Neil Knight Private Dick

Good Friend Good Buddy

Soft light from the early morning sky combined with the burning hillsides of Santa Ana to create an apocalyptic scene as Neil stepped onto the stained cement landing outside his La Quinta hotel room. His dogs, untethered, sniffed the acrid air, shook themselves and fell in line as the investigator made his way past other rooms, some with lights on and shades only partially drawn, inviting, perhaps, the curious to pause and consider a momentary gaze within.

Voyeurism was not on Neil's mind this morning. A mystery had engaged him last night, and although the task seemed clear, the scale and scope of the challenge remained uncertain.

The parking lot was a mix of late model domestics and newer imports, some stock and rusted, others pimped out low riders. He passed a tricked out BMW X6, it's 4.4 liter turbocharged v8 now resting about 4 inches lower to the pavement, due to some artful torch and welding techniques, than when it was when originally assembled at the Dingolfing plant in Bavaria, Germany. Neil considered what type of individual would modify a car with a starting price of seventy-two-thousand dollars, and then let the thought pass as he popped the hatch of his Toyota Rav4, the dogs leaping into the carpeted interior.

The four-cylinder initially resisted his efforts to start, but finally the injectors, valves and pistons reconsidered, and the theory of internal combustion was once again validated. Neil pulled out of the parking lot, turning right onto South Grande Avenue followed by a quick left onto East Dyer road, his compromised muffler echoing as he motored under the 55.

The cruise around the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree onramp pinned the dogs to the left side of the vehicle as Neil merged onto the Costa Mesa Freeway northbound, the light traffic at 5:05 an anomaly for a California morning. Three minutes later he exited onto the Santa Ana Freeway north, taking exit 105A less than one minute later, turning left onto seventeenth street as the light changed from yellow to red.

One block after emerging from under the 5, the pink, yellow and purple sign of Yum-Yum Donuts, like a recalled memory of a hallucinogenic flashback, beckoned Neil to swing left into the parking lot, with the promise of a trans-fat, melt-in-your-mouth, partially hydrogenated taste bud orgasm waiting for him just behind the linoleum counter.

In 1971 Phillip C. Holland opened the first Yum-Yum Donuts at Avenue 26 and Figueroa Street in the Cypress Park district of Los Angeles, California. Holland had a short introduction to the donut business through a childhood friend, continuing his education in North Carolina under the tutelage of Vernon Rudolph, the owner of Krispy Kreme Donuts. Within two years he had expanded Yum-Yum to three shops, took on Frank Watase as an equal partner, and further expanded his empire to over 70 shops.

In 2004 Yum-Yum purchased Winchell's Donuts, "Home of the Warm 'n Fresh Donut," and instantly became the West Coast's largest donut shop chain, open twenty-four hours a day seven days a week, to the delight of cardiac surgeons up and down the coast.

Inside the shop the line was already six-deep, and Neil queued in, the smell of hot coffee and warm baked delights filling his nostrils. Customers were dealt with swiftly and efficiently, a trademark of the chain, and soon Neil was greeted by a clerk about 25 years his senior, with the too-eager-to-please attitude of the recently downsized yet overqualified.

"What can I do for you there, good friend, good buddy?" offered the silver haired counterperson.

With an arched eyebrow Neil responded, "I'll take a large coffee, regular, and a half dozen warm to go."

"Wonderful, wonderful" replied the senior, "How will you take your coffee then?" he continued.

"Ah – that would be regular" Neil hesitated, "you know, crème and sugar."

"Yes, yes, of course. To go you said?" he prompted.

Neil nodded, shifting to his left as other customer's orders were filled in rapid succession.

"Can I get you anything else" inquired the increasingly geriatric employee.

"I'd like a half dozen Old Fashioned – Glazed" he responded.

"Donuts then?"

Neil looked at the plastic engraved name tag of Robert, the server, then down to the steaming black coffee in the ceramic mug with the Yum-Yum logo emblazoned across the front.

"Yes. Donuts. And can I get this coffee in a to-go cup?"

"Certainly, certainly. Can do. But I'd like to suggest you request that when you order next time my friend. Saves time and effort you know."

Neil considered a reply, but the anxious attitude combined with the strained yet full-dentured smile of employee Robert gave him pause.

The transaction was soon completed, and as he exited the establishment, he heard a full throated "Come back soon good buddy, have a great morning!"

The glass door swung shut, the sky a little brighter, his stomach providing a slight reminder that it was empty.

He opened the car door, tossed two glazed into the back, each dog deftly snatching the donuts in mid-flight, and rolled left out of the parking lot onto seventeenth for two blocks before turning right onto North Main Street.

Before two swigs of coffee had passed his lips, he pulled up outside El Pollo Loco, a half block or so from the home of the Carlos Santino Campanas.