Meeting at the Cafe

Audio Index:
Story: 1:48
Explanations: 6:04

“We have to go, Dr. Reeves!” Anne said excitedly. “That was Bill on the phone. He is at a restaurant called Cafe Pico. Sarah’s been kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped? Are you sure?” I asked, somewhat incredulously.

“I’m sure. Someone has taken Sarah,” Anne replied. “Bill said that a man is holding her, and he will kill her if we don’t give him the ransom he’s demanding.” Anne was pulling me to the door of the apartment. “Come on! Bill said he will explain at the restaurant.”

I closed the door to the apartment and followed Anne down the stairs and into my car. The weather was typical for Los Angeles: sunny, 75 degrees, with brown smog covering the city. L.A. is a city of dreams. But for some people, it’s a city of nightmares.

Anne and I drove down Robertson Avenue in my old red Mustang, going around cars as fast as we could without causing a pile-up.

“Where is this cafe again?” I asked her.

“On Robertson and Pico, next to a bookstore,” Anne answered. She was justifiably nervous. You could tell it in her eyes.

Arriving a few minutes later, we found a place to park in front of the bookstore, and walked into the Cafe. Bill was there waiting for us.

“Bill! Oh my God, Bill, what happened?” Anne hugged Bill, who looked tired and worried.

“Oh, this is a friend, Dr. Darron Reeves.” Anne said. “Dr. Reeves, this is Bill. Dr. Reeves is my professor at USC. But he is also a very good detective. When I found out that you and Sarah were missing, I went to him for help.”

“It’s good to meet you, Bill,” I said.

“Um, yeah, I’m glad to meet you, too,” Bill said.

Bill, Anne, and I sat down at a table in front of the cafe. The waitress came to take our order. I asked for a glass of iced tea. I’m a bit of a caffeine addict, truth be told.

“Bill, tell us what happened to Sarah. Is she okay?” Anne asked impatiently.

“Sarah is fine for now,” Bill said. “But for awhile, I thought both of us would be killed. Two days ago, a strange man knocked on our door at the apartment. I opened the door, and before I knew what was happening, he had a gun in my face and was shouting obscenities at me.”

“What did he look like?” I asked.

“He was tall and muscular,” said Bill, “but he wore a ski hat, so I couldn’t see his face very well. He had a mustache, I think. It all happened so fast.”

“That’s okay. Go on,” I said.

“Well, the man took Sarah and me and put us in a car. He put a small towel around our eyes, tied our legs and hands together, and then drove us to another place. We were forced out of the car and into a small, dingy room.

“We were given food twice a day. I’m not sure how many kidnappers there were holding us there. I heard several voices outside the door, maybe three or four, I’m not sure. Finally this morning, about an hour ago, I was let go, and given a message: If I wanted Sarah to be set free, I had to pay a ransom of $500,000.”

A Woman in Pain

Audio Index:
Story: 1:33
Explanations: 5:37

I put my hand on my gun, and slowly opened the door wider. I saw nothing. I carefully picked up a towel from the floor. Nothing. “There must be someone in the bathtub,” I thought.

In one fell swoop, I kicked the shower curtain back. “Don’t move!” I shouted.

Suddenly a little white cat jumped out of the bathtub and scurried between my legs. A cat. I should have known.

“Oh, Jasmine! I forgot about you!” Anne said. The cat looked happy to see her. She took her into the kitchen. I poked around the rest of the bedroom, and then followed Anne into the kitchen.

“Does the cat have any food left in her dish?” I asked.

“It’s almost gone. Poor Jasmine! You must be hungry.”

“Well, Bill and Sarah haven’t been gone long, we know that.” I walked over to the telephone answering machine and checked their messages. No one had called.

We continued looking through the three-bedroom apartment. There was no sign of any violence, no burglary, no break-in. I checked in the master bedroom, and I saw nothing unusual: a beer bottle, photos of Bill and Sarah’s wedding, some dirty clothes, an old Time magazine.

Next to the bed on the night table there was a bottle of pills. “Anne, what are these pills for, do you know?”

“I think they’re for Bill’s leg. He messed up his leg playing football in college at USC,” Anne replied.

I put the bottle back on the table and sat down on the bed to think. I had no idea what happened to Anne’s sister and her brother-in-law. They seem to have just disappeared into thin air. They didn’t call anyone. There was no sign of any crime in their apartment. No one at their jobs had seen them for two days. Where could they be?

“Well, Anne, I don’t see anything here to help us. I think we should talk to the police again.”

“But I tried talking to the police, Dr. Reeves! They told me to fill out some forms and wait. They won’t do anything. That’s why I went to you for help!” She began to cry a little.

I stopped and looked at her for a second: God, I thought, this poor kid. Twenty-two, and in such pain.

“Okay, well, we won’t find anything else here. Let’s go,” I said to her.

Just then I heard a telephone ringing. I turned to the phone on the table, but there was no sound. Then I saw Anne reach inside her purse: it was her cellular phone!

“That’s my cell phone, Dr. Reeves.” Anne said. “Hello?”

I watched Anne’s face as she answered the phone. First it was happy, then worried, then very sad.

“Right...10 minutes...yes...see you there...bye!” Anne hung up and looked at me in fear.

“That was Bill. Something terrible has happened!

Beer and Cigarettes

Audio Index:
Story: 1:25
Explanations: 5:31

Some of my students know I’m an amateur detective. Before I became a university professor five years ago, I had a real job. I worked for a security agency that protected private homes, and also important people like famous actors and politicians. I learned a lot about criminals. I had also learned a lot about police work from my father, who was a cop for 34 years.

I had wanted to become a police officer, too. But that was impossible. I got into some trouble when I was a kid. It was a stupid high school trick, but because I was 18-years-old, I was treated like an adult. I was arrested by the police, convicted, and now I have a police record. With a criminal record, I can never be a cop.

I worked for awhile as a bodyguard. One of my cases was protecting a famous history professor. He and I became friends, he helped me go to college and now I, too, am a professor.

As I said, when Anne came to see me this morning, I told her I would be happy to help. We came over to the apartment building where Sarah and Bill live, and that’s when this mysterious man tried to stop us from going in.

“Let’s see if we can get into their apartment and take a look around,” I suggested.

We walked into the large, white building, and up to the third floor. Anne got an extra key from the apartment manager so we could go in.

“Apartment number 306, Anne?” I asked her.

“Yes. Here’s the key,” she answered.

“Let me open the door.” I took the key from her. I opened the door very slowly. One thing I learned from my work as a bodyguard: Be careful when opening a stranger’s door. You never know what’s behind it.

I opened the door slowly. I went in first, making sure everything was okay before Anne followed. The living room was large and full of expensive things: a big-screen television, a fancy stereo, a CD player, two big, brown leather chairs, and a comfortable-looking sofa. The living room alone was bigger than my entire apartment.

“My God, it smells like beer and cigarettes in here! Bill and Sarah don’t even smoke,” Anne said.

I walked to the back of the apartment, and saw myself in the mirror. I am always surprised at how I look: I’m 42 years old, five feet eleven inches tall, blond hair, average weight. But when I see myself in the mirror, I look 3 inches shorter and 5 years older.

I checked the windows and the closets on each side of the apartment, and went into the bathroom. Then I saw something move.

I quickly turned to Anne and put my hand up in the air, meaning: “Don’t move.” I put my finger to my lips, telling her to be quiet.

Someone was in the bathroom.

Episode 1: The Man in the Mask

Audio Index:
Story: 2:23
Explanations: 6:05

I didn’t kill him.

I didn’t even plan to kill him. I had a gun, but I just wanted to hurt him and stop him from attacking me. I had no idea why this stranger was hitting me, and it was ticking me off.

This morning Anne Prado, one of my students at the University of Southwestern California, came to my office. She said she had a problem and she needed my help. Her sister, Sarah, was missing. We were on our way to Sarah's apartment to find her, when halfway up the front steps of the building, a man ran toward me and started punching me.

I hit the man in the ear. He screamed with pain. He was small, but a tough son-of-a-gun. I stepped back, and hit him hard in the stomach.

“Oh my God!” he moaned. I think I hurt him that time.

I knew he was in pain. I pushed him down to the ground. He fell onto the grass in front of the steps to the apartment building. Now it was my turn to take control.

I stood over him and asked, “Who are you? What do you want?” He didn’t answer. He had a ski hat on, so I couldn’t see his face.

“Just get the hell away from this apartment building! You’re not welcome here!” he said.

I grabbed him by the shirt, pushed his face into the ground, and put his arm behind his back. He yelled even louder now. I think he was finally ready to stop fighting.

“Now, who are you? Why can’t I go inside the apartment?” I was getting angry and wanted some answers. I saw a few people come out of the apartment building to see what was happening.

But the man still didn’t say a word. He lifted himself up suddenly, and pushed me away. He looked at me coldly for a second, then ran into the street.

I turned to find Anne to make sure she was okay. “Do you know who he was? Have you seen him before?” I asked.

“No, Dr. Reeves. I don’t come to my sister’s apartment very often. I don’t know who he is.”

Let me back up a minute: This morning in my office Anne had explained that two days ago, she was supposed to have lunch with her sister, Sarah Salas. When her sister didn’t come to the restaurant, Anne called Sarah’s apartment. There was no answer.

Anne went to her sister’s apartment right away and knocked on the door, but there was no one home. She called Sarah’s work. Her boss told Anne that Sarah had been missing for two days. So Anne decided to ask me to help find her sister and her sister’s husband, Bill, who was also missing.