by Tom Fowler
The Ruby situation could demand more than my spare cycles. I already had Samantha’s case occupying my thoughts full-time.
This proved an interesting night.
* * *
When I got home, I called Rollins. No matter when I phoned, he never sounded tired. Either he never slept, or he happened to wake up the moment he heard a phone ring. Having known him a while, I thought both theories rated some merit. “Hello?” he said in his usual alert voice.
“This hooker case is getting interesting,” I said.
“What did you find out?”
“Her stalker drives a silver Benz. E class.”
“Nice car.”
“It’s no Audi,” I said, “but it’s all right.”
“He has money, at least. You catch him?”
“He used a tractor trailer to screen me at a light.”
“You got his tag number, then.” It was an expectation, not a question.
“No,” I admitted. “Temporary tag ruined by rain. Couldn’t read it.”
“Real pisser,” said Rollins, spreading wisdom.
“It sure is.”
“What are you gonna do now?”
“I don’t know. I think he’ll leave her alone for a couple days and make sure she doesn’t have a protector around all the time. Afterwards, he might become more aggressive now she’s thwarted him.”
“And used a man to do it,” he said.
“Right.” I told him about the motel setup.
“Sounds like you did it well,” he said. “He got lucky and lost you with the truck.”
“Can you look in on her for a couple days?”
“Yeah. You got something else going on?”
“I do,” I said, “but a second shift on Ruby detail can’t hurt.”
Rollins paused. I knew he wanted to ask me what my other job was. I wouldn’t tell him if he did. “You’re probably right,” he said.
We talked about dividing up the work of watching Ruby, starting tomorrow night. If the stalker defied our expectations and came back sooner, Ruby would call one of us. We hung up. I thought about her. She could fend for herself. If the stalker got aggressive, though, she would be in trouble. What if she didn’t have a chance to call anyone? I wanted to work on my sister’s cold case, but I couldn’t consign Ruby to the mercy of a stalker.
I went back out to keep an eye on her.
Chapter 10
I took the Caprice this time. In case the stalker came back, I didn’t want him to see the Audi and do something to Ruby. Or to the Audi. My job already cost me one car I liked. I found Ruby working the crowd in the Gold Club parking lot. She could make a mint there. Men staggered out in various states of intoxication, horny from getting lap dances from strippers they couldn’t touch. It could also make them aggressive. I hoped Ruby knew the downside risk of what she did.
It took her a few cars, but Ruby found someone willing to go with her. She got into a Ford pickup driven by a balding man who looked both excited and embarrassed at the thought of having a hooker sit in the passenger’s seat. They left, and I followed them to the Deluxe Plaza Motel. They went to the office and emerged a couple minutes later. Ruby opened the door to a room. The john looked around, as if wondering when his wife would find him, then entered after her.
I moved the Caprice closer so I could listen for screams or some sign the man became violent with Ruby. I didn’t hear anything untoward. Soon enough, I heard the telltale signs their business transaction would reach a satisfactory conclusion. I moved back to my original spot. About ten minutes later, the john came out, got back into his truck, and drove off at a regular pace. Ruby emerged another ten minutes later with damp hair. I’d started to worry, but I should’ve guessed she’d opt for a shower afterward. She looked for the truck and shook her head upon not finding it.
She spied the Caprice and walked over. I put my window down. She leaned in, and I again noticed the lack of bra and the quality of her breasts. “What’s a nice guy like you doing in a parking lot like this?” she said.
“I got worried about you,” I said.
“You talk to Rollins?”
I nodded. “We both think it’s likely the stalker backs off for a day or two. In case he didn’t, I came back out to keep an eye on you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“No doubt.” I forced myself to look at Ruby’s eyes. She smirked when I did. She had no intention of straightening up. “I knew you’d call me if you were in trouble, but what if he didn’t give you a chance to?”
She nodded. “Thanks for coming back.”
“You need to return to work?”
“I could go for some food.”
“Get in,” I said.
* * *
Against my wishes and better judgment, we went back to the Happy Day Diner. It looked no happier, nor did any of its workers. We got a table in the rear corner near the bathrooms. People came and went, but few other patrons sat close. Maybe they didn’t want to sit by a scantily-dressed woman and her apparent john. A waiter came, told us about the specials, and asked us about drinks. Ruby ordered a soda; I opted for a coffee.
“Did you learn anything about your stalker tonight?” I said.
“He’s a better driver than you,” Ruby said with a grin.
“Small sample size.”
“Uh-huh.” Her grin persisted. I liked this girl and again wondered how she fell into the life.
“You didn’t recognize the car or the way he drove?” I said.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
The waiter dropped off our drinks. Ruby chose a burger and fries. I shrugged and got the same. It could be a few hours before I went back home. This case would play hell on my sleep schedule unless I figured things out quickly.
“Tell me about yourself,” I said.
Ruby frowned. Her shoulders tensed. She was on her guard now. “What do you mean?”
“Whoever’s stalking you might know something about you. If I know more, it could help me find him.”
She turned the rationale over for a moment. Ruby was a smart girl; she could see the veracity in what I said. “I guess I can tell you a few things.”
“OK. Can we start with your name?”
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I’m just Ruby.”
“I don’t buy it. You’re a smart girl. You’ve had a good education at some point. Private school, unless I missed my guess.” Her pursed lips told me I didn’t. “How did you go from there to here?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We have some time.”
“OK, I went to private school. Then I went through a big falling-out with my family before college. Now I’m here.”
“Why?” I said. “You could do a lot of other things.”
“You don’t need to save me. I like what I do.” Ruby looked down at the tabletop.
I let the lie pass. Maybe I would learn the real reason at some point. It was probably complicated. Pretty private-school girls don’t end up turning tricks over a simple family argument. Other damage lurked beneath the surface. “How old are you?”
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask a lady how old she is?” A faint smile played on her lips.
“I know. I’m asking anyway.”
She unwrapped her straw and took a drink of soda before answering. “Twenty-three.”
“So you’ve been in the business for five years?”
“More or less.”
“There’s a lot more to you than you’re telling me,” I said.
“Of course there is.” She sighed. “Look, C.T., I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Your heart’s in the right place, but I’m nobody special. I’m just another girl with a sad story.”
If she liked what she did, why was the story sad? I didn’t press her. “Do you think this stalker is someone from your sad story?”
“I don’t know. Nobody I know drives a silver Benz.”
“Ignore the c
ar for now,” I told her. “He could have borrowed it from someone. Would anyone you knew, maybe someone you lost touch with over the years, stalk you if he happened to learn where you are?”
“I don’t think anybody misses me that much,” Ruby said. She sounded a little wistful, but I wasn’t sure I believed her.
By the time the waiter brought our food a minute later, Ruby’s story nearly depressed the appetite out of me. Something happened to turn her from private school girl to street prostitute. Baltimore featured a lot of good academies. They turned out few hookers. It was a long way to fall in a city poor at catching people. We ate in silence. I wanted to know more about her, but I didn’t think Ruby wanted to stroll farther down the shadowy, twisty road of her past.
“Are you from around here?” I said when our paces both tapered off. She’d eaten more than me.
“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Baltimore County.”
“Why work down here, then? There have to be safer places in the suburbs.”
“Less money. Call it hazard pay, I guess, but I can get more in Baltimore for the same work.”
I pondered other questions. What would she answer? How far could I push the envelope? Not very, I guessed, at least not tonight. Some other time, Ruby might be open to telling me more. Maybe I needed to get her a few drinks first. I wondered if she talked much to her johns afterward. Even if she got chatty with the pillow talk, I wasn’t sleeping with her to find out about her past. I realized it was a moral line I never drew before.
It’s hell getting older.
Ruby got up to use the restroom when the waiter collected our plates. I looked at the lighting. Two directly overhead cast plenty of illumination on our table. I took out my phone and brought up the camera with the flash off. When Ruby came back from the ladies’ room and sat again, I snapped a picture of her on the sly. This one was a straight-on shot, better than the one I already had. “You ready to go?” she said.
“Just checking an email,” I said, putting my phone away. The waiter came back with the check. I filled it out, signed it, and walked outside with Ruby. In my office, I could use the BPD’s facial recognition software to see if the system knew who Ruby really was. She’d be unhappy with me for finding out, but if it helped me keep her safe from the stalker, I could live with it.
* * *
I kept an eye on Ruby for a while longer, then drove home. She went to the Deluxe Plaza Motel with three more johns. I followed her each time. Nothing eventful happened. Ruby showered again after the second one, and I drove her back up Pulaski Highway; the other two times, the johns were courteous enough to give her a lift back up the road.
When I got home, my house was dark. I called for Gloria a couple times and got no answer. She must have gone home. I went to the office, turned the light on, and sat behind my desk. An envelope waited atop my keyboard with my initials scrawled on it in Gloria’s flowery handwriting. I opened the envelope and read the letter.
* * *
C.T.,
* * *
I hope you’re not out too late. My parents are going on vacation tomorrow morning, and I’m meeting them for an early breakfast at their house. You’re welcome to come by if you’re awake. I told them you might not make it. Try not to stay up too late with your head buried in a file. I know these cases are important to you, but I’m worried that you’re burning the candle at both ends.
* * *
I’ll see you tomorrow even if you don’t make it to breakfast. Sleep well.
* * *
Love,
Gloria
* * *
I smiled and ran the folded paper under my nose. No perfume. I pushed past my brief disappointment, put the letter down, and dug back into Samantha’s case file. I knew I was missing something in the online investigation. Nothing useful jumped out at me. The defunct ISP put up a hurdle I couldn’t leap. Samantha and her killer met in a few chat rooms. I checked into them; those service providers folded as well. Samantha’s emails came from her Penn account. I felt confident I could hack an ivy league school, but who saved emails from thirteen years ago?
I kept looking through the file and at my whiteboard. Whatever effects lingered from the diner’s coffee were coming to an end. My eyelids grew heavy. I pressed on but couldn’t last much longer. Late nights with Ruby were wreaking havoc with my sleeping patterns. I compensated for it by zonking out at my desk.
* * *
I woke up when I almost tumbled out of my chair. This was no way to spend my nights. As much as I wanted to catch the bastard who killed my sister, I couldn’t do it if I ran myself ragged. I trudged upstairs, rinsed my mouth with mouthwash, and brushed my teeth. The clock read 6:18. I’d slept about four hours. Gloria and her parents were doing an early breakfast. I wondered how much past sunrise it would be.
Gloria provided me a built-in excuse for missing breakfast, so I lay in bed. I still felt tired, but thoughts danced through my head. Ruby told me she received a good private education through her high school years. Then she said a falling out with her family led to her working the streets. There must have been a few steps in the middle she left out. Those would flesh out her story for me, but they might also give me some insights into her stalker. What if he knew her back then?
It made me think of my parents. They took the hint and stopped calling me. I couldn’t talk to them yet. The wound still felt too fresh. Despite all their claims of protecting me, they let years go by before telling me. Even if I needed their protection in high school—I would argue I did not—the need for it died away since. If I thought about it, I could almost understand their motivation at the time. I couldn’t forgive their silence over the years, however, and I didn’t know that I ever could. Did this whole mess irreparably change my relationship with my parents?
I looked at the clock again: 6:35. Would Gloria be awake? As if in answer to my question, I heard a text come in. Gloria wondered if I was awake. I replied in the affirmative. She said breakfast at her parents’ would commence at 7:30. I told her I’d be there. First, I needed a shower and some coffee, and maybe in the opposite order.
* * *
Clean and caffeinated, I drove to Gloria’s parents’ house. They lived near her in Brooklandville, a ritzy community in Baltimore County. Driveways as wide as some streets snaked up to the houses, cats wore diamond-studded collars, and even the dogs slipped into mink coats in the winter. I pulled into the driveway at 7:35. Even the java boost couldn’t make me prompt. Gloria’s Mercedes rocket and my Audi sat in the driveway—I think her parents would have fainted if I’d brought the Caprice—while the garage held a Jaguar and an Range Rover. No one drove a Honda in Brooklandville.
I rang the doorbell, expecting it to cue a small orchestra to play Brahms in the foyer and feeling a twinge of disappointment when it answered with a mere ring. Gloria appeared at the door a moment later. She smiled at me and after I walked in, wrapped me in a huge hug and planted a kiss on me. She wore what was for her an average dress, meaning it probably only cost a few hundred dollars. I’d pulled on a nice pair of jeans, a button-down silk shirt, and a tweed sportcoat. I always felt the Readings’ house to be a jacket-required venue.
Gloria led me into the kitchen. Her mother, Susan, finished setting out an impressive breakfast spread. She walked to me, and we did the European cheek-kissing thing she liked because it made her seem worldly. Gloria’s father, Hugh, shook my hand and almost smiled at me. Susan and Gloria dressed similarly; Hugh one-upped me by wearing dress pants. I sat at the table in my comfortable denims. A large pile of scrambled eggs steamed in the center. Plates of fresh fruit, sausage patties, bacon, toast, and English muffins surrounded it.
When Gloria’s parents sat, we all passed the plates around. I ended with generous portions of bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs. Figuring I needed some carbs to offset my plate of protein, I took an English muffin and buttered it. We all took a few minutes to eat. The bacon and sausage tasted so fresh I wondered if Susan butchered a
pig in the kitchen before I arrived. Of course she hadn’t—she’d hire it out.
“Gloria tells us you’re working hard, C.T.,” Susan said.
“Almost never by choice,” I said.
“That’s the spirit!” Hugh added.
“You’re working two cases?”
“Officially, one. The other is more of a . . . personal interest.”
“Gloria told us,” said Susan. “How terrible to find out after all this time.”
I couldn’t be surprised Gloria told her parents. “It is,” I said to keep up my end of the conversation.
We sat in silence for a few seconds until Hugh picked up on the fact I didn’t want to talk about my sister’s case or the way it affected my relationship with my parents. “What’s your other case?” he said.
This would go over well. “I’m helping a girl who’s being stalked,” I said, omitting Ruby’s profession.
“You’ve seen the stalker?” Susan said.
“I’ve seen his car. He drives it well.”
“What does the girl do?”
I needed to tiptoe here. Hugh and Susan Reading, like many rich people, looked down on the working stiffs of the world, and I figured it counted double when the job itself was illegal. Then again, Ruby’s profession formed the crux of the case. If she’d tumbled from her lofty perch and ended up as a waitress, everything would be different. “She’s a prostitute.”
Susan dropped her fork. I wondered if she would need to fan herself (or have someone fan her) because of the shock. Hugh took it all in stride. “You’re sure she’s being stalked?”
“I am.”
“How did she come to find you?”
“She hired someone I know,” I said. “When he realized there might be some investigating required, he called me.”