by Susan Goslak
“I’m not sure I can help you, but I’ll sure try.” Ray’s eyes got hard. “I’m familiar with Weber and his tactics. I don’t like the guy. I’m still working for William Logan’s brother Carl. He employed me to find William, and we still don’t know if the dead man is William.”
“Well, if the dead man is William, your service to his brother will be over and you’ll be free to help my client.”
“What do you need me to do right now?” asked Ray.
“Let’s work on Toon’s alibi. See if we can prove that he was somewhere else at the time of the murder. While you’re at it, line up some character witnesses.”
“I’m on it,” said Ray.
Ray picked up the phone to call his friend on the homicide squad, Lt. Jim Donner. “Jim, have you got a positive I.D. on that body you found behind the gas station?”
“Not yet, Ray. I’m afraid that a dead homeless person just isn’t a priority with the police lab.”
“Why the rush to arrest Earl Carter for the murder of William
Logan if you aren’t sure William Logan is even dead?”
“Look, Ray, the kid had Logan’s backpack, the D.B. was wearing Logan’s jacket, and nobody has seen Logan alive in a week.
Carter is a big man with big hands. He could have easily strangled Logan.”
“Aren’t you forgetting that the murderer bashed Logan’s face? Did you find any bloody clothes belonging to Carter? Any evidence besides the backpack?”
“No we didn’t, Ray. We’ve been a little busy here. I was called on two homicides today and one last night. There must be a full moon or something.”
Ray ended his conversation with Lt. Donner, picked up his jacket and said to Mark, “Come on, I’ll walk you out. I’m going to visit the homeless area where Toon lives.
The two men shook hands in the garage and got in their cars.
« Chapter Fourteen »
Ray drove to the area where William and Toon lived and parked his car on the edge of a small deserted lot that was overgrown with weeds. He got out, crossed the lot, and approached a group of people who were standing there. “Anybody here named Doc?’ he asked.
Nobody answered him.
He held up a paper bag. “I’ve got some cat food for Toon’s pet cat here that I want to give him.”
Several people spoke at once. “Are you a friend of Toon’s”
“Is Toon okay?”
“Is William really dead?”
Ray held up his hand for silence. “Toon is fine. He’s got a warm bed, a roof over his head and three meals a day. I’ve agreed to help the attorney who’s defending him. And there still is no positive identification on the dead body that was found.”
More questions erupted. The voices were so jumbled that Ray couldn’t tell what they were asking. A lanky man wearing a white lab coat walked out from a nearby stand of trees and
approached the group.
“What’s all the fuss about? You woke me up from a very pleasant nap,” he shouted over the din.
Someone shouted, “Hey, Doc, this guy is helping Toon.”
“You must be Doc,” said Ray. “The lab coat’s a nice touch.”
Doc struck a pose. “Yeah, I got it from a friend at the free clinic. It gives me credibility with my patients.”
Ray handed the paper bag to Doc. “Here’s some food for Lucky. My name is Ray Jansen. I’m a private investigator. I’m helping Toon’s attorney. I’d like to ask you some questions. Let’s go somewhere to talk. I’ll spring for lunch. But first, I’d like to see Toon’s house.”
“I never turn down a free meal,” said Doc with a smile. Toon’s house is a little ways down that hill. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Doc led Ray through the trees and down a hill. At the bottom of the hill there was a small stream. Dotted on the hill were various “homes” made of cardboard, old lumber, cinder block and tarps. Doc led Ray to a large cardboard box with a tarp over it. “This is Toon’s house.”
Ray crawled into the “house.” Inside he found bedding and some old plastic milk crates loaded with all kinds of things. There was nothing there that would help Ray prove Toon’s innocence or guilt.
“Can you take something to Toon?” Doc asked.
“I’ll get it to him,” said Ray.
“I’ve got Toon’s sketch pad and pencil. I’ll get them and
meet you at your car.”
Ray and Doc drove to a nearby restaurant and ordered lunch.
“How long have you known Toon?’ Ray asked.
“Over a year, and before you ask, No, I don’t think he killed anyone. He’s a kind, sensitive kid. He loves animals. He’s always taking in strays. He’d starve himself to feed a stray animal. I’ve never even heard him raise his voice to anyone. I guess you could tell by the response you got from that crowd back there that Toon is liked by everybody.”
“Do you know how he came to be in possession of William’s backpack?” Ray asked.
“If he says he found it, then he found it. I’ve always found Toon to be truthful.”
While the men were talking Ray was flipping through Toon’s sketchbook. “These drawings are good, very good.”
“Yeah, Toon is a good artist. Sometimes he makes a few bucks doing sketches for tourists.”
“Have you looked at these sketches?” asked Ray.
“Sure.”
“Do you know who all of these people are?’
“Let me see the book.”
Ray handed the book to Doc.
Doc munched on his sandwich as he looked at each sketch. There were portraits, sketches of animals, sketches of buildings and even some fantasy pictures. “I can identify some of them, but not all of them. I can even recognize the people in his street scenes. Look here,” he said as he turned the book so Ray could see it. “This man is
me walking into the free clinic.”
Ray nodded.
“Are you thinking that Toon might have a sketch in here of the murderer?” Doc asked incredulously.
“That is a far fetched idea,” admitted Ray. “But it just might be there. I’m going to ask Toon if he can put a name to each sketch, then we’ll look at the rest and see if we can get any clues.
Ray dropped Doc off at the empty lot with sandwiches and drinks for all and returned to the office. He greeted Julie and took several memos from her which he started to read as he walked to his desk.
I followed him into his office. “Can I do anything for you, Ray? Would you like some coffee?”
“No coffee, Lexi, I just had lunch with one of Toon’s friends named Doc. He used to be a paramedic so he fixes the small cuts and bruises of that homeless crowd.” He handed me Toon’s sketchbook. Look at this.”
I opened the book and looked at a woman’s face. Her hair was tangled, her skin was wrinkled, and her eyes were alive with humor. The portrait was so well done that it looked like a photograph. “Did Toon do these?”
Ray nodded.
“They’re wonderful! He’s got a lot of skill. These should be framed and displayed. Toon shouldn’t be homeless. He should be making a living as an artist. I’d give anything to be able to draw like this.”
“They are good, aren’t they?” agreed Ray.
“Yes, Ray, they’re very good.”
“There’s a sketch of every homeless person in there as well as others.” Ray reached over and turned a page. He pointed to a sketch of a kitten. “That’s his pet. He calls him Lucky. He says he’s lucky to have someone to love and care for him.”
“Oh, how sweet, it’s so real looking that I feel like I could pet him.” I turned another page and gasped, “Look at this face. It’s creepy.” The man in the sketch was dark complected with dark hair. He had dark eyes with bags under them. His lips were thin and turned down at the corners. He was wearing a dark turtleneck.
“He doesn’t look creepy to me,” said Ray “Maybe a little unkempt, but not creepy.”
“Look at his eyes. They’re so. . . so.
. . cold. They look empty. They don’t even look human.” I said with a shudder.
Ray took a careful look at the sketch. “You’re right. Those eyes are cold.”
“Do you think he’s the murderer?” I asked
Doc asked me if one of the sketches could be the murderer. I’ll give you the same answer that I gave him. That would be too easy. It might be a lead, though, and I have to follow all leads.
“Well, Ray even if you say it would be too easy for this to be the murderer, is it at least possible that he is the murderer?” I persisted.
“Anything’s possible, Honey. I’m going to go to police headquarters to see if anybody there recognizes any of these faces. While I’m gone you can return all these calls for me,” said Ray as he handed me the stack of memos Julie had given him when he came in.
“Make my apologies for not returning their call in person, deal with any calls that you can handle yourself and take messages if necessary. Tell them I’ll call them back as soon as I possibly can.”
I took the memos. “I’ll do my best.”
Ray took the sketchbook from me. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t leave without me. I want some time with you tonight. That is unless you have plans.”
“I’m free tonight, and looking forward to spending some time with you. Hurry back.”
At the police station Ray showed the sketchbook to Lt. Donner and asked to speak with Earl Carter.
“Okay, Ray, maybe you can get some information out of him,” said Lt. Donner.
Earl was brought into one of the interrogation rooms where Ray was already seated. Earl looked apprehensive as he entered the room. His prison clothes hung on his thin frame.
Ray rose and extended his hand. Ray has large hands, but Earl’s hand made Ray’s look small. “Hi. Do you remember me? My name is Ray Jansen. Your attorney, Mark Portman, asked me to help you.”
Earl nodded. “Yes, you gave me your card and you promised to find William’s killer.”
Ray was surprised to see Earl’s look of apprehension replaced by one of anger. His fists were clenched at his sides.
“I didn’t kill William. William is my friend. I don’t know why the pigs arrested me.”
“I know that you didn’t kill anyone Earl and so does your
attorney. We are going to get you out of here as soon as possible and
We’re going to find the real killer. I promise!”
Earl looked at Ray as if he didn’t believe him. He was still tense.
“Look, Toon, I know you don’t trust people in authority, but I promise that I will not stop until I find the real killer. Do you believe me?”
Earl made an effort to relax. “I do, Mr. Jansen.”
“Good. How are they treating you here?”
“Okay. My bed is soft and warm and the food is really good.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Earl,” said Ray. “If you need anything, or if anybody gives you any trouble, call me or Mark.”
“Mr. Jansen, are my pets okay? I’m worried about them.”
“They’re doing fine, Earl. Doc is taking care of them and I’ve gotten some food for them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jansen. Will you tell Doc to make sure that they don’t get loose on their own. They’d get lost.”
“I’ll be glad to tell him that. Don’t worry. You’ll be taking care of them yourself soon.”
Ray handed Earl a can of soda that he’d gotten from the machine in the hall and a pack of cigarettes. Earl, tell me where you got the backpack that belongs to William.”
I found it in the park near the restrooms. It looked like William’s backpack so I picked it up. It was empty. I took it home. I was going to give it to William when I saw him.”
“When was the last time you saw William?”
“That would be when we were working at the art gallery on
the Saturday before Easter,” answered Earl.
“Are you sure that was the last time you saw him?”
“Positive.”
Ray opened his briefcase and took out Earl’s sketchbook.
Earl brightened when he saw it. “That’s my sketchbook! Thanks for bringing it.”
Ray took a new sketchbook out of his briefcase and some pencils and erasers. “These are for you.”
“For me? Thanks. Why are you giving me a gift?”
“Earl, I’m going to do my very best to find William’s killer, but I need your help. You can use this new book for your work because I want to use your old book for awhile. I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”
“What do you need my sketchbook for?” asked Earl.
“I think that maybe, just maybe. You made a sketch of the killer without knowing it. I want you to show me any pictures that you drew of people you don’t know.”
“Wow! You really think that there might be a sketch of the murderer in here?” Earl asked as he began to leaf through the book. He flipped about six pages. “I don’t know this person.”
Ray marked the page.
Earl picked three more sketches of people he didn’t know.
“Thanks Earl. I’m going to try to identify these people. If you think of something you want to tell me, or if you need anything give me a call,” Ray said as he headed toward the door.
“One more thing, Mr. Jansen, do you think they’ll let me work at the art gallery when I get out of here?”
Ray thought of Linda and her connection to the Stanton Art Gallery. “I’ll pull some strings for you, Toon. You’ll have your job.
While Ray was gone I was able to contact all the people on the memos Ray had given me. I was amazed to learn that one of them was Cathy Logan. She didn’t know about the dead body that might or might not be her husband until I told her. She asked me if I thought she should come to L.A. I told her to wait till we had a positive I.D. I promised her that we’d keep her informed about the investigation.
When Ray returned I told him about my conversation with Cathy Logan, he agreed with what I’d told her. Ray told me that he hadn’t had any luck with Toon’s sketches. Nobody recognized them and they didn’t show up in any computerized data base. Ray also told me that he was tired of waiting to identify the dead man. With Lt. Donner’s permission, he’d obtained a sample of William’s and Carl’s DNA from the police lab. On the way home he took it to an independent lab to have it analyzed and compared.
Ray and I spent the evening watching a movie at my apartment and munching on popcorn.
Tuesday and Wednesday were typical workdays for Ray and me. After work I drove to Linda’s to work with her. As I said, she was helping me paint more realistic shadows.
“Have you been looking at shadows all week?” Linda asked as I entered her workroom.
“Yes, and I noticed, as you said I would, that they aren’t all gray. I made some studies. Do you want to see them?”
Linda put out her hand to take my sketch pad. “Give,” she
said.
I handed her the sketchpad. She studied it. “This beach grass looks good. And the shadows in this stairwell are very good. Let me help you with the shadow under this potted plant.” She took out her pastel chalks and made a quick sketch. “I’m going to assume that my light source is coming from the top left corner of the page.” She added a few more lines to her drawing. “I’ll just add a touch of purple here,” she said as she enhanced the drawing and stepped back. “See the difference?”
I looked at her drawing. “Wow, what a difference! Just that subtle change made it look more realistic. How do you know to do what you did?”
With a smile on her face, Linda said, “I’ve been at this a lot longer than you. Don’t get discouraged. Practice, practice, practice.”
Linda had set up some objects for me to sketch and we worked for about an hour without talking. “Let’s take a break,” she said.
I stretched, “Good idea. My back hurts.” I said as I walked to the couch and settled in with my feet curled under me.
“What do you
want to drink?” Linda asked.
“Something decaf,” I answered.
We talked about Linda’s current charity work. “You know that group home where you volunteer?” she asked.
“Sure. The clients there are so sweet. The whole group gathers around when I read to them. They laugh and clap. They just love it. And when we all do an art project it is so much fun for everyone. I think I enjoy it more than they do. They are so proud to
tape their finished art work to the walls,” I gushed.
“As you know, that group home is one of many in the Sunset Homes of Charity system. Next month I’m giving a party for some friends of mine. The purpose of the party is to raise some money for them so they can do some much needed repairs on some of the buildings. Would you like to help me with the party?”
“Are you kidding? I’d love to! How many people are coming? When is the party going to be? What time? What kind of food are you going to have? Will there be any . . .”
“Whoa! Hold on,” laughed Linda. “One question at a time.”
Art was forgotten as we made plans for the upcoming party. Linda had already made out the guest list and it was impressive.
“That group of people should net you some money,” I said.
Linda winked and said,” You bet!’ She told me which caterer she planned to use and the harpist she planned to hire. I wasn’t sure that she needed me for anything, and then I got an idea.
“I have an idea,” I said, “There is a homeless man that Ray is working for. He has some sketches that are excellent. Maybe we could frame them and sell them to your guests.”
“That’s a good idea. Will you take care of getting them matted and framed? You have a real knack for that. Just have the bill sent to me.
“I’d love to do that,” I said. “I have another idea. Maybe we could use some of the art work that the residents of the Sunset