Cold Serial Murder

by Abramson, Mark

  “ It’s still early. He generally comes to pick me up around eleven thirty on a weeknight, but if I know Roy, he’s probably half asleep with his stocking feet up on the sofa in front of the ten o’clock news. I’ll call and tell him not to bother to put his boots back on.”

  Tim had never known exactly where Viv and Roy lived. “I’m near the south side of the park if you want to take Lincoln Way, but it’s faster to go up Market Street over Twin Peaks,” she instructed. “Do you know Sloat Boulevard?”

  “I think so… the one that goes by Stern Grove?”

  “Yes, then keep right on going past there. I’ll tell you when to turn.”

  Tim had thought that Viv’s house was out near the zoo, but he’d only gone there on the L-Taraval, never by car. It was no wonder she didn’t like to take MUNI home after work. She might have a long wait, if the trains even ran that late at night. Tim wasn’t sure.

  “This old car is a real beauty,” Viv said, “but it sounds like you’re going to need a new muffler pretty soon.”

  “I know.” He had noticed it tonight, too. The muffler sounded worse than it did when Nick mentioned it on Monday as they were driving through Golden Gate Park. If Jason hadn’t really ordered a new muffler from a dealer in L.A., Tim would have to do something about it himself soon. But that would mean that his vision of Jason in front of the fireplace had only been a normal dream.

  Viv’s house was one of thousands of nearly identical bungalows lined up block after block in the vast unknown commonly referred to as “The Avenues.” Tim considered it a wasteland between the real San Francisco and the Pacific Ocean. “I love a convertible, but I’m glad I brought my coat,” Viv said.

  “It must be twenty degrees colder out here by the ocean.” Tim pulled into the driveway and put the top up while Viv gathered up her purse, a shopping bag and a large plastic folder full of sheet music from the back seat. When he looked up toward the house he glimpsed Roy’s shadow watching them from behind the curtains as Viv turned back to yell out her thanks and blow Tim a kiss.

  Driving back across the city, Tim thought of Nick up north, miles away at the Russian River and Tim wondered if Nick was all alone too. Maybe it wasn’t too late to give him a call when he got home, but maybe it was too early in their relationship, if he dared to call it that. They’d only just met and Tim didn’t want to mess things up. Good sex didn’t always lead to anything more than just that. If he’d learned nothing else from Jason, it was to take things as they come and Nick said he’d be back down to see him on the weekend.

  Tim hoped in some ways that his vision of Jason wasn’t just a “normal” dream, but even if the stars were out tonight, he wasn’t quite sure what he would wish for.

  Chapter 19

  “Tim, call that guy for me, will you? I’ve been thinking…” It was Friday afternoon and both Ruth and Tim were getting ready to walk around the corner to Arts.

  “What guy? It’s almost time to go to work.”

  Ruth glanced at her wristwatch. “We don’t have to be there for thirty-five minutes. We can walk there in two. I want you to call that policeman.”

  “What policeman? Why now? What’s gotten into you?”

  “I’m trying to make a big decision in my life and I need your help. You know… that policeman friend of yours who came by here that day to pick up the knife I found on Hancock Street. I need you to call him and see how the case is coming along. Find out if they’ve learned anything more about Jason’s killer… or Jorge’s… or that poor French boy, the student.”

  “I can try, but he’s not my friend…”

  “Will you just call him for me… please?”

  Tim finished tying his shoes and went to the living room where he sat down at his desk and looked for the number. “There’s no telling whether he’s at the station right now.”

  “Didn’t he give you his home number? You said he was trying to hit on you.”

  “He was and he did and I tore it up and I threw it away.” Tim scowled as he punched in the number at Mission Station. He was surprised to get his friend on the line within a few moments.

  Ruth sat down on the couch and grew frustrated with hearing only one end of the conversation, consisting mostly of a lot of “Mmmm” sounds and “Uh-huh” and “Sure, I see, yes, that makes sense, I guess…” She wanted Tim to hurry up and tell her everything, but she didn’t want to rush him, either. There might be some small salient point he would miss if she did.

  “Yeah, I hear ya. From the same set, huh? Wow, not like the ones they sell on TV, huh? Thanks, yeah… thanks a lot.”

  Tim finally hung up the phone and grabbed his jacket. “Come on. We’ll talk on the way, although there’s not much more to tell.”

  Ruth grabbed her own jacket and ran behind him out the apartment door and through the front gate. They were heading downhill on Collingwood while Tim talked. “The knives weren’t identical, but all three were from the same set. They were expensive chef’s knives, the kind a professional would use. That’s what’s kind of weird, that the killer would leave them behind.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know their value,” Ruth said. “Maybe they weren’t even his to begin with. Maybe they were stolen.”

  “That’s what the police think too, Nancy Drew. There were no fingerprints anywhere except the ones that belonged there. Arturo’s prints were all over his own car, of course, and some of Jorge’s prints and mine.”

  “Is Arturo missing any knives? He’s a chef.”

  “I don’t think so. He would have mentioned it. The French boy’s car was an old junker used by everyone who delivered pizza for them and it had lots of prints all over it from all the people who work there, including the dead student.”

  “Nothing else?” Ruth asked. “What are the police doing? There’s a killer out there and they don’t seem to have a clue how to stop him. You said that Jason told you in your dream that this monster would strike again.”

  They were passing Spike’s Coffee Shop on 19th Street when Tim said, “Oh, there was one other thing.”

  “What? Tell me.”

  “They could determine from the autopsies that the killer was fairly tall. According to the knife angles, he had to be over six feet. That’s what Jason was and they think Jason had just gotten out of his car when he was attacked, so he was standing up, then he tried to fight, but ran to his kitchen door and the killer chased him and stabbed him again in the back.”

  “Marcia could be over six feet tall in heels, couldn’t she?”

  “I suppose so. You still don’t like her, do you?”

  Ruth didn’t answer, but Tim noticed her frown. They waited for a truck to pass so that they could cross Castro Street in front of Buffalo Foods and she announced, “Well honey, Sunday brunch will be my last shift at Arts. I’ve booked a flight back to Minneapolis next week.”

  “So soon? Aunt Ruth, you just got here.”

  “I hate to leave town before the murderer is caught, but I’ve nearly decided to tell Artie that I’ll come back and take the job.”

  ”Aunt Ruth, that’s great news!” Tim hugged her in the middle of the intersection.

  “I’m sure there’s a stack of mail a mile high. I need to talk to the neighbor’s boy who mows the grass and shovels the snow and write him another check. It’ll take me a while to sort through things and decide what to put in storage and what to pack, but you know, Tim, I do love it here. Since you’ve inherited the house and are planning to move to Hancock Street, I really like the idea of taking over your apartment—for a while anyway.”

  “Everyone will be so glad to hear it. We’ll have a big party for you just as soon as you get back… a housewarming.”

  “A little party maybe… and no gifts, please,” Ruth protested. “I’ve got too much stuff as is it and it will be quite an adjustment to move from that big house in Edina to your little apartment, but it will be good for me to cut back at this stage of my life. It just feels right and I’ll be closer to my favorite n
ephew.”

  “Your only nephew. Arturo and Artie will be thrilled. We’ll have a party at the restaurant.”

  “Don’t say anything yet. I’ll tell him on Sunday if I decide to take the job for sure. I’m still afraid to leave you alone in San Francisco with a killer on the loose.”

  “I’m not alone. I know lots of people here. And murders happen somewhere every day, Aunt Ruth.”

  “But not so close to home. By the way, Tim… where’s your car? I thought I saw it yesterday on Castro Street.”

  “I gave Viv a ride home after work and then I parked in the driveway on Hancock Street and walked back to Collingwood. I never realized before I had a car what a bitch it is to find parking in this neighborhood, especially at night. It’s a good thing I have Jason’s driveway.”

  “Tim, I think you need to get used to calling it your driveway,” Ruth said. “In spite of that vivid dream you had about Jason the other day, you need to accept the fact that he’s not coming back.”

  “I know, Aunt Ruth, I know… I even talked to Ben this afternoon about them moving into the downstairs half where Jason lived. I meant to tell you.”

  “Good, honey… how did that go?”

  “Well, I didn’t go into any of the details about Jason’s murder, but Ben knew enough about it from the papers. I told him I’d give them a good deal on the rent. There are way too many vacancies in the neighborhood these days for a new landlord like me to be greedy.”

  “What did he say, dear?”

  “He sounded interested. He agreed that they’d like me to be near Sarah. I’m a great baby-sitter, you know. He’s going to talk it over with Jane. They probably won’t make any decisions until she has the new baby, but that could be any day now.”

  Even after the delay for calling the police, Ruth and Tim arrived at Arts in plenty of time to get set up to open. Artie was sitting at the bar talking to a stranger, a thin young black man. Tim thought he was either a salesman or a new comic wanting to sign up for a spot on Monday night. “Tim… Ruth,” Artie said, “I’m glad you’re here. I’d like you to meet James. He is going to start working with us tonight as a waiter. It’ll be busy, judging by the reservations; so Tim… you and Jake show James the ropes as best you can.”

  “You bet, Artie.”

  They both shook his hand and Tim said, “Good to meet you, James.”

  Ruth greeted James and then turned to Artie to ask, “Where is Patrick? Doesn’t he usually work on Friday nights?”

  “Patrick is no longer with us, Ruth.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Ruth gasped. She still had her mind on the murders and wasn’t sure what Artie meant. “What on earth happened? Don’t tell me there’s been another...”

  “No, not that,” Artie said. “We can only hope that Patrick is on his way to rehab by now.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Ruth said, relieved that he was still alive.

  “Well, we are, too. Arturo and I are just sick about it, but we’ve given him more than one chance to clean up his act. Last night Arturo caught him dealing in the bathroom and that was simply the last straw!”

  “My goodness…” Ruth pictured a card game going on in the men’s room of the restaurant. The women’s bathroom certainly wasn’t big enough, but maybe the men’s was larger, the restaurant being on Castro Street where there were often more male customers than female. Ruth thought of her old neighbor in Edina who had a gambling problem and spent every dime he earned at the Indian casinos on the weekends. “Dan and I used to play a little four-handed pinochle with the neighbors when we were still married, but never for money.”

  “No, Aunt Ruth,” Tim cut in, trying not to laugh. “Patrick wasn’t dealing cards in the bathroom! Artie’s talking about dealing drugs… crystal meth, to be exact. It’s nearly an epidemic these days.”

  “Really? I saw something on the Discovery channel about that just recently, but they made it sound like it was a bigger problem in rural America than in the cities.”

  “It’s everywhere,” James said. “I think I saw that program, too.”

  “That reminds me,” Ruth said, “I noticed Patrick acting a bit odd the other night. He was searching through the silverware racks at the waiters’ station. I asked him what he was looking for and he said something about a Cadillac. Isn’t that strange? Well, the only drugs I know anything about are marijuana and alcohol.”

  “Tina is some bad stuff,” James said and Ruth remembered someone talking about a girl named Tina just recently. It was Patrick; that was who it was. He’d asked some customers if they were looking for someone named Tina and they all went out to the sidewalk. Ruth began to realize that the Tina they were talking about wasn’t a girl after all.

  That night at Arts was busy. Teresa came in for an early dinner with her ex-husband, Lenny. She still had to struggle to remember to call him “Leonardo.” After dinner they were having a drink at Ruth’s end of the bar when Marcia came by and ordered a tall Long Island Iced Tea. Ruth still didn’t trust her, but she tried not to let it show as she made the drink and set it down on a serviette. “Teresa, have you been introduced to Marcia?”

  Teresa laughed and said to Ruth, “Not formally, but sort of... At least, I met her former self. We’re still neighbors in the same building, after all.”

  “Hello again, Teresa,” Marcia set her purse on the bar and rummaged through it for her wallet. Ruth thought how easy it would be to carry a large knife inside that purse.

  Marcia set a twenty on the bar and Teresa reached over to shake hands. “Hey there, Marcia! You’re even prettier as a girl than you were as a boy, in my humble opinion. Arturo told me about how you scared old Ruthie here half to death on Castro Street the other day. Anyway, welcome to the fairer sex!”

  “Thanks, Teresa,” Marcia said. “I’m on my way to a meeting of a support group at the LGBT Center down on Market Street. That’s for Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender… what a mouthful! I’m one of the Ts in the LGBT, I guess. Anyway, I’m a little nervous.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do just fine, dear,” Teresa assured her.

  Marcia’s purse still sat on the bar, wide-open, and Ruth tried to get a glimpse inside, but from this angle, other than the wallet, it appeared empty. Marcia wouldn’t need tampons, after all, but why would anyone carry such a big purse for only a wallet? Ruth pretended to wipe up a tiny spill with a bar towel and bumped the purse enough to make it fall over toward her. She hoped that a large chef’s knife would clatter out onto the bar, but there was nothing.

  “Clumsy me!” Ruth set the purse back upright and got a feel for its weight. It wasn’t heavy now, but it was sturdy enough to hold a meat cleaver if necessary and large enough that a flexible riding crop could easily be folded in half to fit inside.

  “I’m one of the newer members, even though none of the others have had the surgery yet,” Marcia explained, holding two well-manicured and brightly polished fingers in the motion of a pair of scissors. “I’ll be their inspiration, I hope. What a responsibility!”

  Teresa slapped Marcia on the back and said, “Give ’em hell, girlfriend!”

  Soon after Marcia left for her meeting, Teresa got up from the bar to go to the ladies room. Ruth remembered Theodore and Leonardo’s tiff at the ballpark and finally had a chance to ask, “Where’s Theodore tonight? I never see you two apart. I hope everything is all right.”

  “He’s fine. His parents are in town. They’re fundamentalists from Nashville on their way to a big meeting of the Christian Coalition down in San Diego. They’re staying at the Hyatt Regency tonight and they invited Theodore to meet them for dinner. We didn’t think it was the right time for them to meet me quite yet.”

  “But you’re married,” Ruth said. “What better time?”

  “We may or may not be married in the eyes of California law, but we’ll never be married as far as they’re concerned.

  “And you’re interrupting your second honeymoon just for their sake,” Ruth said. “That’s thoughtful of
you both, I suppose.”

  “Oh, the honeymoon, anniversary, whatever…” Leonardo said. “Yes, married life sure has its ups and downs.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Ruth said. “Leonardo, I couldn’t help noticing before you sat down. What’s that little black thing hanging from your belt loop?”

  “It’s just a leather key strap. Some guys wear them around their necks like a lanyard,” Leonardo reached back to untangle it and set it on the bar to demonstrate. “I loop this part through the inside of my wallet like so… then I fold it over and secure it by wrapping this end through my belt loop so that everything stays safe and sound. I had my wallet stolen once and I’ve been afraid of pickpockets ever since… especially in crowds. It’s too long, really. I could use a shorter one. The end hangs out, but at least no one can grab it without me knowing.”

  “Oh. Is that all it is?” Ruth asked. “We thought it was a whip.”

  “A whip? Who’s ‘we’? Why would I be carrying a—”

  “Tim thought it was symbolic… for some reason.”

  “Symbolic of what?” Leonardo asked.

  “I don’t remember it all. He said something about shopping. I know he was just trying to get a rise out of me with his gay jargon, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction. He rattled off a bunch of initials… “B” and “D” and “S” and something-or-other. Some of them stood for dirty words, but others were just the initials of department stores and businesses. “S” was for Sears or Saks or Sotheby’s, but I forgot the other one. Maybe I have it backward. Maybe the “S” went last, like something-or-other and Saks. Maybe it was “W” and “S”. Does that ring a bell? Where is Tim, anyway?”

  “Water sports?” Leonardo offered in a nasal voice while he made a face.

  “Like scuba diving?” Ruth asked. “No, it wasn’t an ‘S’ and a ‘D’. I know! It must have been ‘W/S’ for Williams Sonoma!.”