“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bill. I’ve heard fantastic stories about you. Have you enjoyed the club and our music tonight?”
“I sure have, let me just say, I didn’t know I had the rhythm still in me.” Bill laughed. I hugged him, and then excused myself.
The orange light buzzed, which alerted the band that the break was over and it was time to get back on stage. We were so pumped tonight. Our sound quickly formed into song as our melody resumed, which drowned out the clanking of glasses and beer bottles as they were set at tables. The chatter quieted down and our music took control. It was one of our best nights of entertainment.
When the show ended I was starved for food and replacement of energy. There was just something about eating a midnight steak that sent a message to me, like what a way to end a fantastic night. We met up again at our favorite steak house. Bo Bo, John, Kari, and I were discussing the kindness that Bryan displayed by bringing his grandfather to the club. Bo Bo especially appreciated it, for he had sought that kind of love from his own family. He experienced a great deal of pain when his daughters moved away to Virginia. The sadness often showed on his face when he told us how they never wanted to see him again. “Going on twelve years now,” he said. “My wife wouldn’t forgive me for a drunken fling with some no-good broad that ruined my life. That kind of whatever badass attitude I once had is gone but it left me alone forever in life.”
Kari lightly touched his hand. “You don’t seem like that kind of mean man to me.”
“Yeah girl, well, I honestly still like those broads. However, I now can truly respect people like you and your families.”
John went into a coughing spell—that laughing kind of cough. “He’s really full of shit. Bo Bo knows damn straight that none of those broads would even touch him anymore. He had to give them up for a puppy dog he found on the street.”
An infectious laugh overtook our table, we cried in amusement.
Bo Bo explained to them how he found this little abandoned dog. “I named him Derelict. I can’t stay out late anymore, because I have to be home to care for him. He can’t be left alone overnight, ya know. I love that little dog.”
Chapter 26
Jay grasped the rope inside his pocket and looked over his shoulder for the cops. His body shook like a junkie who needed a fix.
I’m so fucking paranoid. My head is pounding with pain, I need to hide, and get away. But I can’t hide, I can’t be alone, the intensity is making me crazy. So much fucking disappointment in that last guy Radcliffe, my body feels like an over-aired ball ready to explode. This temporary hair dye I used to disguise my appearance isn’t making me feel safe. I need to blend in more with the skin of another. Jay wore his new baseball cap and thought how sexy he looked. Especially cool looking with the fake tattoo of a snake that slithered on his neck.
Wow, this is some kind of dirty dive I’m stepping into, wall-to-wall people dancing. Shit, I’m digging how that whore grinds her body up against me as I make my way across the floor to the bar. I’ll humor her with a few moves of my own, just enough to make an erection. Tease her with a feel of it and walk away. Jay spotted a skinny guy who sat at a back booth; he had smooth-looking skin with long blond hair.
Jay ordered a double scotch on the rocks and drank down about a shot of it before he approached the guy’s table.
I can’t hang around in public for too long. I just need to take him and get the hell out of here.
The skinny guy noticed Jay walk towards him and with a flirtatious grin, he said, “You’re a new boy here, aren’t you? Hello, I’m Rick.”
“Not so new,” Jay replied and sat down. “Well, Rick, I’m kind of a boring man, I don’t like dancing. I like to camp in a tent and fish along streams in the woods.” This type of conversation helped Jay transform his mind into a tranquil state. He was surprised to hear Rick enjoyed the same stuff. “Same here, sweetie, those are my favorite things except for the fact that I do like to dance,” Rick said.
From there, he did most of the talking and Jay kept smiling. Rick shared his experience of climbing through Multnomah Falls and hiking the vast trails that beckoned tourists to Oregon’s outdoors.
Both men had been so engrossed in conversation that the hours passed by without either one of them noticing. Rick moved his hand to Jay’s face and caressed his cheek. He lightly stroked the skin further down to Jay’s neck. But that was it, just a sensual gesture. They ordered more drinks and continued to talk for another hour. Jay found himself in unknown territory, because he felt pleasure from Rick without having sex.
Two young girls danced their way to Rick’s table. The brunette reached her arms out, motioned for Rick’s hands and pulled him onto the floor. Perhaps they didn’t notice how much Rick was into liking Jay, but it was all about the fun energy of the night.
Vicious flirtation from one girl left Rick embarrassed as he felt her hand slide down his waist and she put her finger inside the front of his pants. They danced a couple of songs together then called it a night. Jay shuffled and grinded with the other girl, which turned Rick on. Sexually ready, he grabbed Jay’s hand and left the dance floor. He guided Jay into a narrow hallway, after stepping down several steps they were in a semi-dark room. Through the dim light the contour shapes of both men and women moved on the floor in a sexual motion.
All this naked mass of people, shit, I would love to slice my knife into someone’s leg tonight. My erection is bursting; I know they want me. I need them, those fucking whores. Damn this headache, what the fuck is happening to me? I feel strange and out of control, I don’t think I want to be here anymore!”
Rick grabbed Jay’s hand and brought him to the side of a wall then stopped at a green door. He opened and closed it fast. “Wonderful, this is a private room just for two.”
Again, that fucking evil intrudes my mind. The blackness oozed over my face like a blanket covering up who I once was. I know my knife and rope are itching for me to take them out of my pocket. I can almost see Rick’s blood pouring from his thigh. His fucking eyes bulging. Damn this headache! I really don’t want to hurt this guy, not Rick.
Jay shook the evil voices from his head, and then told Rick he’d be right back—he had to go to the bathroom to piss. Fast, just as slick as a jackrabbit, Jay exited the club, he ran down the sidewalk. He got on a bus, which had just made a stop, and was loading passengers. With haste, he threw coins into the meter and made his way to the middle seats.
Mentally overtaken by his own fear tonight, this was the first time Jay had stopped himself instead of allowing the evil to appear. It felt good not to harm Rick. Even though he was confused by his unexpected feeling towards Rick—he realized for the first time, he might actually be able to care for someone.
Chapter 27
John slammed down his drink and paced the kitchen floor. He opened the back door, letting it slam shut behind him, and walked across his yard. “Damn, Jack finally gets settled with his family, then this! It’s so unfair; he was one of the better men!” he yelled, actually crying in frustration.
A car engine sounded in the driveway. The rattling noise of his backyard gate swung open. Ryan Bufet appeared carrying a twelve-pack of beer. A couple of hugs between them with a few pats on each other’s backs and, without a word, they popped one open and sat down.
Bo Bo had already taken care of their business arrangements and then he canceled this week’s club performances. He arranged everyone’s airline reservations for their four-day stay in Sacramento. He pushed Send on his cell phone and spoke to me.
“Hey, Steven, our buddy, Jack, the guitarist who used to play gigs with us. Well, he had a massive heart attack and died in his sleep last night.”
“That’s horrible, I’m so sorry for your loss,” I genuinely told him.
After explaining a little more of their situation, Bo Bo asked me if I would take care of his dog Derelict. “I’ll bring him over in the morning on my way to pick up John.”
“No problem
, I’ll watch the little guy for you. Take care, goodbye.”
Anxious and feeling guilty for not staying in touch with my mom, I uploaded the picture of Kari and I that was taken at the pier. I wrote a brief email to inform her of my journeys and that I had been accepted to perform regularly at a nightclub. Closing with: I send my loving best wishes to you, your son, Steven.
I immediately called Kari to let her know what had taken place with the guy. I told her that my week would be free time to spend with her. “I just would like a couple of days by myself to tour the city, ya know, so I can take it in the quaintness in my own quiet way.”
“I understand, I think that’s way cool,” Kari said. “I have a great idea, why don’t you and Derelict come to Tillamook with me for the weekend. We can ride horses while the dog roams the farm. I’m sure my dad could use your help with work.”
That actually sounded like fun, I told her, and then ended the call saying, “I love you.”
Derelict arrived at my house full of energy. We bonded while he licked my hands. What a beautiful miniature collie he was, so furry, with markings of black and white tones. Bo Bo, being the proud father that he is, explained that Derelict studded over ten pups thus far, practically bragging about the bitches he laid. He visited a while longer, and held Derelict until he felt comfortable letting go. Then, sneaky like a fox, Bo Bo slid out the front gate with a quick wave goodbye. I found this amusing how sensitive he was with Derelict, when he seldom showed such sentiment.
I made breakfast for the two of us, a bowl of water and fresh food, which I placed in the backyard for Derelict, and an egg omelet for me. We ate on the lawn. Acclimating Derelict to his new surroundings, I hoped he felt safe enough so he wouldn’t bark the entire time I was gone later today. “Okay, little guy, I’m giving you strict orders to guard my house, and no digging in the dirt.”
I locked the back gate before heading to the bus stop, my destination Powell’s City of Books Store. It’s supposed to be a fascinating bookstore in downtown Portland, one that occupied the space of an entire city block.
I opened the large doors and entered a huge brick building. I was aghast at the incredible selection of books displayed on the shelves. There must be over three thousand books here.
Filled with enthusiasm I first made my way down the aisle of music. I noticed a sign to my left, written on it was; rare book room. Curious, I entered there. Rows and rows of shelving led to an amazing collection of first edition autographed books. After I viewed several ranging from history, to music and poetry, I came across this unique one. I began reading it and found myself unable to put it down. I was mystified with its writings; its properties seemed to embellish my soul. I had to buy it for $225.00. “Le Jazz d rphee” 1934 French poetry signed by author Abel Doysie. As I held it I noticed the cover design had embossed French deco art. I loved it.
Following the maze of shelves, I soon found myself back on the main floor where I spent another hour searching, and then purchased two more books. I walked upstairs to the Pearl Room that hosted many artists and photography. Today’s featured exhibit was of a famous photographer presented in black and white creations. I was taken in by her visual eye, and drawn into her compositions. I had a new respect for these outstanding pictorial accomplishments.
I felt the rumble of hunger growl in my stomach. I tucked my rare book into my backpack as if it were a piece of gold and walked outside. Coffee, a sandwich, and people-watching were the event for the rest of my afternoon. Not too many people strolled about this hour of the day. I noticed a pair of grandparents laugh as they watched their granddaughter attempt to lick the ice cream from her cone before it melted on her clothes. The little girl’s face expressed embarrassment, as she feared the worst scolding from her grandparents. The ice cream had won and several spots stained her blouse. The grandmother cleaned the child’s face with a cloth, and teasingly giggled as she helped herself to some ice cream, which soon melted and continued to drip down the cone. The girl pushed her head back. Squeezing her eyes shut, she giggled too and brought her mouth onto the cone.
Gray fog rolled in with a crack of thunder in the sky, I felt that was the signal it was time for me to go home. I was greeted by a barking, yet playful dog, I discovered I liked him. It was kind of nice coming home to someone. I shook my keys, opened the back door and shouted, “Come on boy, let’s go inside and I’ll play some music for you.”
The rain poured down, the wind gusted and shook the tree branches, which set a creepy tone for the two of us. Derelict sat at my side whining. I’m sure the storm frightened him. I softly strummed my guitar and delved into a slow jazz number. Perhaps it would calm him. Music and a scented candle burning, we embarked on our first night.
Chapter 28
The phone calls kept coming in because the Portland media received gossip on the double homicide. Captain Clark read the notes from the officers who had interviewed people who may have seen the killer of Radcliffe and Tracy.
“Our suspect has been described as a tall man with short hair, a skinny man with long hair wearing a baseball cap. One person said he was short with long curly hair. I don’t think anyone gives another person a true look anymore. People often glance at someone with the instinct of “knowing” that person, without accurately observing them.”
“Captain Clark, here’s one more report that just came into the station.” A young officer handed him the intake notes.
“The report stated that a lady claimed she saw our suspect. A woman said she was watching a volleyball game at the beach when she noticed a man and became fearful but couldn’t figure out why. She then recalled the sketch that was placed on the local news. To her, this man resembled him. She stated she recognized the dark haired man who was a prime suspect in the murders that took place on a boat. He had long curly brown hair and no hat. He wore blue jeans and a t-shirt, and sat content in the sand watching the game. When she got home, she explained this to her husband, who told her she was imagining things again. I guess she often has bouts of dementia. End of statement,” Clark finished. “Did anyone else react this way during the time he was on the beach; like from the other players or beach combers?”
“None of them came forward, and the lady left before the volleyball game ended. She said she didn’t pay much attention to the people he was with,” the officer replied.
Waste of time and paper, Clark thought, frustrated when he dismissed the officer. “Our best lead thus far seemed to be the Freetone Club where the suspect first encountered Radcliffe and Tracy. I’m going over there myself to re-question everyone.” Clark grabbed his keys.
Just then an officer yelled for him to wait. “Call came in: a fisherman was fishing at the pier about a hundred yards from where Radcliffe was murdered. Floating on the water was a partially torn plastic bag with clothes protruding out of it. A couple of the guys who fished with him were able to snag the bag and pull it onto the shore. When they saw bloodstains and a Mariners’ baseball cap inside the bag, they became nervous and called the station. The fishermen stated that they had seen the report on the news that pertained to the recent double homicide.”
“Excellent. Let’s roll, we’ll meet up at the shoreline,” Clark said.
The fishermen were hovering over the bag when they arrived. The men appeared to be in their sixties, strong-bodied men who said that they fished there on a regular basis, about five days a week for three hours. They got together for breakfast at a nearby café every morning at five, and had been doing this for the past six years. However, today happened to be the first time they caught laundry.
Clark thanked them for using good judgment in their care of the garments. He explained that most people would have sprawled the clothes out onto the sand, which would have altered the evidence.
When the first officer arrived with his camera, he shot pictures of each man then took several more of the bag with the clothes. Clark put on gloves and proceeded to examine the articles and placed them individually into evid
ence bags. Noted items were a pair of pants, button-up collared white shirt, socks, briefs, and a baseball cap. He then noticed the ridged tear at the bottom seam on the bag.
“The killer must have put rocks in the bag along with his clothes, hoping to weigh it down. When the bag split, it formed a hole for the rocks to fall out that allowed the bag to rise to the surface. Listen guys, I’d like you to take these items to our forensic lab, I’m going to the Freetone Nightclub to get more answers,” Clark told them.
* * * *
After he ordered a soda drink from the bar, Clark gulped it down, impatiently waiting for the manager. He observed the room for anyone suspicious and noticed how crowded the place was during lunch hour. A tall redhead waitress approached. “Hi, I’m Nancy. The manager sent me to speak with you regarding Tracy.”
“Thank you for taking the time. Let’s sit at a table near the back wall,” Clark said.
She spoke right away, in a very open manner. “Yeah, I knew Tracy and Radcliffe real well, even intimately. That’s just how it was with them, and I liked it. Both of them fed off the pleasures of each other’s partners, whether it was about sex or money. They weren’t scum or bad people, just sexually playful.”
“Did they ever speak about violent acts that they liked to pursue with these partners, or would this be something they casually just did?” Clark asked, sarcastically.
“No, I’ve never seen or heard of them participating in tortuous sex acts, wanting it or giving that kind of shit, I don’t believe that was their thing.”
“Have you ever seen the suspect in this bar before, or, for that matter, have you ever seen him anywhere?” Clark persisted.
“I don’t recall seeing that man before, he sat at the bar probably for an hour, and didn’t speak to anyone.”
With a Tilt of My Hat Page 9