Monday's Child

by Jamie Lee Scott

  Milliken said, “Sir, we were working the Acton case. We’d planned to look into this case later today.”

  “We, we, we. You don’t think splitting up responsibility would have been a better tactic? Most of the other homicide teams work this way, and they solve a hell of a lot of murders.” He slammed his hands on the desk. “Christianson is working off the clock on this. He gets paid half what you do when he’s on the clock, and he’s doing twice the work.”

  Doozier looked at me. I was fucked. And somehow I didn’t care.

  “But, sir—”

  Doozier ignored Rhoden and turned to me. “Give me a few minutes Christianson, we’ll go talk to Mr. Cook together.”

  7

  The drive to Alameda went quick, Doozier talking the entire time about me moving up in rank, and making sure I didn’t step on too many toes. He’d dismissed Rhoden and Milliken and taken them off the case. He’d be my partner until the murder was solved. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

  Doozier had gotten a warrant to search Cook’s car. It was all we could justify. But we did get the crime scene guys to the motel, to go over the room Cook had rented that night.

  “I didn’t mean to step on toes, but Rhoden and Milliken were not going to investigate. They could have given a crap. Solving the politician’s murder was a priority, because they’d get their name in the paper and be famous.”

  Doozier laughed. “I don’t think it’s about that. But I get it. You’re going to have to learn to separate yourself from the job. Getting too close will kill you.”

  I knew he was right, and I didn’t know why this murder bothered me so much. Maybe because it was my first? Maybe because it was a throwaway kid? I looked inside my head and heart, and I didn’t even have an answer for myself.

  Aaron Cook lived in an apartment building in Alameda, on the first floor.

  We cruised the parking lot, looking to see if his Blazer was parked in his parking space. It was.

  Something told me this was too easy. It hadn’t been twenty-four hours, and I already had a solid lead. I hadn’t heard back from Rat, but it didn’t seem to matter. And our suspect wouldn’t be able to trace our trail back to him, so he was safe from this guy, as long as he didn’t get in the car with him. With what happened, I didn’t think Aaron Cook would be cruising for little boys any time soon. And definitely not after Doozier and I were done with him.

  “Car or apartment first?” I asked.

  “We’ll go have a talk with him, ask him a few questions.”

  I let my lieutenant take the lead as he knocked on apartment 1D, and we both stepped to the side of the door.

  A smallish Asian woman, about ten months pregnant, answered the door. Maybe she was having twins? Her almond eyes became saucers when she saw our uniforms and badges.

  “Officers? Can I help you?” Her speech was accented, and her voice was low.

  “We’re looking for Aaron Cook,” Doozier said.

  She looked back into the apartment, then to us. “He’s sleeping.”

  “Can we come in?” Doozier stepped forward.

  “Why?”

  “We really need to talk to him.” He looked down at her belly. “Is he your husband?”

  She looked at the floor, then refused to meet our eyes. “Come in, I’ll go get him.”

  We stepped in, but Doozier offered, “Tell you what: you stay here, and I’ll go in and get him.”

  He looked at me and with no words, I knew I’d be staying with the woman.

  “Which room?” he asked.

  “Only one bedroom.” She still looked at the floor.

  To distract her I said, “I’m Nick Christianson. What’s your name?”

  “Ling Su.” She peered up through her thick, black bangs.

  “Ling Su, a beautiful name. Have you and Aaron been together long?”

  She shook her head.

  “Oh?” I looked at her belly.

  “Not his,” she said, shuffling her swollen feet.

  I couldn’t say, “Oh” again, so I changed the subject, slightly. “When are you due?”

  “Two weeks ago. He’s a kicker, but he doesn’t want to come out.” A shy grin.

  “Does he have a name yet?”

  She finally looked at me. “Aaron, junior.”

  “Oh, so he is Aaron’s baby?” I felt so sorry for this woman.

  “No.”

  And then I heard a loud banging against the wall in the bedroom. I was a rookie, but I knew better than to leave this woman alone. There was a kitchen full of knives and Lord knew what else. But she was pregnant, and I didn’t want to drag her into the bedroom and get her hurt.

  “Ling Su, I need you to come with me. Stay in the hallway. Don’t do anything stupid. Aaron isn’t worth going to prison for, and you don’t want to have that baby behind bars. They’ll take him away from you. Do you understand me?”

  She nodded and headed down the hallway in front of me. I knew she couldn't move any faster, but I had a strong urge to push by her and help my lieutenant.

  She stopped outside the door, and when I stepped into the bedroom, a man who I assumed to be Aaron Cook was face down on the floor. When he looked back at me, I knew it was him. He fit the description.

  Doozier had a knee in his back and kept repeating, “Stop resisting or you’re going to get tased.”

  Aaron braced, and resisted even more.

  Behind me, I heard Ling Su crying. “Stop, Aaron, please stop.”

  This made him fight even harder.

  I stepped forward and pulled out my Taser. “I’ve got him. I’ll tase him.”

  When Aaron heard the second voice, he relented, and Doozier got him cuffed and pulled him up off the floor.

  “Aaron Cook, you’re under arrest for the murder of a John Doe…” Doozier continued to read him his rights as he marched him out of the apartment.

  I stopped at the door. “Is there someone who can come and stay with you?”

  She shook her head. “I come to the jail and bail him out.”

  “He won’t be getting out soon. Do you have a car?”

  “I have Blazer. We share a car.”

  I hated to tell her, but, “You won’t be able to drive the Blazer. It’s being inspected by the Crime Scene Unit and will likely be towed to the impound yard as evidence.”

  She began to shake.

  I felt for her, and her bad decisions, but I had to get Aaron behind bars and complete the investigation. As I walked out of the apartment, I said, “Call someone. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  When I arrived at my car, Aaron had been tucked into the back seat. He sat quietly, his head down.

  Doozier had gone over to the Blazer and was talking with the CSU techs. I shook my head and walked over to Aaron’s car.

  Doozier said, “They’re pulling fibers from the back hatch area. They’ve already sprayed the luminal and have a positive for blood. What kind of blood is still to be determined. But we definitely have enough evidence to hold him and maybe keep him.”

  Have you ever wanted to jump in the air and yell something happy from the top of your lungs?

  That’s how I felt in that moment. I was 100% sure I’d solved this murder. I breathed deep, and the Alameda air felt good in my lungs.

  I couldn’t stop smiling on the drive back to the station. We had him. If only all murder books were closed so easily. I’d learn soon enough, that this case was rare.

  “Good work.” The lieutenant didn’t look at me as he said it. “I can’t help but wonder if this guy would have been out there for years to come, maybe killing more desperate boys, if you hadn’t been the one who found him.”

  I wondered that myself, but I didn't respond. What if Elsie hadn’t dragged me back to the alley? Or if I’d eaten somewhere else that night?

  When my shift started that night for real, and the night was in full bloom, I cruised Market Street, looking for Rat and his buddies. I saw several groups of boys, some scattered like cockroaches
in the light, others were defiant, daring me to stop and talk to them. None of them were Rat.

  I hoped he’d had a nice night at Taylor House and that he’d had a chance to take a shower or a bath. Though I didn’t see a bath getting him very clean, since he was so filthy. I hoped the money I’d given him was enough to feed him for a few meals and that he didn’t spend it on drugs. I could never be sure, I guess.

  There were so many of these boys, and even with the Internet and most of the sex trade being taken off the streets, it sickened me to know men used these children for their sexual fetishes. The girls bothered me more, but all the same, where had their lives taken such a turn.

  These thoughts made me laugh at myself, because not too long ago, I had it all. The house, car, career, fame, and all that being an NFL player could bring. And I pissed it all away for the same thing these boys were pimping themselves on the streets for—drugs.

  I look back and think, Who has ever said, “Doing drugs is the greatest thing that ever happened to me. It’s made my life better, richer. I wish I’d started earlier because this being paranoid, freaking out if I see blue and red lights, hear sirens, has made me a better person.” Nobody, that’s who, and yet every day some fool is sucked and can’t seem to find his way out.

  Twenty dollars for a blow job, from a fifteen year old boy, on a fifty year old man. What a life.

  I thought I saw Rat a few times that night and started to pull over, but it was just another dirty boy. He had my phone number, and I hoped he kept it. Hoped he would get in touch with me. I wondered if he was going to be okay. Where do these kids go from here? I had no idea, and the thoughts that plagued me made me depressed.

  Just before closing, I stopped by La Rouge. Elsie was locking up when I pulled up to the curb. She unlocked the door and let me in.

  “Too late for food,” she said, but let me in anyway.

  “I already ate, thanks.” I walked past her and sat at the bar.

  She walked behind the counter and leaned against the soda fountain. “Coke?”

  I shook my head. “I’d take water though.”

  As she pulled a glass from under the counter, scooped the ice from the bin, and filled the glass with water from the tap, I wondered how much to tell her.

  When she put the glass down in front of me, I said, “We found the guy who killed that boy.”

  She smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Good. Who was he?”

  “Just some jerk who liked sex with little boys and had a nasty habit of abuse.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s bad. But good you nabbed him. Who was that boy?”

  My turn for the sad smile. “We still don’t know.”

  I got a call on my radio, and before I could even take a sip of water, I was gone again. When I looked back to Elsie’s store, she stood at the door, staring at nothing. The sadness loomed like last night’s fog.

  8

  The call from the department had been from the assistant chief. He wanted to let me know that the FBI’s sketch artist had finished the drawing of what we hoped Romeo looked like before he left the streets with Aaron Cook.

  On a whim, I took Romeo’s sketch and the mug shot of Aaron down to Polk Street. I didn’t even try driving the streets. I parked my cruiser in a “no parking” zone, put my jacket on, and walked the sidewalks. It felt good to be among the people, good to see the streets from their eyes. It didn’t make me believe any different. I knew the bad guys didn’t hate me, they hated what I stood for and that I kept them from what they wanted. Even though I saw it from their point of view, I didn’t sympathize, I pitied.

  Outside Shenpo’s I saw a couple, one wore a white fur coat and the other a hot pink trench. They huddled together and rubbed one another’s shoulders to keep warm as they waited for a cab. Both were well-built, and handsome. I couldn’t help but think how many women had cried when they realized these men were gay. Hell, I’d have dated one of them if I was gay. Maybe both. Men were whores that way. I chuckled to myself, enjoying the feeling.

  Once inside the bar, I did my best to hide my duty belt under my jacket, not wanting the underage boys to skitter away.

  I scooted into a booth, causing the boy on the outside to slide across the seat, to make room.

  “What you looking for guy? You look like you could get any girl you want to suck you off,” said the kid next to me. He was a pasty white boy with red hair, or I think it was red. I wondered if I’d get lice from him.

  Before I could speak, the kid with the afro, across from me said, “He ain’t getting none from his wife, so he’s here because she’d notice lipstick and perfume if he fucked a girl.”

  Another said, “I don’t wear no lipstick, and I ain’t wearing any parfum either.”

  I smiled, because they were funny, then I pulled the pictures from my jacket. Everyone froze.

  “I’m not here to bust anyone. When I leave, I’m not even going to remember you. Unless you do me a solid, then I might remember you in a good way.”

  “I smell pork.”

  I ignored the remark and handed them the pictures. “I just need to know if you recognize either of these people, and when did you last see them if you do?”

  The youngest boy at the table, next to Afro, blurted out, “Romeo.”

  Then he jumped, and jerked, and tears came to his eyes. I saw Afro had grabbed his crotch.

  “Romeo, so you do recognize him from the sketch?”

  They all looked at each other, but no one confirmed or denied. It was okay, I’d gotten my confirmation.

  “The other guy, if you’ve had any contact with him, you know he’s mean.”

  This time there were a few nods.

  “He’s been arrested for allegedly killing Romeo.”

  A collective gasp.

  So Rat hadn’t been around to tell the story. This worried me. Rat was a talker and word would have hit the streets by now.

  “If he gets out of jail, and you see him on the street, call 911, or just get as far as you can from him. He’s killed once, so what more does he have to lose? You catch my drift?”

  More silent stares.

  I placed a stack of my business cards on the table and stood. “Tuck those away somewhere, and if you’re ever in trouble or know someone who is, call me. No strings attached.”

  As I walked out of the bar, I knew I’d never hear from them, but at least I’d done what I could. I really wanted to bust the owner of the bar for allowing minors. But no one was drinking alcohol, so I let it go.

  The same couple was still waiting for a cab. Or were they? Maybe they just looked good, so the owner paid them to stand outside the bar. I laughed to myself again.

  On a whim, I stopped at Taylor house on my way back to the station at the end of my shift. It was early in the morning, and I expected they’d be getting ready for breakfast soon.

  At the front desk, I asked about Rat. Since I didn’t know his real name, I had to describe him.

  “Yeah. You the one got him in here last night?” A man in the priest’s collar, at the front desk, asked.

  “I talked to someone who said he could stay the night. You know who I’m talking about?”

  A grin crossed the man’s wrinkled face. “I know. Man, you should have warned us about him.”

  My heart sank. “Warned you?”

  “About how bad he smelled. I mean, I’ve been in this house twelve years, and I’ve never smelled a stink like that.”

  I choked back a laugh.

  “So he checked in and stayed?” The relief I felt overwhelmed me.

  “Well, how should I put this?” He tapped the top of his desk with his pencil. “He gave us the runaround, not wanting to be printed and give his real name, but eventually it all worked out. He’s a funny kid.”

  “Are you allowed to give out the information? His name, I mean. I’m not looking to arrest him or anything, just checking his welfare. And I wanted to relay some information to him.”

  “He’s not here. I
don’t s’pect we’ll ever see him again.” He looked down at his paper register journal. “But his name is Eli Browning.”

  Eli Browning. What a nice name. I wondered where he was from, so I could tell his parents he was okay.

  “He did stay the night, didn’t he?”

  The pastor, or priest, or whatever he was, stood. “He did. Then he hightailed it out of here when we told him we’d contact his parents for him, if he wanted.”

  “Oh.” I’d been saying that a lot lately. My hope for Rat vanished.

  “Don’t worry man. I caught him before he got to the door. He’s staying at Mission Place. It’s a home for minors. And as long as he stays clean and shows up for work, he has a bed to sleep in and three square meals.”

  “Mission Place? Did he seem happy about going there?”

  “Relieved really. He was really scared when he came in. Said his life on the streets was going to get him killed. He broke down right here in the reception area and fell to the ground crying.”

  Poor Rat, I mean Eli, he wasn’t as strong and tough as he tried to show.

  “I might go by Mission Place to tell him my news, but is there a chance you’ll be going by there soon?”

  “I’m headed over after breakfast. I help them prepare for the lunch crowd.” He tilted his head and looked at me. “Is everything okay?”

  “I hope it will be. A friend of Rat’s…Eli’s was killed earlier this week. I wanted to let him know that his information helped us catch the killer, and he’s in jail.” I didn’t feel the satisfaction in sharing this information that I thought I would.

  “If I see him, I’ll tell him. It may make him feel safer. But I hope he decides to stay at Mission Place. He seems like a good kid, and quite the personality.”

  I smiled at that. “I hope you can put him back on the right track. Maybe get him going back on the right path.”

  “We do what we can, but they are a stubborn lot.”

  “Don’t I know it.” I put my hand out to shake his. “Thanks for your help.”

  When I got back in my car, I knew I wouldn’t go by Mission Place. I couldn’t. I had to take my lieutenant’s advice and not make it personal. I’d never make it as a homicide detective if I let myself get too attached.