Felony Jones

Big Sur Sammy

     "Toshiro!" Felony yelled, kicking the washing machine. "Toshiro! Can you come here, please?!" Toshiro suddenly appeared in the doorway between the pantry and the garage. "Oh—why can't I ever get this thing to work for me? You never seem to have trouble with it."

Toshiro walked down the steps to the machine and pulled the knob out. "After you turn the dial, you must pull on it, then the water will fill. Did you put soap in?" Toshiro said smiling.

"Yes Mr. smarty pants, I put soap in..."

"You have a phone call. He is waiting."

"Who is it?" She said, walking away quickly.

"He didn't say."

Felony walked into the kitchen and picked up the receiver off the counter. "Hello? Yes, this is her. Who? Sammy?...Oh, yes—are you back from Big Sur? Excellent, I'd like to talk to you. When can we meet? Absolutely, I can be there in an hour. Okay, see you then." It was the nephew of the owner of the apartment building Michael rented a room from. He was back in town and she was going to meet him at a restaurant in Santa Monica. "Toshiro! I have to leave."

When she walked through the front door, Felony was instantly relieved the place wasn't busy. She hated restaurant noise, with its dozens of simultaneous, muffled conversations going on, along with the clinking of glasses and plates and silverware. It was a nightmare for her every time she stepped into that atmosphere. She looked around the room, noticing a guy who looked to be in his early twenties, sitting in a corner booth by himself. She hesitated at first, but decided he had to be Sammy. As she got closer, he locked eyes with her and started to stand up. "Sammy?" She asked.

"Yep, that's me." They both sat down. Sammy had a shoe box on top of the table in front of him. She ignored it at first, focusing on him instead. He had a hippy/surfer vibe to him so she could easily picture him "finding himself" in Big Sur. She remembered the conversation with his uncle, and how he was not very kind about Sammy's intellect. She would just have to see how this meeting went to make up her own mind. She generally liked nature guys as long as they showered regularly. They always seemed to be pretty kind, and accepting of other people. He had a nice set of teeth and a great smile going for him, that was a plus in her book. "Would you like some tea or coffee?" He asked.

"I think I'll have coffee, thanks." Felony started taking her coat off. She shimmied back and forth in the seat, struggling, trying to get her arms out of the sleeves. Sammy jumped up and helped her, startling her. "Thank you."

"No problem." He said, and quickly sat back down.

"So, what's in the box Sammy?"

"Oh, this is for you." He slid the box across the table. She was a little hesitant, not opening it right away. "It's some of that guys stuff."

"Michael Kurlow?" She asked.

"Yeah, the guy you're looking for."

"I don't understand, your uncle said someone came and picked up his things." Felony took the top off the box and glanced at the items.

"Yeah, well, I didn't tell him I kept one—the small one. I hid it in my trunk. It had a bunch of his personal stuff in it—real personal stuff, like a few pieces of jewelry, some cards and letters...sex stuff, things like that, and I didn't think the cops should have that, you know?" Sammy shrugged. "I knew about him and that other guy—I don't think it's a big deal, but cops...sometimes they get a bit judgmental, you know what I mean?"

Felony nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

A waiter came over to the table and served them coffee. Felony started poking around in the box, taking out a birthday card. She read it to herself, then thought for a moment.