Blake grimaced as he gripped the steering wheel with his left hand and shifted with his right. "Why'd it have to be a five speed," he mumbled. He turned on the CD player and Verde's Puccini soared out of the Klipsch system. Sweet nectar of the gods, but he needed something to give him some traction on the night. He punched the changer button and got the Moody Blues, hit it again and got Tony Bennett, and finally, incredibly, Eric Burdon.

when I was a little boy I had a puppy

that always followed me around

and I'm gonna love you just the way I loved that puppy

Girl I will never let you down

Suddenly, a cell phone rang and Madison found it on the passenger seat. He didn't recognize the number and rejected the call, but immediately dialed his Mom in Venice Beach. It was 4 am and she was bound to be doing what she did every morning...smoking reefer and fishing the surf outside her bungalow. The phone rang twice before she answered. "Mom it's me. Catching anything?"
He heard her draw on the doobie, then reply "no, I think the damn hammerheads are chasing everything around. I've pulled 25 pounds of kelp out, though. Say, who's Herman Keschner?"
"Don't know, Mom, why?"
"That's the name comes up on the cell phone. The hospital called looking for you, Blakey. So did the LAPD."
"Don't worry, Mom. I'm working a case and they want to know about it. That's all."
"Stop lyin' Blake. They said you wrecked your car and broke your arm.."
"Wrist."
"Wrist, and stole a car."
"Don't worry, mom. Everything's under control. I'm just looking for the Fun."
"Oh, you won't find them. They went underground in 68, and except for a couple of bomb threats at strip clubs and beauty pageants, nobody's heard from them since."
"I don't follow you."
"The F.U.N. Feminist Underground Network. Gotta go!! I've got a bite!"
Blake shook his head, pulled over in front of The Torre del Mar Arms, and pulling the Porsche up behind Gina's rusty silver Volvo. Blake climbed gingerly out and heard someone call his name. From the balcony above, Gina, clad in a loose terry cloth robe, was smiling down on him. "You son of a bitch. I looked for you everywhere. Meanwhile you're tooling around in a sports car."
"It's ok. It's stolen."
"You mean you stole a cherry red Porsche 914 with a license plate that says 'CUTTER'? Brilliant, Madison."
"It was a crime of opportunity."
She grinned and let the robe fall open a bit wider. "Well, you've got an opportunity here, and it would be a crime not to take advantage of it."
He held up his cast-covered left arm and said "Baby, I'm wounded, on the run from the law, somebody's trying to kill me, and apparently my ticker's ready to quit."
'You're just full of excuses," she said, tossing him a key. "Park the car in the alley behind the building and get up here, Madison. We need to talk."
"Yes ma'am." As Madison started the Porsche, he had to admit... things were starting to look up.