by Nancy Skopin
Morales was on foot so I hooked Buddy to his leash and locked up the Bimmer. I don’t like tailing subjects on foot. It makes me self-conscious. Having Buddy along made me less conspicuous, but I worried that if there was a confrontation between myself and Morales, Buddy might get hurt. Of course, I could have left him in the car, but he hates being left alone and I didn’t need the guilt.
Half a block from Morales’s apartment I realized I’d be stuck if he went into a store or a bar that didn’t allow dogs. Being an overprotective parent, I would never leave Buddy tied up outside such an establishment. Now I had a choice to make. I could hotfoot it back to my car and lock Buddy inside where he’d be safe albeit unhappy, or I could risk having Morales killed. I decided I didn’t care that much if Morales bit the big one on my watch. If he went into a store or back to the Fanny Pack, I’d keep track of anyone who followed him inside and watch for blood spatter when the following subject came out again.
“It’s a good plan,” I said to Buddy, trying to convince myself.
Morales walked at a leisurely pace from Kramer to 5th, heading toward El Camino Real. We followed him past Jack McGuire’s black BMW, which was parked on 5th a block from Vasey’s cottage. I gave Jack a little wave as Buddy and I strolled by.
Morales turned north on El Camino and I thought, Fanny Pack. I wondered if Frank, the bartender I’d met on a previous case, still worked there. If so, he might let me bring Buddy inside with me.
Morales wasn’t going to molest any children at the Fanny Pack. The women who worked there were beyond the age of consent, although some of them looked like teenagers. I was guessing those were the ones who interested Morales. It occurred to me that Alfred Miner, the owner of the Fanny Pack, would not be above employing underage girls to work upstairs, if not on the dance floor. I had to remind myself why I was following Morales. I was looking for someone who might want to kill him.
Buddy and I walked along El Camino Real, breathing exhaust fumes and enjoying the cool, but sunny, weather. A block from the Fanny Pack Morales turned into an adult bookstore. They’d probably let me bring the dog inside, but I didn’t want to be noticed. I hadn’t seen anyone else tailing Morales, so I skulked around the parking lot, trying to be invisible. A few minutes later Morales came out carrying a brown paper bag that appeared to contain a magazine or two. Reading material.
He walked the remaining distance to the Fanny Pack and went inside. Buddy and I huddled under a tree at the corner of the building. I lit a cigarette and watched as three other men entered, two together, one alone. I took a mental picture of the guy who went in alone. He was short and his feet looked small enough to match the print found in the alley where Tooker had been killed. I put out my cigarette, shortened Buddy’s leash, and walked him inside.
The Fanny Pack had not changed in the months since I’d last visited. It was dark, the music was bone-jarring, and the air smelled of tobacco, beer, and human sweat. Although there were No Smoking signs posted at the entrance, the customers and employees chose to ignore the ordinance.
There was no doorman on duty at the moment, so I walked Buddy to the bar and hopped up on a stool. Frank Waters looked at me for a long moment before recognition kicked in. “Hey, the PI! Where’s your friend Lisa?”
Elizabeth had come with me to the Fanny Pack once, and had given Frank a false name. He’d instantly developed a crush on her.
“She’s engaged,” I said. His face fell. “Sorry, Frank. Is it okay for me to have my dog in here?”
He leaned over the bar and looked down at the wagging pup. “I guess, as long as he doesn’t come behind the bar. You want coffee?”
“Please.”
While Frank filled a glass mug I looked around at the occupied tables. Morales was seated near the dance floor, smiling up at a gyrating blonde on the platform. He had some dollar bills in one hand and a draft beer in the other. I continued my scan of the room and spotted the man who had followed him in. The guy was getting a lap dance. Probably not the killer.
I spent almost an hour watching the door and trying not to watch the dancers. It was easy to keep tabs on Morales. He never left his seat. At 11:32 he stood up, adjusted himself, collected his paper bag, and headed for the door. Buddy and I waited a minute to see if anyone would follow. When no one did, I said goodbye to Frank and we hit the street.
Daylight is shocking when you’ve been in a semi-dark room for a prolonged period of time. I put on my sunglasses and spotted Morales heading north. Buddy and I followed him to a liquor store and a corner grocery, and then we followed him home where he reentered his apartment. We’d been on this guy’s tail for almost three hours and he’d never once looked over his shoulder.
I’d had enough for the day, so we got into my car and drove back to the office. I’d been remiss in documenting what I was doing for Scott and at some point he might want an accounting. Even adolescent clients who pay very little have a right to regular reports.
I spent the early afternoon typing up notes on my activities, those of my friends, and the subjects we’d been tailing. When I was finished I had a fifty-three page document and a slight headache.
Buddy and I walked to The Diving Pelican and shared an order of Bennett’s meatloaf.
After eating we went back to the office. I called Jim Sutherland and then Jack McGuire, but neither had anything of consequence to report. Vasey was window shopping at a Gymboree, and Adamson was at the Sequoia Station Barnes & Noble, hanging out in the children’s books section. I asked Jack if Adamson had a car.
“He took the bus today,” he said.
I hauled out my bar and restaurant schedule. I’d put off three surveys the previous night, which meant I’d have to do five tonight. I wondered if I could talk Elizabeth into coming along. I called her at work.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said. “What’s up?”
“I need an escort for dinner and drinks tonight. Have you had lunch?”
“I was just unwrapping my sandwich.”
“Put it back in the fridge. You’ll want to be hungry.”
“Okay. Where are we eating?”
“Dominic’s, Behan’s, Pisces, Kuleto’s, and the Elephant Bar.”
“Wow! I should have skipped breakfast too.”
“Two of them are bars, so you only have to eat three dinners.”
“That’s a relief. I’ll wear something stretchy. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
I called Bill to ask if he could puppy-sit tonight, then locked up the office and took Buddy down to the boat.
I showered and did the whole grooming ritual; hair gel, blow dryer, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. Then I dressed in black jeans and a gray silk turtleneck sweater. I was putting on earrings when Bill arrived.
“Hey,” I said. “Why didn’t Buddy tell me you were home?”
“I left the Mustang at work. I’m driving an unmarked.”
“Because…”
“Because the way this killer is escalating, I expect to be called to a crime scene any minute and I don’t like showing up in my own car. It’s too recognizable.”
“Oh. Please don’t leave Buddy home alone if you get a call.”
“I’ll take him with me if I have to go out.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you boys later.”
I kissed Bill and hugged Buddy before putting on my leather jacket. I was looking forward to an evening with my best girlfriend.
Chapter 25
Elizabeth had the door to her trawler closed tonight, but as I climbed her dock steps she slid it open before I could even knock.
“Hi, honey.”
“Hi. Are you ready to go?”
“Just let me get my coat. Come inside.”
Jack was standing in the galley sipping Iris
h whiskey, neat.
“How was your afternoon?” I asked.
“Puzzling.”
“How so?”
“It isn’t logical for a pedophile to stalk toddlers at a Gymboree. It’s a children’s clothing store. The kids are rarely unattended.”
“What’s your point?”
“I think Vasey may know he’s being watched.”
“That would make sense after what happened at the park yesterday. Do you think he spotted you?”
“Unlikely. Maybe he’s just being cautious. I meant to ask you, this guy is on parole after doing time for child molestation, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t there conditions of parole that need to be met, like not hanging out in places that are heavily populated by children?”
“I don’t know. If that’s the case he’s violating his parole all over the place.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
Elizabeth came back out wearing a calf length red cashmere coat and carrying a classic, red Coach duffle.
“Wow!” I said. “There are advantages to being engaged to a wealthy man.”
“Wealth is only one of the many benefits of being with Jack,” she said, giving him a kiss. “Did I tell you we set the date?”
“Already?”
“We’ve been engaged for almost two months! We decided on a year from next June 17th. It’s a Saturday. Are you free?”
“I’ll have to check my calendar. Of course I’m free, you idiot.” It was a year and a half away, but I took out my smartphone and entered the date as we paraded up to shore. “Have you chosen a venue?”
“Hornblower Cruises hosts weddings aboard their yachts out of San Francisco. The ceremony would be performed by a uniformed captain. Then we could cruise around San Francisco Bay during the reception. It’s just one possibility.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said.
I unlocked the 2002 and gave Jack a quick hug before he got into his own BMW and Elizabeth and I climbed into my car.
“By the way,” she said, “Jack’s going to ask you to be his best man.”
“What?”
“He wants to ask you himself, but I thought you might need some time to think about it. You’re his best friend in the states, besides me, of course.”
“Will I have to wear a tux?”
“Not unless you want to.”
“Who’s going to be your maid of honor?”
“I thought I’d ask Lily.”
“Oh my God. She’ll flip!”
This was the kind of conversation I’d been missing. Bill is great to talk to, but he’s a guy. I missed girl-talk.
We arrived at Dominic’s and I allowed the valet to park my little 2002. It made me nervous, but Dominic’s owner wanted his valets rated along with all the other employees. The young man was well groomed and polite, neatly dressed in black slacks, a white shirt, and a red jacket. He issued a receipt and thanked me before driving away, and he didn’t screech my tires entering the parking lot. What more could you ask?
The service at Dominic’s was excellent and all sales were properly recorded. Elizabeth and I took the opportunity to catch up on each other’s lives while nibbling on risotto agli asparagi, which is a rice dish with herbs, wine, olive oil, and asparagus.
From Dominic’s we moved on to Behan’s, where we sipped light beer while evaluating the bartenders. Everything appeared to be in order, although one of the bar patrons was loud and obnoxious. As we were leaving I heard the female bartender ask him for his car keys. He started to protest, but she came out from behind the bar and deftly slipped her hand into his pocket, snatching away his keys.
“I’ll call you a cab,” she said. “Ride’s on the house.”
I wasn’t sure if her proximity or the fact that her lacy bra was peeking out the top of her blouse quieted his objections, but he no longer seemed to mind. I enjoy adding this kind of detail to my reports.
At Pisces we both ordered the house salad and mineral water, causing our waiter to grimace reflexively. I made up for the stingy order with a healthy tip.
Our next stop was Kuleto’s. Elizabeth ordered the chicken parmesan and I requested eggplant scaloppini. We shared our entrées, and both were scrumptious.
We ended the evening at the Elephant Bar over Irish cappuccinos. Since it was a weeknight and getting late, the crowd was thinning and we were able to have a conversation without shouting. I filled Elizabeth in on everything she didn’t already know about Scott’s case, and told her I was convinced the killer was a female who worked in law enforcement.
She said, “How can you hold a full time job and kill six people? What days of the week and times of day did the murders take place?”
I thought back over what Bill had told me.
“Gloria and Crafford were killed on Saturdays. The others were killed on different weekdays, and all during daylight hours, as far as I know.”
“So you’re looking for someone who calls in sick a lot, or who works nights.”
“And who has strong feelings about protecting children.”
“That should narrow it down some. Can you get a list of county employees and their work schedules?”
“I could ask Bill, but I doubt he’d be willing to help me with something like this. I’ll have to think of another way.”
When we arrived back at the marina I walked Elizabeth to the gate, then stopped by my office and typed up some quick notes to refresh my memory in the morning when I would complete the reports.
I shuffled down to the boat at 11:15, feeling overfed but satisfied by the lengthy visit with Elizabeth.
Bill and Buddy were waiting up for me. I presented them with three doggy bags and they tore through my leftovers with gusto.
While they were eating I asked, “Could there be any habitual sex offenders in the area who wouldn’t be registered? Maybe someone who was arrested, but not convicted?”
Bill chewed and swallowed while nodding his head. “I assume you mean child molesters. There are several. The problem with this type of crime is that there are seldom witnesses, so we have to rely on the kids to tell us what happened. Kids are easily confused. They forget things, or get scared and change their story, so sometimes the DA won’t prosecute.” He sighed.
“You keep records of anyone who’s been charged though, right?”
“Sure.”
“Who has access to those?”
“Everyone in the records department, and all the detectives.”
“Tell me about the records department. How many employees are there?”
“Day shift, there are three. Swing shift, only one.”
Remembering my conversation with Elizabeth, I said, “Who’s the swing shift employee?”
“Nina? She’s a peach. Quiet, keeps to herself, very accurate.”
“A peach?” I felt a stirring of jealousy. “Is she an attractive peach?”
“Babe, you are the only produce I’m interested in.”
“Uh huh. So what’s Nina’s last name?”
“I don’t remember. I’ve only met her a couple of times. Something Slavic I think.”
“Can you find out? Maybe get me a social security number?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I told you IA’s looking into this. Besides, you know I can’t give you confidential information about RCPD employees.”
“What if she’s the killer?”
“Too timid.” He continued stuffing his face.
“Can you at least get me a picture of her?”
“Nikki, stop. Nina is not a killer.”
I went up on deck in a huff, lit a cigarette, and tried to mellow out. Bill’s a good cop, but he’s not objective when it comes to hi
s coworkers. I wanted to look into this Nina person. Maybe I’d go hang out in front of the police station some afternoon and wait for her to arrive. Of course, she’d be parking in the secure lot. I could pretend to have a flat tire and flag her down, asking to use her cell phone. Maybe have Elizabeth hiding nearby with a camera. That would at least net me her license plate number, but I’d need someone besides Bill to run the plate through the DMV database. Then I remembered my friend Michael—an untapped resource. My childhood sweetheart, Michael Burke, is a white hat hacker, employed by Fortune 500 companies to test their network security. He could easily get into the DMV database and use Nina’s plate number to obtain her driver’s license number. Then I could run a background check.
Chapter 26
On Thursday morning I called Elizabeth first thing and she agreed to be my hidden cameraperson that afternoon. Bill had said Nina worked the swing shift, which is normally from 4:00 p.m. to 12:00 a.m., so Elizabeth would need to leave work early.
Bill was likely to be at the RCPD at 4:00, and if he caught me and Elizabeth in front of the building with a bogus flat tire, I was toast. So I’d have to think of a better plan. Maybe we could conceal ourselves in the bushes and take pictures of the license plates of every car entering the secure lot between 3:30 and 4:30. That might work, but I’d have to find someone to babysit Buddy. He’s no good at hiding in the bushes. He likes to play in the bushes. I thought of Jack McGuire.
Ilsa answered Jack’s phone after two rings. “McGuire residence.”
“Hi, Ilsa. This is Nicoli Hunter.”
“Hello, Miss Hunter. How are you today?”
“I’m well, Ilsa. How are you doing?”