by Regina Fagan
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SATURDAY NIGHT – OCTOBER 15th
Saturday night at Jaycene’s was the wildest night of the week. The trendy nightspot on Columbus Avenue had evolved over the past year into one of the most popular singles’ bars in the city.
The music was always loud and the dance floor packed with couples. The polished marble-topped bar stretched one entire length of the long building, its stools and floor space filled with customers. Along the back wall and facing the dance floor were small leather-covered banquettes, most of them just large enough to accommodate two people comfortably. Trendy, if not somewhat pretentious, artwork covered the walls.
Cocktail waitress Susan Sayles hadn’t even had a chance to take a break. The crowds had been big and demanding all evening, and the waitresses, dressed in their skimpy outfits, had been running drinks non-stop. By eleven p.m., Susan’s feet were burning with pain. She’d been running all night. But since she had accumulated overtime during the last couple of weeks, she had decided to call it quits before midnight. The main reason for leaving earlier was not so much her aching feet but the guy seated over on one of the banquettes, the guy she had been flirting with and hoping to score with later on.
He’d come in alone and had hung around the crowded bar watching the dancing before moving over to an empty banquette. There he had stayed, watching all the single women in the bar very intently, yet never approaching any of them.
Susan had noticed him right away. She always checked out all the single guys, paying special attention to the most prosperous looking among them. This guy interested her immediately. He looked like money, she thought. He was classy. She figured she’d watch him for a bit before making her move.
She wasn’t the only one, however. At one point, three women approached him. One gestured toward the dance floor, but had no luck and soon moved back to the bar. Susan, busy as she was, kept the man under surveillance and noticed that, although a few more women tried, nobody got anywhere. Strange, she had thought, but good for me.
She was sure things were about to change, once, when she saw her man watching a tall blonde who had come in alone and perched on a bar stool. The blonde wore a very short skirt, and her long legs were crossed enticingly while she spun herself slowly round and round on the bar stool, her hair flowing down her back. Susan was at the far end of the bar waiting for an order when she saw the man head straight toward the sexy blonde. Well, that’s the end of that, Susan thought, disappointed.
She watched as he smiled and said something. Whatever it was he’d said, Miss Long Legs wasn’t interested. She gave him a look, swung off her barstool and sauntered over toward the dance floor, several pairs of male eyes following her. Undaunted by the brush-off, Susan’s man turned and walked slowly back to his table. He kept on watching the blonde, however, who was now talking with two men near the dance floor.
Maybe he’s hot for blondes, Susan thought. Well, that one’s got nothing I can’t match, she thought, swinging her long crimped golden hair over one shoulder. She decided to deliver the tray of drinks she had just picked up and then move in on him, before anybody else arrived to grab his interest. “Ellie,” she called to another waitress who had been working the banquettes. “Switch places with me after I deliver these, will you?”
“Sure, Sue. How come? Got your eye on somebody again?” Ellie asked.
“Yea, the dark good-looking guy right over there.” She gestured with her head toward her man, who was still watching the leggy blonde intently. She was now on the dance floor, undulating by herself to the beat of the music.
“Forget it,” Ellie said. “Gals have been trying him all night. I just don’t think he’s interested.”
“He was interested in that blonde on the dance floor,” Susan replied. “She snubbed him. So I’m going to try.”
“Whatever makes you happy, Sue. Deliver your drinks and I’ll cover your tables.”
Susan served her drinks and then slipped quickly into the restroom, where she pulled the front of the already skimpy outfit down as far as she dared to reveal more of her breasts. Then she returned to the floor, glided over to the man, and stood next to his table. His glass was empty. “Looks like you could use a refill. Shall I bring one?” she asked him.
He was still looking at the blonde, who by now was dancing with her arms and upper body tightly wrapped around some guy. Slowly, the man pulled his eyes away and turned to Susan, who smiled seductively. “She’s not the only blonde here, you know,” she said softly, then watched while his eyes held hers and began to travel methodically over her body. Slowly, he smiled back at her. He had the bluest eyes Susan could ever remember seeing.
“No, I guess she’s not,” he said. “What happened to my other waitress?”
“She’s right over there. Shall I get her for you instead?” Susan pouted.
“No, no, you are quite suitable.” He had the cutest English accent. “Can you bring me another gin and tonic, please?”
Susan laughed now and picked up his empty glass. “Yea, I’m suitable, you bet.” She studied him a bit. He was very handsome. Not a regular at Jaycene’s, for sure. And he was older than most of the guys who came in. She had never seen him before tonight.
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
“I’m Susan. What’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Luther. And no, I haven’t been here before, but thought I’d give Jaycene’s a try tonight. Just for the fun of it. To see what I might find.” His blue eyes bored into Susan.
“Maybe you’ve found what you’re looking for,” she purred. “Let me get you another drink.” Susan slithered away, aware of his eyes following her. Just what she’d hoped for.
When she returned with the fresh drink, Luther pulled out his wallet, picked out a few bills, and placed them on her tray. Then he selected something else and held it up to her. It was a one-hundred-dollar bill. “This is a little something for you, Susan. Just for being so nice, and so pretty.” He reached over and slid the bill between Susan’s breasts. “What time do you finish up tonight?”
“Very soon,” Susan said, a bit breathless now.
“Fine. I’ll be here.” He touched the edge of the bill sticking out of her outfit. “I have more where that came from,” he told her.
“I’ll bet you have,” she said. Then she giggled and went back to work. Things were definitely looking up tonight.
***
Susan kept busy, watching Luther’s table to make sure he didn’t leave without her. But he remained where he was, watching her and lifting his glass to her whenever he caught her glancing his way.
Miraculously, Susan’s fatigue and sore feet had abandoned her. The noise, the crowds, the loud music, the crude passes from other guys, all that ceased to exist. All she could think about was Luther. This is going to be easy, she thought, fingering the hundred-dollar bill, now safely in her pocket. Very easy. She had gotten a good look at that full wallet he had with him. Maybe this would go beyond her usual one or two night tricks. That was, after all, what she was really looking for. She was sick and tired of the life she was leading. She’d never intended to be a hooker; that had just happened. She wanted stability, a good guy who would love her and take care of her and give her a little bit of respectability, something she’d never had much of. Then maybe she would be able to give up this stinking job and the pickups for cash. Maybe she could go back to her poor mother, whom she really loved with all her heart, and tell her that for once in her life, she was going to be the daughter she had always wanted her to be, with a decent man who loved her and a good future ahead.
***
She had found her boss, Maury, and told him she was quitting tonight a little earlier than usual, and she was not going to be able to help clean up. “I feel rotten, Maury, and my feet are practically bleeding,” she said.
“Find somebody out there again who might be able to make you feel better?” Maury leered at
her. “You know, I should get a cut of what you charge these guys you pick up here, that would only be fair. But sure, Susie, go ahead, do your thing. I hope he’s worth it.” He grinned at her and made a sucking noise that disgusted Susan. Dirty old sleazebag, she thought.
“It’s none of your business what I’m doing, Maury, and I owe you nothing. You, however, owe me time anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow night – maybe.” Then she headed to Luther’s table, passing Ellie on the way. “Well, I got him,” she told the other girl. “You wish me luck.”
Ellie looked surprised. “Please take care, Susie. I don’t like the look of him, he seems kinky to me.”
Susan laughed. “Kinky? Nah, but don’t worry about me. I like kinky. I can handle anything.”
“Susan, please,” Ellie said, but Susan interrupted her.
Oh, look what he already gave me.” Susan flashed the hundred-dollar bill in front of Ellie’s nose, then gave her friend a kiss. “And he’s got more in his wallet.”
She glided over to Luther’s table. “I have to change out of this thing I wear here, so why don’t you meet me out front in, say, ten minutes. Ellie will tally up your tab.”
“I’ll be waiting outside. Please don’t be long.”
***
When Susan Sayles left Jaycene’s, dressed outrageously in a fake fur jacket over an indecently tight violet tube top that left nothing to the imagination, skin-tight jeans and platform heels, she found the street empty, with not a soul in sight. The night had become deeply foggy again, too. Damn it, she thought, he left without me!
But then she heard her name called softly. She turned her head, her long beaded earrings glittering in the dim light. There he was, standing halfway down the block, the door of a luscious looking car open at the curb next to him.
Relieved, she almost skipped along the street to him, no small feat in her shoes, realizing as she got closer that the car was a silvery blue BMW. This is looking better all the time, she thought, sidling up to him and kissing his cheek before slithering down on the richly soft leather seat of Luther’s gorgeous car, oblivious of the blood stains spattered across the seat and door, and the thin surgical gloves Luther had slipped on his hands.
***
Exactly one week after Ann Heald’s body had been found in Golden Gate Park, an elderly Chinese couple returning home from a dawn walk and exercise group came across what looked to them like a pile of rags in the alley behind their apartment building, one block off Portsmouth Square. Closer investigation of the pile, thrown next to a dumpster, revealed the body of a young woman, her clothing ripped and a dark scarf tied around her neck.
The couple hurried away looking for help, eventually finding a police cruiser coming along Grant Avenue. In loud broken English, they related their gruesome discovery to two surprised and tired officers, who had been on their way back to their station, more than ready to call it quits after an unusually dull, cold Saturday night.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SUNDAY – OCTOBER 16th
Susan Sayles’ body lay covered on a gurney in the narrow alley in Chinatown. In her purse, John Kinsella had found her driver’s license. She was only twenty-two years old, and he and Phil Lawrence had gone to the Polk Street address where she had lived, to see what they could find out about their latest victim.
Her landlady told them that Susan worked as a cocktail waitress (“among other things I won’t talk about,” she said in a disgusted voice) but she had lived alone. She was able to give them Susan’s mother’s name and address, and by late morning Kinsella and Lawrence reached the woman in Daly City, a few miles south of San Francisco.
Mrs. Sayles knew that Susan currently worked at Jaycene’s in North Point, but she could tell them little else. She hadn’t seen much of her daughter during the last few years. Shown the composite, she could offer no help either. She knew none of Susan’s friends, nor had she ever approved of her daughter’s lifestyle, certain as she was that Susan was doing much more than waitressing. She had berated Susan many times about this. So Susan mostly avoided her, calling only occasionally to ask how she was and sometimes sending some money. She had no idea who Susan was going around with now. She felt perhaps it was best she didn’t know.
After she had come into the city to identify her only daughter, Kinsella took Mrs. Sayles home again, feeling terribly sorry for the poor woman, who cried quietly in the car all during the drive home. He waited with her until some neighbors and her brother arrived to stay with her. When he returned to headquarters, Phil had run a background check on Susan and found some interesting details.
“Really no surprise here, John. She has three prior arrests here in San Francisco and one in Los Angeles about two years ago for prostitution. Down there, she had actually solicited a police officer. Apparently, she’s been keeping herself clean for the past year. Or if she hasn’t, she hasn’t been caught.”
Lawrence turned to his computer screen. “The initial medical report shows the same manner of death; so we have another blue-silk-scarf strangulation. There was no sexual assault, however, in spite of the condition of the body. But this girl was different all the way around.”
“Definitely not a Kelley Grant or Dr. Ann Heald,” Kinsella said. “Well, we’ll see what we can find out at Jaycene’s. They’re open Sundays, so we’ll get there early and beat the crowds. I hope you didn’t have anything else planned this evening.”
“Nope, but I have now,” Lawrence answered.
***
Kinsella was familiar with Jaycene’s, since he’d checked out the action here himself once when he’d found himself too alone on a Saturday night. Perhaps the place was considered upscale but it was just another pick-up joint with pretensions, as far as he was concerned. A meat market. He would not have been one bit surprised if Susan and perhaps some of the other workers here were plying their street trade on the side.
The manager of Jaycene’s was an oily type named Maury Cole, whose face turned ashen when he learned why Kinsella and Lawrence were there. He hurried them into the small cubicle off the bar area that served as his office.
“Susie left earlier than usual last night,” Maury explained. “She told me she didn’t feel good, but I had a feeling she had a date with somebody. Later I learned I was right.”
“Later you learned you were right? What do you mean by that?” Lawrence asked him.
“I mean one of my other girls, Ellie, told me Susie had picked up some guy here last night, and they made a date.”
“Was she in the habit of doing that?” Kinsella asked.
“Yes, sometimes. In fact, she usually hit on somebody every night. Sometimes she got lucky, sometimes not. I didn’t like it, but what could I do? I just told her once, don’t take any money from nobody, at least not on my premises, you know what I mean?” He stopped, noticing their stony faces, worried that he had said more than he should have.
“Look, if you like I can let you talk to Ellie. She knew Susie pretty well. Probably better than anybody else here. They shared serving sections most nights. I’ll get her for you.” He moved toward the door, looking eager for an excuse to leave, his face slick with sweat.
“We will talk to her, but first I’ve got some questions for you,” Kinsella said. “Were you aware Susan had been arrested for prostitution a few times? What you just said sure sounds as if you did.”
Cole gulped, swiping at his wet forehead with the back of his hand. Feigning surprise, he stammered. “What? She was arrested? No, sir, I did not know that. I mean, I honestly was not aware of that. And believe me, if I’d known that . . . well, I mean, I don’t want anything like that going on here. Now what people do on their own time, of course, is their business. I don’t control nobody’s life. I told Susie a few times, no money changing hands here, no soliciting from my customers . . .” He stopped, looking thoroughly miserable, shook his head, and pulled a dirty handkerchief from his pocket to mop his now soaking forehead.
Lawrence gav
e him a baleful look. “So you did know what she was doing? Are you also aware we could shut you down for that? Who else is working your customers? Are they giving you a cut of what they make?”
Cole put out a hand toward them. “Nobody! I swear! Look, guys, Susan hit on customers and maybe some of my other girls do too. And I’m sure plenty of the customers hit on my girls also. It’s boy meets girl, that’s all, birds and bees and all that shit, you know. What do you think people come here for? Susie just liked men. No crime in that. And they liked her. She was a beautiful girl, a real knockout.” Maury pulled at his collar.
Kinsella and Lawrence continued to stare at him. He was practically shaking now and may have wet his pants, Kinsella thought. The little shit. “Why don’t you go and find Ellie, Maury?”
Cole jumped for the door, eager to get out of the office. He returned in a few minutes with a small, black-haired girl almost as nervous as he was. “Ellie, this is Lieutenant Kinsella and Officer Lawrence. They want to ask some questions about Susie. I thought you would be able to help a little, okay?” He turned to the men. “I’ll be around outside, if you need me again.” He left quickly, pulling the door shut behind him.
Ellie stood there staring at them, clutching a woolen shawl around the top of her waitress outfit. With her tiny dark features and large brown eyes, she looked like a young Audrey Hepburn. Kinsella thought her not the type at all for Jaycene’s and wondered why she was working in a place like this. He motioned to a chair. “Please sit down, Miss, Ellie?”
“Moreno. Eleanor Moreno.”
“Miss Moreno, this won’t take too long. Maury tells us you were friendly with Susan Sayles. So I wonder if you could tell us anything about her private life. Did she have a boyfriend? Anything unusual happen here last night? Did she meet anybody or leave with anybody?”
Ellie Moreno looked both frightened and embarrassed. “Yes, I was friendly with her. I didn’t really see her much away from here, but she did tell me things, private things about herself. I’m just sick about this! I can’t believe she’s dead! But I kept telling her to be careful, with what she was doing.” Her lower lip quivered and her large eyes filled with tears.