Chapter 16: California Dreamin’
It took Daisy an hour and a half to get to Atlanta, and another twenty minutes to actually get into the airport parking lot. The last time she’d been here, she’d been going the same place – Los Angeles, but back then she’d wide-eyed and excited, going across the country to drive in the Baja Auto Race, with the perk of seeing Enos again while she was there.
He was just Officer Strate back then, somehow always getting caught up in wild adventures with his fellow officer, Turk Adams. She’d stay up late into the night, reading the letters he’d send her every week of the world outside of Hazzard. She would write him back occasionally, but not often. There just wasn’t much to say about home. Nothing ever changed, and about all she could tell him was that she missed him, though she had phrased it as “we miss you” instead of “I miss you”.
“When’s the next flight to Los Angeles?” she asked the girl at the ticket counter.
The woman checked a log-book next to her on the desk. “We have three seats left on our 10:15. It’s boarding in about ten minutes, though.”
“I’ll take a ticket for that one, please.”
“Will this be one-way or round trip?”
“Uh…” she hadn’t thought that far about it. “Just one-way for now,” she said. “I’m not sure when I’ll be comin’ back.”
She paid for the ticket, checked the gate number, and rushed off to find it. Her ticket was for seat 37B, which meant she ended up flanked on either side by two strangers. To her left, in the window seat was a pimply-faced teenage boy, whose first reaction to Daisy sitting down beside him was to oggle her chest. On her right was a woman dressed in a smart business suit with too much makeup, reading the Wall Street Journal.
Daisy closed her eyes and lay her head back against the seat, trying to think of what to say Enos when she found him. The truth,…but what was the truth, exactly? It had been so long since she’d been honest even with herself about it, she hardly knew where to start. And what if he’d left because he really didn’t want to talk about it? What if he didn’t want to hear what she had to say? What if he just wanted to forget her?
No, she resolved, he had come back, and whether he’d set out in the beginning for anything to happen between them or not, something almost had. She determined she was just going to think positive about the whole thing. After all, this was Enos, not some stranger- however long he’d been gone.
The hours dragged on and on until, after a little over four and a half hours, the plane finally landed at LAX. She stepped out of the plane and into what might just as well have been a foreign county. Surrounded by strangers, her courage wavered, feeling like someone who had no business in such a place.
This was what she’d sent him to, her conscience reminded her. On June 7th, 1985, on a rainy night in Georgia, Enos left his home and came here – to this sea of people who all seemed to be in a hurry. Sweet Enos, who she knew would have rather stayed in Hazzard than have all the money in the world. She took a deep breath and walked through the giant terminal until she saw a sign directing her to the main entrance and the taxis.
The driver of the cab gave her an odd look when she asked him to take her to the Metro division of the LAPD, but shrugged his shoulders and said something in an accent that Daisy couldn’t quite catch. Driving into the heart of L.A. took it’s toll on her nerves, and each mile seemed to take an eternity. The buildings rose around her like massive sentinels of concrete and glass. Finally, the taxi pulled over at 150 North Los Angeles Street in front of the Parker Center, the headquarters for the LAPD. She paid the driver and got out.
Her footsteps on the granite floor echoed through the lobby as she made her way to the elevators. She read through the information posted on the wall, found the Homicide Division, and hit the ‘up’ button for the elevator. It dinged softly as it opened, and three officers exited past her. The door nearly closed again before she could make herself move. She caught it just in time and slipped in as it reopened, and leaned against the wall, thinking that she couldn’t remember in all her life being so nervous, and still having no idea what she was going to say. After a short ride, there was another ding and the door slid open onto a small landing. Across from the elevator was a glass door that read “Homicide Division”. She opened it and went inside.
The rest of the building had been mostly quiet. She supposed the evening and night saw more activity from the LAPD than the morning hours did, but here there was a flurry of activity. Rows of light brown metal desks and file cabinets scattered with stacks of folders sat in the slightly cluttered and chaotic room. The acrid smell of print toner and coffee hung in the air, and if the room had been any larger it would have been overwhelming. As it was, it looked like the Robbery/Homicide Division had outgrown it’s living space.
“Ma’am,” said a woman at the front desk, “is there something I can help you with?”
Daisy tore her eyes away from the rest of the room and looked at her. “Yes, ma’am. I’m lookin’ for Detective Enos Strate.”
“Oh, he was just in a couple hours ago, but he left. I could leave him a message if you’d like.”
“No. No, that’s okay. Do you know when he might be back?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t.” she answered.
Daisy sighed. “Okay, well…thanks. I guess I’ll check back later.” She pushed the door back open and hit the elevator button, wondering where she could go to wait when she heard the door behind her open.
“Excuse me…Ma’am?”
She turned around to see a young woman, barely past her teens, with long black hair coming towards her. “Um…yes?”
“You’re her, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” said Daisy, confused. “I’m who?”
The girl smiled. “I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m Connie,” she said sticking her hand out, “and you have to be Daisy Duke.”
Daisy shook her hand awkwardly. “That’s me. How’d you know?”
“Well, I’d know you from your picture on the news, but you’re the same girl Detective Strate had a picture of in his top drawer.” She blanched as though she’d been caught red-handed at something. “Not that I was snooping! I just…I had some papers for him a couple months ago, but he wasn’t in his office, and I needed a pen, and… Ooo, sorry, I’m rambling.”
Daisy grinned. “That’s okay, I’m sure he wouldn’t be that upset.”
“Oh no, he doesn’t seem like the type that would.” The girl’s face turned suddenly serious. “Ms. Duke…”
“Daisy.”
“…Daisy, what are you doing here?”
“I need t’ talk to Enos. Do ya’ have any idea when he’d be back?”
Connie shook her head, a puzzled look on her face. “But that’s just it. He quit this morning.”
Daisy thought she might need to sit down. She leaned back against the wall behind her. “What d’ya’ mean, he quit?” she whispered.
“He came in here about 7:00 this morning, turned in his badge to the Chief, and cleaned out his desk. Of course he’s still on paid leave right now for the next month and a half, but pretty much that means he’s done, I guess. He told me it had been real nice working with me and left.”
“But…where…”
“Gosh, Ms…I mean Daisy, I don’t really have a clue. I know he got a job offer from the Montana State Patrol a few weeks ago. We were all trying to talk him into taking it – not that we wanted to get rid of him or anything, I mean he’s a great detective, but we know how much he hates Los Angeles. He gets that look sometimes, you know, and you can tell he’s missing something.”
“Montana…” How th’ hell was she gonna find him there?
“Look, we’re not supposed to give out personal information, but I’m sure he’d want to know you’re here. He doesn’t have a phone, but this is where he lives,” she handed Daisy a scrap of paper with directions on it. “I put down directions on it. The quickest way to get there is taking the subway if you don’t mind walking. Just turn left when you leave the building, then turn left on East 1st, and Civic Center Station is three blocks. You can’t miss it. It’s the only other place I know to tell you to check.”
“Oh, Connie! I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’m just glad you’re safe, ma’am,” she said, her face clouding. “Detective Strate…he was really broken up when the Chief told him you were missing.” Someone in the office behind her called the receptionist’s name. “I’ve got to get back. Good luck to you, Daisy.” She opened the door and disappeared back inside before Daisy could reply.
She looked down at the piece of paper clutched in her hand. The subway was three blocks away, and she had a sinking feeling she needed to hurry. She jabbed the ‘down’ button again on the elevator in a useless attempt to make it faster. At last she made it back into the elevator, down to the first floor and outside the building. She started towards the station, not even realizing that she was running by the time she made it there. It took her a couple minutes to figure out the ticket vending machine, and she ended up buying a day pass instead of a one-way ticket. She stepped into one of the cars on the Metro Purple Line, and fifteen minutes later, she was at her stop. Checking the directions again, she turned left and walked about half a block until she found Pinehurst Street.
She wasn’t sure if these were what people called condos or if they were just apartments. She supposed at one time the old, tall, brick houses that seemed awfully crammed together might have just belonged to one family – back in California’s more prosperous days and less populated days. 1141 Pinehurst was no different that any of the rest, stuck between two other houses that looked exactly the same, save for their trim. She stood at the door, feeling dreadfully out of place as she tried to figure out how people got in, until she saw the list of names and buzzers on a panel in the brick facing. Second from the bottom read “3C Strate”. She pushed the buzzer next to his name and waited, but there was no answer. Subsequent buzzings were met with equal silence, and she was just about to give up when the door opened and another man came out.
“You need in?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks,” she said as he held the door for her.
“No problem, half the time those buzzers don’t work for crap.”
The door closed behind her and she found herself in a cramped alcove with a narrow metal staircase leading up to other floors. She supposed 3C would mean the third floor so she headed up. C turned out to be the very last apartment on the floor, and the way it was situated in the building, Daisy was fairly sure it couldn’t be much larger inside than a broom closet. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
A man stuck his head out from the next door apartment to look at her. “Yo, girl! If you’re lookin’ for Enos, he’s done gone.”
Her heart sank. “How long ago?”
“Aw, dude..prob’ly three hours ago. The door’s open if you want to check. He told us we could have the furniture if we wanted. Guess he was in a hurry.”
“He just left everything?”
“Yeah, bummer, too. It was nice havin’ a cop livin’ around. Our apartment hadn’t been robbed but once the last six months.” The man disappeared back inside his room and she heard the sound of a chain lock fastening from the other side.
Daisy put her hand on the knob and turned it, slowly opening the door. “Enos?” she called, though she knew from the silence the place was empty. She went in and closed the door behind her. Like his room at the boarding house in Hazzard had been, the place was neat and tidy, and sparse. There was nothing more than a bed, a tiny bathroom, and a half-stove, the kind you’d expect to find in a small cabin with only two burners. The closet was open and he’d taken his clothes, but that appeared to be it. The bed was still made and what little furniture he had was still there.
She took the pillow from his bed and sat down, hugging to to herself and looking out the window that didn’t show much of anything outside. His pillow smelled of the aftershave he wore and it made tears spring to her eyes. It was all she had left of him…and it was nothing. Nothing at all.
Her eyes caught a piece of fabric sticking out from behind the bed post, something that had gotten left behind. She knelt down, pulled it out, and smiled sadly. It was one of his favorite fishing shirts, a soft blue and gray flannel that she’d always thought made him look so…huggable, and she thought she might have even told him that one time. Daisy sighed, remembering the shy, pleased smile he undoubtedly would have given her for such a comment. She pulled the shirt on over her own, got up, and left the apartment, closing the door behind her. For a minute, she debated where to go, but in truth there was no where left for her to look. Whether he was still somewhere in L.A. or on his way to Montana, he might as well have been on the moon. A warm breeze blew past her, smelling of brine and tasting of the tears that filled her eyes.
“I’ve lost him,” she thought, and in doing so she knew she’d lost a piece of herself forever.
At least before, she’d known where he was – all those years she could have driven or flown to California and found him and told him the truth and begged him to come home to her. What she wouldn’t give to turn back time.
Now the only thing left was to go back to Hazzard. She could call the Montana State Patrol and see if he’d taken the job – if they’d even tell her such a thing over the phone – and try to track him down, but it would be an uphill battle with little chance of ever finding him again.
She went back to the subway station and studied the line maps until she figured out how to get back to LAX and a home that wasn’t where her heart was.