Scoundrels Episode 1.03 Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

Local car salesman Alan Markham was arrested and taken into custody after we, Palm Springs P.D. Squad 501, learned of his association with an organized gang of international car thieves. Markham, who might I add is a family friend of the recidivist West's, dropped off our radar after going straight for a while, but I always sensed something about him was sketchy.

After we received an "anonymous tip," (okay, it was from Wolf West; I'm not very good at keeping secrets) super-cop Sergeant Mack and I went right on down to Markham Imports and put him in cuffs. I think my picture might even be in the newspaper for it. It's moments like this why I polish my badge every morning.

That Cheryl West sure has a funny way of showing us that she's on the straight and narrow. It's not that we don't want to believe her, it's just that I wouldn't trust her to hold my root beer much less hold a real job. But I have to give her credit; it appears that she really is trying. And I guess Alan Markham was a real sleaze-bag, trying to get romantic with Cheryl using some sweet-talk and slick moves, like that one scene in Pretty Woman where they talk really close and then rub their noses together before kissing. I tried that once in high school but my date didn't think it was very romantic. She punched me in the chest and ran away.

Speaking of romance, Heather, the fair-haired angel, got a new job. Thank goodness, because my intestines couldn't handle another greasy burger. Not to give too much detail, but thank God for Imodium. Anyway, she's working as a waitress at the Sparkle Club which is a, umm, "gentleman's parlor" here in Palm Springs. I don't go there very often because glitter makes me nervous. Cheryl apparently went through the roof when she found out that her daughter is working at a strip joint, but Heather assured her that she is just a waitress, not a stripper. She's classy like that, and she won't show her ta-ta's to just anyone, believe me.

Logan West, the "clean one," is finally living up to his last name. I know he's really smart and all, but apparently he had to tell a little fib to get that job at the law firm. I was at the firm recently to settle a minor property dispute between my terrible shrew of a neighbor and I, and I overheard this little rumor. Because his bosses think he is part Cahuilla Native American, he has been put in charge of handling a case for the tribe. I learned how to shoot a bow and arrow at summer camp once, which I think makes me more Native American than Logan. He's even enlisted his bratty little sister, Hope, to teach him how to speak the language. I guess there isn't a Cahuilla version of Rosetta Stone, yet. Anyway, he's working day and night to find the piece of evidence he needs to win his case; that's what we detectives call "the smoking gun." When Logan finally finds it, his colleague, Hugh, steals it so he can steal the credit as well. That's not very nice.

Logan isn't very nice either, so he asks Cal, Cruz, and Billy to break into Hugh's apartment and get the briefcase with the evidence while he distracts Hugh with a few too many Tequila shots. Apparently this Hugh guy has a video camera to make home movies with, and he's got a thing for ping-pong paddles. I don't really know what that means, but I used to be pretty good at ping-pong - my uncle had a table in his basement so every Thanksgiving we had a tournament, but I don't think that's what Hugh is in to. Anyway, if I had been there, I could've gotten Cal for breaking and entering, and theft, but I wasn't on patrol. I'm only one man, and I know that there are criminals committing crimes every hour of the day, but you can't catch them all. Plus it was spaghetti night, so I was busy.

The prison visitor log shows that Cheryl went to see Wolf, and from what I saw on the security cameras, she was looking rather foxy. It's not technically my job to keep tabs on the prison, but with a West in lockup, I'll be checking in regularly. The guard told me that Cheryl found out it was Wolf who told us about Alan's involvement with the stolen cars and that she's really, really peeved at him for ratting out a friend. Personally, I think Wolf was rightly suspicious of that friend being a horn-dog, but I'm going to stay out of their twisted marital drama. Cheryl might not be visiting Wolf in the slammer anytime soon, which means maybe I can stop watching all those hours of security footage and actually get some sleep.

But the city needs my protecting, and whether day or night, rain or shine (probably not much chance of rain though, this is a desert after all), I'll be watching. One day soon, another one of those mangy West's will make another bad move. I won't rest until they are all behind bars, except for Heather. She can stay with me.