Murder in Vein

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  Still antsy, Madison grabbed her car keys and jacket. She was almost to her car when she had second thoughts about leaving. But, she reasoned with herself, no one told her she couldn't go anywhere today. And it was still daylight. She'd be safe in the daylight. Now would be a perfect time to find Cubby and see if she could pinpoint the Porky connection. Once it started getting dark, she'd come back.

  Turning on her heels, Madison returned to the house. Just in case the Dedhams rose before she got back, she scribbled out a quick note saying she was running an errand and would be back before dark. If they needed her, they could call her cell. Earlier in the day, she'd made sure to save the Dedhams' number to her cell phone's address book. If she ran late, she would give them a call and let them know she was fine. Samuel had made her add both his and Colin's numbers before she left his home that morning.

  Excited to get out of the house on her own for a change, Madison never noticed the dark sedan pulling away from the curb and following her through the canyon.

  Without the cloak of darkness, the section of Hollywood Boulevard where they'd found Cubby looked seedier than it had the night before. It had drizzled on and off most of the day, making the broken concrete sidewalks look like soggy cardboard. In the gutters, sodden trash stuck together like lumps of dirty Velcro. She drove past the boarded-up storefronts where Cubby had sat the night before, but he wasn't there.

  Remembering that Stacie had said she thought Cubby had been living in an alley not far from the spot, Madison turned down the first street and then turned into the alley that ran behind the storefronts. It was short and a dead-end. She turned the car around and slowly made her way back out to the street, keeping her eyes peeled for signs of Cubby.

  Working her way methodically through the maze of alleys, side streets, and parking lots, Madison covered the area between Hollywood and Sunset Boulevards and found nothing. She crossed the major intersection and did the same to the large block to the east; again, nothing. Mostly she just spotted people trotting through the rain from buildings to their cars and vice versa. It was nearing the end of the business day, and people were mostly leaving.

  Moving another block east, closer to the freeway, she spotted a ragged couple hovering in a back alley doorway. She got out of her car and approached them. "Do you know a man named Cubby?" she asked.

  The man, white, with long, straggly gray hair, nodded but didn't look up. The woman, a female copy of the man right down to the smell of cheap booze, glared at her.

  "Do you know where I can find him?" Madison asked.

  The man remained silent, but this time he looked at Madison. His eyes were bloodshot. He shook his head.

  Madison prodded with another question. "Do you know Porky?"

  The man looked down and nodded. The woman said nothing but continued to stare, her eyes as runny as her nose.

  "Know where I can find him?"

  The man jerked his head up. "Porky ain't a him."

  "Is it a place? Can you tell me where it is?"

  "Porky ain't a place neither."

  The puzzle and the man's cryptic answers were frustrating Madison. She fought to contain her composure. Whatever Porky was, at least the man had acknowledged knowing it. "Okay," she said, trying again. "How can I find Porky?"

  The man started to say something, but his words were interrupted by a spasm of coughs. He lifted a trembling hand and pointed off in the distance. "Near the freeway."

  "Anything more specific?"

  "Fuck off, bitch," snapped the woman. "Can't you see he's sick?"

  "Can I get you something?" Madison asked. "Some help?"

  The woman glared at her. "Just leave us alone."

  Madison dug into her purse, pulled out ten dollars, and held it out toward the couple. Between tipping the waitress at Bloodlust, feeding Cubby, and now this couple, Madison was going through her paycheck pretty damn fast. The woman eyed the money as if it were a snake, then snatched it before Madison could change her mind. Madison figured they were probably going to spend it on booze, but maybe the booze would at least keep the old guy warm.

  As she walked away, Madison heard the man mutter between coughs, "Near Hollywood. Freeway near Hollywood"

  It was a few blocks to where Hollywood Boulevard crossed over the Hollywood Freeway. Madison pulled into the parking lot of a corner burger joint almost next to the freeway. Ordering a burger and Coke, she sat in her car and ate while looking around at the area. It was going to be easier to continue on foot here. Several streets crisscrossed at odd angles, and building positions were less orderly. It would be almost impossible to cover the area in the car. The rain had stopped, but the sky didn't look like it was through dumping.

  Swallowing the last of her burger and taking a big swig from her Coke, Madison scrounged around in the back seat of her car until she located a ball cap. It was navy blue, with Auntie Em's emblazoned in white across the front, a gift from Kyle to all his employees last Christmas, along with a small-a very smallbonus. Madison put the cap on her head and pulled her hair into a ponytail, threading it through the opening in the back of the cap. Then she stuck her ID and some cash into her jeans pocket and her cell into her jacket pocket. After stuffing her purse under the front seat, locking the car, and using the filthy ladies' room at the burger place, she was ready to go. She had a lot of area to cover before darkness sent her back to Topanga.

  The man in the alley had said Porky was near the freeway and Hollywood Boulevard. Even though that narrowed it down considerably, it still left a lot of nooks and crannies to investigate in a short time. Before leaving the restaurant, she'd asked one of the counter guys if he knew anything about Porky. He'd screwed up his face, then shook his head in the negative.

  "How about homeless people?" she prodded.

  The guy behind the counter, a scrawny twenty-something Latino with a sparse moustache and tattoos dripping from under the short sleeves of his tee shirt with the burger joint logo, looked at her with suspicion.

  "I'm a journalist," Madison lied, "doing a piece on the homeless in Hollywood. I'm told several homeless live here near the freeway."

  He nodded, giving her more attention than she welcomed. He looked her up and down, the suspicion giving way to a lascivious grin. "They around. But the real story is here, chica. I'm the story you lookin' for."

  "You ever hear of a guy named Cubby?" she asked, ignoring his come-on. "Old black guy."

  "Yeah, I know him." The grin turned to a scowl of disgust. "Comes in now and then for a burger when he's got money. Drives off customers with his stink and crazy talk."

  "Crazy talk?"

  "Vampires, chica." The guy laughed as he wiped down the counter with a dirty cloth. "Last time the old guy was in here, he says he seen vampires." He squinted at her with a slow smile. "You lookin' for vamps, baby? I'll bite you if you want"

  Madison gave him a smile, thinking how the guy would piss his pants if he ever saw a real vampire at work.

  "Thanks, but maybe another time." She looked out the door, at the freeway. "So this Cubby guy," she said, continuing with her train of questions. "He might be interesting for my piece. He live around here?"

  The guy shrugged, realizing he was getting nowhere. "I seen him a few times on the other side of the freeway, digging in trash-maybe there. Haven't seen him in a couple of days, though." He threw the dirty rag in a nearby sink. "Good riddance."

  "Can I leave my car here while I take a look?"

  "This ain't no park 'n ride." He gave her the up-and-down stare again. "Then again, maybe I could be persuaded."

  Madison dug a ten-dollar bill out of her pocket. "I hear this is the going price these days for non-valet parking in Hollywood"

  Just as customers came into the greasy shack, the guy snatched the money. "I'll watch it for ya."

  "Thanks. It's the old silver Honda. I shouldn't be long."

  Madison took off, hoping the guy didn't call his 'hood friends to boost her car while she was gone.

&nbs
p; THIRTY-TWO

  ince the guy in the burger joint said he'd seen Cubby on the other side of the freeway, that's where Madison headed first.

  She jogged down Hollywood Boulevard, crossed over the freeway, and came to a stop at the first cluster of buildings. The guy hadn't said which side of Hollywood Boulevard he'd seen Cubby on, north or south, just that it was on the other side of the freeway.

  Standing in front of a squat building that housed a secondhand store, Madison took a minute to think about where she would go if she was homeless and needed shelter. Then again, she was nearly homeless-with questionable options.

  If she needed shelter and chose this area to live in, Madison thought she might stick close to the buildings next to the fence that bordered the freeway. They might afford some protection against the elements and provide a little privacy. Even though there was a decent clearance between the fence and the buildings and it was paved, it wasn't wide enough for cars to drive down. And along the fence, weeds had been allowed to grow unchecked. Anyone holed up along there would not be disturbed very often or easily seen.

  Madison carefully entered the space, keeping her eyes peeled for signs of life, both human and animal. As much as it was a perfect spot for homeless squatting, it was also a great spot for rats. Scraps of paper, fast-food bags, and disposable cups littered the vegetation along the fence, stuck fast to the tall, thin weeds like large chunks of dandruff. When her sneaker landed on a slippery piece of decayed fruit, Madison started to lose her balance. Suppressing disgust, she put out a hand to the stucco side of the low building to steady herself and found it sticky and grimy from rain-drenched dirt. Before moving on, she wiped her hand on her jeans and scraped the bottom of her sneaker against the pavement, then reminded herself this was no time to be prissy. Her time was growing short.

  Behind the low building was a set of dumpsters. Madison stood on her toes and peered in. Nothing. Nothing around them either. There were a couple of cars parked behind the secondhand store but no sign of people. The rain was keeping most visitors to this dismal area at a minimum.

  Across the parking lot was another depressing building, followed by another. It seemed to be an old, run-down business complex. The buildings were all gray, their walls showing chunks of missing stucco, especially at the corners of the buildings, as if they'd been chewed on by large rats. They stood near each other, one after the other, with small parking alleys between them. Each had faded, unlit signs describing what type of business they held, and most looked closed, with iron bars on the windows and doors. Only the secondhand store had cars in its parking area.

  Madison moved past each depressed building, checking each one's dumpster area for signs of life. So far, she'd met neither human nor animal. The rain had started up again, coming down soft but steady. She zipped up her jacket against the cold and wet and kept moving.

  Just after the last building in the group, she spotted another set of similar-styled buildings. These looked in worse repair than the others, possibly even abandoned. They were set vertical to the first set, their fronts facing in the direction of a small, dingy side street instead of Hollywood Boulevard. She wove her way in and around these buildings and their dumpsters. Cubby had said he wasn't going back to his former place, but she might find someone who knew where he had gone or who knew more about this Porky.

  Behind the last building, the one with its back close to the freeway fence, Madison found something promising. In a nook made by one building abutting another was a heap of cardboard. It wasn't stacked one piece on top of the other, ready for trash pickup, but was arranged in a crude shelter. Two sides of the small abode were made up by the rough sides of the buildings. The front and top were of thick, flattened cardboard.

  With caution, Madison looked inside, expecting to find someone trying to keep out of the rain, but it was empty except for scraps of ragged cloth and pieces of crushed plastic pushed up against one wall and covering the ground. Like the group of buildings, it had an abandoned feel about it. It might have been Cubby's home, or it might have belonged to another unfortunate soul. She moved on.

  Hunkering down more inside her jacket, Madison moved forward, slower now, her eyes scanning every detail of the area around the cardboard house. Her ponytail was soaked, and her feet were wet. A chill was building, working its way from the outside in toward her core. It only added to the creepiness of the place. Good sense told her to turn back. Madison beat back her fear, setting it off to the side, along with the cold, to be dealt with later. Whatever direction her life took, she knew she could not move forward until the killings were resolved.

  A little farther past the building, she found evidence of another possible dwelling. This one was under a low corrugated piece of metal that had been wedged against the fence and a short shrub. Around it, cardboard had been used to establish crude walls affixed to the fence and metal roof with scraps of twine. Compared to the size of the last one, this seemed like a duplex. Again, it looked abandoned.

  Now that her eyes knew what they were looking for, Madison started seeing them. Scattered throughout the area between the dilapidated buildings and the fence was a small village of crude shelters made of cardboard and other cast-off materials. There weren't many, maybe a half dozen or so. She approached each one with care. She didn't want to frighten anyone, nor did she want any unpleasant surprises, but each appeared abandoned. She wondered if the occupants had gone in search of drier shelter or if something had frightened them off, as it had frightened off Cubby. If Cubby had seen killings in the area, maybe other homeless had, too. Maybe this was why the drunk in the alley had been so reluctant to tell her about it. He'd said Porky was out this way. Having found the cluster of makeshift shelters, Madison felt certain she was close to identifying Porky. Once she had the information, she would go back to her car and contact Samuel; she'd leave the rest to them. Thinking about Geoff and the dead girls, and what was done to them, Madison was feeling less squeamish about the council's methods of meting out justice.

  She'd gone a little farther when she let out a faint squeak of surprise. Scooting over to the side of a building just past the last shelter, she examined the wall near a rusty dumpster. She'd found Porky.

  Porky wasn't a person and it wasn't a place: it was a drawing. Painted on the wall, partially concealed by the dumpster, was the faded likeness of Porky Pig, complete with his little blue jacket, red bow tie, and perky smile. The paint was faded and chipped, but it was clear to Madison's eye that at one time it had been a very good rendition of the popular Looney Tunes character.

  Madison stepped back and surveyed the area around the drawing. The buildings had gotten more and more dilapidated as she'd moved farther away from Hollywood Boulevard. She looked back toward the busy street and was surprised by how far she'd walked in her single-minded quest for Porky. Cars and trucks on the freeway buzzed by below, hidden from view behind tall weeds and oleander that edged the fence. Overhead, the sun was a fading memory.

  Excitement filled her. She was no longer bait set out by the vampires. She'd found the key to Cubby's mumblings. The killings had to have happened here or near here. Samuel and his crew could search the place tonight.

  It would only take her a few minutes to jog back to her car, but she didn't want to wait. As she started walking away from Porky, Madison pulled her cell out of her pocket and started to find the speed dial for Samuel. She didn't know if he'd be up yet, but she could at least leave him a message to call her.

  In her triumph, Madison didn't hear the steps coming up behind her or feel the blow that sent her sprawling to the ground.

  THIRTY-THREE

  y, my, my," said a voice coming out of the dark fog that engulfed Madison's brain. "Looks like we got an early Christmas present."

  Madison opened one eye. Her head hurt like it'd been cracked open with an anvil. She shut the eye and squeezed them both tight against the pain. Then she opened it again, followed by the other.

  Hanging overhead was a long f
luorescent light fixture wrapped in a wire casing. Madison tried to cover her eyes with an arm but found both of her arms secured tightly by her side. She tried to move her legs and found the same thing with them. She was laid out on a cold, hard surface.

  Madison still couldn't see who was speaking, but the voice sounded familiar. Not far away, another joined in. "What in the hell is she doing here?" another familiar male voice asked. "How the fuck did she find us?"

  "Who cares how. She's here now, and we didn't have to lift a finger or pay some thug to grab her for us."

  It was then one of the speakers came into view. It was Ethan Young. He was dressed totally in black, including a black watch cap on his head. He peered down at her through his glasses and smiled. "Miss me?"

  It wasn't until Madison tried to speak that she realized her mouth had been taped shut.

  "If you promise not to scream," Ethan said, "I'll take it off."

  "Leave it," the other voice ordered.

  "Aw, that's no fun. Besides, no one can hear her. These walls are concrete, and the area's abandoned."

  "Maybe, but I'll still find the noise annoying."

  Ethan looked over toward the direction of the voice. "You find everything annoying." He looked down at Madison. "You promise not to annoy Ben?"