Chapter 13

Day 13 (20 October 2018) Notes for Taxi Driver Task Force initiated on 8 October 2018

(Detective Trish Cavanaugh Badge 3446 SFPD)

A quick reminder that this entry for day 13 of 20 October 2018 will include the victim case files for Taxi Driver killer Victim number 14 only.

It was getting close to the end of the month now and I was not particularly looking forward to the annual search for Candy and goodies by the little ones on Halloween. The sight of them trekking from house to house wearing their mostly hand-made costumes was a shock to the system. I had been fed a raft of Halloween Horror stories to last a lifetime and I expected they would still be made even with lack of interest in those under sixteen because the profitability factor was too nicely cushioned for the Hollywood types to forego swelling their bank accounts.

The holiday fell on a Wednesday night this year and Diane would be away at her private school out in the boondocks. After her wanton display of carnality with my new go-to guy for busting out of a sex-deprived depression, I was none too happy to see her bask in the good will of my letters to the war zone that helped him over the hump of being another pair of “boots” on the ground in the combat zone.

In a way, San Francisco was pretty much of a war zone if you happened to be blonde, nubile, in the age range of 18 – 45 and tended to be lacking in caution in the serial killer Cinderella hours of Midnight to five AM.

This guy was showing no signs of slowing down and we had just gotten a boost in our Task Force budget with some grant money from the Department of Justice to tide our failing local governmental system over with much-needed green to pay the operational expenses.

They had even docked my pay for a minor fender bender with one of the Swat Team armored vehicles which was entirely the Swat team’s fault because they were way over the yellow line in the parking garage. I had to raid Diane’s set aside cash fund for college just to pay the rent and get some nice undies that I had seen on sale down at the main Market Street Mall.

I went with a couple of the Task Force secretaries to a nice place over by Fisherman’s Wharf that had free drinks for all female guests from 5 PM to 6 PM and we all managed to put down three quick ones in the allotted sixty minutes of drinking perks. Fortunately, I had acquired a bit of a “wooden leg” from my years on undercover work and I had also gotten a tolerance for the weed but it was completely off the menu with the new “piss in the bottle” surprise testing the city had instituted for all government employees.

It was easy for me to be well-behaved because I had filled up on the “all you can eat” lobster that stretched my tummy walls to the maximum. The other two girls were all giggly and flirting like crazy with a bunch of visiting real estate agents from the southlands. Those Los Angeles types were so predictable that I would lay odds that both of those girls would be flat on their backs learning new tricks from the “one night stand” unaccompanied married guys in a way that would stick in their memory for a long time.

I was deep in a conversation with a dark-skinned Don Juan that must have been more attuned to slightly older females because he stuck to me like fly-paper and I was unable to shake him off. After a couple of weak attempts to push him away, I just went with the flow and took him home with me because Diane was far away and only Otto could see my disgraceful fall from grace.

Ritchie turned out to be a decent guy and I was surprised that he turned out to be not married and without a girlfriend because he was living with his mother and she didn’t approve of his taste for fooling around with white women that would only “use him and drop him like a hot potato” when her friends found out she was doing something a little too liberal for their sense of appropriateness.

I could easily understand his mother’s point of view because that was my initial reaction when I saw my little baby Diane hanging out with a six foot seven basketball player with kinky hair.

Otto kept quiet and just looked at me with those eyes that told me he was not happy with me getting home late and not remembering to take him for his walk like I did almost every night as soon as I got home. I just let him loose in the back yard and he did his business as I silently promised to take care of the yard early the next morning.

Right now, I was more interested in showing Ritchie my new wallpaper in the master bedroom so he could see how talented I was in taking care of household chores.

The sight of his oversized equipment started to change my mind about mixed marriages and I pretended I was used to such overwhelming tools of masculine control. He took me slowly and with great care to not bruise my delicate white woman sensitivities. I wanted to shout out, “It’s all right, I won’t break, just do it hard and don’t stop until I cross the finish line.”

I found out that he had finished his master’s degree at the University of Southern California and that he had been engaged to be married to the daughter of a prominent politician from San Diego when she bolted at the last moment and ran away to Las Vegas with a pool boy that didn’t have proper documentation. Now, he was protected by virtue of marriage and she was getting lessons in Hispanic culture every night in her family’s estate out in the valley.