She had just finished her afternoon workout and was cleaning of the equipment when someone called out "Hey Maria, they're towing your car!"
"What?" she responded.
"Are you sure?" she replied, running to the floor to ceiling windows at the Santa Ana Planet Fitness.
Sure enough, a tow truck had secured her grey BMW i3s all electric sedan and was in the process of lifting the front end away from the pavement in preparation to haul it away.
Her first thought was Carlos. He'd had her debit card disabled, then her personal bank account was suspended, and now this.
'What more abuse did she have to take?' she thought.
Then she noticed the side of the truck as it turned. It wasn't just any tow truck. Emblazoned on the doors of the vehicle was City of Santa Ana Police Department.
Her car was being impounded by law enforcement.
She stood there dumbfounded.
Her second thought was Carlos. 'What the fuck had that dumb son-of-a-bitch done now?'
She was held transfixed in thought.
Then she heard her name called out again, but more softly this time. More intimately.
"Maria" said the deep voice next to her, modulating his volume as he tried to be sensitive to the situation. "Why don't you clean up and come with me. I think I have the answers you're looking for."
Now time slowed down for Maria Fiorello Campana.
The sounds of the gym receded into the background as she slowly turned toward the voice. And there he was, the half smile on his face emoting empathy.
The man she had hired to do a job.
Perform a service.
Find a reason.
The overweight Private Dick, Neil Knight.
She nodded in slow motion and moved toward the locker room, the eyes of her fellow gym rats following her until she'd disappeared from their view.
Then the eyes turned collectively toward the detective, taking in his volume, judging his character by his appearance, and, like most opinions formed from a single data point, they found him less than worthy of their attention, and refocused on their activities with self-satisfied smiles.
Maria reappeared and they walked to his Toyota Rav4 in relative silence, thoughts and questions filling her mind, making it difficult to grasp an idea to begin a conversation. He opened the passenger door, reached on to the seat and brushed off some memories of past meals.
"Smells like dog" she said.
"The boys are in the back" he replied. And so they were, having worked their way back into the good graces of the detective, as the effects of his concussion subsided, or, perhaps due to the concussion impairing his better judgement. The pups lifted their heads and peered over the back seat to take in the activity, and then dropped back down, curiosity satisfied.
At that time of the day the drive to Yorba Linda took only fifteen minutes, the country and western music playing through the tinny, inadequate sound system of the car, barely filling the space between the two occupants.
As they neared their destination Maria seemed to come out of her intellectual coma. She knew this place. Recognized the streets. She'd been here only once before. Cassia Lane.
Different now. The entire area was covered in black SUVs, men and women in black suits and policemen in blue milling about. An officer held up her hand in the middle of the street, then, recognizing the car and driver, waved them through.
They pulled into the driveway of the spacious home at 4070 Cassia Lane. Leilani's home. Whoops. 'Dee Dee's home too' she thought, self-consciously.
Leilani opened the door, and, always the gentleman, the detective introduced the two as if they had never met before.
"Please come in" said Leilani.
'Surreal' thought Maria. To be this close. To smell her scent as she followed.
Leilani then introduced the others gathered in the living room. Her husband Dee Dee. Neighbors Cotton and Sue Ellen Spradley. Wallace E. Tobin III of Birnbaum, Cohn & Hirschfeld of Orange County.
The next hour was spent bringing her up to speed, filling her in on the events which preceded her assault in December and culminating with the events of the day.
"But I still don't understand why I was assaulted" said Maria.
"Human nature" replied Wallace. "Perception becomes reality."
"Vincent's plan was to vault your husband into the position of Mayor of Santa Ana, and he couldn't risk a scandal. Reporter Michelle Mills had already penned an article alluding to troubles at home and that drove Vincent to take action to influence your" he paused, searching for a word, "social activities."
Maria blushed, and touched her cheek, remembering both the kiss and the assault.
"I almost forgot" piped up Cotton. "They caught the bastard that hit you" nodding to Maria, "and you" nodding to Neil.
"Frankie Hopeless?" asked Neil.
"Seems he tried to clear out Maria's bank account using a suspended debit card, and bank security held him there until the cops arrived."
It was Neil's turn to blush. "The card" he said. 'He must've taken it when he dropped me."
"Good thing for that" added Cotton "or weeda never caught him. Seems he didn't upgrade his app to the one I rewrote for the Lopers. He was still running on my original version. That's why his Police Tracker worked when no one else's did."
"He'll be going away for a while Miss Maria. They found a video of your assault on his cellphone. He's a very disturbed person."
The room became silent. Motivations explained. Participants exhausted from the events of the day.
"One last issue" contributed Sue Ellen, abruptly standing.
"There was a very large, multi-hundred-million dollar anonymous contribution made to your organization Miss Leilani, from the Lopers Fund which I controlled until the accounts were somehow hacked into and the monies seemingly stolen due to untraceable actions."
"Mrs. Campana. The title to a home in Cozumel has been transferred into your name from Mr. Riganti, as well as a fully funded retirement account in the generous amount of twenty-five million dollars that was somehow kept off the books. A change order was entered just this afternoon with the contractor to construct a gym as an addition to the house. I also believe you'll find the social life in Cozumel of interest."
"Mr. Knight" she said, tossing a set of keys toward him. "Knowing your sense of style and taste there's a brand new, tricked out Jeep Grand Cherokee in your driveway at home. Previously held in inventory at Orange County Auto Used Car, Towing, Parts & Repair. The title is clean and has been transferred and registered in your name. It's an upgrade over the RAV4" she smiled.
"Oh, and your bill with Mrs. Campana has been taken care of, and a little bit more. Check your bank balance tomorrow and promise not to shit yourself."
"Mr. Dee Dee. New equipment has been purchased for your recording studio by an anonymous source, and solar panels have been ordered as well to assist with your high electric bill. Someone will be calling you for an install date."
Dee Dee turned to Cotton who just smiled and winked.
"The rest of the money, what was left over, and I have to admit it was sizeable, has been transferred into the bank account for the to the 'flower fund' of the Santa Ana Police Benevolent Association. That and the title to the house formerly owned by Anthony Thomas Riganti. Seems that transfer was already in the works and all that had to be done was to complete the transaction."
The group sat stunned.
"What are you going to do now? You can't stay here. The Lopers or some other gang will mark you, if they haven't already" said Dee Dee.
Sue Ellen and Cotton exchanged glances.
We're moving back east to Tybee Island, Georgia, on the recommendation of Mayor Turedo. Seems the mayor will be resigning very soon and retiring there hisself."
"California's proved just a might too exciting for us."
With that the group began to disband, some choosing to stay and continue the conversation, others, like Neil, interested in getting home and catching up on sleep.
As he exited the front door, calling his dogs to him from the Sham's backyard, Cotton shook his hand and pressed a piece of plastic into it.
"A going away present. Prepaid." he said.
Neil nodded without looking until he settled into his RAV4 for one last ride.
It was a $250 gift card to El Pollo.
"Boys" said Neil turning to his hounds as he backed out of the driveway.
"Let's get some fried chicken"