Michael McClintock: NOAH’S ARK

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1

I found myself back on robbery-homicide, partnered with Brick Landers, the summer Brick broke his neck on what at first we all thought was a solo felony pursuit out on Big Tujunga Road. Who the fugitive was or why Brick was after them out there in the foothills no one seemed to know. According to Sergeant Dinker, he'd made two unintelligible radio calls and then went static. Brick's passenger, Archie "Archilita" Spence, had been shot once in the head through the front window of the Crown Victoria.

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300-pound guy

in drag

the eternal optimist

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That's how a lot of us remembered Archilita. We knew him from many encounters in Foothill Division. Over the years, it was through Archilita and his small-time drug hustling that we had reeled in dozens of more dangerous, predatory street fish. He was an asset and we liked him.

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I felt edgy and thought it over while I waited outside the station, under the trees, for a car to come around from the motor-pool. Brick had been pulled from the wreck that same morning. No one had expected to find Archilita in there with him. Eyebrows were raised; crude jokes were made. Had I worked that night, it could have been me.

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the morning wind

a hurrying sound

in the pines

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Why had Brick been up there in the first place? With Archilita? And what did Brick mean in his radio call by the reference to a "gecko party"? Gecko party?

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I knew Brick to be an unreliable, on-the-job drunk, so it was natural for me to suspect he'd been up to funny business. No one in homicide seemed to realize that he'd been pulled from that wreck less than a quarter mile from his ex-wife's house. I kept that piece of the puzzle to myself, I'm not sure why. When I had worked with Brick a few years back he had told me about his wife, the house, the alimony, the drugs, her nutty friends, and his suspicions about who on the force was sleeping with her. The wilder stuff he told me I simply chose not to believe. Since I'd been back, there wasn't much new to the story.

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I took the car and drove over to Queen of Angels Hospital. But Brick couldn't move and he couldn't talk, so I then drove out to see his ex-wife, Marla.

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this place

where the crow sits

the crow likes

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I wondered why the crow's perch was the head of a huge cast-cement Buddha—it must have weighed a couple tons—that sat in weeds at the foot of the long driveway that went up to the house from the two-lane road. The crow flew off. I parked on the shoulder and took a closer look.

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racing around

in the Buddha's nose

—tiny spiders

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What really caught my attention was the other nostril—it was perfectly clean. Inside, where I put my hand, was a tight roll of hundred dollar bills. I counted out $7900, recorded a dozen of the serial numbers, and put them all back. I decided not to see Marla alone.

2

smell of gun oil waxing the deep finish
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We were in the weapons locker with Sergeant Dinker's Illegal Substance Team B, once more going over the layout of Marla Landers' property and why we were going out there. A few of the officers wore doubtful expressions. The eye-talk of one in particular, Zabel—and the way he caressed the mahogony stock of his Weatherby with a carefully folded rag, in a rhythm like that of a big cat tapping its tail—annoyed me. I knew then I had to keep my eye on Zabel.

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"She's a cop's wife," someone said. "This is screwy."

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"And what's this about a gecko?"

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"She's a cop's ex-wife," I said, "and we don't know what Landers meant when he mentioned the gecko." I then went over to the chart on the wall. Still keeping an eye on Zabel.

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3

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We arrived up at Marla's place in two vans and three sedans. We dropped Zabel off at the bottom of the drive by the Buddha and told him to stay there as lookout. He was a little stunned by this change in the rehearsed plans; we drove off with his rifle. Out of Zabel's sight we stopped again on the long driveway and let out Dinker and three others, to keep an eye on Zabel down below.

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Marla's house was a solitary clapboard cottage surrounded by tall eucalyptus trees, at the end of the corkscrew drive. It was a real retreat up there, dusty and quiet and beautiful.

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even

in the shady paths

the air is heavy

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I peered inside.
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flickers in black and white deluge she sits stoned

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On the TV was a scratchy video print of Zanuck's Noah's Ark. I hammered my palms on the door a few more times before Marla was able to stir herself. Her eyelids twitched recognition when she saw me standing there at her door. I took her by the arm and pushed my way in, five others right behind me.

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what the hell do you want softer she repeats

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Brick had never told me his wife was in this deep. Remnants from some sort of party were strewn about the livingroom—cups and plates and half-filled snack bowls, and little strips of paper with short poems on them, some scrawled and barely readable, others neatly handwritten. Marla retreated to the far side of the universe while the house was cleared, room-by-room. Still, from that far place, she managed to project hatred on me, not confusion or sadness. Dinker finally called on the hand-held and told me Zabel had taken the money-roll and they had him in cuffs. Did I want them to bring him up?"

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By all means," I said. I turned back to Marla and told her it was time to talk.

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4

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We pieced together the rest of the story three days later when Dinker and I went to see Brick at Queen of Angels. Brick was still motionless but he could speak.

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"Not gecko—ginko," Brick told us.

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banging trays,

the nurse not happy to be here

this summer day

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So he'd been taking Archilita to Marla's ginko party. Among other things, Archie Archilita Spence had been a haiku poet. A darned good one, some said.

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"He was hitchhiking on Brand and I stopped and asked where he was headed. I wasn't pursuing anybody, just doing a favor for Archie. I called in and said so." And, sure, Brick intended to do some looking around while he was there.

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Months before—and he told no one, not even me—Brick learned that Zabel was not only screwing his ex-wife but feeding her dope and using her house as a drop for exchanging drugs and cash—that's what the business with the Buddha's nose was all about. It was very simple.

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Zabel had been making a deposit when Brick roared up with Archilita on the seat next to him. Apparently, everyone recognized each other at once. Brick headed the car straight at Zabel and the Buddha, missed both, slammed into the hillside, knocked himself out cold on the steering wheel. Zabel, seeing Archilita with Brick and knowing Archilita's seedier background, assumed Archilita had somehow found out about his little game and had ratted him out. But this weird meeting had to be totally by chance.

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Zabel fired off a round . . . and watched the Crown Victoria careen backwards down the hill, bouncing shoulder to shoulder, then tumble down a ravine. Nothing he could do but hope Brick was dead.

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Shows you how wrong you can be.

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It was dark out when Dinker and I left Brick to his slumbers and pain. Dinker was smoking like a pulp mill, speechless and angry, especially about Zabel being dirty—and a member of his own team—and Brick knowing all about it and saying nothing.

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a burning cigarette

arcs end over end

through the night sky

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It was an unbelievable mess for the department and in the morning it would be all over the newspapers.

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"Good night, Dinker."

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"Go to hell," he said.

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Then the Lord God closed the door and shut them in.

by Michael McClintock
Fresno, California
first published in Tundra 2, 2001