Читать книгу THE COED MURDER CLUB - Ken Salter - Страница 8

CHAPTER 1

My secretary, Juanita, buzzed me on the intercom while I was trying to finish a report on a complicated skip trace investigation for an attorney client.

“R.C., your two o’clock appointment is here. You better come quick. They’re starting to fight with each other.”

“Damn, tell them I’ll be right there.” I sighed. I needed to finish writing the report so Juanita could type it this afternoon. I had about twenty hours of billable time in the case and I needed to get paid. Barney Schultz, my attorney client, needed the report to justify paying me. As Barney says, “No tickee, no laundry. No report, no pay.” It’s as simple as that. He’s a real tight-ass when it comes to paying for my investigation services out of retainer accounts. Even though I sublet office space from him, he won’t cut me any slack.

I removed the cassette from the dictating machine to give to Juanita. She could type what I’d done so far. I’d have to find time to finish it later. My two o’clock clients were new and I’d already kept them waiting over 20 minutes. Time to put on my smile and face the music.

The yelling assaulted my ears the moment I opened my office door. A middle-aged man on the far side of the waiting room was carrying on. “Goddamn it! I can’t take any more of this silence shit and you taking sides with your whore of a daughter. It’s her damn fault, anyway!”

He was bullying and haranguing an attractive but sad looking woman dressed in black who was seated next to a college-aged young woman who appeared to be her daughter. The two women shared prominent facial features – high cheekbones, oval faces, strong chins, rosy cheeks and straw-colored hair. The older woman showed stress wrinkles around her eyes and on her furrowed brow. The young woman’s eyes and nose were red from crying. She snuffled into a handkerchief and stared at the floor.

“Stop it, Arnold. You are only making matters worse. How do you expect Mindy to cooperate when you fly off the handle at the drop of a hat?” The wife pressed the hand of her daughter and threw a glaring look at her husband.

“Well, I’m not going to shut up. I’m fed up with you both. What the hell am I going to tell everyone at work? Huh? That your daughter is a drunk and a whore?”

Juanita’s eyes were glued to the screen of her word processor, but her jaw was tight and she looked ready to unleash her claws and spring like a wounded jaguar into the verbal fray. She can’t stand macho, overbearing men. Juanita was born in Mexico and raised in a big Latino family in south central Los Angeles; she’s not good at hiding her emotions. Her fingers played an angry tune on her keyboard; she was ready to boil over.

I whispered in her ear, “Think you can get the girl in to see me without the parents?”

“I dunno, R.C. Maybe. I’ll give it a try. I can’t stand that guy! Si no, you let me strangle him, yes?”

“Just give it a try. If you can’t do it, just cancel the appointment and reschedule the girl and her mother when he’s at work. The girl’s not going to open up to me with daddy haranguing her. Try to get them to take a walk and get some coffee and a snack at the deli across the way. It may take some time to get the girl’s story.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Juanita saved her work on her word processor, adjusted her colorful Mexican smock she wore over tan slacks and marched over to the family still engaged in their domestic dispute. “Miz Rohnert, Meester Bean can see you now. He says he wanna speak with you in private first, then he wanna speak with your parents. So, you go back to Meester Bean’s office and he talk with you now.” She shooed the young woman forward and blocked the path of the parents.

“Meester Bean say it’s very important to see your daughter alone, Meester Rohnert. She’s not gonna talk about her big problems with you all fighting,” Juanita said, staring down Mr. Rohnert. “So, why don’t you just get a cup of coffee across the street and wait until he can see you,” Juanita said forcefully. She had her hands on her hips and her lustrous big, brown eyes and tone of voice sparked a clear message, “Don’t try to cross me, buster.”

Mr. Rohnert flapped his arms in frustration. Juanita’s frontal attack on his authority was unexpected. As Juanita stared him down, he sank back into his chair not sure what to do. His wife, seeing him checkmated, quickly reinforced Juanita’s gambit. “Thank you, Miss. We’re all still under the shock at what happened to Mindy. A strong cup of coffee and some sweet rolls sounds like a good idea. How long will it be before Detective Bean will want to see us, do you think?”

“It’s probably gonna be an hour or more. So, you just take your time and try to relax. I can call Rose at the deli if you’re still there when he finishes with your daughter.”

Mr. Rohnert’s face was still flushed. He opened his mouth to protest and object to his wife’s betrayal, but the two woman were now joined in a united front. Juanita pointed to the door and Mrs. Rohnert headed for the street. Her husband hesitated, but conceded his defeat and sullenly followed his wife.

I had left the door to my office open so I could see how the scene played out. Miss Rohnert entered my office and I motioned her to shut the door behind her. She spoke first.

“God, I’m sorry for all this shit my parents are causing. I told him I had to speak with you alone, but he’s freaking out. We can’t talk to him and he can’t leave it alone.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal. My secretary has handled tougher nuts than your dad. Why don’t you sit down and try to relax for a moment. I hate to take you back through unpleasant memories, but if I’m to find those guys who hurt you, I need to know the whole story from the beginning.”

She glanced at me nervously through puffy eyelids which betrayed her concerns about telling her story to a stranger. “Will you tell my father everything I tell you?” She looked scared and suspicious. Her pretty face was lined with worry wrinkles.

I looked directly into her steely-blue eyes before replying. “No, let me set you straight about my arrangements with your father. As you know, he called to ask if I would find the men who raped you. He said the police were no longer actively pursuing the rapists. He sounded real pissed off. He said he wanted me to find those guys so he could ‘sue their asses off.’ Those were his exact words. I made no commitment. I told him I could only promise to listen to your story, check my contacts in the police department and find out why they are no longer pursuing the matter. I didn’t promise to take the case and that made him mad. If I do take the case, you’ll be my client, not your dad, even though he’ll pay my expenses.”

She gave me a funny look and flipped a lock of honey-blond hair off her face with a practiced effect. “Does that mean you’ll tell him only what I want him to know?”

“Not necessarily. I’ll tell him the minimum, only what he needs to know. But I’m the final judge of that. I can handle your parents. It’s you I’m worried about. You’re going to have to level with me about what really happened for me to help you. I know it’s not going to be easy.”

I looked her straight in the eyes and she didn’t flinch. That was a good sign. She knew she would have to confide some very ugly business. Her mother had engineered the referral to me because she knew I had handled a very sensitive matter involving another white college student who’d been the victim of sexual harassment by professors at the university.

“I guess I don’t have much choice, do I?” she said with resignation.

“Hey, remember, I’m on your side. May I call you Mindy?”

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine.” She actually forced a little smile out of the corner of her mouth while she played with her long hair.

“Good, I’d like you to call me R.C.” She nodded her assent. I wanted to go slow and build some rapport to cut through the residual ice left over from her father’s ranting and raving.

“You know, picking a detective’s a lot like selecting a doctor or a lawyer. You have to confide intimate and often embarrassing information before they can help you. You have to develop trust.”

She continued to twist a strand of hair. I watched her wrestle with a decision. “I want you to find the bastards that did this to me!” she said in a raspy but determined voice.

“Good, that’s exactly what l’m going to do.”

Her fiery look told me she’d shifted whatever concerns she had about my brown skin to those who had hurt her. We were over our first big hump.

“I’ve been so scared since I found out. It’s like somebody just decides to slam all the doors shut and you’re left locked out in the cold. You feel so lonely and desperate. They give you a death sentence and all of a sudden everyone knows and blames you. They whisper and watch you and consider you to be like a leper. I hate it! It’s not fair. I’m only twenty-two years old and my life is over.”

“Is that the way your parents have taken it?”

“Mother tries to be supportive in spite of her own anger about what happened. She was sympathetic about how the rape affected me and that helped. Father never really cared about what it did to me. He’s angry because of what the situation does to his reputation. It’s like it’s my fault that he has to deal with something he’d rather sweep under the rug.”

“Why does he blame you for what happened?”

“When the cops stopped trying to locate the fuckers, I think he figured it was my fault that I got raped.”

“Did the police say why they couldn’t find the men who raped you?”

“Not really. The women officers who had me tested for the rape were sympathetic at first. Later after I was grilled by the detectives, I could tell they were just going through the motions. We’d ask how the investigation was going and they’d just hem and haw. They wouldn’t look you in the eye or give me a straight answer.”

“Who was the detective assigned to your case?”

“His name was Sawyer. I think his first name was Dean.”

“Yeah, I know the dude. Big red-headed guy with a lot of freckles and a pot belly?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I got contacts at the police department. I’ll look into what derailed the investigation. When did the rape occur?”

“Just over seven months ago.”

“Did they test you for HIV after the rape?”

“Yeah, they took some blood and tested it. They said the test was negative but to do it again in six months as the virus usually doesn’t show up until months later.”

“When did you learn you were HIV positive?”

“Last week.” Mindy started sobbing. I passed her a box of tissues and waited for her to resume control of herself.

“Did you have a steady boyfriend prior to the rape?”

“I’ve been going steady with Bernie for over a year. We were talking about maybe getting married …” Mindy’s voice choked with emotion and she grabbed for the box of tissues. “I’m sorry. This is so damn hard.”

I nodded my agreement. “Did you tell Bernie about the rape?”

“No, I was scared to tell him what happened.”

“Weren’t you concerned about the possibility of AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases?”

“No, not really. Not at the time. I was afraid he would dump me.”

“Because you were raped?”

“No, Bernie’s old-fashioned. I was afraid that if he found out that I went out with a stranger and got loaded, and wound up getting raped by a bunch of guys, he’d just bail on me. He thinks I’m Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes. I don’t think he could handle knowing I’d let myself get had by some sweet-talking guy.”

“What did he say when you told him about the positive AIDS test?”

“I haven’t told him.” She was snuffling again and more tears threatened to flow.

“Isn’t it possible Bernie gave you the infection?”

Mindy let out a hysterical guffaw and looked at me incredulously. “Bernie? You must be kidding. He’s strictly straight arrow.”

“What about before Bernie? Did you have unprotected sex with any of your boyfriends?”

“Oh shit! Yeah, sure I’ve had sex without using rubbers. The guys don’t like ’em and it makes it so damn clinical. I mean to stop making out and open up a rubber and put it on a guy is not very romantic, is it?” She glared at me as if it was my fault. I found it hard to believe that in this day and age she’d engage in unprotected sex with men she dated. I ignored her taunt.

“Did the police or medical personnel ask you who you’d been sleeping with and might have given you the infection after you got the results?”

“No, they just said the results are confidential.”

“So, isn’t it possible the infection came from someone other than the guys who raped you?”

“No way, José. I wasn’t infected before the rape and the first test proves it. Those bastards infected me. So what’s your point?” Mindy was turning feisty which I took as a good sign as she was coming out of her funk.

“Do you think Bernie will dump me if I tell him I’m HIV positive?” She said in a worried tone.

“Not if he’s also infected. You’ll both be in the same boat. If he’s not infected, he’ll scram because he’s afraid of getting infected. Either way, you’ll get a quick read on his character. There’s nothing like the threat of AIDS to find out whether he’s a man or a mouse.”

Mindy started crying again. Now, big wet tears cascaded down her cheeks and onto her jeans. The light on my telephone console blinked furiously. I was sure Juanita was signaling that Mindy’s parents were back in the office and getting restless. As I didn’t want to discuss the situation with Juanita in front of Mindy, I said to Mindy, “I have to deliver a file to my secretary. I’ll be back in a minute. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? A Coke?”

“I’ll have a Diet Coke if you’ve got one,” she squeaked through her tears.

“Great. I’ll get you one and be back in a jiffy.”