Читать книгу THE COED MURDER CLUB - Ken Salter - Страница 12

CHAPTER 5

I was determined to get an early start on my investigation after my troubled dreams. Monty, the sketch artist, had left a message that he’d have preliminary drawings for Mindy to review by mid-morning. I arranged for both of them to meet me for brunch at Reggie’s Place.

My call to a source in the Registrar’s office at Cal informed me that Anita Parsons had taken a leave of absence from school. I noted down her home address and phone number. Sherri Downs was currently enrolled in classes and resided in a university dormitory not far from where Mindy lived when she was assaulted and raped. I left a message on her answering machine that I had some new info for her from Officer Sandoval and for her to ring me back when she finished classes for the day.

Mindy was seated in a booth at the back of Reggie’s Place when I arrived. She’d slung her long straw-colored pony tail over her shoulder so she could play with it. Her pretty face was puffy and she looked anguished. She wore faded blue jeans and a tee-shirt with a Lacoste emblem.

She gave me a courageous but small smile as I slid into the booth facing her. “How’d it go with Monty?”

“He’s a trip. I like him. He’s got the right attitude about the fuckers who raped me,” she said with some passion.

“Yeah, he’s an ex-cop. He despises the guys he draws almost as much as the victims he works with hate them. What did you think of his sketches?”

“They blew me away, the way he gets it right. He kept asking questions the whole time he was making subtle changes to the drawings. I didn’t realize I could remember so much detail. Why’d he leave the police?”

“He’s a lot like me. He doesn’t like living by a stuffy rule book.” I lied. Monty got caught selling confidential information to the press on a police corruption deal. The D.A. drubbed him out of the San Francisco Police Department with a threat to prosecute him if he didn’t resign. He became the sacrificial lamb between two warring divisions in the force. Monty still carried a big chip on his shoulder about the way they shafted him and torpedoed his goal for a cushy pension. He likes working for defense lawyers and private detectives, but misses the action, power and inside information only the police are privy to.

Monty sauntered into Reggie’s Place with a swagger and haughty look on his mug as he breezed over to our booth. Mindy greeted him with a big smile.

“Good ta see ya’ R.C.” He returned Mindy’s smile with one of his own. “You guys ordered yet? I’m famished.”

Monty signaled Reggie and ordered Reggie’s biggest breakfast plate of three eggs, sugar cured ham and a stack of three pancakes. Mindy asked for a hamburger and a diet cola. I settled for cornbread muffins, soft boiled eggs and coffee.

Monty passed around his sketches of the three men who’d raped Mindy while we waited for our food. “What d’ya think, Mindy? If you got them in your gun sights, would you pull the trigger?” Monty asked.

“You better believe it! I’d blow these guys away in a sec.”

I studied the three profiles while Monty peppered Mindy with upbeat chitchat.

The guy called Barry, who’d picked her up, was good looking, suave and self-confident in Monty’s rendering. It was easy to see how a bored college student could fail for his line. He looked like his ancestors could have been Italian or Greek. Monty had captured his strong chin, pronounced cheekbones, penetrating eyes, his strong, finely chiseled nose and his dark wavy hair worn slightly too long. He reminded me of a Travolta wannabe looking for a dirty dancing contest.

George looked ready to climb on his surfboard to catch the next wave. His broad, expansive face was about as Waspish as one could imagine – square chin, fair skin, piggish nose, long, straight, sun bleached blond hair, dimples and vestiges of an adolescent babyface. I had no problem hearing the Beach Boys singing “California Girls” and watching nubile girls in skimpy bathing costumes skipping along the beach after the surfer hunk, George.

Earl had that clean-cut, preppie look calculated to catch the eye and interest of college girls of color looking to make a good catch or to interest and intrigue white girls into wondering what it might be like to cross the color line. It’s a look my little brother has mastered – close-cropped hair, neatly trimmed with a stylish part, light brown skin and a face with only subtle hints at the nose and mouth of one’s African heritage. Earl looked like a toned down version of Eddie Murphy on the college circuit. Monty had expertly captured Earl’s twinkle-eyed, bemused grin that was only half a step removed from being up to no good. He was just the kind of “brother” who’d inspire trust and put at ease a naïve romantic like Mindy, who lacked the street smarts to see through the facade.

I was pleased with Monty’s caricatures. Each guy was distinctive with strong, identifiable features. These were the kind of men that women and observant folks would remember.

Reggie delivered our plates and we scarfed our food down like three jailbirds anxious to get back to work on the tunnel under the fence and to freedom. I dropped a twenty on the table and left Mindy and Monty to sample Reggie’s blackberry cobbler. I wanted to get Monty’s sketches into circulation. Mindy seemed animated to be in Monty’s company. I didn’t want to remind her how hard it was going to be to find and trap these three Lotharios. She’d had enough downers recently to last a lifetime. It was good to see her laughing at Monty’s antics.

I scooted over to the office to sign off on the report for Barney Schultz and confer with my neglected secretary, Juanita. She greeted me with a look that said, “You’ve been up to no good and are headed for beeg trouble.” She usually asks me about Rita at moments like this to rub in her view that Rita would be justified in dropping me and moving on because I had not proposed to her. Juanita suspected I was still playing the field on the sly and she went to great lengths to try to catch me and shame me. Juanita claimed to be descended from a Mexican bruja, an Indian witch doctor or medicine woman with magical powers of clairvoyance and healing, and I believed her. She wasn’t about to believe any denial from me about not playing the field. She had me pegged rightly: I did love women and was weak when tempted. I was, however, trying hard to stay faithful to Rita despite our forced separation that allowed us to see each other only on alternate weekends until she graduated from U.C., Davis, near Sacramento.

I was finishing my billing records for Juanita to type and give to Barney when Juanita informed me that “a woman” wanted to speak with me. Her look reeked of suspicion and no doubt she would listen in to my conversation and probably report it to Rita when she could. Juanita kept warning me that if I didn’t marry Rita soon, I’d lose her. I hoped she wasn’t putting a hex on me.

Sherri Downs had dropped by her dorm room to pick up some notes and played my message; she called to say she wanted to see me right away, even though it meant cutting her afternoon class. I didn’t want to return to Reggie’s Place, so we agreed to meet at a small café on Shattuck Avenue, away from student haunts, to avoid her dormies.

Sherri was waiting for me at a back table facing the entrance to the coffee shop. She was dressed in a short denim skirt and scoop-necked tee-shirt bearing the Cal logo in script. She still retained some of her baby fat. She was all soft and curvy in the right places. Her wavy chestnut-colored hair with red highlights fell to her shoulders. Her big brown eyes registered surprise, then curiosity to see I was brown-skinned. I took a seat at her table while she appraised me.

“Hi, I’m R.C. Bean. I’m looking into your case with the help of Officer Sandoval.” I handed her my business card.

She glanced at it, then looked at me. “I don’t understand. I thought you must be an undercover narc because of all the drugs they used on me. How do you fit in?”

“I’m working on a similar case. After discussing it with Officer Sandoval, she thought the guys who raped my client might be the same ones who took advantage of you.”

“Did she tell you what happened to me and Anita?”

“No,” I lied. “She only said the cases had similarities and you might be able to identify some sketches of the guys who raped my client.” I pulled Monty’s drawings out of my briefcase and handed them to her. Her face flushed crimson as she stared first at George, then at Earl.

“Those are the bastards!” Her eyes were glued to the likenesses.

“Wanna tell me how it happened?”

“Not really. It really messes me up to talk about it,” she said in a whimpering tone while avoiding looking at me.

“Don’t you think it will help you if we can nail these guys?”

“How can you do that? My case was closed and you’re not the police.” She darted a maddening look at me.

“You’re absolutely right. But my client’s case is still active.” I lied again. “If you help me bring them down, they’ll go to prison for rape.”

“You really think these guys could go to jail for what they did to me?” She said with a pouty look bordering on disbelief. She still avoided eye contact.

“Yeah, and so does Officer Sandoval. But I have to get the goods on them to make a case stick. They’re real slick. The legal line between rape and seduction is very cloudy and these guys are very good at walking a tightrope between the two. If you want me to succeed, you’re going to have to tell me everything that happened from start to finish, even though it hurts. I promise you that what you tell me will stay right here with me.” I pointed to my heart and was glad California didn’t have a three lies and you’re out law.

Sherri sighed heavily. I waited.

“God, I hate to go through this shit all over again. It makes me feel so stupid and dirty inside. Why don’t you talk to Anita?”

“She’s not available, but I’d be grateful for your help in getting her cooperation.”

“Jesus, when is this bad trip gonna end?”

“These predators are out prowling and suckering innocent victims like you and my client every night. It’s not going to stop until you have the courage to help me stop them. My client is furious, too. She hired me to gather and document the evidence necessary to put these creeps behind bars. She needs your help to get the one who gave her AIDS.”

Sherri’s pretty face blanched. Her eyes met mine finally and I could tell her resistance was melting.

“What do you need to know?” she said gritting her teeth.

“How do they pick up girls? I need to intercept them before they ruin any more lives.”

“You need to know it all, then?” she said with resignation.

“It’s the only way I can get a step ahead of them. Why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me how you met the two guys in the drawings.”

“It was a Friday evening and Anita and I decided to go over to Larry Blake’s to check out a new band that was playing ‘Oldies but Goodies.’ We’d both had tough midterms in Psych that afternoon and we just wanted to kick back, get mellow and hear some good music.”

“You go to Blake’s often?”

“Yeah, it’s safe and close to campus.”

“Were the two guys in the club when you arrived?”

“No, we sat at the bar, ordered beers, and watched the audience grooving to the music.. Anita is real funny. She likes to make up stories about the people she sees. It’s a fun game we play when we’re bored and want to amuse ourselves.”

“What was the object of the game that evening?”

“We were just seeing which of us could say the most outrageous things about the collection of nerds and losers in the place. One guy was dressed all frumpy, you know, his clothes all rumpled and not ironed. Anita would say, ‘Guess he’s spent all his bus fare on beer and peanuts and can’t get home so Mama can do his washing and ironing.’ I’d say, ‘Yeah, his mom needs to wash his greasy hair, too. It’s a real turnoff. Maybe she could show him how to iron at the same time;’ just dumb stuff like that. And we’d laugh.”

“How’d you meet the two guys?”

“It’s funny. We didn’t go there to meet anyone. We just wanted to unwind with a few beers and some finger-tapping music. Two black guys came in and you could tell by the way they looked at the women that they were going to try to hustle white girls.” Sherri suddenly blushed deeply and became self-conscious.

“Hey white boys or black boys, it’s all the same game. Just tell it like it happened. It’s okay.”

“They were so obvious. These guys were trying to look so cool in tight tee-shirts and dark shades when it was already dark in the place except for the spots on the band. They came over to the bar and tried to pick us up. We just blew them off. It didn’t bother them a bit. They just went from girl to girl until one girl, who was sitting alone, invited them to join her. Anita was really surprised that an attractive white girl would get involved with those guys just like that.”

“Because they were black and she was white?”

“No, we see mixed-race couples all the time, especially whites and Asians. These guys weren’t college students. When they sized you up, it was like they were daring you to leave your safe world for wherever they were from. We were both fascinated and repulsed. One of them danced with the girl and Anita couldn’t stop talking about the way the guy moved. He had this fascinating sexual energy when he danced that most white guys don’t have. We started talking about it. Anita wondered what it would be like to make it with a black guy. You know, was it really that much different, that kind of stuff. Then these two guys walked in and took a seat near us.”

“The two guys in the drawings?”

“Yeah, It was really strange. We’d just been talking about white girls dating black guys and here comes this really nice looking black guy along with his hunky, blond companion wearing a tight-fitting polo shirt. I asked Anita if she thought they might be an item. Anita must have been staring because the two guys turned and smiled. They’d been laughing and joking while they ordered beers. It was cool because these two seemed so relaxed and at ease together.”