Perplexed in L.A.

When pushing comes to shoving P.2 ...

2005-08-30T21:58:00.000-07:00

Blake was being used by some tough boys. After the fact, one person was sure it was the Russian mob, another was certain it was the Irish mafia, and another was sure it was Rupert Murdoch. Who it was never really mattered, it was what was going on that was important.

Blake had a crush on eye-grabbing Gwen since they went to grade school together, so she decided to test his love for his Chicago-resident girlfriend one night at a bar she knew he haunted. Blake broke down and admitted the relationship in Chicago was a cover story for a delivery he made. Blake, it turns out, was a runner. All Blake knew was that a guy from work, who was nothing more than a stockboy at the same grocery store Blake worked at, would give Blake $300 and a suitcase. The rule was that the suitcase was loaded into the trunk of Blake's car by a friend of the stockboy’s who would show up at closing time. The suitcase was to stay in the trunk and remain unopened – no touching for Blake. Blake would then drive to Chicago, and go to a little bar on the North Side of the city. I think it was Johnny O’Hagan’s… or Fado’s... anyway, it doesn't matter. Once at the bar, he’d go inside and ask the bouncer for a Luke. Blake would pull his car to the alley, and Luke would come out to meet him. Blake would pop the trunk and step back. Luke would first give Blake another $300, then take the case and send Blake away. Blake usually blew the $600 bucks partying downtown all night, but that's another set of stories. He’d drive back Sunday and go back to life as usual. He always figured that each trip was going to be the last one, but each month, his co-worker would ask him if he’d do it again. It was a recurring date. Until Gwen found out.

- This is supposed to make me trust you?

The truth shall set us free, Jimmy. For a long time, Blake just hopped back in his car, and drove off, not wanting to peek at Luke, who always checked the case before re-entering the bar. Curiosity eventually won out on Blake, who watched in his rearview mirror, to see the stacks of bills in the case. In fact, anyone could’ve dragged this info outta Blake once he saw that – even a measly $600 a month planted the seed of greed, and was pretty pissed off that he was being paid pennies compared to the loot he was transporting.

Enter the Dream Team. Our job, Jimmy, was to convince Blake to miss a trip. We sat him down one Thursday night, before his upcoming trip, to bombard him. At first he was pissed off, but all 6 of us were masters. We had a whole plan – we’ll drive just out of state, stage an accident, throw in some corrupt cops, and we all become rich. Blake bought it, and we were off.

We followed our plan to a T, Jimmy, and our surprise came when we found out there was more in there than just $500,000 in that case. What was in there, Jimmy, doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we all used those fortunes to build ourselves – it’s the foundation of all of this – but it came at a price. People don’t like to lose things like that, Jimmy, and we were good at convincing people of lies. Blake wasn't. As a result, I’m the only one of that group still alive. If they ever do find me, they’ll kill me. But, time has long passed, and the person you see before you is what the world… and under-world… know.

- Wow. Great. I’d like to be sure I don’t get a ticket, so if you don’t mind –

I know a lot of people, Jimmy. People who want this Cube. They know what it does. Or at least what it might do. This thing has stirred up every good, bad and ugly buyer of mine across the globe! Everyone wants it, yet no one can find it.

- So you’re giving me a raise, is that it? This isn’t about money.

No, Jimmy, it isn’t. This is the first time in my life I can atone for my past. This Cube… I’ve already arranged a team. Scientists, researchers, mathematicians. Once you find this, Jimmy – you – we bring it here and dissect it. You and I, together, will find out what this is. Then, you, yes you, and I will decide together what the next step is. You’ll be paid in full and get to help decide what happens next.

- What an empty promise.

This is a win-win, Jimmy. If it’s a bad thing, then you’re one step away from all the unsavories I know that want this. You’re in the belly of the beast, so you’re closer than anyone. If it’s a good thing, then you can easily tell the world where I’m at if I don’t give it back to its recent owner, Mr. Kiteway. If I'm lying, you're still the one who gets the Cube first. And, if I’m telling the truth, then you really don’t have a thing to worry about.

- What if someone else finds it first?

We’re not at that bridge yet, Jimmy. We’re still waiting to see if you’ll stay in the hunt…

[Dammit.]

- You said something about security?

[He smiled. Jackass.]

Perfect solution. I have a pair of twins who need a little… lighter work. Katrina and Melina. Very good. You have nothing to worry about with them watching your house.

- I don't know... I don't know...

[Mr. A. came back around and sat back down behind his desk.]

I'll get on the dog-nappers. In the meantime, I need your brain on the matter at-hand. Have you gotten any cards yet yourself?

- No, I… I don’t know how to do the thing online.

Tell you what. Bernice can show you, outside. I want you to buy as many packs as you can, see if they let something slip through they didn’t mean to. If this is as bad as you think it is, Jimmy, I want this to go the right way, too. With your help.

- I guess.

Am I still the villain?

- I don’t think it matters anymore.

Our fates, Jimmy, you and me… their intertwined now. This has no escape hatch anymore, no parachute."

-----------------------------

I hit stop, here. I left with Roxie. Welcome back, Jimmy!

I know.

One other weird thing. I got a letter in the mail today. From a “Gertrude Stein.” She was a friend of Emily’s. She says she’s new to the area and wanted to see how I was doing. She left her phone number and mailing address in case I want to say hi. The thing is, I was married to Emily for 25 years… and I never heard of this “Gertrude.” Strange, indeed.

Well, now that the arthritis is acting up, I need some sleep. No news from Potter, but it may take a while.

Goodnight, E.

Pushing comes to shoving...

2005-08-29T21:19:00.000-07:00

This is going to take me a little while to type it all out, but it’s worth it. I guess. This happened on Friday, but I have a hard time typing for long… a small case of arthritis. Here goes nothing. I’ll just start from the start of the tape.

------------------------

“- I’m starting the tape recorder, then.

That’s fine with me, Jimmy. I told you already, as long as you don’t use my name, you can do whatever you want. This is all a work of fiction, right? [Mr. A. laughs]

- Look, I came here to do this like a professional.

You’re in a wheelchair, now? What happened?

- I’ve been having complications lately. Nothing serious. I’ll be walking again in a few weeks.

Jimmy, Jimmy… Christ, I knew I wasn’t hiring a spring chicken, but if you need to see a specialist, I have a lot of connections that…

- It’s fine, Mr. A, I’ve got my own quacks… so, you been keeping up with my weblog, then?

Jimmy… you’re my eyes and ears on this puzzle. You’re my lead investigator. I keep up with your log, sure.

- So, you know why I’m in here.

You came in to tell me you found the Cube, didn’t you, Jimmy?

- I wanted to tell you that I am going to have to leave this case. I’m a professional, Mr. A., and it's always proper to tell your clients face-to-face, when you have to give up the hunt.

You were the one on the internet, Jimmy, not me.

- It’s more than that.

What if I were to tell you that your security would never be a question again?

- What if I were to tell you that I’m sick of being tricked by you?

Jimmy… we’re friends here.

- I don’t think so.

Jimmy… you still think you’re being tricked? You still think this is all an elaborate game? Well it is. There are certain questions I don’t have the answers to either. But, I want that Cube, Jimmy.

- There’s a girl, Mr. A. Her name’s Scarlett. She’s onto something. She’s getting closer to finding out what this Cube can do. And I don’t like where it’s headed.

I thought you said this was all a game. I thought you didn’t believe any of it.

- Well, Mr. A., I go back and forth. The line between reality and fantasy is a blur for me nowadays. If this is real, then this Cube may be much more dangerous than I ever thought possible. And maybe for some other P.I., the ‘if’ would be enough to keep going at it. But, I tell ya, Mr. A., this ‘if’ almost lost me the only other friend in my life last weekend… Emily would never have forgiven me if I put Roxie in danger…

Jimmy. Listen to me. I don’t know who or what you think I am, but that really doesn’t matter. But, I hired you to find this Cube and to give it to me instead of Mr. Kiteway. Why would I steal your dog? You’re the investigator, Jimmy, think about it! What purpose would that serve me?

- Then you have enemies?

[Mr. A. picked up a pencil and rolled it around between his fingers. For the first time, I feel I kind of hit a nerve with this stone-cold business man.]

Jimmy, we all have enemies. If you really want the truth… what you see here… the office, the business cards, hell, even my name that is on the business cards – the name I don’t want you to repeat… it’s all a lie.

- Not really working up the trust level, Mr. A.

Jimmy, if I go on, will you at least consider rejoining the case?

- … Every word out of your mouth has been a half-truth or outright lie. I’ve wasted my time.

Jimmy… you gave me the courtesy, can you let me do the right thing and explain myself?

[I was already there. I shook my head.]

- I got 10 minutes left on the meter..

[Mr. A. got up from his seat and walked over to his office door. He slammed it shut. He then got a glass from his liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of a clear alcohol. He looked at it with a grin after taking a sip.]

You ever watch those movies, Jimmy, where the successful businessman, usually the villain, has a bottle of gin in his office, and before he’s about to reveal something big, he takes a nice big sip?

- No.

The person never winces. He drinks the straight alcohol like its water. You know what’s funny? It was water! The director couldn’t have a drunk actor midway through a shooting day, so real water and poor acting helped create this image - an archetype, to throw some Jung at you - in people’s minds of what a secret-filled businessman does when he takes a big gulp of hard alcohol. He drinks it with ease, which evokes a measure of power. But that power, that image, is built upon a truth and a lie. Things like that interest me, because it’s a big part of the reality of our world, Jimmy.

[Mr. A. then, of course, swallowed the drink down in one gulp.]

- I just assume their alcoholics.

[Mr. A. laughed really loudly, almost faking. I see right through his bravado, and he hates that.]

I offer you double the reward to locate a lost object, and from Day One, you’ve been suspicious of me. Now you’re here to drop the biggest crime in the history of our planet! Well, maybe my story will change your mind… or at least reconsider.

[I sighed here, getting a little antsy. Roxie was tied to the receptionist’s desk in the waiting room just outside. I don’t leave Roxie out of my sight anymore.]

10 years ago, I was trying to make a name for myself in New York, doing what I do.

- Which is hire old men to find a Cube?

I was in the stock market. I worked for a brokerage firm, working the phones all day long. It was my dream to be a part of something like that… it truly excited me. But, as you may imagine, that excitement began to fade, since I was merely an ant. I worked the show, but never was the star. Or even a guest star. I wanted to be thee man. So, a few friends came to me one day with an idea. A way to make it.

[He poured himself another glass and took another sip right here, if I remember correctly. He stared at the glass, too, as if the booze took him back to that memory.]

A friend of a friend of ours, let’s call him Blake, was a real blockhead. He was dedicated, loyal, honest… but dumber than a pet rock. He was telling all his friends, if you call them that, about this girlfriend of his in Chicago that he saw once a month.

[My ears perked up at the mention of my hometown. I’ll explain that later.]

Well, our friend, let’s call her Gwen, always thought he was lying. She was real good at picking up liars, as she was in sales. And, we were all friends because we had been either rivals or allies or both at some point in the sales or stock market games. Our specialty was convincing people to do stuff they didn’t even realize they wanted to do.

Gwen arranged for a little get-together at an old bar of ours, the Ear Inn, and she got out of Blake what he was really doing during those monthly trips to Chicago. There was an opportunity here, but she would need all of our help. It would be a little dangerous, but very lucrative. So, she began by telling us how she found out Blake was driving around with half a million dollars in his trunk."

----------------------------------

I'll stop there, better place than any, since my hand is really hurting right now. I promise I'll finish this tomorrow. It should explain a lot...

In the meantime, remember I mentioned that Chicago connection. I gave a call to my old friend, Jack Potter, and he's going to do some research for me. Hopefully, by the time I finish typing this, Jack will have found what I think he's going to find.

Some answers. Roxie's safe and sound, and of course, says hi.

Goodnight, E.

New friends...

2005-08-25T20:53:00.000-07:00

Just got back from the vet hospital. I wanted the doc to take a good look at Roxie, make sure she was all right. It was a crazy weekend… well, I should start from the beginning, I guess.

Thursday night, I posted my thing on the thing here, and Roxie was nowhere to be found. I figured she was off playing. I ended up not being able to wait for her to come back, so I left the door facing the water ajar and went to bed, assuming I’d be awaken in the morning by a tongue licking my face.

Friday morning came, and still no Roxie. I called next door, and I talked with Amanda. She hadn’t seen Roxie, and she didn’t know where she might be.

Friday came and went, and still no Roxie.

Saturday I was frantic. I called Penelope, I called Jamal and Amanda, I even called… well, another old friend in the area. I wanted a search party started. I searched as much as my body would let me, then got to work on my computer here on fliers. I couldn’t eat, sleep, do ANYTHING all weekend.

Sunday night, I was beside myself, when I heard the doorbell ring. I heard tires screech and I wheeled to the door as fast I could. I opened it, and there was Roxie, sitting on my doorstep. She stumbled in, and I was relieved. The search was called off, everything was fine, and Roxie looked OK. I should've remembered my life these past couple of months...

So, once the excitement calmed down and the neighbors left, I noticed the thin string tied around Roxie’s neck like a collar. It was extremely thin. There was a plastic separating (or holding) piece and realized it was actually a piece of paper rolled real thin. I unraveled it. It read:

“We’re reading. And watching. If you can’t find the dog, how can you find the Cube?”

I took Roxie to the vet, and that’s where it’s at now. I’m not sure the next step… not even sure I want this to go on.

I mean, this is all ridiculous anyways! This isn’t real! Someone’s trying to fool with me, thought it was funny to tease an old man who’s believing this silly tale of some Cube that fell from the sky hundreds of years ago and landing in Perplex City – a city which doesn’t exist on the planet Earth, mind you – and that it’s now here and everywhere at the same time, and I have to find it by buying cards.

And Mrs. Salk has yet to respond, which leads me further to believe this is all some sick game Mr. A. made up. Maybe it’s my old colleagues from Chicago, messin’ with an old man in California.

I’m not losing Roxie too, especially after something as ridiculous as all of this! I even had to pretend I’m not me so that everyone didn’t think I was in on this Cube thing! I’m tired of the lies, tired of the puzzles, and tired of being tricked and fooled.

I’m done.

Whoever you are... you won.

Trouble on the Beach, yo!

2005-08-21T18:34:00.000-07:00

So, like, what would you do? My bf is such an idiot sometimes, I’m like, WHY am I with him? I dunno, he’s cool an stuff, but he can be a real butthole. Like, Jimmy calls me up at, like 2 in the morning last night, and I’m all, EWW, old man booty call. But, no, he’s all, My dog didn’t come home, blah blah. I’m all, what?

Anyways, all I wanted was my bf to drive me to Santa Monica. I, like, have a JOB with Jimmy now, for Jesus sake! He was bein’ all, dude, you know how much gas is nowadays. Take the bus. I was all…. UH!

So, like, my friends are like, Dump his ass, and all, but I’m like, No, just drive me to Santa Monica. Oh, right, Roxie.

Yeah, they found him and stuff. They don’t know where he was, but he showed up at the Robbins next door. They, like, never work – they’re ALWAYS there. Anyways, whatever, then this repairman guy shows up to look at Jimmy’s c3ntral air. I’m all, like, Dude, don’t be such a grandpa – it’s like 70 down here. Jimmy just laughs and stuff, and I’m like, OK, whatever, DON’T listen to me. I’m only going to college.

So, I’m really thinking about not taking my bf to the Start of School Bash ’05 my sorority puts on every year. Get it, the ’05 stands for this year, like 2005? Like, it’s a big deal, but If he won’t even drive me to my job and stuf, then I’m like, whatever. Its next weekend an stuff when all the freshies show up.

I gotta get me one of thses for myself. I had one last year, but it got lame cuz some guy just wrote ‘poop’ like a hunderd times in the comments,and it was really annoying.. but I’m all vented and stuff. The dog’s cool, too, btw. I’m sure jimmy will get on here this later and go over it all again , but he was up all weeken so he’s, like, in bed, and I get to take Roxie to the house this week! The girls will LOVE her!!!

Laterz. The Bravery ROXORS! Hes like the new elvis with his hair and stuff!1!1!!

-p3nny

Slow-livin' by the beach...

2005-08-18T20:57:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the slow-down in updates. I’ve been real tired lately. See, I have diabetes, among other things, and there are some days where I just have no energy at all. Ever since I came back from my hospital stay, I’ve been real tired. Penelope’s been over to help out a little, but she’s real busy. Luckily, Jamal and Amanda have been helping me with Roxie. But, today I felt better, and wanted to get out my thoughts.

It’s sad to admit, but I still haven’t gotten any cards yet. I know, I know, but what’s an old fogey to do when he can’t just drive to Berkeley. Penelope keeps promising she’ll show me how to do go online and order it, but she's busy with the upcoming school year, her "junir" year as she puts it. I guess I could ask Jamal, but I’ve asked too much from him and his wife as it is. If only a store was closer to me… Heck, I might even go there myself if one was in the LA area!

Something went wrong again with my central air. I think this time I’m calling a real repairman. Not to put anything against Jamal, but there’s one vent in my room that doesn’t seem to cool things off at all. The joys of being a home owner, huh?

Although I haven’t been in the internet that much lately, I have a pretty extensive notebook filled with my scribbles and scratches about this case. Both cases, actually. I have ideas for Pietro Salk’s wife, and also about the Cube. I’m going to take the weekend to go through it and put it up on here for all 5 of you to see!

I also have some crazy kids in the neighborhood now. Earlier this afternoon, while taking my mid-afternoon nap (as opposed to my early or late afternoon naps), I was woken up by someone ringing my doorbell constantly. I moved as fast as these old bones could, but by the time I got to the door, the ringing had stopped! Roxie was goin’ nuts and I was out of breath.

These days, anything makes me jumpy.

I still haven’t heard from Mr. Salk’s widow, and maybe she’ll never respond. But, before I even touch the Cube, I want to find his killer for her and her family. Do the job the Perplex City PD is grossly not doing. And that is finding the perp that did this!

Roxie’s been out all day, but I’m sure she’ll be back shortly. Sometimes, she plays with a dog further on down the beachfront here, but it is getting a little late. I’m sure she’ll be back, and of course, she gives a bark or two for my weblog.

Goodnight, E.

Claims and disclaims

2005-08-11T21:22:00.000-07:00

First, as you keen observers I’m sure see, I’ve had to put up a little disclaimer on my blog here. Mr. A. had consulted with his legal department, and he thought that was necessary for my own protection, but I think it also protects him. At any rate, it should be clear now to any outside observer my intentions with this blog.

I found out that I can give Penelope her own login and password. I also should show her where the Spellcheck button is – college ain’t what it used to be, eh?

I also decided that my letter to the Sentinel may never get published, and that Sylvia may never read my email, so I’ll just go ahead and make the formal announcement here, on the small chance she hears of this and also to have a record of my intentions.

I am offering my services, free of charge, to find the murderer of Pietro Salk.

Now, obviously, for all us Cube-searchers here on Earth, the path of Pietro’s mysterious demise (and by mysterious I mean malicious), intersects the search for the Cube, just as Fran Mendling’s murderer will likewise be connected.

But, Sylvia shouldn’t have to wait a year or two to find the culprit. For me, personally, Pietro’s murder matters more to me than anything.

I know how it is to lose a loved one. I know how it is to lose a spouse.

So, clearly, I don’t have all the things I would normally need as a criminologist here, but there are some things none of us have right now at all – information. Details. I really think if I had the chance to ask Sylvia some questions, provided she takes me up on my offer, that she could give me (and I would probably ask for some help) some more clues to track down more leads. Right now, we’re at a stand-still as far as information goes on anything, and as my scathing letter I sent to the Perplex City Sentinel goes into a little more detail about my issues with the PCPD, but I want to help her and family directly.

The offer is there, and hopefully the Sentinel will help broadcast it to the Salk family.

One last thing. I’ve gotten some messages recently (or, to be more accurate, questions), regarding the tip that Mr. A. gave me about L.A. being the home of the Receda Cube. For me, I needed to know that this case was solvable for someone like me. I can’t travel that far at all these days, which is why Penelope will come over from time to time when I have some bits of clues and leads I want her to follow up on for me when it requires some heavy traveling. I only said “yes” that day to Mr. A. because he told me the Cube was in L.A. But, given my growing knowledge (and lack thereof) of good ol’ Mr. A., and add in the collective speculation I was a part of on the Unfiction site about how this Cube may be accessible in more than one spot (my brain hurts when I think about it, though), I’m beginning to think that the reason I got into all of this in the first place may be completely false.

But I’m too wrapped up in this to leave now.

It’s not even the monetary award. No, it’s the Salks. It’s the Mendlings. And it’s the perps that think people’s lives are just theirs to be used and manipulated. These criminals need to be caught and stopped. These families need closure.

I do like money, Mr. A. I just may not like yours.

As always, Roxie says hi.

Goodnight, E.

P3nny, yo!

2005-08-01T12:42:00.000-07:00

Silly Jimmy! He forgot to submit his post from last night! He still has trouble searching on Google! It’s beneath this one I’m puttin’ up.

Hey folks. Jimmy asked me to write somethin on here so I am. LOL, I have no idea what to do. Anyway, I guess I’ll write bout me.

I’m a junir at USC and I am a Law and Society major, which is kinda complicated, but my guidance counselor or whatever they call themselves gave me this ad that Jimmy wrote for the school paper. They didn’t wanna print it, cuz people might prank Jimmy and stuff.

So, I’m not sure what this case is all bout. Some sort of missing Rubik’s Cube or somethin? Jimmy siad I can search then et and read up on what’s happened an stuff.

I guess that’s all. I have a 3 o’clock class, and traffic blows ass in this city.

Laterz

-Penny

Blame the Docs

2005-07-31T23:03:00.000-07:00

Thanks to AppleTron for stopping by again. And, thanks, Mr. Walker, for the update. I haven’t checked the Unfiction forums yet, as I’m still a bit tired from what I’ve been through. It’s been quite an interesting week.

I must apologize for the silence – I had a minor medical condition come up. Everything’s fine now, but the Doc wouldn’t allow me to use a computer in the recovery room.

The Robbins watched Roxie, and she had a dandy ol’ time with Mulligan. I also had USC find me my new assistant. Her name’s Penelope and I gave her the login and password for the blog (but not my email – I gotta have SOMEthing secure, right?), so she can log in and keep the blog going in case… well, in case I get indisposed again like this past week.

I went into the hospital on Wednesday, a day after I had a meeting with my potential buyer. I’m going to call him Mr. A. Mr. A. has been apparently keeping an eye on me, and brought me in to discuss my last post. I told him before he went any further that, for my own protection, I was going to write about this meeting. Mr. A. was fine with it, as long as I never mentioned his name. So here we go.

I sat in his red-walled waiting room. Eerily quiet for 9am. His secretary smiled at me and I could tell she was aware this wasn’t a pleasant meeting. I get the feeling he schedules all his unpleasant confrontations early in the morning to get his day started with a bang.

He sat me down, acting real calm. This guy never gets worked up. He took a seat behind his desk, and in silence, called up this here internet site. He spun around his laptop and showed me his computer screen. There it was, good ol’ “Perplexed in L.A.” He just looked at me. I looked at him. He then scrolled down, revealing all the lovely entries I’ve put in here. He then looked at me again. I looked at him.

“You like it?” I asked.

He smiled. He closed the website and spun his laptop back around. He closed the lid of his laptop.

“You don’t like money, Jimmy?”

“I love money,” I said, or something smart like that. I knew what Mr. A. was getting at, but I wanted to hear it from his mouth. I had no contract with him, no down payment, nothing - just a promise and (I’m starting to assume dubious) info from Mr. A. so far.

“You clearly don’t want my money, Jimmy,” he said.

So I told him. I told him how it was preposterous to convince me to think this Cube was in L.A. There’s a piece of information he wasn’t giving me.

“The Cube is in L.A., Jimmy, why would I lie?”

“You’re not lying, buddy,” I said. “You just don’t even know what the hell you’re looking for, just like the rest of us.”

He nodded. He got up out of his chair, then walked to the window. Looking out, he was trying to be dramatic and imposing, but I’m 61, dammit – these theatrics don’t work on me anymore.

He said, “I’ve seen the forums, the boards… you’ve not only drawn attention to yourself, and subsequently me, but you’ve made it appear as though you want to work with these others, these… fools… to help find this thing. You always give away money like this?”

“Why, you giving the reward to others, too?” I said. At this point, I was getting upset.

“No, Jimmy, if I was doing that, I surely wouldn’t have picked you.” Mr. A. turned back around and faced me.

“I want to make something very clear, Jimmy. You are on this case because of me. You will find this Cube. When you do, you will never have to worry about Medicare or Social Security, you got that? I hired you because you are the only person I think that can retrieve this for me.”

“Or, is it because you think I’m a dupe.”

He laughed really hard. I may have sworn there instead of dupe, but I don’t remember every word I said. Next time I’ll bring a tape recorder and have Penny transcribe it word-for-word.

“The choice is yours, Jimmy.”

“What’s it do?” I asked him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Yes, it does. Do you even know?”

“Are you still working for me?”

I paused. This was my time for dramatics.

I stood up, slowly of course, and started to walk out. I stopped and turned towards him and, boy this was good, I said, “We’ll see.”

He laughed some more as I walked out.

Next day, I’m in the hospital. I guess the joke’s on me after all.

Have some catching up to do, and I still haven’t made it up to Berkeley yet. Once Penny gets settled here, I’ll have her order from the internet for me. Knowin’ me, I’d send some hacker my credit card.

All’s well, now it’s time for bed.

Goodnight, E.

La La Land...

2005-07-24T22:43:00.000-07:00

I gotta be open and honest, right?

There was recently some hub-bub over my little corner of the internet here. I have to say, I’m surprised anyone found this at all. But, strangely enough, people felt I had ulterior motives for posting this weblog. One person thought I was trying to take over the "game" – take attention away from the matter at hand (I first thought it was a hint that my old partner from the force, Jack Potter, was somehow mixed up in this, too).

First of all, I had a hard time with this "game" aspect myself. It’s a lot easier to grasp the concept of another city that doesn’t exist on earth if you call it a "game." But, that illusion was shattered, at least for me, with Pietro Salk’s death. This isn’t a "game" to Sylvia and her family, is it? I can’t think of it as one anymore, either.

Secondly, the purpose of this weblog is for my own protection. People may still be wondering why I feel so threatened in this search. I’m a 61-year-old man, and while Roxie may look intimidating, she would just wag her tail at an intruder. As things develop, and especially if I find the Cube, I’m sure my visitors will increase. A public record of an internet search that’s on the internet seemed to me the best way to do this.

But, there is good reason to be suspicious of me. I haven’t been completely open and honest with my weblog, and if I’m doing this solely for my own protection, I should start by telling the truth.

If I find the Cube… I may not return it to Perplex City.

There are a lot of reasons, but when I first got the call, about a month ago now, I laughed. My employer, who has to go unnamed due to our confidentiality agreement, explained to me about the search for the Receda Cube. I thought this was all ridiculous, to be honest. He then told me the award was $200,000 if the Cube is returned to Perplex City and Mr. Kiteway.

He was going to pay me double to give it to him.

But nothing upfront. He’s given me a little information, like the bit about the Cube being in Southern California, and I fell for it, although I now realize that’s probably not true – a promise to get me on board. You see, I have a medical condition, right now, that prohibits me from flying on an airplane. So, there’s going to be problems if I figure out the Cube is in Paraguay.

So, I have a promise from Perplex City to give it back to them for $200,000, and the people that are "helping" me are supposedly going to pay me more to hand it over to them instead.

What is this Cube?

So there it is. No more half-truths or sugar-coating. I have to be honest, if I do find the Cube, I want to know what it does before I hand it over. There’s too much going on and too much happening for me just to let this thing pass out of my hands before I know what it is. I hope anyone else out there who may beat me to it would think to do the same. As for me, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do if and when I find this thing…

Thank you to Mr. Appletron for stopping in – he wants to be my assistant and come to Berkeley? Well, I have to apologize. I found someone. She’s real nice and real energetic, and I think my first order of business for her will be to get access to this weblog thing as well. I hate typing on this thing. As for Berkeley… I don’t have much else to do, so I may drive up there still. Maybe I can ask my new assistant to do it!

Roxie’s doing fine, and Jamal came over again to check my sink. He’s a real handy man, and I’m lucky to have him as a neighbor.

So, just to state once more, and for the final time, I never intended this to be seen by the fellow hunters, or "gamers." I am, in no way, trying to co-op attention, distract, or confuse others, although that would probably help stall their efforts in order for me to get to the Cube first. The focus is Perplex City, the lost Cube and those that are dying (my mistake, I meant "murdered") over it. If others want to check on me, they know where to find me, and maybe my old gears will provoke thought on their end, just as I hope their talk on the forums provoke thought for me. I can very easily be ignored, and that would be almost preferable, but that was the other side of the coin for doing this weblog. But, don’t be surprised if I try to get to the bottom of some questions through the Perplex City channels. For example, my next post will reveal my contents of my letter to the paper.

Open and honest… this could be bad.

Goodnight, E.

Escape from LA

2005-07-20T15:29:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Lyle for stoppin’ in again! I realize that ground may have been tread already in your forums, but as you saw, Mr. Walker was still trying to shed suspicion on the religious group, and I wanted to explain it in a different way. That’s not to say that I think the Recons are completely innocent, either. More on that, later.

But, one more thing for my British visitor – I don’t want to people to think I’m a loner, or separatist of some sort. I plan on joining the speculation on your forums, as you call them, but two things must happen: (1) I want to have something constructive to say; (2) I find my password that I wrote down when my niece helped me set-up my account. I could have it emailed, but the email password’s on there too! Anyway, Lyle, I hope if I still have trouble getting on there, you are more than welcome to relay my thoughts and theories on there for me.

However, I fear knowledge of my associations may alienate some of the current collaborators, so I’ll do and say as I’m able. I may get into trouble postin’ on those forums. I should’ve picked a more secret login than “ShamusDLeahy!” Oh well.

I didn’t reveal my 3rd tab in the ol’ folder, yet, but it appears it’s more than OK to talk it about it now. This mysterious “Advisor.” This “Advisor” contacted Pietro Salk covertly about the theft of the “cube.” The “Advisor” claimed he or she was paid to commit the crime. Funny how people word things ever so carefully. I’ve got to think about it some more, though, so I’ll work on it some more tonight…

By the way, I just found out that there is, indeed, a store in Southern California with the cards! In Berkely!!! Hooray! My niece and I will have to head over this weekend, so I get to solving some of these puzzles!

It’s an earliest post than normal, since I want to do some more reading tonight. And, I gotta keep an eye on Roxie – she got out this morning and just took off. I couldn’t really run after her, but luckily Amanda was coming home from a late shift and picked her up on the way home. She came by for some coffee and we chatted about life and her job. We also were trying to guess the reason for Roxie’s escape attempt – she’s never done that before. Maybe she misses Mulligan already, as he’s been sick the last few days.

Oh, well, it’s early, but goodnight anyways, E.

-Jimmy

The Beat Goes On

2005-07-19T20:41:00.000-07:00

Well, Roxie’s all clean and cut, although she put up a fuss at the groomer’s. She hates being away from her dad. Good thing she’s got that new friend next door.

As you may have seen, Mr. Walker stopped by. He cleared up my confusion, which is great. I am grateful that those questions of mine were answered, but I still have a problem with the Reconstructionist motivation for committing this crime. Let me try another way of explaining my sincere doubt...

Think of it this way. Let’s say I worship Roxie’s green frog toy. But, Roxie keeps it in her bed, under lock and key (it's under the pillow she lays on). If I take it, she’ll hound me ‘til I give it back.

I hatch a plan. The green frog toy should be free, for everyone to play with. It’s a sophisticated plan – I distract Roxie with some snacks in another room, and I crack her defenses (she hides it underneath her pillow), and rescue the Green Frog Toy!

Only to throw it as hard as I can into the ocean.

That would be the Reconstructionist plan. They “rescue” the object of their worship, something they can’t live without. But, instead of putting it someplace safe, they ship it off to somewhere where no one will ever get to it?

Which brings us back to the initial question: Either it’s not the Reconstructionists, or Mr. Kiteway has been duped to believe travel between Earth and Perplex City is currently impossible. In either case, to consider the Recons the #1 suspects is a hasty conclusion, especially since it's quite convenient for the fanatics to be the ones to commit such a crime. It's not to say these cultists aren't a few pennies short of a dollar, but the way this crime has thus far played out, it just doesn't fit with what they claim to want from the "Cube."

But, who else would dare have the motivation? Someone who knows what the “cube” is for, who also happens to be on Earth, here. That someone paid the would-be Perplexon thieves to get it OUT of Perplex City and down to here, Earth. That someone could, in theory, just be waiting ‘til the days cool down to do whatever it is he or she wants to do with it.

Or, even worse, is getting whatever he or she needs from the “Receda Cube” as we speak (and dream up dog toy scenarios).

I think finding out what this “Receda Cube” can actually do, other than look pretty, will really help narrow things down. It’s too bad my own source is unwilling to divulge that information to me.

By the way, Jamal was nice enough to come by today and take a look at my central air set-up. This humidity kills my joints! He looked around for a little while, and thought maybe something got caught in the vents. We talked a little bit about my case, and he was surprised people were stumbling upon my corner of the internet. "Blame my niece," I told him. She said no one ever finds these things. I guess that’s a testament to the rising stakes of this hunt.

And I’m still writing the ad I'm gonna put in the paper for an assistant. How’s this:

“Astute, organized, and patient lad or lass looking to help solve crimes with old geezer? Contact Jimmy Leahy at - ”

Well, I am a geezer.

Headache setting in. I better pop my pills, let out Roxie, and hit the hay for now. Hopefully the Sentinel publishes my letter. I think Perplexans need to hear what I had to say. Especially Sylvia.

Goodnight, E.

Sleeping In...

2005-07-17T20:09:00.000-07:00

All right, my niece got me all together with the forum stuff. I just hope I remember the passwords. So, I’ll be interjecting more of my thoughts over there as well as here, to keep the minds working not just on puzzles, but the big one!

I just finished my letter to the Sentinel. I guess I’ll wait to see if they publish it. I’d like its contents to speak for itself, especially the announcement, but if not, I’ll do it here. It has to do with Pietro Salk. And his murder. I’ve seen enough unsolved murders in my day – I’m through seeing a family get torn to shreds over unanswered questions. I won’t let it happen again. Not after what I went through.

Geez, look at me. I’m yelling at my computer – as if you can hear me ranting here. I think there’s something wrong with my air conditioning – although it’s pretty comfortable along the ocean here, my joints can’t take even 80 degree weather some days. I’ll have to tinker with it tomorrow.

I’m also considering hiring an assistant. Back in Chicago, I had a whole team of folks – I paid people to do what you guys on those forums are doing. Cracking things, tracing, keeping things organized. You should see my dining room table right now. Roxie doesn’t even come near it, cuz she knows one tail wag and all those papers hit the ground! But, if I’m to find this Cube myself, which is part of the reason I’m doing this, I need someone to do my legwork. Due to recent events, I’m able to afford one. I’ll put an ad in the paper! Or, call up the college campus, the one my niece attends! Maybe they got some criminal justice kid that needs some internship credits.

Well, I better go. Roxie’s getting her haircut tomorrow, so I have to be up before the van gets here for her, plus there’s my meeting. Keep searching, folks!

And, goodnight, E!

Crypto Case File

2005-07-16T16:53:00.000-07:00

It’s Saturday, during the day here, and I didn’t sleep very well. There’s one hurdle I think I’ve overcome, even if it’s in my own head – where is Perplex City?

Jamal, my neighbor, just left after having spent some time over here with me talking about my not-so-secret case. I felt comfortable in talking to him about it, because to a regular person, this probably sounds ludicrous. A city, that doesn’t exist on Earth, needs our help to find something stolen from it and brought here.

So, we started talking, and newlywed Jamal is much more open to these ideas than I am, but he first brought up the notion of a parallel universe. Something out of Star Trek! He then grew extremely excited about the notion that there was now evidence of such a reality running at the same time as ours. He started asking me questions at a furious pace. “Are our scientists on this?” “Is this in the news?” “Is it our duty to bring to the attention of the country?” But, he then settled down. In a moment, he no longer believed it, and he actually thought I was being had, being tricked. This would be a pretty sophisticated trick, I told him. Besides, I had something… well, all I can say is that I’m sure this is all real. But, Jamal is right – this is too unbelievable as of yet for the majority of the people here. I can’t imagine what my niece would say if I got into the details of this, although I guess she knows where to find my weblog…

But, the truth is, I’m too old to figure out how this is all happening. And, since all we get are emails or telephone contact, this will be seen as just simply people goofing off or whatever. The truth is, though, it’s not fiction. This isn’t a story. Real people – people like you and me – are dying, and this Cube is the core of it. Maybe once that Cube is finally found, people will wake up. But, my job isn’t to enlighten people about this – that’ll happen on its own, when this is all over. For now, my job is to put the pieces of this puzzle together.

So, let’s open my casefile, to reveal my current thoughts. A lot of attention is on this religious cult they have up there, the Brotherhood of the Six. More specifically, 6 folks occupy the minds of us Earthen investigators – Ms. Nadia Anek, Ms. Aiko Entrescore, Mr. Demetri Fallon, Mr. Ryan Klein, Mr. Keenan Thoreau and Mr. Gill Yewley. But, why? Sure, these folks have been up to fishy stuff in the past, but they worship this Cube. Why put it in a place where they can’t get to it?

Which leads me to believe that Mr. Kiteway – and the general claim of Perplexans as a whole – that there’s no way to physically go from one place to another isn’t true. The Cube was moved, wasn’t it? Someone knows how to move things from one place to another - maybe not Mr. Kiteway himself, but the first place to look for an innovation like that would be his house of geniuses.

But, what confuses this old fart is why would this cult, who worships the Cube, send it away? To hide it to retrieve later? That’d be quite foolish and considering the sophistication of the crime, these lads and lasses aren't dummies. It’d be foolish because the search on Earth will never end. Hell, they recruited a whole planet to find it!! These cultists had to know that would happen, if they indeed are the culprits. Although they will have a tab in my folder permanently, I’m not entirely sold on them as robbers who ship their product away from them. If the Brotherhood stole the Cube, then it’s nowhere on Earth – they have it in their possession back in Perplex City, to worship and do whatever it is they want to do with it, and concocted this whole Earth-transfer story. Which would take some work, considering there are numerous people in the know who are positive it’s here, one being Mr. Kiteway.

No, my curiosity lies in something more risky, more dangerous, but something I feel I should share today. Anyone else notice the Earth military interaction? I lost the reference, but I remember reading something in the Sentinel about a Earth military person dropping them a lead or a hint in a related investigation. Just recently, a Earth military person by the name of Peter Walker was quite interested in the PCAG games. Not that we shouldn’t take an interest in our sister, uh, dimension (?), but he had quite an interest. If Mr. Walker happens across this blog of mine, I’d be interested to know how closely does he follow Perplex City?

Do not be offended, Mr. Walker, but I now have 2 tabs in my folder.

Goodnight, E.

Where to look...

2005-07-15T23:24:00.000-07:00

Sorry I didn’t get to post last night, but my guests kept me up past my bedtime, and I was simply too tired to write. The Robbins are great fun, but boy, do they like to ask questions!

First, thank you to Lyle, all the way in the UK, for stopping by. I have “surfed”, as they say, those webpages, but has of yet been unable to figure out how to post on there. My niece is coming over on Sunday to check up on me, so I’ll coax her into helping me get a logon and password for that site.

I must admit, as I said before, math and deciphering ain’t my strong point. I’m still going to order those cards (again, I might need my niece’s assistance there since I can’t go to a store out here and get ‘em), but my strong point is the crime. The logic of the mistakes, or lack thereof. With the unusual circumstances of our two, uhm… worlds… Mr. Kiteway designed these cards to help our minds think like theirs. So, I think the puzzles on the cards are puzzles of themselves – meaning, they’re meant to stir our mind, lead us on the mental journey the thieves were on. Pretty deep for an old man, huh?

I’ve officially begun my casefile, and as necessary, I will share what I have in there on to the internet. Which is unusual, considering most PI’s will keep their work to themselves, because anything made public could tip off their suspects. But, as you all know, this is an unusual case, so I think talking out loud, er... write out loud my theories and speculation and evidence that I obtain will aid in the collective efforts. I’ll share as much as I can, as I do have some restrictions currently beyond my control, but that’ll be worked out as time goes by.

I guess what I’m saying is that I’ll be in on the card games, the tools Mr. Kiteway gave us to get into the minds of the criminals. But, I can’t guarantee I’ll be of much help. But, you can be certain I’ll be tackling it from my angle, the same approach I approached all my cases over the years – with thought.

Back in my days, both in the uniform and out, I’d go to one of a couple of bars in my hometown of Chicago, take a seat at the far end, order a tall one, and just sip and think. The who, what, where and why. I’d be a crappy profiler, though – I don’t assume things about a criminal. Whatever their reasons are – especially involving a murder – there is a reason that makes sense to them, and in my experience, the type of people that do this doesn't fit into a scientific formula. Once you figure the reason, though, the rest unfolds like a hastily made burrito. And in this case, where I don’t have a crime scene or any physical pieces of evidence to roll around in my hands, this is truly all in my head.

I hate being in my head too long, especially with what happened to Pietro. If I were on the PCPD, I’d be demanding to be on this case, since it appears to be sitting on someone's desk right now collecting dust. I just might write to the Sentinel about it. To not suspect foul play is to be blind, to say the least. Those detectives better get on this, or else we’re going to see more die – and not just in Perplex City.

On a side note, Jamal has taken quite an interest in my little case. Jamal and Amanda Robbins – my neighbors with the Scottie, Mulligan. They moved in a week ago, and even though their house is still in disarray, they had me over for a meal last night. Of course, I brought Roxie with! Jamal works as a bank branch manager for Washington Mutual (they’re everywhere out here!). His wife, Amanda, works at one of the elder patient care facilities here in Santa Monica. We have quite a bit of those. I asked her if I’m elderly enough to live there! She laughed, but she said it’s quite nice for those who need constant care. I’ll be there someday. But, they pried my recent history out of me, and whatever I share with you, I sure can share with them. Jamal is particularly interested, and he may come over and look at some things tomorrow. The more the merrier, right?

I received a response from Sylvia. She thanked me for the wishes, but she's not answering anything personally right now. Understandable. But, just so she knows, my offer is still on the table.

Well, I really must get to bed – too much excitement these days for my old bones. Maybe I’ll ask my niece to show me how to put a picture of Roxie up on the site, here.

Goodnight, E.

Happy Card Day!

2005-07-13T22:19:00.000-07:00

It’s amazing what we gotta put up with. In L.A. alone, we’ve got highway shootings, a 70-year-old bank robber, and everyone waiting for the next “big quake.”

Here I am trying to solve a crime by using the internet.

Oh, and cards. With puzzles on ‘em.

Today was supposed to be the official “release” date, but for me and Roxie, here, we’re going to have to wait a little longer to get our hands on them.

Sometimes, I wonder if this is all real. I put the difficult questions of, oh, where is Perplex City, in the back of my head, because the answer to that truly could change our world as we know it. And the cube? Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s simply a pretty paperweight. This thing is dangerous, to say the least, and the sooner we return this cube to its rightful owner, the better I’ll feel.

Which begs the question – who is the rightful owner of the Receda Cube?

Again, getting ahead of myself.

Pietro Salk was murdered. It hasn’t been said yet, out loud, by his late wife, or anyone else in authority, but take it from a guy that has seen this before – this has foul play written all over it. He was murdered because someone with information contacted him, and somehow he got found out. He was close to something big. Poor Pietro – he didn’t realize how big the stakes have gotten.

Fortunately, wise Pietro knew this as well, and gave us a least a place to start to find out who did this to him. But, there are still some locked areas that contain more information.

I e-mailed his late wife today. Obviously, I expressed my condolences, but also asked for her assistance. She may decline, since this is a very difficult time for her and her family. Believe me, I know. Even after 2 years, it’s still hard every now and then.

But, if she can help me – us – out, she will. And her husband should get justice. It doesn’t look like the Perplex City P.D. is looking too hard into this case, so it’s going to be up to us to help bring Mrs. Salk and all that knew Pietro some closure.

Roxie met the new neighbor’s dog today. Roxie’s a mixed breed – part lab, part rottweiler, part Doberman - friendliest girl in the world. She has a new friend, a Scottish Terrier named Mulligan. The neighbor’s are a nice newlywed couple, and we watched our dogs run and play in the sand for most of the afternoon. It was nice.

Be well.

Goodnight E.

2005-07-12T22:45:00.000-07:00

I have to congratulate my niece for putting up with me today. Without her, I wouldn’t be on this webloggy thing, and she deserves an award for putting up with a 61-year-old man all day, annoying her with questions she probably thinks are basic knowledge. She has a ton of patience. Thanks, dear.

She tells me rarely does anyone even look at these things. I mean, sure, there’s a chance, but who’s gonna look at an old man’s blog in L.A. who’s searching for a Receda Cube?

I probably shouldn’t be so humble. I’ve been told it makes me look conceited. I tell you, though, if my old partners found out I was mixed up in this whole Perplex City thing, they would laugh.

Perplex City… boy… what a can of worms this is gonna be.

I laughed when I first heard about it. I’m still wrapping my head around it. But, I’m a retired private investigator, and I’ve never seen or heard anything like this before. In fact, who knows where this all may lead?

If this is my online journal (not a diary), I shouldn’t have to introduce myself, but at the same time, things are going to get hairy. Not only am I doing this to organize my thoughts about this really, really strange case, but also to protect me. I’m not a kid anymore – it’s just me and Roxie living along the beach here in Santa Monica. I’ve got a cane, for Christ’s sakes! If something… well, if something were to happen to me, there’d be evidence. Roxie would need someone to look after her. They can destroy a lot of things, but it’s a funny thing, this internet – once this is out there, it’s out there. This will be out there - it's kind of like I'm standing in the light so that I can't be quietly taken off the stage. I hate to be so paranoid, but while I’m risking showing my hand to the rest of the players, it’s an insurance policy, where the stakes are higher than I think we all realize. Oh, that’s right… there are cards, aren’t there… so weird.

But enough about that. My name’s Shamus D. Leahy. All my friends call me Jimmy. A little background about me: I was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. My father was a cop, just like my uncle and my grandfather – it was natural for me to join the force. After being a beat cop for 15 years on the streets of Chicago, though, I got the itch to do the fun stuff. Detective. But, as you probably can guess, at the time, I’d be waiting another 10 years (minimum) for a spot to open up. I didn’t wanna wait. So, I left the department and went to work in the private sector, opening my own firm. I dealt with little things. Divorces, tax fraud, insurance fraud – that kind of thing. I really got a kick out of cold cases – the stuff the precincts toss to the side after 20 or 30 years with no leads. I solved a few of those in my day as a P.I., and those felt good.

But, a couple years ago, I had had enough. I stopped working altogether, and wanted to be by the ocean. My dog Roxie and I moved out to Los Angeles – specifically Santa Monica. Then, this came along, not more than a week ago.

I’m not going to get into things right now. I’ll have plenty of time for speculation and theories as the weeks go by. And don’t get me started on where Perplex City is! Can of worms, I tell ya!! At any rate, the thing is, in my research thus far, this case is simple. Find the cube.

I want to be clear – I don’t work for the Mindcandy people, and I sure as hell ain’t a Perplexian. Perplexon? Perplexan? Whatever they’re called, I ain’t one of them. I’m a guy, like everyone else looking at the bounty with drool on their faces, trying to solve this crime. Which it is – a crime.

2 crimes, in fact, and it looks like more foul play may be at hand, which again is why I want my thoughts to be made public… well, as public as a webloggy is to all 3 of you who happen upon this little corner of the internet.

We have a theft, and more importantly, we have a murder. A stolen “Receda Cube”. One dead security guard, “Fran Mendling.” I imagine it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. What makes it even more interesting is that this is another good ol’ fashioned “cold case.” Hell, a year is almost not even enough to call “cold.” I cracked crimes that had mold on their folders and suspects lying 6 feet under, so a year removed is still a little lukewarm. But it’s just long enough that the perps probably feel safe. Like they got away. That’s the window of opportunity.

Look at me – I’m already rambling. I should go to bed – I need to let Roxie out anyway.

One last thing before I turn off my computer for the evening. This “Receda Cube” – the key to solving everything, the answer – is somewhere on God’s green earth. Up ‘til now, it looks like the search has been in England, primarily. Well, let’s just say that there’s a real good chance that it’s here. In my backyard. Right under my nose, here in Los Angeles. It’s one of the many reasons I’m now joining the search. I probably wouldn’t bother taking this case if there wasn’t at least a chance I could get my hands on it. Sure, it may end up being in Copenhagen or Tokyo (I really don’t wanna get a passport), but if that’s the case, I’m going to have trouble getting there. But, that’s for another time as well. All I know is that I’ve received a credible tip that L.A. is a good starting point. Hell, for all I know, I may be being played for a fool – the tip may be a piece of garbage.

But I’ll never know if I don’t look.

Hand me the can opener, Roxie. Good girl.

Goodnight E.