have on their District of Columbia police hats, their uniforms and are each wearing their District of Columbia police badges. You can’t be too careful around this shit hole, she thinks to herself.

Are you Alexis Brown? one of the two Police Officers asks.

Yeah, what’s the problem? she asks again.

We need to talk with you about a Wayne Redmon. We’ve heard you may have been seeing him recently.

Is he okay? She asks with a sound of worry coming from her voice. She’s also rather surprised by the mention of Wayne’s name.

Alexis has been seeing Wayne for a couple of weeks now. She met him down at the Midtown Laundromat when they were both there washing and drying some clothes late one Tuesday night. Wayne’s quite a bit older than she is, but they got to talking and something between them just clicked. Plus, he’s the first guy she’s ever met who’s acted like a gentleman around, has acted like he genuinely cares for her and doesn’t mind that she’s a stripper.

Well miss, if you’d let us in we’d be better able to talk to you about this, the taller of the two Police Officers says.

Alexis closes the door for a second, unhooks the chain and opens the door again.

Thanks Miss. The taller of the two Police Officers says. Do you have a place where we can go sit down and talk?

Sure, let’s go in the kitchen, she says as she walks that way motioning with her hand for them to follow.

Alexis and the two officers move into the kitchen and each takes a seat at the old, Archie Bunker style, 1950’s era breakfast table. The officers take off their hats and set them on the table.

I’m Officer Smith and this is Officer Jacobs, the taller of the two Police Officers says as he gestures towards his shorter partner. Officer Jacobs gives Alexis a nod of the head.

So, are you from around here? Officer Smith asks, trying to make some small talk to loosen up the situation and to get Alexis talking.

No, Youngstown, Ohio originally, Alexis says. Just saying the name of her hometown brings back some bad memories.

Lived in D.C. long? Officer Jacobs asks.

Alexis hears the question, but instead of thinking about giving an answer, her mind begins moving in another direction and she begins thinking about something else. Alexis was born and raised in Youngstown, Ohio. She never knew her dad and wishes she could have had a better mother than the evil slut that raised her. She can’t think of one positive memory she has of that woman. Her mom was a prostitute and by the way they had to live, not a very good one. Almost all the money Alexis’ mom made was either spent on cheap wine or vodka, went up her mother’s nose, or was shot up in her mother’s arm. What little bit of money that was left over was used for the little food they got to eat.

Probably the most disturbing but lasting memory Alexis has of her mother comes from her mom’s bedroom being right next to hers in the small two-bedroom apartment where they lived in the government sponsored housing projects. It really would be a stretch to call it living; it was a lot more like surviving. Her mom had a different paying customer in her bed every night, sometimes two or three. Alexis went to sleep many a night listening to the headboard banging up against the wall along with her mom’s and her paying customer’s moans and groans…

Miss, you okay? Officer Jacobs asks as he reaches out and touches Alexis on the arm.

Yeah, yeah just fine, Alexis says, the Police Officer’s faces are coming back into focus. Didn’t you all say that there was something wrong with Wayne?

No, we didn’t say that there was anything wrong with Mr. Redmon, we said we needed to talk to you about him, Officer Smith says.

Oh sorry, I guess I just assumed there was something wrong because you all are cops.

That’s understandable, Officer Smith says, but all we need to know from you is how to find or get in touch with Mr. Redmon.

Is he in some sort of trouble then? She asks, the same worry coming from her voice as before.

No, he’s not, Officer Jacobs interjects into the conversation. We think that he may have witnessed a crime and we need to talk to him about it. You know, see if he can help us with some leads in the case.

Where did he witness it? Alexis asks. What kind of crime was it? Alexis is worried that Wayne may be in some type of trouble. She knows that the police aren’t going to tell her if Wayne is wanted for a crime. She can feel herself starting to get nervous; the palms of her hands are getting sweaty. She knows that the police have no problem with telling a lie if it will get her to give them the information they want.

Well… says Officer Jacobs, as he and Officer Smith glance over at each other at the same time, both realizing she’s not buying the ‘we just want to talk with him’ angle they’re playing. She definitely doesn’t want to give out any information.

Ms. Brown, Officer Smith says very bluntly and with a little more pressure in his voice, We assure you that Mr. Redmon is not in any trouble and we’re sorry, but we’re not at liberty to discuss the specifics of the case with you. We just need to know how to find Mr. Redmon so we can speak with him.

Oh, well… uh, Alexis doesn’t know what to say.

Do you by any chance know where Mr. Redmon lives? Officer Jacobs asks.

Well… uh… no I, I don’t, Alexis says, shrugging her shoulders. Besides the palms of her hands getting sweaty, she can now feel her face becoming flush. She was never any good at lying. The Police Officers notice that she is fidgeting in her chair. She will hardly look either of them in the eyes now. They know she’s lying.

Ms. Brown, how long have you been seeing Mr. Redmon? Officer Jacobs asks deciding to work a little different angle.

About two months I guess, Alexis says, now just looking down at the floor and biting her lip.

So let me get this straight, Officer Jacobs offers her, You’ve had a boyfriend for at least two months now and you have no idea where he lives, right?

Well… yeah, that is right. I mean… no… I don’t know exactly where he lives, you know I… I… I don’t know a street address. I’ve never been over to his place. He always just comes over here when we want to see each other. Alexis is rubbing her hands together and still looking down at the floor and chewing on her lip.

Do you know what section of town he lives in then? Officer Jacobs asks.

I do know that he lives in Butchertown. I have heard him talk about living over there.

Does he have a job by any chance? Officer Smith asks.

Yeah, he does. He’s talked about his job, working at a dry cleaning store.

Do you know where he works? Officer Smith asks, hoping they’re getting somewhere.

Oh shit! Alexis says, putting her hands over her face and letting out a big sigh. You two are gonna think I’m bullshitting you, but I’m not. Now, Alexis is looking nervously at them both, back and forth. She’s trying to look convincing, as if she’s on the witness stand. He’s talked about working at a dry cleaning store before, but he’s never said where he works or where the store is located. I swear!

How do you get a hold of him then, you know, when you need to talk to him? Officer Smith asks. Like everyone else in 2013. I’m sure he has a cell phone. He’s starting to lose his patience. He’s tapping his foot on the ratty and torn linoleum floor.

Well… I am not sure about that cell phone thing, she says with a contorted look on her face. I have never seen him have one or even use on for that matter. He has just always called me. I assume he uses a pay phone because it’s always noisy with traffic and city sounds in the background. She’s hoping and praying they believe her.

So let me get this straight one more time, Officer Jacobs offers her again. You’ve been dating Wayne for two months now and you don’t know where he lives, where he works, he doesn’t use or own a cell phone like everyone else in the known world and you don’t have a phone number where you can contact him. Is that about right? Officer Smith asks with an air of disbelief.

Yeah that’s right. Look, I know that sounds crazy, Alexis says while shrugging her shoulders and opening her hands palms up like she has no other information to give, but that’s just the way it is.

The two officers are looking at Alexis. They turn and look at each other and both of them let out a big sigh in unison. They seem extremely disappointed.

I’m going out to have a smoke, Officer Jacobs says. He pulls out his leather gloves and puts them on. Then he gets up and pushes in his seat under the table.

I’ll be out in a minute, Officer Smith says. Alexis sees him give Officer Jacobs a wink.

Alexis never sees her life coming to its tragic and untimely end.

As soon as Officer Jacobs is behind her and out of her peripheral line of sight, he slips the five feet of plastic clothesline out of his pocket and wraps each end it around both hands. While Alexis is looking over at Officer Smith, Officer Jacobs turns around behind her and in one fluid motion he flips the cord over her head and jerks it tight, closing it around her neck.

Alexis instinctively reaches for her neck with both hands, clawing at the cord while she also tries to scream. Officer Smith can see the horror in her face as she opens her mouth to scream but no words come out. Officer Jacobs jerks and pulls on the cord so hard that he pulls Alexis about four inches up and out of her seat. Her feet are doing a tap dance, trying to stay on the floor.

Mercifully for her, Alexis blacks out in about thirty seconds. Officer Jacobs knows that it takes a good five or six minutes for the brain to be deprived of enough oxygen to die. He continues to hold the cord tight around Alexis’ neck.

Guenther, ich hassen wirklich hat, Ihnen zuzuschauen, machen das, (Guenther, I really hate having to watch you do that,) Officer Smith says as his voice slips easily back into speaking its native German.

John, Sie sind nur wird weich in Ihrem hohen Alter, (John, you are just getting soft in your old age,) Guenther quips. He too is now speaking in German.

John slides his chair back, stands up and begins looking over the notes stuck to the refrigerator by all kinds of little magnets. He finds a small rectangular piece of paper that has Wayne Redmon written on it. It also has an address and phone number scribbled on it. He turns the piece of paper over and sees that it is a business card for Midtown Dry Cleaners. The address and phone number for the dry cleaners is printed underneath the name. John looks over at Guenther and says in German, nun da fast zu einfach war, don't, das Sie denken? (Now that was almost too easy, don’t you think?)

Guenther pays no attention to what John has said. He is busy looking at Alexis and running his fingers through her long blonde hair. Sie’s ein hübsches Ein, den Sie wissen? Bedenken Sie paßt, wenn ich ein wenig habe, zu ihrem Chef, bevor wir verlassen müssen? (She’s a pretty one you know? Mind if I have a little go with her Boss before we have to leave?)

Nein, geht voraus Guenther. Aber läßt mich erklären etwas Ihnen, wenn Sie einen Fetzen verlassen, Beweis, ich zu ficken’m gehend, jenen kleinen pecker von ihrem ab zu schneiden. Verstehen Sie (No, go ahead Guenther. But let me explain something to you, if you leave one shred of fucking evidence, I’m going to cut that little pecker of yours off. Understand?)

Ja Chef (Yes boss.)

Jetzt Guenther, ich’m gehend, über hier in der Höhle zu gehen, und etwas von dieser ESPN Sport Mitte zuzuschauen. Erwarte ich, daß Sie in 15 Minuten gemacht wird, hat es erhalten (Now Guenther, I’m going to go over here in the den and watch some of this ESPN Sports Center. I expect you to be done in 15 minutes, got it?)

Ja Chef, ich machen. Ich habe gewonnen’t ist lang überhaupt (Yes boss, I do. I won’t be long at all.)

The strangulation is over in only a couple of minutes. Guenther unwraps the cord from around Alexis’ neck and hands it to John. John stuffs it down into his pants pocket.

Guenther easily picks Alexis’ lifeless and limp, 105-pound body up out of the kitchen chair and carries her over his shoulder into her bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Kranker Bastard! (Sick bastard!) John says to himself as he flips on the television with the remote control he picks up off the cigarette burned coffee table. He flips through the stations until he finds ESPN so he can watch the repeat of Sports Center. He turns the sound down low, sits down on the couch and waits for Guenther to get done…

Chapter 2

Shaun

Shaun gets out the last of his four Darvocet N-100s and puts them on the coffee table. Then he gets out a Soma and a couple of Xanax, also placing them on the coffee table. Last, he gets out his last four Lortabs and puts them, along with the rest of the pills from the coffee table, in his right hand. He unscrews the top off his soft drink and takes a swig. He holds the drink in his mouth and throws about half of the pills he is holding in his right hand into his mouth. He swallows them down with no problem. Shaun does the same thing one more time and all the pills are gone. He takes a couple of more drinks off the grape soda to make sure that everything is properly washed down. He hopes he won’t throw-up.

Shaun takes a look at his fake Rolex strapped on his left wrist as he strolls down Banner Street. It’s Saturday, May 12th, 8:00 am, but the sun is already starting to warm up the pavement and bring out the stench from the sewers, garbage cans and the side alley dumpsters.

Ahhhh, the invigorating smell of D.C. in the morning, Shaun says to himself as he takes in a deep breath. Where else but in the nation’s Capitol can you find so much garbage, filth and shit. And Congress isn’t even in session, he laughs to himself.

Because it’s Saturday, the streets are pretty much empty this early in the day. The only company Shaun has are the homeless; the street people he sees in the alleys, on the benches or curled up in corners or doorways with newspaper or cardboard over them. Every now and again a runner jogs by. Sorry sons-of-bitches, Shaun mutters to himself; they’re always begging for money, cluttering up the damn streets and stinking to high heaven. We should just round them all up and exterminate ‘em, he continues. Be a quicker and better death than most of them deserve. The no good bastards, he says as he walks by another homeless man lying on a sewer grate.

Shaun is addicted to painkillers; he just doesn’t want to admit it. He thinks he has control of the situation. He thinks he controls the pills; when and where to take them and how many he needs to take to feel good. He’s sure he could quit taking the pills whenever he really needs to. Right now, he just chooses not to. It is a free country after all, isn’t it?

What Shaun doesn’t realize is that the pills have slowly but surely taken control of him instead. Shaun thinks that he is different than everyone else. He’s sure he must be different than everyone else; sure he must be special in some way. He knows this because he has talked to a lot of other people who have taken painkillers and all they wanted to do was go to sleep. But good lord, when Shaun takes a handful of painkillers, he wants to do stuff, he wants to talk, he wants to get up and go. Taking painkillers make him feel great, like he is on top of the world.

Anyway, right now is not really the time in his life to scale back on the medication. Shaun is under a lot of stress right now at work and the pills really help him to work harder, think clearer and work longer hours than any one else. His boss seems most impressed by this work ethic and he is sure a promotion to Warehouse Manager is only a few weeks away. Why Ol’ Charlie Proffitt, the previous Warehouse Manager, had retired six months ago and Shaun has already interviewed for Charlie’s job. Heck, he is practically doing Charlie’s old job right now anyway. He just doesn’t have the office, the title or most regrettably, the pay. He knows that he is a shoe-in for the job. After he gets the promotion, then he can slow down some, take it easy and taper off the pills. It won’t be any problem; he knows everything will work out just fine.

Shaun is heading down to Waddle’s place. Waddle is a big, fat-ass black guy with three gold teeth and an old, ABA, Julius Erving afro. Whenever Waddle walks, he waddles; thus the nickname. Shaun doesn’t know Waddle’s real name and doesn’t care too. Shaun had met Waddle at the Johnson Technical College about a year ago when they both where in a beginning computer class there. They started talking one day during a smoke break and Shaun found out that Waddle had connections to get all kinds of pharmaceuticals. They have had been friendly ever since.

Shaun has run out of his prescriptions for his pain killer medications and it will be a week until he can get anything refilled. He is going to three different doctors at this time. Shaun has become pretty good at doctor shopping. Shaun had seen the local authorities call it that on television the other day when a person goes to more than one doctor at a time in an attempt to get multiple pain-killer prescriptions filled. One of Shaun’s doctors is an Orthopedic Doctor who is helping him with some pain he is experiencing in his shoulder and with some tennis elbow on his right arm. From the moment he met the doctor and started talking to him, Shaun could tell he wasn’t going to get anything major for pain out of him, but he was at least giving Shaun 120 Darvocet N-100s every 30 days.

The second doctor Shaun is seeing is a specialist in Internal Medicine. It also doesn’t hurt any that she’s pretty good looking. Dr. Silar is helping him with some pain he is having in his knees. He has explained to her that it is more of an ache in both his knees instead of a sharp pain like one would get from a specific injury. She has run every test in the book on him and can still find nothing wrong. He is getting a new medicine from her that is non-narcotic, yet Shaun has found out that if he takes at least four of the pills at a time, he gets a pleasing effect from them. The best thing about this medication is that it is not a scheduled narcotic like other prescription painkillers. Therefore, the state pharmaceutical registry doesn’t track the prescriptions nor does the local narcotics division of the Police Department track them. Shaun is getting them from her literally by the bag full. Every time he goes to see her, she gives him a whole bag full of samples, 50 packages at 4 samples per pack, and then she writes him a prescription for 240 pills for a 30 day period and it can be refilled 6 times.

The last doctor Shaun is seeing is his General Practitioner. This guy is a pharmaceutical gold mine. Shaun had started seeing Dr. Knoksos about four months ago for back problems. Shaun had injured his back when he was playing sports back in high school. He had cracked a vertebra back then, which eventually led to some bulging disc problems later in college. Truthfully, his back does at times bother him, but it is not nearly as bad as he has portrayed it to Dr. Knoksos. When Shaun is in the doctor’s office, he acts like he can barely walk. And when he is being examined, he winces and grimaces anytime anyone even comes close to touching his back.

The first time he saw Dr. Knoksos four months ago; he had a good feeling about him. He was an older doctor, probably in his sixties, and he had prescribed Soma, a muscle relaxer, Xanax, a mild tranquilizer to help him rest, and 5 mg Lortabs (hydrocodone) for Shaun’s back pain.

This doctor explained to Shaun that he had been practicing medicine for far too long to let people suffer. Therefore, he believed in getting the patient what the patient needed to be able to enjoy life without being burdened with pain. He did tell Shaun to be careful though that these could be habit forming. But, he also told Shaun that if these 5mg Lortabs didn’t work, he could give Shaun something stronger. That’s what Shaun liked to hear.

He wrote Shaun a prescription for 90 Soma - take 3 a day for 30 days, 90 Xanax - take 3 a day for 30 days and 120, 5 mg Lortabs - take 4 a day for 30 days. When Shaun came out of the General Practitioner’s office after his first visit, he thought he had died and gone to medication heaven.

By the time Shaun gets back to his apartment from Waddle’s place, the buzz he is looking for from the pills he took prior to going to Waddle’s place is not kicking in like he hoped it should be. He does feel better though than when he left the apartment, so he knows the pills are working, but maybe they need a little stimulation. Shaun goes on inside his apartment and into the kitchen and gets a grape soda out of the fridge. He then heads over to his E-Z Boy recliner and sits down pulling the lever and leaning back in the chair. He takes out the remote control and flips on the television. He turns the sound down very low. Shaun pulls the bag of pills he has gotten from Waddle out of his pants pocket and takes three of the pills out of the bag. He takes a drink from the grape soda and pops the pills in his mouth and swallows them down. He takes two more drinks to make sure they are washed down adequately. He sets the bag of pills over on the coffee table beside the chair. He leans on back in the recliner and begins flipping through the 120 cable channels, half of which seem like infomercials or some sort of home shopping channel. Shaun just knows that old feeling of invincibility will come back at any moment now…

Chapter 3

Tamarack Real Estate

Sometimes you just get lucky.

Like today for instance, Monday, July 16th. Logan got up early this morning and went out looking for a house to rent. For some strange reason, he decided to stop at the Tamarack Real Estate office. It’s strange that he stopped because Logan is just not crazy about sales people in general. Look, he knows that most sales people are hard working, honest folks who are just trying to make a living, but for some reason, he always seems to get the flakes and assholes. He has to reason then that he might just be a flake and asshole magnet.

When Logan left the Poma Motor Inn this morning, he was hoping for something very simple, not a bunch of contracts and credit checks and mother’s maiden name bullshit. He wanted to go out this morning, pick up a local paper, and find a house for rent. You know, call the number in the paper, meet the person over at the house, pay a deposit and the first and last month’s rent, seal the deal with a handshake, transfer the keys and move in. He likes to keep it as simple and uncomplicated as possible.

So, on his way into town to pick up a paper, something about this Tamarack Real Estate office just caught his eye. So, he decided to stop and see what they might have to offer…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan pulls the old Ford truck into the gravel parking lot on the side of the building and notices a brand new, silver convertible Cadillac, model XLR, parked around in back of the building. He goes in through the front door. The opening of the door causes a little bell to jingle. He notices that a short, dark-haired woman dressed in blue jean shorts, a red polo shirt and hiking boots is walking into the office from a door in the back of the building.

Be with you in a minute, she says, as she goes through another door into a room at the back of the building.

Logan leans up against the front counter noticing that the office ceiling and walls are built of pine timbers. The place reminds him of a hunting lodge. There are all kinds of brochures concerning things to do and see while in the Juniper area in a rack on the counter up against the wall to his left. The floor of the place is covered with a nice slate type tile. There are some Native American, hand-made rugs on the slate floors. There is also a big stone hearth fireplace in the back wall of the building. They ought to put a couple of deer and antelope heads on the wall, Logan says to himself as he’s waiting for the woman to return.

He reaches over and pulls a brochure titled, Cave of the Bear Theatre, out of the rack. Welcome to Juniper, it says with a big panoramic picture of the town on the front. At the bottom it reads, Cave of the Bear Theatre, one of the premier professional, not for profit, regional theatres in the American Southwest. Logan opens the brochure to continue reading what it has to say.

The mission of this local community asset, the Cave of the Bear Theatre, is to serve as a valuable cultural resource which provides for the southwest’s rural residents what many metropolitan residents enjoy—a professional theatre with high artistic standards that provides entertainment, educational experiences, and opportunities for artists.

There are various pictures of the stage and scenes from the productions that have been performed there. He continues reading about the theatre.

Beginning with the sellout production of Jean George’s Framework and Diaries in 1982, Cave of the Bear Theatre has delighted the senses and stirred the emotions of well over 450,000 people with the 92 different plays it has produced in its 20 plus years.

"The Cave of the Bear Theatre was first renovated in the early 1980’s to accommodate a 294-seat auditorium featuring a modern thrust stage.