“I don’t know that for sure, although he has agreed to meet with us. Sacramento’s aunt says Louie’s had time to recover from the shock of his friend’s death. He’s also been in custody long enough to get a picture of what a life sentence really means. Not to mention that Louie now knows that he’s being transferred to Calipatria State Prison. In comparison to a place like the Riverside County Detention Center, Louie’s going to be mingling with some real bad guys.”
“Calipatria has a rep, that’s for sure. I’m glad we don’t have to visit him there. They’re holding him here in Indio, right?”
“Yes. I don’t relish the idea of visiting Louie in Calipatria any more than you do. That’s not just because of all the extra hoops we’d need to jump through to meet with him, but the fact that it’s about an hour and a half drive each way. Until they transfer him, it’ll be easier to see our new client—if he agrees to remain a client. That’s one reason I pushed to meet with him as soon as possible. We need to understand who this young man is, and why he was so willing to go to prison without putting up a fight,” I said.
“I can see how his lawyer thought he was doing him a favor just to keep him from being sentenced to death,” Kim argued. “Who knows what a jury would have made of the evidence against Louie even if his confession hadn’t been allowed into court.”
“True. Jury trials are unpredictable. How the defendant comes across to the jury matters,” I added. “After we’ve met with Louie Jacobs, we’ll have a better idea of how a jury might react to him.”
“I’m glad I can join you. Is Louie expecting me?”
“Yes. If Louie’s lawyer hadn’t already explained it to him, Auntie Agnes visited him last night and laid it all out. Since no one has notified me that our meeting has been canceled, I’m assuming he’s on board with some version of what Sacramento Lugo’s aunt wants us to do. I’m glad Betsy shared the experience she had with Xavier Oliver this morning. I wish we could hear what George Hernandez has to say after meeting Xavier before we speak to Louie.”
“Mr. Oliver will have to offer the detective a tangible piece of information to make a believer out of him,” Kim argued.
“Wouldn’t that be wonderful? For a skeptic like George Hernandez, tangible evidence would mean a body.”
“Exactly. It’s a longshot, but as frightened as Xavier Oliver is, maybe that’s because the old desert nomad witnessed a murder. In that case, he may know where there’s another body.” Kim shrugged.
“I’d settle for information about where Xavier Oliver caught sight of the Cleaner Man if it would help us understand how Sacramento became his victim,” I said.
“Sacramento wasn’t killed too far from his tribe’s casino in Indio, although it was in a much more isolated location. Maybe the Cleaner Man’s victims are chosen more opportunistically than Xavier Oliver believes, and finding Sacramento alone in the desert at night may have been reason enough to kill him. If the Cleaner Man saw Sacramento and Louie together, he may have assumed they were both homeless,” Kim added.
“Let’s ask Louie Jacobs if the Cleaner Man ever met Sacramento or if he could have seen the two of them together. Those are interesting possibilities.” Then I had what I hoped was an inspiration. “The crime scene isn’t that far from where Louie’s being held in Indio now. If we have time, why don’t we visit to get a better sense of what might have gone on that night?”
“You’re right! We shoud do that. From the police report, the crime scene is in the vicinity of the neighborhood we visited when we were looking for Frank in the Indio Hills. As I recall, you didn’t have to go far beyond that neighborhood to find a little solitude. Can we get to the crime scene by car?”
“I assume we can,” I replied. “There must be a road nearby since the tribal police probably weren’t roaming around on foot. I didn’t read anything to suggest they were on horseback either. Maybe Louie can give us specific directions to the location and tell us how to get there. You’re asking the right questions. All we need is to get lost in this heat,” I muttered, speaking almost to myself.
“We’ll call and tell Bernadette where to send a search party if we’re not home by dinnertime,” Kim teased, only halfway kidding, I’m sure. Then she must have had a sudden inspiration of her own. “Why don’t you call Nick?”
“That’s perfect! He doesn’t miss anything that goes on around there. I’ll bet he could take us to the crime scene even if Louie won’t tell us a thing.” I grabbed bottles of water from the fridge in my office, passing as many as I could to Kim. I carry a small cooler for water in my car this time of the year. Otherwise, cool water becomes hot water if you leave it in your car for any time at all. “Let’s go have our chat with Louie. I’ll call Nick on our way to my car.”
“Louie Jacobs ought to be eager to tell us anything that can help find the person who killed his friend,” Kim said. “If not, we might as well give up on the idea of getting his conviction overturned. We won’t get far if he’s still unwilling to cooperate.”
“I hear you, although I’m willing to keep trying even if he stonewalls us or tells us to get lost today. It could take him a little longer to come around. Louie needs to be sure he can trust us. What if he knows who killed his friend, but it has nothing to do with a half-man, half-spirit being, and he’s covering for someone else? Or maybe he’s scared to reveal who really did it because he’s worried that he’ll end up like his friend.”
“By that, I take it you’re suggesting he’s as afraid as Xavier Oliver of the demon-controlled psychopath dressed in white?” Kim asked. “Now that I think about it, though, if the Cleaner Man was dressed in a bespoke suit and suede shoes, he wouldn’t be so different than Mr. P, would he?”
“You’ve got that right. Psychopath fits the bill, no matter how the Cleaner Man’s dressed. I’m going to try to keep a more open mind than our ‘Doubting Thomas’ detective friend, but we’ve had great luck finding fiendish villains like Mr. P with both feet planted firmly in this realm. It wouldn’t take too much to convince me he was under the control of a demon. In fact, he claimed he had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other.”
“Yeah, and the devil won,” Kim added. I cleared a few items from my desk and grabbed Louie Jacobs’ file folder.
“Do you need anything from your office?”
“I’ve already got it.” Kim patted a shoulder bag. “Everyone’s gone to lunch. I left a note that we’re not likely to be back in the office this afternoon.”
“I didn’t even consider lunch,” I said, glancing at my watch. “We should have time to grab something once our meeting with Louie Jacobs is over. I don’t want you to keel over at the crime scene.”
“I’ve got that covered too,” Kim announced. “I had smoothies delivered.”
“You know me too well, don’t you? What a meanie to make you skip lunch.” She pulled the smoothies from a tiny fridge behind the receptionist’s desk. Even as I apologized, I picked up the pace.
“You’re not making me do anything, and we’re not skipping lunch. We’re just sucking it down on the run,” Kim said, hustling after me as we left through the front door. I made sure it was locked behind us as Kim continued to speak. “I’m as eager as you are to figure out what the heck is going on with Louie Jacobs and a dude known as the Cleaner Man. Besides, a light lunch is good since we won’t be able to resist stuffing ourselves at the feast Bernadette is preparing for dinner.”
“That’s all true,” I said, thinking that the “dude” comment could have come from Brien.
I stifled a smile at the thought of how much time they must be spending together. I wish I could say the same thing about Frank and me. I’d seen him less since we’d brought him back from Mexico than I’d hoped. My phone pinged.
“Nick just messaged me,” I said. “He’ll meet us in the casino lobby at three-thirty.”
I could have added a “whew!” My spur of the moment decision to visit the crime scene felt more reasonable now that Nick had a
greed to be our guide. We’d met Nick when we were searching for Frank. He’s an interesting young guy, not much older than Louie or Sacramento. Nick, like his Auntie Rosie, lives simply even though he receives a substantial distribution from tribal revenues each year. That in addition to other benefits to which he’s entitled by virtue of his tribal membership.
“Did he try to warn you off or ask why you want him to take us there?”
“Nope. Nothing like that. You know how closed-mouthed Nick is. I’d like to hear what he has to say about what went on there,” I said. “Maybe he’s been waiting for the opportunity to tell us.”
“It would be better to let him bring up the Cleaner Man, wouldn’t it? Although, he’s probably heard plenty with Auntie Rosie and Auntie Agnes both talking about it. I keep wondering where the Cleaner Man’s name came from.”
“Auntie Agnes didn’t understand the name either. She said she overheard Sacramento warning someone to stay away from el hombre limpio. When she asked Sacramento why he was so upset about a bad cleaning service, he laughed and called her a silly old woman with ears that were too big for her. ‘The cleaning man I’m speaking about, Auntie does an excellent job. When he’s done, everything is spotless; as spotless as sun-bleached old bones.’ Later, she heard him shouting at Louie. He called him stupid to trust el hombre limpio, who appeared to be a good man, but would steal his soul and leave him for dead, as he’d already done to others many times.”
“That is roundabout. Sacramento’s warning to Louie makes it clear he believed the Cleaner Man was a killer. Although he accused the Cleaner Man of stealing souls, Sacramento did say he was a man and not a spirit,” Kim said. “No wonder Auntie Agnes was concerned they’d ventured into Tahquitz Canyon.”
“You heard Betsy say that’s not likely. Depending on how vast a territory the Cleaner Man roams, maybe Tahquitz Canyon is the place he calls ‘home.’ What bothers me the most is that there’s nothing in what Auntie Agnes says to suggest Sacramento was in danger from the Cleaner Man. Let’s hope Louie Jacobs can tell us how Sacramento became the Cleaner Man’s victim.”
3 Calipatria Bound
The Indio County Jail is only ten or twelve miles from El Paseo Drive. It’s a straight shot east on Highway 111, and this time of year, there’s not much traffic, so our trip was quick. Louie Jacobs’ route had been a lengthier, more complicated one.
Louie Jacobs was arrested on tribal land and held in the Riverside County juvenile detention center until he was adjudicated as an adult. While he awaited sentencing, he was transferred to the Riverside County Detention Facility as an adult, although he was only seventeen at the time. He remained there until a decision was made about where he’d serve his sentence.
I assume since he was now being held in the county jail awaiting transport to the state prison in Calipatria, they must have a problem making room for him. Overcrowding is a constant issue in California jails and prisons. The facility in Indio was about to be enlarged to accommodate more prisoners. Since that hadn’t happened yet, they wouldn’t want to house him any longer than necessary.
I was shocked by the choice of Calipatria State Prison as Louie Jacobs’ destination. Although it’s designated as a minimum to maximum security facility, it’s housed some nasty inmates, including the Hillside Strangler, who died there in 2002. There had also been violent prison uprisings there in the not-too-distant past that didn’t end well for inmates or guards. The cold-blooded killing of Sacramento Lugo cast Louie Jacobs as a heinous villain. Based on Sacramento’s description of him, the Cleaner Man fit the part better, and Calipatria would be a perfect choice.
Once inside, it took us longer to see Louie Jacobs than it had taken us to drive there. When we were seated in the room where we were to meet with Louie, it was empty. I had a few tense moments wondering if he’d stood us up. A few minutes later, when the guard brought him into the room, Louie’s hands were shackled. Kim and I both rose to our feet.
“Hello, Mr. Jacobs. I’m Jessica Huntington, and this is my legal assistant, Kim Reed. We’re happy to have this chance to speak to you.” When I reached out to shake his hand, he swiped at mine with both of his.
“What else have I got to do?” Louie said as he did that. The guard gave him a little shove toward the chair where he was supposed to sit.
“Will you remove the cuffs, please?” I asked. “He doesn’t need to wear them in here with us.” The guard looked me up and down and then did the same to Kim.
“Don’t be fooled, sir,” Kim said as she stared down the guard. “One wrong move and I can snap him like a toothpick.”
“Whatever you say,” he responded in surprise. He laughed a little and shook his head as he removed the handcuffs. “No wrong moves out of you two either or you’ll get to stay here longer than you’d like. Louie does look like a toothpick, doesn’t he?”
“Sit!” he ordered Louie. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need my assistance. That goes for you too, ladies.” He chuckled at his joke as he left the room.
Toothpick wasn’t far from the truth. Louie Jacobs wore pants and a top that could have passed for scrubs except for the bright prison orange color. The clothes hung on his bony frame. Below his short sleeves, his arms were sticks poking out as he sat with his hands clasped in front of him. In news articles about his arrest, his jet-black hair had been shoulder-length. Today, it was short. Not quite a buzz cut, but close.
“Louie, do you understand why we’re here?” I asked.
“Yes, but there’s no point to it. I’m never going to get out of here. That’s not true. I’ll be in Calipatria soon, where I’ll spend the rest of my stupid, miserable life. I killed the best friend I ever had, so I don’t care.”
“We have reason to believe you didn’t kill him. Not just based on what Agnes Lugo told us either. Another man has come forward, telling the police about a dangerous man he referred to by the same name Agnes used—the Cleaner Man. What we’d like to know is what happened that night, and if the Cleaner Man killed your friend, how is it the wrong man was convicted?”
“I’m not the wrong man. It’s my fault Sacramento is dead, and I deserve to go to prison.” Tears welled up in Louie’s eyes.
“Does that mean you don’t want justice for your friend?” Kim asked, apparently genuinely puzzled by Louie’s response to my question. “Unless you say you killed Sacramento Lugo by stabbing him in the heart with a hunting knife, you owe him more than to waste away in prison orange.” Louie stared at Kim as if no one had ever spoken to him that way.
“What do you know about it?” he asked Kim in an angry voice.
“She knows plenty, Louie. Kim had to face a man as disturbed as the Cleaner Man, and she was even younger than you are when she first met him. That man took an important person from me and could have gotten away with it until Kim helped stop him.”
“If you believe you’ve ever met anyone like the Cleaner Man, you’re wrong. I can’t remember half of what happened to me when I was with him. I also can’t tell you why I met with him again and again—even after Sacramento warned me that he was dangerous. The Cleaner Man does something to you.”
“Like what,” I asked, “hypnosis or drugs?”
“I don’t know—Sacramento said it had to be something like that.”
“Did you eat or drink anything when you were together?” He looked at Kim when she asked that question and shook his head no. Then he must have changed his mind.
“No alcohol or drugs, if that’s what you’re asking, but he gave me this powdered tea. He said it was a tonic that would cleanse me and free me of the desires that kept me from being a clean-living man.”
“How did the tea make you feel when you used it?” I asked.
“It didn’t get me high, but I had a horrible belly ache. I had to stay close to the bathroom because it cleaned me out all right—for hours after I drank it. Then I’d sleep. I lost weight and still haven’t put it back on. The cops thought I was skinny because I use meth, but I�
��ve never touched the stuff.”
“The police report says you were found with drugs in your possession at the time of your arrest.”
“Yes—weed and ecstasy—but no meth.”
“Do you have any of the tea left?” I asked.
“Maybe. I don’t know what happened to my stuff after the police showed up, and I don’t remember everything I had. I was always on the move, trying to avoid going home to my mom’s house—even before the school year ended. There’s a black plastic garbage bag full of my clothes and an old gym bag I got when I started high school somewhere. At my campsite, I had a backpack, a bedroll, and other things I left there sometimes.”
“The police would have collected anything you left at the campsite,” Kim commented. “We could ask a friend of ours to check to see if there was any of the tea with your other personal items.”
“The tea could also be in the boxes I left in Sacramento’s room because I stayed with him sometimes. Mostly, when his parents were gone—his dad anyway since Sacramento’s mom didn’t mind me being there. Sacramento made me promise not to drink it anymore, so I stopped. When I kept losing weight, Sacramento thought I was lying to him.”
“Have you been examined by a doctor?” I asked.
“When you go to prison, they don’t want you to give the other inmates TB or anything like that, so I had a basic checkup. They ran drug tests too.” Louie shrugged. “Is that what you mean?”
“Sort of,” I replied. “I’d also like you to undergo a more thorough exam to see if anyone can figure out what’s going on with your weight. Is it stable now?”
“How would I know that? It’s not like I get up in the morning and step on a scale.”
“I understand. What else is in the boxes you left with Sacramento?” I asked.
“I don’t remember everything. There’s a white Bible el hombre limpio gave me, and another book he gave me that has pictures and Bible verses. It’s like a comic book, but there’s nothing funny about it—blood and guts, people being ripped apart, or burning in hell. It’s gross.”
A Dead Nephew Page 3