Neon Nights Chapter 7
Every time Marc pulled up to the Dunes, he was impressed.
It was new money personified, with manicured palm trees and a show-stopping entry gate as tall as a house, built withexotic-looking stone and ponds out front that contained rare koi rumored to cost
$1,000 a fish.
The developers encountered tremendous resistance when the project was introduced to the town, with the community banding together impressively to resist the development. Their campaign was complete with picket signs, billboards,and a bizarre anthem written by a daytime pool bar musician that played a hundred times a day on the local radio stations.
At the end of the day, though, the big money won out. From the town's perspective, the property tax windfall ofmillion-dollar homes was too good to pass up, so East Bay ended up with a luxury community rivaling some of the country's best.
The lush oceanfront acreage had a network of beautiful trails, a private beach, and the most impressive pool and amenity center imaginable. The town's high-end seafood restaurant Catch was located there and featured aMichelin-starred chef. The man had
been lured east out of the San Francisco culinary scene after a breakdown on a Saturday night in front of some hoity-toity critics from the San Francisco Chronicle. After losing his cool when someone sent a dish back for being too spicy, he snapped and took a gallon of hot sauce out to the table and poured it on the customer’s plate. After a stint at a twenty-eight-day "relaxation center," he moved across the country and settled where there was less pressure.
Marc pulled up to the extravagant red brick guard room, where a guard named Raul grilled him with everything but a latex glove. Once inside, midnight bluebeards lined the street, and a wide walking path bustled with activity. A Rolls Royce Phantom approached him as he pulled into the lot, and a well-to-do middle- aged woman in a tennis visorsmiled and waved as she went past him, perhaps thinking he was her pool cleaner.
He parked in the back of the lot under a canopy of trees, trying to find shade from the midday sun. Looking out thewindow, he saw a family of seven, with three kids under the age of five, trying to make their way from the tanker-sized SUV to the pool. The kids did everything in their power to go in three different directions, and the parentslooked like the only place they wanted to go was into a time machine.
When he stepped out of the truck, a wave of island beats, kids' laughter and screams, and the crash of water from alarge bucket that hovered over the pool sailed across the breeze. There were so many golf carts, they had their own parking area. Each was spotless, customized, and shared little in common with the EZ Go ones people drove aroundpublic golf courses. Some had tires that looked
more capable on an ATV trail than a striped sidewalk and Marc wasn't entirely sure of it, but what looked like aspoiler on the back of one. Their vanity license plates covered the spectrum of white- collar routes to the good life: HDGEHOG, CRASHCASH, SUE4IT, DR.YES, and FLIPPEDIT.
A gentle breeze rolled off the ocean through the open-air lobby of the amenity center and expensive-looking Italianmarble permeated every surface you set foot on. The walls featured paintings and photographs by local artists, and Marc recognized many of the names as he browsed them up close. He approached the front desk, where a bubbly Latina woman named Carmen greeted him with a well-polished smile.
"Hi Carmen, I'm Detective McKinley, and I’m looking for Blaire, please."
She pointed to the pool deck, where Marc saw a girl watching over the aquatic madhouse below with dark purple sunglasses.
"She is just over there in the lifeguard stand, and I believe her break is coming up in two minutes."
A gang of dripping-wet kids streaked through the lobby at speeds not conducive to marble floors and nearly took out awaiter carrying a tray of colorful cocktails piled high with fruit.
Marc gestured to a small alcove with two plush-looking chairs.
"Would you mind asking her to come and see me when she gets done, and we can sit over in the corner there to talk."
“Not at all. Being a police detective sounds like a dangerous and exciting job. Is it like you see on TV shows and movies?"
Marc laughed.
"No, and I was really disappointed when I found that out.”
He walked over and settled into one of the chairs, impressed with how comfortable it was. The pool looked likesomething you might find at a waterpark, and if you were nine years old, it would be heaven on earth.
Hell, he loved waterslides too, and these looked awesome.
Marc saw Carmen reach Blaire's lifeguard chair at the same time as a tall, good-looking kid with aviator sunglasses on and a body that could only be achieved from years of 4:30 a.m. swim practices.
He watched the two women start their conversation, and Carmen nodded in his direction. Blaire walked toward himwith a stiff body, in slow steps that looked like she was dragging concrete blocks on her feet. Some people could lie and convince themselves they did nothing wrong, and others gave it away without anyone having to ask for it.
Blaire was clearly the latter of the two and would never have a career in a Vegas poker room.
"Hi, Blaire. I'm Detective McKinley. Can I borrow you for a few minutes, please?"
"Sure," she said, her voice so low that he could barely make it out.
Blaire wore shorts with the lifeguard cross over her red one-piece suit, and a strand of purple hair ran along the right side of her face. It wasn't that she couldn't or didn't fit in. It just looked like she had to try too hard to do it.
"It's got to be hot sitting in that chair all day," he said, trying to find the least threatening opener he could.
"I don't know. You get used to it. We get to jump in and cool off a lot, so I can live with it."
"Definitely a perk. How long have you worked here now?" "Since I was like fifteen, I think."
"Do you live here at the Dunes?"
"I wish. No, we live over in Hidden Harbor," she said, her voice hushed as if trying to keep the location secret.
"That's a nice neighborhood, I have a good friend who lives over there,” Marc said.
"I guess."
Seeing where this was headed, Marc changed up his tactics. "Do you know why I came to see you today, Blaire?" "No," she said too quickly.
"Are you friends with Kerry Baker?"
Marc could tell the name landed a direct blow, and he could see the wheels in her head were about to spin off the axle.
"Kerry is one of my besties. We have known each other a long time."
Marc tried to navigate the next part carefully.
"Blaire, I'm sorry to tell you, but Kerry is in a coma right now at the hospital from some sort of pill she took last night at the festival."
Blaire bit her lip and sat there without a sound, her lip quivering and her eyes tightening until she could no longer restrain the deluge of tears.
Marc walked over to Carmen and asked her for some tissues. "Is everything okay with Blaire? Anything I can doto help her?"
"I just had to deliver bad news about her friend, so she is pretty upset right now."
"I'm sorry to hear that. This is a very tough job you have, yes?" "Some days it is, yes," he said.
He walked back over and handed Blaire the box. She took out a couple of tissues and tried to compose herself as guilt spread across her face like a cup of coffee spilled across a sheet of paper.
"I was with her last night," she said.
"Okay. Let's go out to the truck and talk privately."
They walked out into the scorching sun and climbed into the truck cab, where he cranked the engine as soon as his butt touched the seat.
"Try to remember every detail you can, please."
"We were so excited for this show for months leading up to it. We splurged and got the VIP experience, which got youa glamping tent,
some backstage passes, and the no line thing like you see at theme parks."
"When did you get to the show?" Marc asked.
"We were at the campground for like two hours before the show opened at eight. Just tailgating and hanging out with some of our friends from school that were there."
"Lot of people from East Bay?" Marc asked.
"Just about everyone we went to high school with who was home from college. It's a huge festival."
"Did you see the person who Kerry got the pill from?"
She paused, and again, there was a sense she was looking for an escape hatch.
"You're not in trouble here, Blaire, but I need to know everything about the people you got this from. It's the only way to keep other kids from having the same thing happen."
She nodded, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and sat a little straighter in the passenger seat.
"I met the one guy through a fraternity at my school. My sorority does a lot of events with them, and we have hung out a lot. I saw him in the parking lot before the show started, and he said to hook up with his friend and him later inthe night to check out something cool they had."
"Were they staying at the campground there?" Marc asked.
"Yeah, I had plans to go back there after the show for an after-party, but when the thing happened with Kerry, I got aride home after she was in the ambulance."
"What's your friend's name?"
"Jameson. I had no idea the stuff would be like that. Kerry is my friend. I never would want to hurt her."
Her voice started to shake and quiver out of control.
"The pills looked electric; blue, red, green, and orange. I remember thinking how cool they looked. We took the hit, and it was like someone had jolted our brains with a shock of electricity. I had never felt anything like it. It was so intense that it was almost crippling. I’ve never felt worse than I did this morning.”
“So, you didn’t go back to their campsite at all?” "No, I never made it over there.”
She took a deep sigh and put her head back against the headrest. "How much trouble am I in?” she asked.
"You're not under arrest or anything like that, but I need you to come down to the station because you will have tomake a statement about everything."
Marc saw the look on her face and tried to assuage her fears.
“If Carmen or anyone from work asks why you were talking to me, you can tell them I was letting you know aboutyour
friend. Please don't go anywhere and do me a favor and skip the concert the rest of the weekend."
It was obvious that this hit her hard, but she nodded her head. "I'm sorry, Detective. I know I messed up here."
He held out his hand for her to shake, and she took it, this time with more confidence than the first.
"For what it's worth, I appreciate how you handled yourself here," Marc said.
"Thanks," she said in a mousy voice and grabbed the door handle.
"The next little bit is going to suck. I don't know how to say it otherwise, but you will get through it and come out the other side okay."
Tears started to well up in the corner of her eyes again as she opened the truck door and stepped out.
"I hope you're right," she said as she shut the door and walked to her car in the employee lot.
"Me too," he said and slumped back into his seat.
