Alexa and I got stuck in Tucson dealing with tribal law, the Arizona courts, state-to-state extradition papers, and a mile of related red tape. We didn't get back to Los Angeles until a few days later.
We arrived home the same day our two-week vacation to Hawaii was scheduled to end. We went out into the backyard, sat on our worn metal chairs, and sipped rum and Cokes with a dash of pineapple juice. It was the closest we had in our bar to the ingredients for a Mai Tai.
'Aloha,' Alexa said as we clinked our glasses.
We talked about Hawaii, about Walter Dix, and about how disappointed I was that O'Shea hadn't flipped. It had been a long, painful journey, and in the end, despite everything, I still felt that I had failed Walt.
'Seriana reports for deployment back to Iraq tomorrow night,' I told Alexa. 'At least she got to see how it ended.'
Alexa said, 'Without her, we wouldn't have made it.'
There was certainly no lack of truth in that statement. The pallbearers had been an unlikely team, but except for Diamond, in the end they had all earned my friendship and respect.
'Vicki's picking up Walt's ashes from the crematorium tonight,' I said. 'We're all going to say good-bye in the morning.'
'Can I come?'
'Got a surfboard?'
She smiled. 'No, but somebody has to make sandwiches and kiss your bruises.'
'Then you're invited.'
An hour later, I got a call from Kurt Westfall. He sounded angry.
'Still no sign of Straw,' I told him.
'Fuck Straw. You hear about this shit from Gerry Spence's office?'
'No, what?'
'The Tohono O'odham Indian Reservation is claiming jurisdiction on Mesa's four kidnapping cases.'
'So we try him there. What's the problem? He's not gonna beat it. You got five witnesses, two of whom are L. A. cops.'
'Indian law ain't exactly like American law, Scully. They got all these tribal loopholes from some treaty that was signed in the eighteen hundreds. Add to that the fact that the Indian prosecutor went to law school on a Eugene Mesa tribal scholarship and Mesa is gonna pretty much skate on this whole thing. They're charging him with four counts of false imprisonment. A fucking misdemeanor.'
'Come on,' I said. I couldn't believe this was happening.
Westfall kept rolling out the bad news. 'They're claiming no guns were used in the abduction and the statement you and your wife made confirms that fact, so it's not a kidnapping.'
'False imprisonment? Isn't that like when a store security cop holds some guy for stealing clothes he didn't steal? We were tied up, dragged out of our room, transported… They threatened to kill us!'
'The transportation clause isn't valid on the reservation either, and they say nobody threatened your life.'
I was holding the phone, feeling a deep sense of frustration.
Westfall heaved a deep sigh. 'The Indian prosecutor has already accepted the false-imprisonment charges. It's a misdemeanor, so the fine will be around ten grand. If I'm ever arrested for killing my wife, hire Gerry Spence to represent me,' he groaned.
After I hung up, I went to our bedroom and sat down heavily on the bed. I told Alexa what had just happened, and she came over to sit beside me. She took me into her arms and held me close. But there was very little she could do to comfort me.
An hour later, I was in bed, but couldn't sleep. I was looking at the ceiling, thinking about Eugene C. Mesa and how much alike we were. Neither of us knew who our parents were. I'd found out that Mesa wasn't his real name either. He'd picked it because he needed an identity and was a Mesa Indian.
A nurse at the hospital where I was left as an infant had picked my name for me. She chose it because she was a Dodger fan and loved Vin Scully.
Mesa and I had walked the same hallways at Huntington House as nine-year-olds. We'd both kneeled in the sand with Pop waiting for the sun to rise so we could 'go catch some, bruddah.'
Half my life, like E. C. Mesa, I'd also been feeding the wrong wolf, and that wolf had almost beaten me. But then Alexa and Chooch had entered my life and everything changed.
As I lay there, I remembered that I'd seen Walt at our wedding and spoken to him briefly that day. Something quick and meaningless. 'How you doing, man? I'm stoked you came.' I'd not bothered to thank him for keeping me alive so I could make it from Huntington House to my wedding dav.
Walt had never known Alexa. Not really. But he could see how-she had made the difference for me and it made him happy.
He had been there for me when it counted, but I had failed to repay the favor. I had left all of this unfinished.
I looked at the ceiling and waited for him to whisper down that it was okay. That I had at least made the effort. That I had done my best. He didn't speak. He didn't relieve my burden, but I could feel him up there.
Watching.
Waiting.
PART 2
Chapter 62
It was two hours before dawn. I was out behind the house at 4:00 A. M., wiping down my old short board. I'd painted Walt S crest logo on the nose twenty years earlier when I'd first bought it.
The board was yellow and red, but over the years had become badly scratched. One of the three fins had a small piece missing.
I didn't have any surf wax, but I was sure one of the group would bring some this morning. My broken arm was fortified by ibuprofen but ached slightly as I loaded the bat tail into the back of the MDX and then stuck my head inside the house.
'Come on, Alexa. We gotta go.'
She hurried out carrying a cooler and put it in the back of the SUV. We pulled out and headed toward Seal Beach.
I had envisioned this day very differently. I'd never considered that we would fail. Alexa sat quietly beside me. She knew I was churning inside.
We pulled into the lot at 9th Street, a block down from the Seal Beach pier. I parked beside Vicki s blue Toyota Camry. Sabass yellow pickup with the flame job was already there, and Seriana s green van was two spaces away.
We got out and unloaded the car. I handed Alexa the cooler, then pulled my board out of the back. We walked through the predawn mist to the sand about forty yards away.
I could see the three of them gathered in the dark, kneeling in the sand, each holding a surfboard, waiting for the sun to appear.
Next to Sabas was a decorative urn that held Walt's ashes. Someone had brought flowers. Rose petals in four glassine bags.
Hang Six sat in a portable cage in the sand at Vicki's side.
'Hey hapa haole, guy. Whatta matta you?' the parrot screeched loudly at me as I kneeled beside them.
'Where'd you find him?' I asked.
