NORTH NORTH HOLLYWOOD - Chapter 35 -by Peter Nolan Smith

THIRTY-FIVE

When the eye of what the TV meteorologists had upgraded to a typhoon passed over the LA basin, the torrential rains abated temporarily and the engineers at the Upper Tujunga Reservoir opened the floodgates to relieve the mounting pressure on the structure. White water scoured the LA River's concrete channel, though the fury of a river losing its mind did not prevent several extreme kayakers from shooting the newly created Class V rapids. The only problem was that the millions of released gallons were more than the old riverbed downstream could handle and on a desolate stretch of Valleyheart Drive the water was rising fast.
Fearing a flood the LAPD had evacuated the nearest houses for fear of flooding, so no one noticed the light blue Taurus park by the bushes bordering the river or Frank deRocco stepped out of the car. Overhead the blackness of the roiling clouds indicated the break in the weather was only temporary. Fortunately his business here would only take a minute and he hauled out his passenger, whose hands and feet had been bound by electrical tape.
Sean had no idea what was roaring in his ear, but when he tried to back away, he discovered his feet were stuck together and asked aloud, "What the hell?"
The cop plopped Sean into the mud and remarked without a milligram of pity in his voice, "That's exactly what I'd say, if I was in your sorry shoes. Like I said before, I have a few questions for you. Nothin' too difficult, cause I understand how hard a time you've been havin'. Now question #1, did you kill the guy in Vegas?"
"Why should I tell you?"
deRocco answered him with several kicks and said, "That's why. Now once more did you kill the guy in Vegas?"
These beating had become way too routine for his liking, so he confessed, "No, I faked it and your stupid friend bought it, because I had some ketchup on my hands."
"Kev was a little slow sometimes."
Sean caught the past tense of the verb 'to be', figuring the ex-cop was dead, for which no doubt deRocco blamed him. "And what happened to the old man?"
"I don't know. He went his way and I went mine. I suppose he'll turn up one day."
"Yeah, I suppose he will, but that's no skin off my back. Things still work out." deRocco opened Sean's bag and took out the wallets. "It was a good plan, me stickin' these wallets on you. Would have tied up a lot of loose ends, but Kev's gonna take the heat for that."
DeRocco threw the wallets into the raging torrent and manhandled his prisoner to the river's edge. "You got any prayers, you better say them, unless of course you're a real good swimmer."
Even if he had his hands and feet free, there was no swimming in the cubic acres of unbridled fury and his body would end up a battered corpse in the tangle of debris. "You can't do this. We go back."
"And that's exactly why this is the end. You should be grateful for the two extra weeks you got. Consider them your purgatory.” The cop rabbit-punched Sean under the ribs, so his victim would hit the water breathless.
He had always wondered what the meaning of life was and with only a few seconds left the mystery was solved. Life, despite his having been so meaningless, was always worth living, however this new awareness wasn't going to save him, for the cop seized his belt and lifted him to the foaming surge.
Sean said a quick prayer in Latin, "Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa." And prepared to meet the water.
"Damn." deRocco snarled, when the cellular phone inside his jacket vibrated, and answered the call. After listening to Louie's instructions, the cop said, "Seano, you are one lucky bastard. That was the warden. Seems like your sentence had been commuted."
What the cop was said made little sense, but it didn't have to, for a fist coldcocked him and before every light went out, Sean prayed that they would come on again. It seemed like a long shot, but almost everything had been since he arrived out West.