by Bill Bernico
“Hold on,” Dean said. “That’s only half of the good news. Tucker’s dead, too.” Dean had all he could do to keep from laughing out loud.
“This is great news,” Dad said. “Come on, give with the details.”
“Apparently Sally Feldman’s death had affected more people than just me,” Dean said. “Her father, Henry Feldman, must have been stewing about it ever since Carver’s acquittal. Turns out he was just biding his time waiting for an opening.”
“An opening to what?” I said.
“Feldman must have been stalking Carver and Tucker both since the trial,” Dean said. “This morning he found them both in the same place at the same time and exacted his own form of revenge. He waited for just the right moment and when he saw the two of them crossing the intersection of Sunset and Argyle he simply pulled away from the curb and ran them both down.”
“Sunset and Argyle?” Dad said. “Tucker’s office if near there, isn’t it?”
“That it is,” Dean said. “Feldman stopped as soon as he ran them down and just waited for the police to arrive on the scene. Then he told the investigating officer that his foot had slipped off the brake and onto the accelerator and he simply panicked.”
“And the cop bought that?” Gloria said.
“Without a second thought,” Dean said. “And that’s exactly what went into his report. The D.A. is not going to file any charges against Feldman for vehicular homicide, either. Feldman won’t even end up with a traffic ticket for his two-for-one job. Like I told you before, everyone at the twelfth precinct has had some sort of run-in with Carver at one time or another, and that slimy lawyer of his always managed to let him slip through the cracks of justice.”
“And the D.A.?” I said.
“When he saw the names of the victims,” Dean said, “he told the officers to just mark it down as an accident and let it go at that. Everyone’s satisfied and Feldman can go back to sleeping at night.”
“So that’s it?” I said, gesturing toward my two partners. “We’re out of another job?”
“Another job?” Dean said. “What was the first job?”
Gloria briefly explained how her undercover job for Mrs. Rutherford had taken an unexpected turn for the worst and how she ended up not getting paid for her efforts.
“And now this one didn’t pan out, either,” I said. “We’re all going to have to get paper routes to be able to pay our bills this month.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Dean said. “Lunch is on me. Come on, let’s eat.”
The four of us headed out the door. On our way to the elevator, Dean said, “So, had you worked out a plan before I showed up?”
We all stopped dead in our tracks and looked at each other and then at Dean. “Nope,” I said. “We were just getting started.”
50 - He Put The ‘Ick’ in Buick
“Abbie,” the captain said through the intercom, “Would you tell Detective Hollister to come to my office right away?”
“Yes, sir,” Abbie said, and clicked off the intercom. Abbie had been Lieutenant Dean Hollister’s personal secretary for many years. She walked the eight steps from her reception desk to Dean’s office and poked her head inside.
“Lieutenant,” Abbie said, “The captain would like to see you in his office right away.”
Hollister set the papers he’d been holding down on his desk and left his office. On his way past Abbie’s desk he looked at her and said, “I don’t know how long I’ll be tied up, so if Elliott Cooper calls, would you please take a message and tell him I’ll call him later?”
“Yes, sir,” Abbie said.
Dean stopped outside Captain Rogers’ office, straightened his tie and knocked.
“Come in,” Rogers barked from behind his desk.
Dean closed the door behind him and waited for Rogers to invite him to sit. Rogers gestured toward a chair and Dean made himself comfortable.
Captain Rogers cleared his throat and said, “Lieutenant, I have a bit of a situation and I could use your help.”
This was not Rogers’ usual way of handing out assignments and it put Dean on edge. “Certainly, Captain,” Dean said. “What is it you need?”
Roger’s leaned in toward Dean and lowered his voice. “It’s a friend of mine, Mary Stoltz” he said. “She tells me her daughter, Sandy has not come home from school yet and she’s worried.”
Dean glanced up at the wall clock above Rogers’ head. It was six-thirty. He glanced back down at the captain.
“I know,” Rogers said. “It’s only been three hours since the girl should have been home, but Mary tells me that her daughter has never been this late before and she’s worried. I told her we’d look into it, but it’s not really an official missing persons case for another twenty-one hours. What I’d like you to do is go and see Mary and find out what you can about her daughter. Maybe you could cruise the neighborhood and see if you can find her. Chances are she’s off seeing a boyfriend or shopping or something else that the mother had not anticipated. I just want to put her mind at ease. She’s a very good friend and she’s counting on us.”
Dean nodded. “I can do that,” he said. “I’ll get on it right away and let you know what I find.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Rogers said as Dean rose from the chair and left the office.
Dean stopped back at his office briefly to let Abbie know he’d be out for an indeterminate amount of time, doing a job for the captain. Abbie assured him that she’d take care of things while he was out. Dean signed one of the cars out of the garage and drove over to the Stoltz house near the corner of Lexington and Gower. Dean stepped up onto the porch and rang the bell. He could hear footsteps inside, coming closer. The door opened and a woman peered out at him.
“Yes,” she said. “Can I help you?”
“Mary Stoltz?” Dean said.
“I’m Mary Stoltz,” the woman confirmed.
“Mrs. Stoltz, my name is Lieutenant Dean Hollister,” Dean said. “Captain Rogers asked me to look into your daughter’s whereabouts. May I come in?”
Mary Stoltz opened her door wide and allowed Dean to step inside. “Please,” she said, “Come in and have a seat.” She pointed to the front room sofa. “Would you like coffee?”
Dean waved her off. “No thank you, Mrs. Stoltz,” he said. “Time is important here and the sooner I get the information I need, the sooner I can start looking for Sandy. It’s Sandy, isn’t it?”
Mary nodded. “She’s almost four hours late getting home from school and she’s always been on time in the past.”
“Does she have a steady boyfriend?” Dean said. “Or maybe one boy that she sees regularly? That’s usually the first place we check in situations like these.”
“No,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Sandy has been on a few dates, but there’s no one special in her life at the moment.”
“What about her girlfriends?” Dean said. “Might she be at another girl’s house? She might have simply lost track of time. It happens.”
“I’ve already called all of her friends that I know about,” Mary said. “None of them has seen her since school let out, either. I tell you, I’m a nervous wreck.”
“Just try to stay calm and focused, Mrs. Stoltz,” Dean said. “While we’re out looking for her she may call or return and you’ll need to be here for her.”
Mary Stoltz stood and paced back and forth in front of the couch. She stopped pacing and fixed her gaze out the window behind me.
“What is it, Mrs. Stoltz?” Dean said.
Mary ran for the kitchen door and flung it open, pulling Sandy Stoltz in and hugging her. They held the embrace for ten or twelve seconds before Mary released her. “Where have you been?” Mary almost shouted.
Sandy Stoltz looked like she was about to explain her absence when she saw Dean sitting on the couch and cowered behind her mother.
Dean stood and walked over to the woman and her daughter. Mary pulled Sandy out from behind her and said, “Sandy, thi
s is Lieutenant Hollister. When you didn’t come home, I got worried and I called the police. He came here to try to find out what happened to you.”
Sandy broke down and cried, hugging her mother and holding on tightly. Mary pried her daughter off her and held her shoulders. “What’s the matter, Sandy?” Mary said. Sandy looked at Dean again and hesitated. “It’s okay,” Mary told her. “You can tell us.”
Mary walked her daughter into the front room and sat her down in the recliner. Dean sat back down on the couch. Mary sat on the arm of the recliner and waited for Sandy to stop crying and begin her explanation.
“I got off the bus at the regular stop,” Sandy explained, looking at her mother. “You know the railroad tracks two blocks from here?”
Mary nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Two blocks down from here. What about them?”
“Well,” Sandy said, “I walked through the railroad tunnel on my way home and when I got to the other side, there was this guy and he had a knife, a big knife.” Sandy buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Mary patted Sandy’s shoulder and handed her a handkerchief. “What about this man?” Mary said.
Sandy patted her eyes dry and continued. “He put his arm around me and held that big knife at my side and told me not to scream or do anything. He told me there were three other guys waiting on the other side of the tracks and that I could either go with him or I’d have to go with them.”
“Can you describe this man?” Dean said. “Would you know him again if you saw him?”
“I think so,” Sandy said, wiping her eyes again.
“What happened then?” Dean said.
Sandy hesitated and then said, “He walked me to his car and made me get in. Then he drove up into Griffith Park and stopped in one of the picnic areas. There was no one else around.” Sandy looked up at her mother. “Do I have to go on?”
“The more we know about what happened,” Dean said, “The easier it will be to catch him and put him away so he won’t do this to any other young girls. We need as much information as you can remember, Sandy.”
Sandy grabbed her mother by the neck and pulled her head close to her mouth, whispering into her mother’s ear.
“Why don’t you go into the kitchen and get yourself something to drink?” Mary told Sandy. “I need to talk to Lieutenant Hollister for a minute.”
Sandy left the room and Mary sat next to Dean on the couch. In a low voice she told Dean that Sandy had described the man using his hunting knife to cut off Sandy’s dress. Then he had cut off her bra and panties and had molested her there in the park. Sandy finished by telling her mother that after all that, the man dropped her off in town again, on Los Feliz, near where it turns into Western Avenue.
From past experience with these kinds of cases, it sounded just a little suspicious and Dean needed to ask Sandy more questions. He asked Mary to call Sandy back into the room. Sandy took her seat on the recliner again, a glass of water in her hand.
“Sandy,” Dean said calmly, “I need a few more details for my report. Do you think you can remember a few more details for me?”
“What kind of details?” Sandy said warily.
“Details like what kind of car it was,” Dean said. “Do you have any idea what make or model the car was? Was there anything about the interior that you’d be sure to remember? Anything you can tell me will help us find this guy. Think.”
“Well,” Sandy said, “I’m pretty sure it was a Buick. I saw the letters on the hood when he walked me around to the side door and pushed me in. And there was a pair of those fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror. I remember thinking how dirty they were. The inside door handle on my side was broken off. There was just a shiny stub where the handle should be.”
“That’s good,” Dean said, writing these descriptions down in my notebook. “Go on. What else do you remember about the car?”
“Well,” she said, “When he stopped for gas, he put it in the driver’s side of the car. I remember him driving up on the right side of the pump. Does that help?”
“Every little bit helps,” Dean said. “Do you remember anything else?”
Sandy got a far away look in her eyes and then blinked. “Yes,” she said. “There was a hole in the dash, a round hole. You know, like maybe there was a clock in there at one time, only now it was empty, just the hole.”
“Sandy,” Dean said. “I know you’ve been through a lot recently, but do you think we could drive back to the places you mentioned so I can have a look for myself?”
Sandy turned toward her mother. Mary nodded.
“Will you come along, too?” Sandy said to her mother.
“Of course,” Mary said. “We’ll all go.”
“And one more thing I think I should mention,” Dean said. “When we’re done revisiting these places, I think I should take you and your mother to the hospital. It’s very important that a doctor collects any evidence that may have been left behind. It could make the difference between a conviction and this guy walking free. Will you do that, Sandy?”
Sandy nodded weakly. “Okay,” she said.
Before we left, Mary went into Sandy’s room and picked out a change of clothes for her. Dean took Sandy and her mother for a ride and she was able to locate the place where she had been abducted. She lead Dean to the gas station where they stopped, and finally directed Dean to the very spot in Griffith Park where the molestation took place. Immediately afterwards, Dean drove the two of them to the hospital and summoned a doctor and a nurse. Dean showed them his badge and explained the situation, telling them to collect and label whatever they found. They collected slide samples, hair samples, saliva samples and took Sandy’s clothes, replacing them with a hospital gown.
After the examination, Sandy dressed in the extra clothes Mary had brought along. Dean drove the two women home again and told Mary that he’d get on this right away and that he’d keep her informed if we caught the guy. She thanked Dean and he left, driving back to the precinct. With Sandy’s descriptions of the car’s interior, exterior and which side the gas filler was on, we were able to narrow the search down to a specific model, within two model years.
Dean cruised the immediate neighborhood for several hours, coming up empty in his search for the Buick. At nine-thirty Dean called it quits for the day and drove home. He’d turn the cruiser back in to the garage tomorrow.
The following day Dean drove back to the police garage and checked the cruiser back in. When he got to his office I was standing there chatting with his secretary, Abbie.
“Elliott,” Dean said. “What brings you here this morning?”
“I’m trying to convince Abbie to run away with me,” I said, still sitting with one leg up on Abbie’s desk. “If you’d been a minute later getting to work, we’d be gone and you’d be interviewing for a new secretary.” I winked at Abbie and she smiled back.
“Well, when you two are finished planning your futures, I’d like to see you in my office, if you have a minute,” Dean said to me.
I could tell by the look on Dean’s face that this morning was no time for levity. “Sure,” I said, and followed him into his office.
“Close the door, would you, Elliott?” Dean said.
“Sounds serious,” I said. “What’s wrong? Is Helen all right?”
“My wife’s fine,” Dean said. “It’s something I’m working on for the captain.”
“Can you tell me about it?” I said. “Is there something I can help with on this case?”
Dean explained about this personal favor for the captain and what he’d done up to this point. He described the Buick to me and the other things Sandy had remembered seeing during her ordeal.
“Sounds like a unique car,” I said. “How many Buicks like that can there be in the city?”
“That’s where I could use some help,” Dean said. “The captain’s got me doing this on the QT because he’s a friend of the family and they’d like it kept quiet for the girl’s sake.” Dean saw the loo
k I was giving him. “I know,” Dean said. “Everything says we should do this by the book and put out an APB on this guy, but I guess the captain figures that would draw too much attention to the girl and her family. I don’t know what he expects me to do if and when I catch the guy, but I’m not going to second guess him on this one.”
“You can worry about that later,” I reminded him. “Right now we need to catch this predator and put him away.”
“That’s where I could use you,” Dean said. “I scoured the immediate neighborhood last night and came up empty. I was hoping you could help me widen the search a little. We could cover twice as much area if you’d help me on this.”
“Sure,” I said. “Just let me call Gloria at the office and let her know I won’t be in for a while and I can get out there right away.”
“Thanks, Elliott,” Dean said. “I really appreciate it.”
“I’ll check back with you from time to time while I’m cruising,” I said. “Do you have your cell phone on?”
Dean fished his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “It’s on,” he said, and snapped it closed again.
“And you call me if you turn up anything,” I said, and left the office. I slid behind the wheel of my car and remembered the area that Dean told me he’d already covered. I decided I’d start from the opposite end at Griffith Park and work my way back toward the girl’s house. Maybe this guy has used the park before because he’s familiar with the area. It was worth a shot.
There was no Buick in Griffith Park itself. I was heading west on Los Feliz when I spotted a Buick at the curb. It looked similar to the one Dean had described. I pulled up alongside it and leaned over my seat to get a look at the interior. There was no hole, round or otherwise in the dash. I moved on toward Western Avenue. I drove south, past Hollywood Boulevard toward Sunset. I figured I’d take Western down to Melrose and then double back on the secondary streets. I did this for forty-five minutes and had crossed over Hollywood Boulevard for the forth time this morning.
I was driving south on Kingsley Drive when I saw a Buick fitting the Dean’s description parked on the street. I drove past it a little and then turned back to check it. I stopped and backed up, looked into the car and spotted the hole in the dashboard. This was the car, all right. No doubt about it. The dirty fuzzy dice were still hanging from the mirror as well. I drove forward to the first open parking spot and pulled my car in. I turned off the engine and grabbed my cell phone. I got Dean on the second ring.