Cold Serial Murder

by Abramson, Mark

  Tim grinned at Nick and asked Ruth, “How was work last night at Arts, anyway?”

  “There was a good crowd… five comics, two men, three women,” she poured herself a cup of coffee while she talked. ”You know, they were all good, I’m sure. The crowd loved them, but a lot of their humor goes right over my head, I’m afraid.”

  Tim said to Nick, “Aunt Ruth has never taken Gay 101.”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Nick interrupted and glanced at his watch, “I really have to get going. I left my truck over on Hancock Street by my grandma’s… I mean Tim’s house. Then I’ve got a long drive and a big day at work ahead of me.”

  “Don’t you want to shower first?” Tim asked. “Let me find you a clean towel. Help yourself to more coffee, Aunt Ruth.”

  It was at least an hour later by the time Nick left and Tim and Ruth could talk about him. She heartily approved, based on her first impressions, and was certain that this was the perfect man for her nephew. Nick was, in fact, the first and only man of Tim’s that she’d met since the scandal with Dave Anderson, his track coach back when Tim was still in high school, but that fact didn’t deter Tim from wanting to believe her.

  When she had carried on about Nick long enough to embarrass Tim, he thought of a way to change the subject. He had yet to tell her about his dream and he wanted to do it with as much detail as he could remember—the car muffler, Jason dressed in all his leather, the fireplace crackling behind him and the urgent need to catch the killer, but not who the killer was. “It was so real, Aunt Ruth, like Jason was standing right there! I haven’t had one of my dreams in quite a while, and I don’t know what good will come of it, since he didn’t tell me who the killer was.”

  “Your dream could still be meaningful, Tim. I read a fascinating book about dreams a while back. I wonder if they’d have a copy at the San Francisco library. I could read it again and maybe it would help me figure things out. Now, are you sure you’ve told me every little detail of your dream about Jason?”

  “Yes, I think so. That’s all I can remember,” Tim said. “I mean… I know it was a dream, but it wasn’t like any normal dream. You know what I mean, of all people. It was one of those dreams… vivid.”

  Ruth knew what he meant. Her mother had always had those dreams too, but Tim’s grandmother had also seen things when she was wide awake. “And you said he was wearing this leather and chain outfit… with a riding crop.”

  “Yes, and the rest of Jason’s leather was all there in the closet, but the riding crop that he kept on a hook by the back door was missing!”

  “What could be the significance of that, do you think? Did Jason dress that way often?”

  “Sometimes he’d wear his leather to a Sunday beer bust at the Eagle Saloon or down to the Lone Star. He called it his ‘dead cow hide.’ He’d wear it sometimes on a Saturday night if he was going to one of the bars South of Market, but he usually worked on Saturday nights until closing time, at least since I’ve known him. He would definitely wear it to the Folsom Street Fair and Dore Alley.”

  “Dore Alley?” Ruth asked. “What’s that?”

  “It’s another street fair, only smaller. The same people who produce the Folsom Street Fair organize Dore Alley, but it’s more for the locals. The Folsom Street Fair has become international, like San Francisco’s version of a one-day Mardi gras, almost as big as the gay parade. People come from all over for Leather Week and...”

  “Tim,” Ruth interrupted. “You don’t think it might have been someone Jason knew from one of those street fairs, do you… the killer, I mean?”

  “Anything’s possible…”

  There was something familiar about the riding crop that bothered her when she thought about it later. She couldn’t imagine why it stuck in her mind or where she had seen a riding crop lately. It must have been on TV. That was the only thing Ruth could think of. Maybe she’d watched Barbara Stanwyck in an old episode of “The Big Valley” late one night while trying to fall asleep.

  She said to Tim, “Well, Nick certainly seems like a nice young man with a good head on his shoulders. Perhaps you should concentrate on this new friend of yours and let me ponder the dream you had about poor Jason, dear.”

  “Okay, Nancy Drew,” Tim said as he stepped into the kitchen and rinsed out the empty coffee pot. “You analyze my dreams and I’ll think about Nick. Hmmm… I can’t complain about that. I’m getting the easy job.”

  Chapter 18

  The weatherman predicted that the entire next week would be cool and gray, not uncommon in San Francisco this time of year. By midmorning on Thursday the fog still hovered over the hills, but the sky was clear overhead. The helicopter view on the news showed sunshine on the bay and Tim opened the back door to see rays of light move across his red geraniums as the clouds parted. While loading the dishwasher after their late breakfast Tim noticed the tickets to the Giants’ game still stuck behind the toaster. “Hey, Aunt Ruth,” he yelled down the hallway. “Whatcha doing?”

  “I’m just reading my book, dear.”

  “You never found anyone to use these tickets, did you? The game starts at 12:20. Let’s you and me go to the ball game. Come on. It’ll be fun. We can both be back in time for work.”

  “Okay, dear. I’ll get my shoes on and grab a jacket.”

  “It should burn off down at the ball park if it’s nice anywhere,” Tim said. “You’re right to bring a jacket, though. You’ll probably need it by the time we’re headed home. You get used to wearing layers in the summer. Welcome to San Francisco.” There were times when he missed the true heat, the sticky sweltering summer days he grew up with in Minnesota, when the sky would finally grow black with the promise of bolts of lightening and a soaking downpour. The weather report in San Francisco never talked about dew points or heat indexes or air inversions. He didn’t miss tornadoes, though, or hail. And giving up thunder was a small price to pay for living in the world’s gayest neighborhood.

  Coming out the front gate, Tim got a reminder that not everyone was gay. They saw his upstairs neighbors Ben and Jane and little Sarah. Ben was helping his pregnant wife into their double-parked car on Collingwood. Sarah waved to Tim and Ruth from her car seat in the back. Jane had trouble fitting into the low car on the steep hill, but she tried to wave, too. “When is your baby due, Jane?” Ruth asked.

  “In about another week,” she answered. “It’s a boy and I think he’s going to become a soccer player from the way he likes to kick already.”

  “How nice,” Ruth said. “Sarah will have a little brother to play with.”

  Tim moved as if to help shut her car door and Ben looked up. “And I’ll have my old wife back. What are you two going to do today?”

  “Aunt Ruth scored us two tickets to the Giants’ game,” Tim said, trying to sound excited. He had never been a baseball fan, but it would be something for them to do together and he knew his Aunt Ruth would enjoy it.

  “Have fun at the ballpark,” Ben said. “I wish I could join you. It would sure beat spending an hour in the lobby of the obstetrician’s.”

  Tim thought of all the reading he could catch up on. He had three magazines on the table that he hadn’t even opened yet and wished he could trade places with Ben, but it was too late for that. His Aunt Ruth was waiting for him.

  On their walk to the MUNI station, Tim said to his aunt, “You know I’ve been thinking… there’s just no way I could live in the bottom of Jason’s house after finding him there that day, but I could maybe live upstairs. Nick’s grandparents lived there for years and he’s finished moving all their stuff out now. They left it spotless. All it needs is a fresh coat of paint and I’d want to get rid of some of the old-fashioned wallpaper, but it’s a great apartment.”

  “What a good idea,” Ruth said as she stopped to pet a dog that was tied to the parking meter outside Walgreens.

  “And I was thinking that Ben and Jane might be interested in moving into the bottom half. I doubt that they ever met Jason, s
o it wouldn’t have the same association for them that it does for me. It’s technically a three bedroom and with another baby on the way…”

  “And you’d have someone you already know and trust living right downstairs, and you’d still be close to little Sarah,” Ruth said.

  Tim thought about finding Jason’s nearly lifeless body in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor. Then he pictured Jason dressed in leather holding the riding crop and standing in front of the fireplace in his dream. “If there’s anyone who can counteract Jason’s angry phantom it would be Sarah, the magic child. Besides, it’s got a little yard for the kids to play in. It’s pretty hard to play hopscotch on a sidewalk on the side of a hill. “

  “That’s true, dear.”

  “And then you can live in my apartment on Collingwood Street.”

  “Oh, Tim, you’ve thought of everything, haven’t you? Let’s not move quite so fast.”

  “But I heard you tell Nick that Artie wants you to stay on and you like it here and I hate to think of a stranger moving into my old place, but it would be perfect for you.”

  “I said I was thinking about it.”

  They descended the stairs and boarded the MUNI train at Castro Station with a sea of Giants’ fans. There were people of all shapes and sizes crowding onto the car and most were wearing Giants’ logos on their clothes.

  “My goodness,” Ruth said, “doesn’t anybody have to work in this city on a Thursday afternoon? I feel like we’re in a sardine can.” At each stop the platforms were mobbed with more people trying to push their way onto the train. The visor of one little boy’s black and orange baseball cap pressed into Ruth’s hip until the train jerked and her position shifted.

  “This is nothing,” Tim said. “You should see it in June on the day of the gay parade. It’s even more crowded then. From Castro Station all the way downtown it’s jammed with people, but instead of Giants’ colors, everyone’s wearing rainbow stripes and beads and high heels, especially the nuns.”

  “Nuns in high heels?” Ruth asked.

  “Not real nuns, Aunt Ruth. The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.”

  “I’ve never heard of them in Minnesota, I don’t think.”

  “The story goes that they got their start in Iowa by borrowing a bunch of habits from some real nuns. They told them they were putting on a production of The Sound of Music, but now there are convents of them all across the country,” Tim explained. “They’re gay guys who dress up as nuns… sort of. Some are even real girls. They’re funny and colorful and they do charitable work. At least these Giants’ fans wear sensible shoes.”

  The subway finally emerged to the view of the Bay Bridge. They passed Red’s Java House and the enormous Claes Oldenburg sculpture of the bow and arrow. Ruth said, “Oh, Tim… look how sunny and warm it is in this part of town. What a beautiful view with the bay and all the ships and sailboats. It’s almost as if we were in a different city from your neighborhood.”

  “Yeah, San Francisco can be like that,” Tim said, “especially in the summer.”

  They finally spilled out of the train and were swept along the crowded platform. The deck of Momo’s restaurant was bathed in sun and so packed with sports fans there didn’t appear to be room for even one more person. A pair of buxom blonde twin girls in matching orange outfits handed out free samples of a new soft drink. Tim said, “We’re here plenty early. Do you want to walk around for a while?”

  “Sure.”

  They strolled the China Basin marina past dozens of sailboats. Seagulls screeched overhead as the smells of garlic, fish and hot dogs wafted over the walls of the stadium. A huge ferryboat like the one they had taken to their brunch in Tiburon pulled up to the dock and hundreds more people got off it and filed into the ballpark. Ruth said, “If I lived across the bay, that’s how I would want to come to the ballgame—by boat—and leave the driving to someone else.”

  “There’s McCovey Cove, “Tim said. “All those people in the little boats and kayaks are hoping to catch a ball whenever someone hits a home-run over the wall.”

  “It sure is a lot bigger than it looks on television,” Ruth said.

  While waiting in line they heard a voice over the public address system announcing that the national anthem would be sung by several of the cast members from Beach Blanket Babylon. Ruth said, “Oh darn, we’re going to miss it! That’s the show you said you’d take me to see next time I come to town for a visit.”

  “I’m sure Val Diamond isn’t here in the San Francisco skyline hat,” Tim said. They probably just sent a bunch of understudies. If it’ll make you feel any better I’ll sing the national anthem for you… O-oh say can you see…?”

  Ruth laughed and put her hand over his mouth. “That’s quite all right, dear.”

  They climbed several ramps to find the section where their seats were and at one point when they rounded a corner, Ruth stopped and pointed toward the people on the level below them. “Look, Tim… over there by that beer stand. Isn’t that Leonardo? Yes, and Theodore is on this side of him with his back turned toward us. We should wait for them and say hello, shouldn’t we?”

  “No, wait…” Tim said. “It looks like a bad time.” The two men were arguing about something, but even if Ruth and Tim were closer there was so much echoing noise that they couldn’t hear a word of it. “It looks like the honeymoon is definitely over.”

  “Oh, I guess you’re right. What is that in Leonardo’s back pocket?”

  “Maybe keys and a handkerchief,” Tim said. “It’s hard to see from here. Did you bring those little binoculars?”

  “My opera glasses are in my purse. Here, you take them, Tim. What’s that thing that’s hanging down from his belt loop?”

  “I think it’s a little whip. Here, let me get a better look with those. Oh, darn it! He turned away. Maybe they’re into S&M now and they want everybody to know it.”

  “A whip? Like a riding crop?”

  “No, just a little whip, more like a cat-o-nine tails. Looked like a toy.”

  “What would he carry that around for?” Ruth was still convinced that Marcia was the guilty party, but she wanted to know what this whip business was all about.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. It was so little you couldn’t really use it to beat anyone. It must be symbolic. I’m sure they keep the big whips in the playroom at home. Didn’t Teresa say they were moving into a big place in the Mission? It’s probably one of those old Victorians with space underneath for a garage and a playroom.”

  “Symbolic of what? What do you mean… playroom?”

  “Oh, Aunt Ruth, you’re such a babe in the woods. We’re gonna have to enroll you in Gay 101. A playroom is a place where guys… play, you know? Have sex. In their case it’s probably a dark dungeon full of whips and chains and mirrors and a rack and it absolutely reeks of man-sweat and Crisco.”

  Ruth’s facial expression said that she was more perplexed than shocked, which had been Tim’s intention. He thought that sometimes his aunt was almost too accepting of things.

  “So… the little whip on his belt is just a symbol.”

  “Yeah, like keys and colored handkerchiefs. Leonardo is probably a top and he’s into B&D, S&M, water sports…”

  “B&D?”

  “Bondage and discipline. S&M stands for sadism and masochism… or ‘standing and modeling’; that’s what guys do in the bars, usually. Artie says in the old days it meant Sears and Magnin’s. The butch ones shopped at Sears and the queens went to Magnin’s. Or was it Shaheen’s and Macy’s? I never thought of Theodore as a bottom before. I guess I never thought of him as anything before. Ee-ew.” He handed the binoculars back to Ruth.

  “Come on, Tim. We don’t want them to catch us staring.”

  The Colorado Rockies were ahead by four runs by the second inning and the Giants never stood much of a chance of catching up, but Ruth was thrilled just to be there. It was one more thing for her to love about this city. The game was so lopsided by the bottom of th
e seventh inning that people were leaving the stadium in droves. Tim was ready to go too, but Ruth said, “Let’s stay all the way until the end. Maybe the streetcar won’t be so crowded by then. Besides, we’ve got plenty of time before we need to be at the restaurant.”

  She was right. They even got seats on the streetcar and while waiting for it to pull out, Ruth noticed Leonardo and Theodore walking down the sidewalk hand in hand. “Look, Tim. The newlyweds seem to have made up. It’s still hard for me to get used to the sight of two men holding hands in public. Isn’t it dangerous in this part of town? I don’t mean to sound prudish, but this isn’t the Castro. There’s so much testosterone in the air around the ballpark you can almost smell it, can’t you?”

  Tim inhaled deeply and smiled. “Sure can. But gay people are baseball fans, too. Besides, those two are awfully big guys. Anybody trying to mess with them would be taking on over a quarter ton, I’d imagine. I wouldn’t do it, would you?”

  “No, I certainly wouldn’t.”

  They were home in plenty of time to get ready for work and it turned out to be a slow night at Arts, anyway. Jake and Tim waited tables and Ruth worked the bar with Artie until after the dinner rush was over. “You might as well go home, Ruth,” Artie told her.

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind closing again, Artie, if you’d like to go.”

  “Nah, I’ve got to do payroll. I promised Arturo I’d stay and work on that tonight. It’s not going to get any busier, I don’t think. Look at that fog. It’s so thick you can barely see across the street.”

  Ruth said good-night and walked back to Collingwood Street by herself. Tim’s tables were all finished by shortly after ten o’clock and even Viv was ready to pack it in. There was nobody sitting around the piano. Viv asked Tim, “Where’s that new Thunderbird of yours? I never even got to see it when Jason had it—only in pictures—but my second husband Boris drove a T-Bird. I always loved that old car.”

  “It’s just up the street. I’m glad we put the top back up before all this fog came in or it would be soaked.” Tim had found a parking place for the Thunderbird on Castro just above 19th Street, but he had to move it for street cleaning before the morning. “Say, where’s Roy Rodgers? Do you want me to give you a lift home? If you like convertibles so much, I could put the top back down.”