Page 31 of Erase Me
The change of expression on her face, the fleeting moment of contemplation, gave me another reminder that there was a whole lot going on in that pretty head that I wasn’t privy to.
She nodded.“I’ll remember that when the time comes.”
The waitress returned a minute later, asking if we were ready to place our order.Where I came from, the luxury of indulging in fresh seafood had become a distant memory.Because of the pollution, all the food was sourced from carefully monitored fish farms.Avalie ordered one of the day’s seafood specials, and I followed suit.
As we waited for our meal, we chatted about San Clemente.From where we sat, we could see the house built by the town’s developer.Casa Romantica was perched on a bluff overlooking the pier and the beaches.
“Did you know that the town was built during Prohibition?”I asked, wondering how well she knew the history.
Avalie paused, toying for a moment with her silverware and lining them up in a row in front of her.
“No, I didn’t.”She fixed her gaze attentively on my face.“It’s pretty impressive how much you know about this area.Are you sure you didn’t work around here in high school or college?I can definitely see you as one of those lifeguards up in the tower.”
I shook my head.The truth was that I had a love-and-hate relationship with my job.The love part was that I delved into the history of the places where the job took me.And not just the facts and figures, but the social and cultural history.Who these people were and what the future might hold for them.The hate part was that I was an assassin.
“I like researching the places where I have to spend time.”
“A history buff.”
“I guess so.I see history as a living thing.The smallest event can shape the future of a place and its people.”
“That’s an interesting way to look at things.So you don’t think it’s the great social currents of a time that affect the future?”she asked.
“That’s certainly part of it, I suppose.But I believe those currents are often shaped by small, often unrecorded actions of individuals who never make it into the history books.”
“But so many people work hard to live in a way that doesn’t affect others.They hide away, living in quiet obscurity.What about them?”Avalie asked.
“I guess that’s true.Some people do intentionally try to conceal their actions, but those actions still cast an influence on the future.”
“I don’t get that,” she protested.
“Okay.Consider San Clemente, for example.Why was the town built right here?Why build this pier in this location, rather than a few miles north in Dana Point, where there was a natural harbor, a small fishing village, and a couple of tourist hotels a mile away in San Juan Capistrano?”
“Tell me, why?”she asked.
“Because the handful of men who were behind the plan to build this town wanted a spot sixty miles north of San Diego and sixty miles south of Los Angeles, far from law enforcement.It was the perfect location to build a place where they could land cases of smuggled liquor.”
“Liquor?”she questioned.
“It was a big business in the 1920s.Prohibition made it a federal offense to sell alcohol in the United States.Look at this coastline.No harbor.Just this wide-open ocean.”
Avalie gazed at the pier and the endless vista of water, then shifted her gaze to the buildings all along the shore.“But look at this place.Building an entire town is a world away from living a life in obscurity.”
“I believe those men—most of them, anyway—saw the town as a screen they could hide behind.It was really the pier they wanted,” I explained.
“I’m disappointed.I thought they built this dock for people to fish off.”
I laughed.“Nope.And not for the kids to surf under, either.”
“Who did they think they were, undercover Al Capones?”she asked.
“Close.Bankers and judges and politicians.”
As she considered this, she formed a triangle with her utensils, with one point of the shape directed at me.“And they broke the law in order to make a good life for themselves, their families, and those who moved here to establish roots.”
“They did break the law.”I shrugged.“But Prohibition was widely unpopular, for the most part.In fact, if you look up there...”I pointed at a sprawling house on the bluff directly over the pier.Its white walls and red-tiled roof glowed in the light.“Ole Hanson, the primary developer, had his office in that octagonal room up there in his house so that he could see when the shipments were coming in.”
“He saw an opportunity and he took it.You said yourself Prohibition was widely unpopular,” she insisted.
