Chapter 5: Sneak and Peek

Marilyn Monroe had died between the hours of 8:30 PM when she was on the telephone with Peter Lawford and reported “fine” by her housekeeper Eunice Murray and 3:30 AM when she was seen nude and not moving in her bed. At 3:50 AM Thursday, August 5, 1962, Marilyn Monroe was confirmed dead by her personal physician, Doctor Hyman Engelberg. The initial inquest findings were published on August 17.

I spent most of Saturday night and Sunday morning hiding in the sparse foliage observing the window of the room where Marilyn Monroe’s body had been found. My only weapon was a Victorinox Pioneer pocketknife. I also carried two pen lights. At four in the morning, I exfiltrated and met Billie at the camper van. She was asleep in the back. I started the engine, drove to an all-night diner and only then did I wake her.

“Let’s get breakfast. That place is hard to get into because the residential area is fully occupied. Five months and new occupants already.”

“Breakfast. Do I have to, Jackie?”

“I can bring you a sandwich, I guess,” I said.

“No, we need to talk.”

Over eggs and bacon with toast and lots of coffee, I discussed the activities at 12305 Fifth Helena Drive in Brentwood. According to the available records the house still belonged to Marilyn Monroe’s estate. Oddly enough, Monroe was a resident of New York, not California.

“News is rumor and gossip and lies,” I said as I sipped my coffee. “The problem with police reports is reliance on rumor, gossip, and lies.”

I watched as shadowy figures fiddled with the camper door across the parking lot.

“How about doughnuts?” I asked. “We might as well eat like men.”

“I’d rather have waffles with honey,” Billie said. “Zara is going to kill us.”

We ordered another breakfast, waffles with sausages. Billie insisted on grapefruit juice. Why not? I was stalling for time as the strangers entered our camper. Might as well stay inside and peacefully eat. The worst that they could do was plant a bomb or something. If they stole our camper, that would be bad—but survivable. I left my sister Billie in the dark while we stuffed warm waffles in our faces. When the men left, I informed Billie and suggested that we walk off breakfast.

“Somebody was interested in our truck,” I said. “Let’s walk around until it gets light. Give them time to get bored. Call Athena at a pay phone and tell her what happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Billie asked.

“Reasonable question,” I admitted. “They can’t hurt us if we don’t do something stupid. Besides, we left our pistols in the camper. Stick close to me. We will undergo a counter-surveillance routine on foot.”

I had deployed and palmed my pocketknife. When we walked out of the parking lot, I felt that hostile eyes were watching in total disbelief. It could have been my overactive imagination. I grabbed Billie with my empty hand as soon as we got out of sight, and we ducked behind some cars. Moments later there were feet converging on our location.

“Where did they go?” The speaker sounded male.

“They went this way!”

“Get on the radio. They must be somewhere close.”

I guess that it wasn’t paranoia. There were cars and men everywhere. When the men were out of sight, I led Billie across the street and in the opposite direction. It was minutes before we found a phone booth, minutes I used to compose a report. They weren’t very good. Or perhaps they were just letting us go so that they could follow us. Billie dialed a number, then flinched, handed me the handset.

“Jackie here with report,” I announced.

“Do you know what time it is?” the irate woman at the other end asked.

“Between zero six thirty and zero six forty-five,” I said. “Are you ready to copy?”

I made my report as soon as the woman at the other end switched on a recorder. When finished, I was instructed to call back in ninety minutes for instructions.

“Let’s walk,” I said. “There is nothing that shouts advanced technology in the camper, is there? At this rate I think that they’ll tow it. We have ninety minutes to find another pay phone. Meanwhile, we watch for shadows, and you can explain why my clothes came off so rapidly in that alley.”

Billie’s explanation took a while because she had to describe how the threads were made to dissolve after a few hours wear. The ambush was a set-up and the six boys I killed were supposed to be taken into custody. My clothes were designed to easily rip after about three hours wear and would fall off on their own within nine hours.

“Your clothes are normal and won’t fall off,” Billie reassured me. “If it were legal to be naked, I would be right now.”

“You are tougher than me,” I confessed. “I need the warmth from wearing clothes. This fog is chilly.”

“Smog,” Billie corrected. “It is fog and polluted air. Nasty stuff.”

“It’s helping provide cover for us,” I said. “The smog is getting thicker.”

“You’re just seeing the smog better now that it’s getting light.”

“I am adjusting to sharper senses,” I admitted. “You were correct. I didn’t need binoculars. There was ample light. Being enhanced is strange.”