The Beach Dealers

Jim Holt was working as a programmer in San Diego. He was attacked by his supervisor and defended himself. As a result, almost no one in San Diego would hire him.

Then, one Augie, a big time operator in the wholesale product operation in San Diego, gets busted by the feds. After Augie is arrested, a government snitch, called Angel, is knifed to death.

The feds then want local beach guy Jim to help find the killer.

The most likely suspects for the murderer of Angel are six women who were, 'Augie's girls.' The six women lost their sugar daddy and are now suffering economic hardship.

Jim interviews the six women and a few other women. Unfortunately, he begins to come to the conclusion that none of the six women is a viable knife killer.

None of the six women want to have anything to do with the investigation of the murder. They all seem to be afraid of someone or something and they won't tell Jim what they're afraid of.

Jim then begins to suspect that the boyfriend of one of the women may be the knife killer.

The government is becoming very impatient and they will soon begin to prosecute the woman who's the most likely knife killer.

Jim then gathers a few of the "Augie's girls" and runs a bluff that gets him the information that he needs to solve the murder mystery, although no one else can see the solution. Jim then arranges to solve the fear problem among the "Augie's girls."

Finally, Jim gathers the key players and explains who the real murder is and why. The final wrap up of the case is a surprise in itself.

I WAS WORKING AS a real-time programmer in San Diego. There are a lot of politicians in San Diego and I'm not a politician. Worse yet, I'm never gonna be a politician, because I was too valuable as a worker and as a result the powers that be wouldn't let me play politics. I was caught in a trap and I could see no way out.

I was working as a real-time programmer on site at a military base in San Diego. I found myself in the middle of political problems. As a result, Fat Freddie, the Project Manager attacked me and he got himself busted up really bad.

I black out during violence, such as Fat Freddie's attack. Fortunately, the military base has a security camera on duty. It's later determined that Fat Freddie did indeed attack me and that I hit Fat Freddie with a straight blast right hand that's also later determined to have broken his jaw and knocked out four teeth. I then hit Fat Freddie in the solar plexus with a monster left hook. I finish Fat Freddie with a right forearm to his ribs and Fat Freddie goes down like the sack of excrement that he is.

Despite the fact that I was the victim of an unprovoked attack, I got fired from my job and the police arrested me.

Fortunately for me, the military base security camera has a version of what happened between me and Fat Freddie. The security camera proves that Fat Freddie attacked me and perhaps shows that he attempted sexual assault on me.

I got a good lawyer and he managed to sue my former employer for a lot of money. I won the lawsuit. My winning the lawsuit resulted in the situation where no one in the San Diego defence community would interview me, much less hire me.

I then lucked into a database programmer job with a company that turned out to be in the going out of business. I made a lot of money betting against the company where I worked. I also managed to score quite a bit of pussy along the way, some of it because I helped ladies escape from the sexual predators who ran the company where I worked.

By now, I have enough money to live comfortably on the earned interest, which is good. Because of my winning lawsuit against a former employer, no one in San Diego will actually hire me. Well, I do get a few consulting jobs, but nothing steady. I'm thinking about leaving San Diego and getting a programming job somewhere else. However, it's hard to give up the San Diego beaches, the climate and the world that I know.

One day, I get a consulting job, a database type of thing. I go in and set up a database, but the job is way too simple to really need a programmer of my experience. When I get finished setting thing up, I get called in to talk to the president of the company.

The president sits behind a desk about the size of an aircraft carrier and tells me, "Mr. Holt, you'll never get another regular programming job in San Diego. Do you realize that?"

"So I have been told. I do what I can as a consultant and also do some other odd jobs around the beach. I manage to get by." (I don't tell him just how well I get by.)

The big man (Mr. Wagner. Not Wag-ner, Vahg-ner) tells me, "I have need of a man who can do a few odd jobs for me and keep his mouth shut."