Chapter 7

We discussed Mila during the two hour trip to Portland with Gail driving her old green Volvo. I told Gail her history, her years lost under the abusive domination of a thug and how I pulled her out of it.

"What was she like before she was sucked into the destructive relationship?" asked Gail.

"From the little she's told me, she was a good student. She had close friends and relatives. But despite all appearances of being a good girl, she felt rebellious and cynical, a quiet troublemaker questioning the status quo of her environment and her parents' conservative attitude. She wanted to rise above her poverty. Unfortunately, instead of embracing her intelligence and using it to move up in society, she embraced the flash of status, the quick money and the arrogance and violence of the royalty of the street. Being a pretty blonde with a sexy body got her a ticket out of her parents' grasp, not the mind behind it. It made her a prize for the toughest thug. And the fact that she is at least third generation Hawaiian and yet has no mix of blood suggests her family had strong opinions about mixed blood relationships. So becoming a native Hawaiian thug's girl provided a giant fuck you to her parents."

"I understand all that," said Gail after my speech. "But I wish I had a sense of who she was before her mistake. Because I think that's how she is now. I think she's reverting back to her adolescence, her best years. She's really immature at times. Not always of course, because I certainly wouldn't be in love with her if she was. When we're working on the book or being quiet and intimate with each other, she's lovely and bright and insightful. But if she's unsettled or in a party situation, the teenager emerges. She can be exciting, seducing us adults into having fun. But it can get to be too much and usually does. It's obvious when she changes. She starts speaking Pidgin to the point that it's sometimes hard to understand. It's fascinating to see her change into a tough slum girl, but it's scary too. I actually think her Pidgin is pretty cool. It took some convincing, but I got her to translate a couple of her stories into her patois. There's something charming and inherently funny about it, sort of like Yiddish."

"That's true. There are some great local comedians, but of course you have to be from Hawaii to get it."

"I'm not surprised. Anyway, what I'm getting at is she's a very troubled girl. Whether the asshole who basically turned her into his sex slave caused it, or the very choice she made to put herself in that position was a sign, I don't know. But when you saved her, that unbalanced mind became focused on you. You saved her not as much physically as emotionally. It's probably true that if you hadn't brought her to Eugene she would be dead, which of course she's thankful for. She's thankful for plucking her out of the world she had always wanted to escape, the streets of Honolulu, and bringing her to a new world. But she noticed in your heroic gesture your gentleness and your care and your interest in what she had to say. When you didn't play the role she expected, a john paying her for services rendered, or even more truthfully, a private investigator using her as bait, but instead tossed role playing out and treated her like a person, an equal and at the same time as a woman, a lover, it blew her mind. Despite everything, the ruse to capture her boyfriend, the life threatening situation, making love in the room that had been her prison cell, her torture chamber; it became the greatest night of her life. Make no mistake about it, she worships you."

"Shit," I said suddenly panicking, my heart throbbing in my ears. "What am I going to do?"

"I don't know," said Gail.

"I hope you're wrong."

"I hope so too."

"I haven't seen her for months."

"She had Vy."

"How did she respond to Vy's death?"

"Devastation for awhile, then she seemed fine."

"So she has the strength to get on without me or Vy."

"Her being fine is a brave front, a front as thin as a balloon skin, easily punctured, easily popped."

"How do you know?"

"I've seen the explosion. One night out of nowhere she became incredibly angry. She screamed at me when I tried touching her, tried giving her a hug. She walked out into the night and wandered around. Friends saw her talking to herself on the street. I waited for over an hour hoping she'd come back. I called her phone but got the message machine. Finally a friend called me from a bar over a mile away. I asked him to grab her. He called back saying he couldn't find her. I threw on my clothes and drove to the bar and went down every street and alleyway until I found her curled up next to a dumpster sobbing. She made herself so small I nearly passed her. I got out and sat beside her, letting her be alone with her pain, but letting her know I'd share it when she was ready, not with words, just sitting there patiently until she acknowledged me. It was hard not to hold her, but I resisted. I don't know how long I sat with her, but however long, it seemed longer. When she emerged from her fetal position, she slowly rose to her feet, and then extended her hand to help me get to mine. She guided me to my car and got in on the passenger side. 'I'm sorry, ' she said. 'Take me home.' 'Your home, ' I asked? 'Yours please, ' she said. As soon as she entered my apartment, she stripped naked and put on one of my shirts and went to bed. 'Please hold me, ' she said. When I awoke she made waffles, that lovely half smile on her face. She apologized. We never discussed it, never mentioned it again."

Although putting me into a state of concern, Gail helped pull me out of it, asking me about myself and my work, eventually leading to Vy's murder. I felt confident about getting a handle on the villain. The problem was how to find him. I needed more information, so mulling over what I had brought me nowhere. I added somewhat to my information when I called Eileen Brainerd in Seattle, mostly concerning the victim found recently having a similar MO as the Jane Doe in Reno. She wouldn't tell me about Vy's clothing, supporting the Eugene Police's need for concealment of details. But the disappearance of a woman in Olympia interested her, and she promised more details if she could be allowed to tie Vy with the other cases. The timeline of the disappearance interested her most, bringing a possible pathway for this traveling rapist in closer focus.

We loaded Vy's books, weighing down the old Volvo with several boxes. When I saw the cover for the first time, I was mesmerized. It revealed Vy in orgasmic joy on stage, the microphone held loosely in her hands just below her face, her eyes looking down as if hungry for the beautiful black cock. The lighting made her glow in her beautiful pale glory.

Gail accompanied me to the Chief of Police's office. Chief Soaring Eagle was an imposing man, tall with a large rugged face, massive shoulders and a thickening, middle aged body losing its battle against gravity but still suggesting earlier athleticism, like that of a receiver in football in an earlier life. His careworn features etched signs of his battered sensitivity along with, hinted by the brief joy he revealed receiving my gift of fine scotch, an appetite for alcohol.

If the Chief intimidated I couldn't tell because he welcomed me as the disciple of Sam Kamalua and wanted to know how I knew my mentor. That led to his telling me about the two cases they shared. His sad eyes lit up recalling his days as a homicide detective. Perhaps, like Uncle Sam, he should have been less ambitious, but his interactions with his staff and detectives showed a deep respect for the man. Clearly his upward move didn't intend to get rid of an incompetent detective. He seemed equal to them while in charge at the same time.

We ended up spending an hour and a half in his office, partially because of the ease of conversations and partially because of several interruptions which he surprisingly let us hear. Ongoing cases briefed to him in our presence included a leading citizen's son involved in a drug bust.

When the time to leave finally arrived, he handed me a manila envelope, shook my hand and said, "I had them post these overnight. It's not everything, but I think you'll find them useful. Dichter's a decent detective if a bit closed minded. Dealing with the public is his idea of a bad time, and as young as you are, he would have been doubly resistant. Personally, I've enjoyed the hell out of our meeting, and I look forward to sipping on your fine gift and reminiscing about an evening on the town with Sam that was, well, not for mixed company. Good luck."

Once in the car, Gail said, "Interesting man."

I agreed. Eagerly I opened the envelope and pulled out photos and forensic reports regarding Vy's body. As soon as I had a glimpse, I shoved them back inside.

"What is it?" asked Gail.

"It looks like what I need, but it's graphic."

"Um, okay. I guess you'll want to study them in private. We still have a three hours to kill ... sorry ... before meeting Mila. It's four; it'll take a couple hours to get home and three more hours until she's off work."

We decided despite my eagerness to work on the case to have a leisurely dinner at a great seafood restaurant outside Portland which I bought. Then we took a small detour to a favorite viewing spot of Gail's. By the time we reached Eugene, we had shortened the time by half. She came into Vy's apartment to use the phone to set up a meeting with Paula at the theater where the benefit would be taking place so the books could be stashed there. Kenneth unsurprisingly worked at the computer. He had interesting news.

"I think the suspect might have a record," said Kenneth. "There was a robbery in Ogden Utah about a year and a half ago of a pharmacy. The robbers were busted and one of them got a shortened jail sentence for ratting out a ring he claimed to have just started getting involved with and then skipped parole as soon as they released him. Maynard Utley, born and raised in Salt Lake City, 31 years old, a shaky work record with large gaps, the longest employer being the Merchant Marines for which he was given the heave ho for unspecified reasons. The parameters of his employment history stretch around the areas of the abductions and murders, North and West of Utah. He's 6'8" and weighs nearly three hundred pounds with a puss only a mother could love."

I stared at the puss of our probable villain on the monitor as Kenneth spoke. "Any violent rapes in Salt Lake or Ogden when he was young?" I asked. The face, though done at the arrest, had a smirk. He looked cocky (sorry, bad pun) and that gave me a new idea.

"I was just about to work on that," said Kenneth.

"I know this is a stretch, but see if any arrests in the Northern California/Nevada areas in the past year or so suggest him. Maybe in Oregon, Washington and Idaho as well. He might have created a new identity for himself since he skipped parole, so look for an alias with the same body type. Again concentrate on pharmacies, but possibly liquor stores and convenience stores. Maybe even vagrancy or drunk and disorderly, though those might be too frequent and not so well documented."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Kenneth.

"I may be working on hope, but I get a sense the guy talked. He's proud of his villainy. I'm thinking he'd spout off to a cellmate about his success with ladies."

"I'll see if I can get the name of his cellmate in Ogden."

"Good idea," I said.

"I should go meet Paula," interrupted Gail.

"I'll help haul the books," I said.

"You don't have to."

"I don't mind, and I can talk to Paula face to face."

"What about the case?" asked Gail.

"I'm further along then I thought, and I can't do much this late. I'll look at it tomorrow. This way we can hang out until we head to Blue Gene's to pick up Mila. If you're not getting sick of me."

"To tell you the truth, I've enjoyed it," said Gail.

"Me too. Now I get to enjoy it less for a little while until it gets real fun with you and Mila."

"By less fun you mean Paula?"

"I do indeed."

The Pantages Theater had been built as an opera hall, its opulence reduced over the years. No giant chandelier remained. Any extravagant decorations had been removed. But the ornate qualities remained as hints, the elegant details of the wood work in the entrances into the auditorium and especially the designs on the box seats on each side of the stage. It became a concert hall for popular music, mostly rock acts, and with its age and the abundance of various types of smoke, had a bittersweet odor of mold, tobacco and marijuana lingering in its emptiness.

If Paula was happy to see me, I would have been surprised and I wasn't. See Gail brought a smile although puzzled one. Gail seemed to be enjoying my company.

Looking through the book, like it had for me, disturbed yet exhilarated her, and the emotions it brought out gave me a glimpse of Paula as the intelligent, charming, nice woman rumors suggested. After stashing the books, we sat in the darkened theater while I told her of my progress. She nodded and looked skeptical, but when I finished our eyes met, and hers pooled with tears. Mine too.

Gail guided a weeping Paula onto her lap and hugged her, whispering, "You two should be doing this. He misses her almost as much as you do."

"I know, darling. I just can't."

"Just like you, he made her happy and looked out for her needs and never hurt her. Just like you he loved her. Just like you, he knew a beautiful soul too short a time on this earth. Please Paula."

"I can't."

"Do you hate him that much?"

"I don't know."

"Please."

Gail gently lifted her out of her lap and onto her feet. It might have been Paula's body sagging, threatening to topple, and I grabbed her to save her, but I took her in my arms and held her tight. My tears dampened her straight dirty blonde hair as hers dampened my shoulder. She looked up, a sad smile on her face looking pretty like I knew she could. "I'm sorry," she said. "Thank you."

"Thank you for contacting me."

"You're welcome. Vy never told me what it was like with you. She knew I didn't want to hear. Except one thing. She said you're a great kisser. I planned to be funny and say something like, 'you're not going to kiss me are you?' when I came into your arms. Instead I'm asking you to kiss me. Would you?"

I did. It began warm and soft, our lips heated by emotions. I didn't dare bring my tongue into the equation, so hers touching my lips and slipping inside my mouth surprised me. And turned me on. As our tongues dueled, I pushed my hardening cock against her belly. Her body rose as she went on her toes so I lowered my body until our excited genitals met. Subtle but we felt the rub.

"Get a room," joked Gail. Our mouths slowly eased away. Our crotches remained in contact. We both glanced over at a smiling Gail.

"I thought you liked girls," I said to Paula when we focused our eyes on each other.

"She's as bisexual as Mila," said Gail, "except she's the opposite. Boys are for playing with and girls are for loving. Speaking of which, we should get going. Would you like to join us?" she asked Paula.

"For what?" Paula asked.

"Gail wants to watch me fuck," I explained.

"Who?"

"Anyone who wants me. We had Mila in mind, but..."

Paula moved her body away from mine for a moment, her facial expressions shifting from resistance to doubt to thoughtfulness to desire.

"One more kiss and I'll decide." The kiss started gentle but quickly became intense, and our rubbing of genitals lost all subtlety.

"Okay," she said breathlessly once our lips parted. She looked into my eyes. Hers were wide open and dilated as were her nostrils and her smile stretched across her face. "You drive," she said to Gail. "I want to prepare Joe for Mila. Hurry."

Taking my hand, Paula pulled me into a fast walk. Gail, laughing, trailed behind. Paula entered the back seat of the Volvo with me in tow. We made out like a couple of high school kids. I let Paula set the pace, and it was quick. Within seconds she reached for the cylindrical mound my cock formed in my pants, her hand pressing against it and following it to the end and back. One of my hands found the nipple covered by her shirt and bra and the other hand the slit below her pubic mound hidden by her slacks and panties. We kept the kiss going throughout the fondling.

When Gail arrived at the restaurant, she went in alone while we continued acting like horny teenagers. In the ten minutes it took for Gail to return with Mila, our sexual organs had been freed from clothing for our hands to enjoy. We edged towards cumming. My fingers sloshed around in her honeypot, keeping my rubbing of her clit slick. My precum eased the strokes Paula aggressively performed on my cock. We paused when the door opened.

Thankfully, mostly because my cock would never fit back into my pants, Mila leaned against the backrest of the front passenger seat and insisted we continue. Paula removed her pants and panties, revealing the soft pale flesh of her ass and thighs and carefully trimmed dirty blonde bush crowning her slit, the wet pink insides revealed as she spread herself as wide as she could. Then she lowered her torso until her mouth met my cockhead and her lips embraced it.

Concentrating on coaxing her to cum, my hands abandoning the task long enough to unhook her bra and let one hand squeeze her nipples while the other returned to her frothing pussy, I delayed my orgasm. With my task successful signaled by a quietly intense moan and a flow of love juice, it distracted Paula from her cocksucking, but she grasped my perilously climactic cock hard as she climaxed and the intense strokes brought forth my orgasm, squirting the first shot into her open mouth, followed by shots hitting her chin and neck. The semen dribbled onto my pants, protecting the Volvo's leather seats.