Chapter 2: He is traveling with a lady

Now you would think because all of us, other than Candy, already had a houseful of clothing hanging in the closets of the beach house all we had to do was jump into our cars and drive over. Think again. It took us longer than a week before we were completely settled in. It seemed there was more than just a small number of clothing and other miscellaneous items that the girls just couldn't live without. Go figure.

Needless to say, we took Jess Borden's collection of firearms along with us.

Anyway, by the end of the week Towns had changed all the door and window locks and had installed a newer, bigger, fancier security system in the Hollywood hills house, which he guaranteed would keep all but the most aggressive out.

Fortunately the high school that Clarity attended accommodated ninth through twelfth grade students so we faked having an address nearby that campus and Kim managed to get Vicky, along with her school transcripts transferred there. Vicky was in ninth grade and Clarity a junior.

Both Jen and Maria dropped out of the junior college they were attending but Maria transferred to another one located nearer to the beach house. Jen decided not to transfer and instead started working with Kim in her real estate office insuring that, as I had requested, at least one other of us was with Kim at all times. I didn't know it at the time but Jen secretly started packing the snub-nosed .38 inside her purse.

With both Maria and Vicky needing to be driven to and from their respective schools, Kim and Jen driving to and from the real estate office, and Dana and Candy driving to and from work, all of our vehicles and licensed drivers were kept quite busy. We even brought the 'Blue Oil Burner' back into play on occasion. I would have purchased another car if I could have figured out where in the hell I could park it. It was bad enough finding spaces for the five vehicles we already had. What the hell were we going to do when Vicky became old enough to drive or after we taught Maria and she got her license? I'll think about it when the time came.

We purchased three additional beds, dressers with end tables, and doubled up in all the bedrooms in order to accommodate enough sleeping space for all of us.

Well enough complaining. Now for the upside, the showers and hot tub always had hot water and truly drool-worthy even hotter naked female bodies I could ogle and play with. A man should find himself so fortunate.

Two weeks later another city prostitute turned up dead. I found out about it at around six-thirty at night when Dana, who was indeed keeping me up to date with the serial killer case, called and informed me that some guy named Walton 'Willy' Weeks had just walked into the downtown LAPD sub-station and told them he had stumbled across a dead body after taking a prostitute into some alley to get himself a blow job in trade for a couple of bucks and some smack. Dana also told me that after Weeks had told the police about the grim discovery they became suspicious of him and asked if they could search his home.

"Weeks was reluctant at first but he finally relented," Dana told me, "and three of the officers assigned to our task force are already on their way to toss Weeks' apartment. Three other task force members, along with the coroner are accompanying Weeks to where he found the body."

"Thanks Dana," I told her sincerely. "I really do appreciate you keeping me informed."

"Well ... that's not all Sam," Dana said, and I detected a little hesitation in her voice.

"Okay?" I answered.

"Weeks also found a purse lying near the nude body. The I.D. inside the purse belongs to a Sarah Wakefield, a nineteen year old run-away known by the LAPD to be a relatively new prostitute working the downtown area."

"Okay?" I said again.

"The head of the task force asked Candy and I to go out and interview some of the businesses and other working girls in the area while the fires still hot. It seems from what Weeks told them the girl's body was still warm. Candy and I plan on leaving as soon as I get off the phone."

"Where should I meet you?" I asked without any hesitation.

"Sam I ... meet us at Jakes. You know that bar we went to before over on Third Street. You can leave your car in the lot and then ride along with us." She didn't sound all that enthusiastic.

"Dana I..." I started but she cut me off.

"It's all right Sam. Just let me stew a little. It's a girl FBI thing."

"Got cha." I tried to make my voice sound up-beat. "See ya in a few." Then I hung up before she had any second thoughts.

Kim and Jen were still not home from work so I told Vicky and Maria where I was going and then after slipping my dark sports jacket over my dress shirt I slammed a fully loaded magazine into Jess' Colt .45, chambered a round, flipped the safety, and then tucked the gun in the waist band of my pants under my coat.

Dana and Candy were already there seated in their car waiting for me when I pulled into Jakes parking lot. I got out of the Caddy, locked its doors and then pulled opened the back door of the FBI sedan and slid into the back seat.

"Sorry," I said getting myself comfortable. "I got here as fast as I could. Did you have to wait long?"

"Yes." Dana said without turning around.

"We did not. Only about a half hour or so," Candy said turning toward me while smiling. We ran a background check on the vic Sarah Wakefield before leaving."

Dana fired up the car and then started backing out. When she turned to look out the rear window I leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Thanks for doing this honey. I love you." I told her with a smile.

Dana stopped the car, looked at me and then she too smiled, "God I just can't stay mad at you. Come here."

I leaned forward once again and kissed her for real this time. She kissed me back with enough tongue and enthusiasm to let me know that we were all right.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Candy interrupted.

I backed away from Dana and then leaned toward Candy so I could kiss her. Candy's tongue flicked out and licked my bottom lip. I opened my mouth and her tongue entered. When it retreated, mine followed hers passing her lips where I explored inside her moist oral cavity.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Dana interrupted this time.

"Yummy!" Candy murmured greedily after we had parted from our kiss.

Dana shook her head but she was still smiling as she resumed backing out and then pulled forward and turned right out of the parking lot merging into traffic.

We ended up parking along the curbside in the darker, shadier part of downtown where the streets seem to collect a higher number of immigrant peoples from all corners of the globe. I also saw several girls cavorting around in various states of undress most of them hanging outside a pornographic cinema located near the middle of the block in-between an old run down hotel on one side and a dirty looking bar on the other.

Across the street I saw another old hotel, a convince store, and two, count um, two service centers. One of the service centers was posted with the name, 'Women's Information Safe House drop-in center', and the other was for men.

"This is the LA that's the most painful," Candy said somberly. "It's the working part. The tough part." She paused and added, "The heartbreaking part."

As we got out of the car Dana cautioned me to look natural and try to act like a cop. I put on my best 'look like a cop' face and followed behind the two agents.

Dana and Candy started out talking to the people in the hotels, bar, corner store, and service organizations asking them about Sara Wakefield and it was really eye opening to discover that many of them remembered Sarah and they seemed to be concerned and caring people. I realized that for all the difficulty and hardness in the people's lives living where they did, there was a sense of community there and they tried to look out for their own as best they could.

One old guy standing behind the counter of the convince store told Dana, "Hell, anything can happen down here. It's openly okay to sell drugs down here, it's openly okay to solicit prostitution, it's openly okay to break into anybody's vehicle, it's just like a war zone. The police are all over the fucking place but they don't do a damn thing."

Nobody was any help with the case however.

Then we went out and talked with some of the prostitutes. After Dana or Candy had assured them that we were with the FBI and not Vice several of the working girls were willing to speak with us. Just listening to them it became obvious to me that street-level sex trade workers were subjected to violence and threats on almost a daily basis and an alarming number of 'tricks' ended in beatings, rape, abuse, and sometimes even death.

I almost became physically ill seeing firsthand how drugs had seduced these girls with such haunting ease, wrapping them in a womb-like warmth that filters out their pain, fear, and hurt ... at least for a while. The streets around me were lined by women and girls searching for the next fleeting surge of euphoria. Anything for the drug, anything to keep from getting sick.

"When you need your next fix," one older veteran prostitute told us, "you're sick, puking, it's like having the flu, a cold, and arthritis, all at the same time, only multiplied by a hundred times."

Listening to them I could only measured the carnage of addiction in numbers of lost children, some as young as Vicky, their discarded dreams and malnourished bodies pockmarked by scars. Even with STD's and hepatitis C as ongoing threats, and the first case of HIV just around the corner, their street life could only be clocked by the intervals between highs. There was no time off for these girls and home was often in a pimp's bed or that of any man that offered them a fix.

Then we got a hit. An eighteen year old girl who already looked like she'd seen it all and seemed more street-smart than most, and whose real name was Wanda Banes but went by the street name of Kitty told us she knew Sara Wakefield but she mostly called her by her street name of Kat. Kitty also told us that yesterday she and Kat had been hanging together working the rush-hour traffic when all of a sudden Kat pointed to a man standing on the corner about a block away from them and that Kat had told her she was afraid of the man and to stay away from him.

"Did she say why she was afraid of him?" Dana asked the girl.

"Naw. Just to stay as far away from him as possible."

"Did you recognize the man? Had you ever seen him before?" Candy asked Kitty.

"No," Kitty shook her head. "He did kinda creep me out though."

"How so?" Dana questioned.

"I don't know," Kitty answered, "He was pretty far away but he just looked creepy. You know like one of those guys that expect you to do all sorts of weird things with them for five bucks."

"Can you describe him?" Candy asked.

Kitty looked at Candy and asked solemnly, "Kat's dead isn't she?"

Candy nodded affirmatively.

"I knew it." Kitty returned. "I knew it. Just another one of us that nobody gives a shit about!"

"If nobody gave a shit we wouldn't be here Kitty. We're here because we do give a shit." Dana returned calmly.

Kitty looked at Dana, cocked her head slightly and then she said softly, "Yeah. You are here aren't you." She hadn't asked it as a question.

"So, can you describe this creepy guy for us?" Candy asked again.

"Like I said he was pretty far away but he seemed to be kinda short and he didn't have very much hair on the front or on the top of his head but I could see that it was long in the back. He wore glasses and was dressed in some kinda business suit."

"Anything else?" Candy asked.

"Naw, that's all I could see from where I was standing," Kitty shook her head.

"Okay Kitty thanks for your help," Dana told the girl while rummaging around in her purse and finally coming up with a business card. She handed the card to the young hooker saying, "This is my business card Kitty. It has my home number penciled on the back and there's also a dime taped there. If you see that guy again or if you can think of anything else please give me a call right away. Any time, day or night."

"Okay." Kitty answered tucking Dana's card away, then looking up at Dana she said, "We use to work together sometimes, Kat and me. The married suburb John's just loved calling us Kitty Kat. Or saying shit like, show me your little pussies Kitty Kats, like their play on words was being clever or something." Then she seemed to drift off when she said, "You know it's kinda funny. Just a few days ago Kat told me that living the way we do, you either go to jail, end up dead, or do a life sentence here."

I thought those to be prophetic words from a girl who was a murder victim, and who may have fallen foul of a serial killer.

"I'm really sorry about your friend Kitty." I spoke for the first time.

Kitty looked at me for a long time and then she said, "You're a cop right?"

I nodded.

Still looking at me she asked, "You don't happen to have a son named Jimmy that's a tweaker do you?"

"No," I answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Just that you look an awful lot like Jimmy is all. You're a lot older and much better looking, but still, you sure do look a lot like him." Kitty answered.

"By the way you spat out his name I take it you don't like this Jimmy very much." I questioned.

"You could say that," Kitty answered. "He's a total looser. Hell, nobody would have even given him the time of day if he hadn't of been so tight with Eddy Brown and had access to Eddy's connections as a supplier. Now that SAM put Eddy behind bars nobodies seen hide or hair of Jimmy around here in a long time. But then I heard that he became an All Star and started rolling Witch hazel so he probably just O.D.'ed or something."

I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sadness for this girl. Like she needed protection and it was up to me to provide it. No, that wasn't right, but at the very least I would offer some advice, "Kitty, there's a Safe House right across the street, why not use it."

"They'll only take you in for one night unless you're willing to go Turkey. I ain't ready for that yet. Besides this ain't so bad, I'm still young and John's love young pussy. I'm doing okay for myself."

"You'll end up like Sara Kitty. Is that what you want?" I asked and I knew I sounded frustrated but Kitty didn't seem to take notice because she smiled.

"I know you're just trying to be helpful and nice," She told me still smiling. "Christ, if you weren't a cop I think I'd even offer you a freebie, but things are as they are for now. Tomorrow ... who knows?"

"Listen Kitty," I said with concern in my voice. "I won't push you but there's a brand new sexually transmitted disease that's going to be around here real soon. This disease is like nothing you've ever seen before, it's a real killer, so at the very least make sure that every John uses a condom okay."

"That's gonna be tough. Some tricks are willing to pay double for riding bare back." She told me casually.

"Just think about it Kitty," I pressed. "This disease is going to spread like crazy and it'll kill a lot of people along the way."

"Not syphilis huh?" She asked.

"No. This thing is much worse," I assured her. "It's called HIV which can turn into AIDS. It's a real nightmare and there is no cure for it."

"I'll think on it, older and handsomer, look like Jimmy cop guy. Now I need to get back to work. No rest for the weary you know." Then after nodding to Dana and Candy she turned and walked away.

"Call me anytime," Dana called out after her.

Kitty turned back toward us and called out, "I will, even if it's just to find out about Kat ... no, to find out about Sara Wakefield, if that's all right."

"Yes, you do that. That'll be fine ... Wanda," Dana called back.

Now armed with a partial description of some creepy guy that Sara Wakefield had been afraid of, we returned to all the businesses and questioned the proprietors once again.

Several of them remembered seeing the guy hanging around over the past several months but could offer little additional information other than he was around five-foot five-inches tall, always wore a suit, was completely bald on top and sometimes wore the long hair growing along the back of his head in a pony tail. He had never stayed in the hotels, never had a drink at the bar, never purchased anything at the convince store, or ever entered the Safe Houses. Everyone assured us that they would call the FBI office immediately if the guy showed up again. The business cards that Dana passed out this time did not have our home phone number or a dime taped on the backs. Dead end.