Murder A La Carte

by Nancy Skopin

  We caravanned off and I could see Buddy licking J.V.’s cheek in the rearview mirror. J.V. was laughing.

  We pulled to the curb half a block from Adamson’s address on 5th. I discreetly pointed out the dilapidated bungalow to J.V., got kisses from Buddy, and told him to be a good boy.

  Tooker was staying in a hotel on Broadway in downtown Redwood City. We parked across the street and I dug around in my purse for my mini binoculars. After an hour I began to regret the last cup of coffee. Stakeouts are a bitch under the best of circumstances, but when you have to pee they’re unbearable. I crossed and uncrossed my legs and squirmed around a lot, but eventually gave up.

  “I need a bathroom,” I told Bill. “Call my cell if he comes out.” I handed him the binoculars and the photo of Tooker.

  I hustled to a second-hand store on the corner, browsed a little, then picked up a small copper plate and paid cash for it, asking the cashier where the restroom was. She handed me a key chained to a hubcap and pointed toward the back of the store. I was just finishing up when my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I returned the hubcap and answered my phone, power walking toward the door.

  “He’s on the move,” Bill said.

  “Which direction?”

  “Headed toward Middlefield, on foot.”

  I was a block closer to Middlefield than Bill was. As I stepped outside I looked across the street and spotted a tall man with dark hair, three days growth of beard, and shifty eyes, walking toward the intersection of Middlefield and Broadway.

  “I got him,” I said.

  I could guess where he was going. The public library had weekend story time events that drew crowds of children. I’d seen parents browsing the DVD section, thinking it was safe to leave their kids in the care of the reader. All Tooker would need was one child wandering away from the group. I picked up my pace as he turned the corner onto Middlefield.

  “He’s going to the library,” I told Bill. “I think there’s story time today. Where are you?”

  “Right behind you.”

  I glanced over my shoulder as the Mustang passed me and turned into the library parking lot. Bill caught up with me at the front doors and we entered together, but split up once we were inside. He went to check out the men’s restroom and I headed to the area where I’d seen children gathered in the past.

  A woman wearing a fairy princess costume was setting up tiny folding chairs.

  “What time does the reading start?” I asked.

  “At eleven-thirty,” she said.

  Her voice sounded just like Glinda the Good from the Wizard of Oz. Probably an affectation, but it gave me the creeps.

  I scanned the area for Tooker. There was no sign of him. I went to the paperback racks and selected a mystery novel, then seated myself on the steps leading down to the children’s books section and pretended to read. As an afterthought I slipped my cell phone out of my pocket and held it in my hand, ready to speed dial Bill.

  Ten minutes later the kids started filing in. I wondered what Bill was up to. Maybe Tooker was in the men’s room and Bill didn’t want to leave him alone in case an unaccompanied boy wandered in. I shuddered at the thought.

  By 11:35 all the chairs were occupied with kids between three and six, and Glinda announced the title of the book she would be reading. It was called Stellaluna and was about a baby fruit bat. She held up the book, showing the cover, and there was an excited twittering among the toddlers.

  I looked around and counted only six moms and one dad present. There were at least twenty kids and only seven parents keeping an eye on them. Tooker could have a field day with these odds.

  I settled in, resigned to hearing the fruit bat story. Twenty minutes into the reading a little boy of about four got up and wandered away. None of the parents looked after him, so I followed. I called Bill’s cell. I knew his phone was set on vibrate because it always is. He hates all the ring tone options. He picked up instantly.

  “Are you still in the men’s room?”

  He texted me back saying, “Yes.”

  “Is Tooker in there?”

  “Yes,” Bill texted.

  “I think there’s a little boy on his way in.”

  He disconnected.

  Since Tooker was in the men’s room, I felt safe leaving the group of children for the moment. I scrambled between bookshelves and got to the restroom doorway right behind the toddler. I watched him go inside and held my breath. I didn’t have long to wait. After a few seconds I heard a high-pitched scream, then some scuffling noises, and Bill pushed Tooker, face first, through the swinging door, his hands cuffed behind his back. Tooker’s face was red and Bill’s was etched in stone. He was quietly telling Tooker his rights. He broke off when he saw me.

  “Go inside and make sure the kid’s okay. And find his parents. They’ll need to bring him to the station.”

  “Okay.”

  I hesitated only an instant before pushing open the men’s room door and peering inside. The little boy I’d followed was sitting in a puddle in the corner of the room, crying. His jeans were bunched around his knees.

  I approached slowly and knelt in front of him. “Are you hurt?” I asked.

  “Nnnooo,” he wailed.

  “Is your mommy or daddy here today?”

  “Moooommmmmmyyyy!” he cried.

  “Okay, let’s get you dressed.”

  I carefully pulled up his briefs and jeans, hoping not to disturb any evidence. I buttoned and zipped his pants and picked him up.

  “My name is Nikki,” I said. “What’s yours?”

  “Jake,” he said, and wiped his nose with a balled fist.

  “Hi, Jake,” I said, stepping out of the restroom. “What’s your last name?”

  “Houser.”

  “Let’s see if we can find your mom.”

  I walked to the front lobby and located an employee who reluctantly agreed to page Jake’s parents.

  Moments later his mother appeared and snatched him out of my arms. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “Try to stay calm,” I said. “Is your husband here with you?”

  “No. Who are you?”

  “Can we go outside?”

  “Why? What happened to my son?” Jake was still sniffling, but he appeared to be interested in the conversation.

  “I think we should go outside,” I said again.

  I took her by the arm and moved her toward the door, reaching into my bag for my ID. When we were on the sidewalk I held it up so she could read it without letting go of Jake, and said, “Ms. Houser, my name is Nicoli Hunter. I’m a PI and I’m working on a case that involves the surveillance of local sex registrants.”

  She physically withdrew from me as though saying the words made me one of them.

  “I was here today with a Redwood City Police Detective, Bill Anderson. Detective Anderson was in the men’s restroom covertly observing one of these registrants when your son entered the room. I’m afraid the suspect may have touched Jake in an inappropriate way before Detective Anderson apprehended him. The detective asked me to bring you and Jake to the police station.”

  I watched her eyes widen as I spoke. Finally she looked at her son. “Jakie, did the bad man hurt you?” Jake’s little face flushed and he burrowed into his mom’s shoulder. “You have to tell Momma. Come on.” She leaned away from her son, studying his face, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “I was trying to tinkle, and he grabbed me,” Jake whispered.

  I felt my stomach knotting up as Jake’s mom held him close and they both dissolved into tears.

  I let them cry it out, saying nothing, while I dug in my purse for a tissue. I came up with a crumpled but unused Kleenex and offered it to her. She took it gratefully, wiped her son�
�s face and blew his nose.

  “I need to call his father,” she said.

  “You can do that from the police station,” I said, remembering I had no car. “May I ride with you?”

  She hesitated a moment, searching my eyes before saying, “I guess so. I don’t even know where the police station is. We live in Menlo Park.”

  “It’s only a few blocks from here, on Maple. I’ll give you directions.”

  Ms. Houser drove a silver Lexus SUV. She harnessed Jake into his safety seat in the back, and I climbed into the front seat next to her.

  Apart from driving directions, there was no conversation on the way to the station. When we arrived I showed her where to park and then I called Bill.

  “We’re here,” I said, when he answered. “What do you want us to do?”

  “I’ll come out,” he said.

  We waited a few minutes before Bill came down the front steps and approached the SUV. He held up his badge and Ms. Houser lowered her window. I made the introductions.

  Bill explained what he had witnessed, told her that the suspect was in custody, and that he needed to interview Jake. He said nothing about an examination by a physician, but I guessed that was coming. He just didn’t want to spook her. Bill works crimes against persons also known as body crimes, which include homicide, robbery, assault, and sex crimes. He’d done this before and I’d heard some of the details when he needed to vent.

  After a brief conversation, Ms. Houser climbed out of the car and unstrapped Jake from his seat. She beeped the car locked, and carried him inside. I followed at a distance, not sure how I could help. Bill escorted her into an interview room and turned to me before going inside.

  “She hasn’t called her husband yet,” I whispered.

  “It’s better to get the statement immediately after the event,” he said. “You mind waiting out here?”

  “No, of course not.”

  I sat down on a sectional in the hallway and tried to breathe as I imagined what Jake’s mom must be going through. Then I remembered Scott and checked my watch. It was 12:20. There was still plenty of time before we were scheduled to pick him up. I wondered how J.V. and Buddy were doing with their stakeout.

  Bill spoke with Jake and his mom for half an hour, then he left them in the interview room and came out into the hall.

  “I need to set up an exam for Jake at the hospital,” he said.

  I followed Bill through the bullpen maze and listened as he called the doctor and explained the situation.

  “The contact was minimal,” he said, “and I don’t want to further traumatize the kid, so talk to him about what you’re doing when you examine him. And talk to his mom. She’ll want to be present. Yeah, okay. I’ll bring them right over.”

  I knew Bill was upset by what was happening to Jake and his family. I didn’t know what to say, so I just leaned in for a hug.

  “I need to stay with them,” he said. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

  “Try not to think about it,” he said. “I’ll have someone drive you home.”

  “I can walk. It’s less than a mile.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you later.”

  “Call me on my cell. J.V. and I will be with Scott after two, and remember we’re having dinner with Elizabeth and Jack tonight.”

  “Right.”

  Bill escorted me to the lobby and gave me a quick kiss before going back inside. I didn’t envy him his job on days like this, but I was glad there was someone like him doing it.

  Walking back to the marina I craved a cigarette more powerfully than I had since I first quit. This was the kind of situation I did not want to experience without the benefit of nicotine. I wondered what Bill did with his feelings. I knew he was a passionate man, but in the five months we’d known each other I’d never seen him cry. He seldom lost his temper. He didn’t drink heavily. Maybe sex was his drug of choice. I could live with that.

  J.V. had agreed to meet me at the office at 1:30, so I didn’t bother calling him when I arrived. I sat at my desk drinking a cold bottle of spring water, trying to distance myself from the events of the day.

  At 1:25 Buddy dragged J.V. into the office. Buddy pounced into my lap and J.V. dropped the leash and lit a cigar. His eyes were bright with excitement.

  I took an ashtray out of a drawer and set it on top of my desk.

  “We need to get going pretty soon if we’re picking Scott up at two,” he said.

  “Any action from Adamson?” I asked.

  “Son of a bitch went to church,” he said. “Celebration Fellowship, right there on Fifth. I followed him inside, thinking maybe he got religion in prison, but it turns out they have a daycare center that operates during church services. He hung out in the hallway watching the kids through a glass pane in the wall. I stayed with him. None of the kids left the room, so he didn’t have an opportunity. What about the guy you were tailing?”

  “Grabbed a four-year-old boy in the men’s room at the public library. Bill was waiting in one of the stalls and busted him on the spot. You have another one of those cigars?”

  He withdrew a box of Old Port rum-flavored cigars from his pocket and shook one out of the package. I inhaled the fragrance as I unwrapped it. J.V. produced a lighter and offered me the flame.

  I inhaled deeply, coughed once, and sighed. “God, I miss smoking.”

  Buddy wrinkled his nose and went looking for his water dish. After he’d had a long drink I put out the cigar and locked up the office. As we walked to the parking lot J.V. handed me the car key. He had parked the BMW in the fire lane. I let Buddy into the back seat and opened the vent windows for him.

  “I took him for a walk while I was waiting for Adamson to come out of his house,” J.V. said. “And we walked around a little out here before going to your office. He should be okay for a couple of hours at least.”

  “What a good boy,” I said, ruffling the pup’s ears.

  Chapter 17

  Traffic was heavy for a Sunday and the drive to Burlingame took longer than usual, so we pulled up in front of the Brewster’s house a little after 2:00. Before we were even out of the car, Scott was out the front door and halfway down the walk. Buddy chuffed out a whisper-bark, and Scott reached in through the open vent and gave him a pat, then turned to J.V.

  “How are you doin’ today, young man?” J.V. asked.

  “I’m fine, sir.”

  This was way too formal. I needed to get these two to relax around each other.

  We stopped at McDonald’s and got Scott a Quarter Pounder. I ordered a Southwest Salad with grilled chicken and J.V. got an Artisan Grilled Chicken Sandwich.

  It had started drizzling so we decided to eat in the car. I scanned my memory for something fun do to on a rainy day.

  “Hey, Scott, have you ever been to the Exploratorium?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you like science?”

  “Science is cool.”

  “The Exploratorium is a big building filled with hundreds of science experiments that you can play with. It’s in San Francisco. You guys wanna go?”

  The decision was unanimous, so we took off for San Francisco. While we were on the road, J.V. told Scott that he’d filed the adoption application, and they talked about the waiting period. J.V. had asked them to put a rush on the process, which meant that if they were lucky they’d be able to spend the holidays together as a family. Because it was an interstate adoption, when he got back to Seattle J.V. would be required to take a physical exam and be fingerprinted by the ICPC. There would also be a home study interview to ensure his house was suitable for a child. Scott would be interviewed by the San Mateo County branch of Child and Family Servic
es, to make sure he was comfortable with J.V. When all of that was done, Scott would be placed with J.V. for six months, and a social worker in Seattle would conduct monthly visits to see how Scott was doing in school and how the relationship was developing. After six months, providing everything was going well, the adoption would be finalized.

  J.V. navigated using the GPS on his cell, and I managed to locate Pier 15. I parked in the Embarcadero garage, and handed J.V. my umbrella, saying I wanted to walk Buddy before going inside.

  “You better keep this, then,” he said, handing the umbrella back. “We don’t mind a little water, do we Scott?”

  “I like the rain,” Scott said.

  I remembered J.V. telling Scott that it rained a lot in Seattle.

  Buddy and I walked around the pier, sniffing planter boxes and watering lamp posts. I took a bottle of water out of my purse and gave him a drink. Back at the car I fed him the remnants of my chicken salad. He ate everything that had salad dressing on it, but rejected the unadorned lettuce. When I was satisfied that Buddy knew he was loved, I opened the windows enough for air circulation, and locked the car.

  I paid the fourteen-dollar admission fee and entered the cavernous building in search of my two charges. Of course they were nowhere to be found, so I went to the information desk and asked what the most popular exhibits were. The young woman behind the counter told me to check out Electricity and Magnetism. She gave me a map and pointed out the location.

  On my journey toward the center of the building I passed the Exploratorium Store and couldn’t resist a quick look around. I picked up a Star and Sphere Kit for Scott and bought Exploratorium logo tee shirts that would change color in the sunlight for all three of us.

  I continued my hike through the facility, keeping my eyes peeled for J.V. and Scott, but I found myself scrutinizing the other adults, especially the ones who were alone. This case was changing the way I viewed the world, and not in a way that was enjoyable. Prior to this I’d had no idea how common sexual abuse of children had become. It had probably always been this prevalent and was just being reported more openly. I’d heard about it on the news, but I’d been naive enough to believe it wasn’t happening so close to home.