Goodbye Natalie

Chapter Eighteen: Bad Sin

     The good thing about making detective is, you no longer have to wear the uniform and stand out in a crowd like a sore thumb. The bad thing is, you get used to that feeling of power that the uniform provides... walking around with the badge and gun on display, and once you’re back in street clothes you miss it. You can still flash the badge and give ’em a peek at the gun, discreetly hidden in the belt or shoulder holster...but, there’s nothing like that feeling of invincibility that goes along with pulling up, sirens blaring, everybody tripping over themselves to get out of your way or ingratiate themselves to
you.

     Harry Tong was by nature a humble man. He made a conscious effort to keep his ego in check, but, sometimes he missed the old days when he was a fresh recruit with a clean haircut and meticulously pressed uniform. Like all the other guys, there were the rare occasions he would use his position to his advantage – free meals and drinks, rules bent and sometimes broken when need be...girls. It was a well-known fact that cops had groupies. Hell, why else do so many guys go into law enforcement? The benefits of city pay don’t exactly trade even with getting shot at or chasing down the worst of society’s ills...it’s for the girls.

     As Harry sat on Hollywood Boulevard in the middle of the day, after trailing Joanie Kwan into the Ashburn Theatre, he had to admit, she was worth the wait. He didn’t know her name or her story, all he knew was that she’d been keeping company with Fallon Dawn Hunter, possibly living with her, possibly a girlfriend. In the back of his mind he was hoping she wasn’t involved in anything too notorious and he’d have a chance to find out more about her after this case with Fallon was settled. As it was, he was supposed to be trailing Hunter, but since the Chinese girl had dropped her at the Glendale Galleria and driven back to the Hollywood office of A-1 Detective Agency, he figured it was wise to stay with the car. Eventually, she had to go pick up Fallon, right? Was it really so unreasonable that she’d decided to do some grocery shopping, stop off at the office briefly then walk two blocks to catch a movie? In the middle of the day?

     Harry’s random assimilations ran through his head like numbers through a calculator. When the light bulb went on, he pounded his fist into the steering wheel. ”Damn it!” He cursed under his breath as he ran across the street into the dusty theatre. At the ticket booth he flashed his badge and threw open the heavy metal and glass door. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark theatre, he stepped onto the thick carpet and desperately scanned the rows of empty seats for any sign of Kwan. There were only two people in the audience and Harry Tong gazed at the lit exit sign at the front of the auditorium in frustration. As he sprinted out of the theatre, the exit door banged loudly into the crumbling wall, dislodging another little bit of once valuable Hollywood real estate, now nothing more than a facade of what had once been. The rusty door creaked tiredly back into place, shutting out the bright sunlight of the modern world, keeping in it’s memories of grander times now shared by rats and cockroaches, visited like an elderly forgotten relative by the occasional film buff as a nostalgic dalliance or used fleetingly for some lewd sexual encounter, or as an escape route for pretty girls on the run.

     He looked both ways up and down the deserted alley and instinct had him jogging the two blocks to the rear of the building that housed the A-1 Detective Agency, where Fallon’s car was still parked. Good...maybe it wasn’t too late to pick up the trail. He dodged in the back entrance and bolted up the stairs. On the fourth floor he settled himself, running a hand over his hair and wiping his brow. He quietly walked down the hallway to the A-1 Agency door and leaned his ear close, there was no sound inside. He pressed closer and strained to hear...nothing. He knocked casually, then harder. Nobody there.

     Harry Tong retraced his steps back to the rear alley and peered through Fallon Dawn’s car window. The grocery bags were gone and it was locked tight, the same as the A-1 door. Nothing unusual in and of itself, but something out of the ordinary did catch Harry’s attention. He pulled his service revolver and froze in a two point stance.

     Two minutes later, Harry Tong was on the pay phone in the building lobby, calling Detective Nick Bonetti’s direct line.

     ”Bonetti.” Nick answered.

     ”Boss! It’s me...” Harry spoke breathlessly.

     ”Harry? What’s wrong? How’s the tail going?” Bonetti asked curiously.

     ”I lost ’em boss, the Chinese girl dropped Fallon off in Glendale, at the mall for some shopping a couple of hours ago. I followed the car back to the Hollywood office, I’m there now.” Harry spoke rapidly, catching his breath.

     ”Whatta mean, you lost ’em?” Bonetti asked seriously.

     ”The China girl ducked into a movie theatre, a couple of blocks down, she disappeared...but...” Harry tried to continue.

     ”What about the car?” Bonetti interrupted.

     ”Still at the office...in the back. The tracking device is still in place.” Harry said. ”But boss...”

     Bonetti checked his watch. ”It’s still early, they gotta come back for the car sometime. Just stay with the car.” Bonetti said.

     ”There’s something else boss, a complication.” Harry said excitedly.

     ”What is it Harry?” Bonetti asked. As usual, Harry’s strict up-bringing and the professionalism instilled in him from his police training had prevented him from jumping in while someone else was speaking. Sometimes it irked Bonetti, he just wanted Harry to get to the point, etiquette be damned.

     ”Harry...” Bonetti insisted. ”Tell me what’s going on!”

     ”I was checking the car for the tracking device...there’s a dumpster in the alley, right beside the car.” Harry began.

     ”Yes, yes.” Bonetti urged.

     ”There’s a body in the dumpster boss.” Harry finally said.

     A cold chill passed through Bonetti’s body that was not unlike panic. His brain went numb for a moment from the rush of blood and adrenaline. He fought to regain composure. ”Is it...?” Bonetti asked tentatively.

     ”No boss, s’neither one of the girls.” Harry answered quickly.

     Bonetti let out a breath.

     ”It’s a Black male, mid-thirties I’d guess, his throat is cut ear to ear and it looks to be recent, within a couple of hours I’d say.” Harry said.

     Bonetti asked. ”Could it be a robbery? Maybe a homeless crime?”
”I don’t know boss. The guy’s dressed too well to be homeless.” Harry reported. ”We’ll need forensics and a coach.”

     ”Yeah, I’m on it.” Bonetti said matter of factly. ”Secure the area, hold it down...we’ll be there right away.”

     ”Got it boss.” Harry responded firmly.

     ”And Harry,” Bonetti continued. ”Watch out for yourself, we don’t know what’s going on over there.”

     ”Yes boss.” Harry said. ”You thinkin’ she’s involved in this boss?”

      Bonetti thought for a brief moment. ”I dunno. But if either one of of ’em shows up, they don’t go nowhere, you understand?”

     ”Yes boss.” Harry answered quickly.

     Bonetti continued. ”There’s some things I gotta get straightened out with our Miss Hunter. Some questions that need to be answered, for starters, how come it seems where ever Miss Lonely Heart’s goes, bodies keep turning up... and, where the hell did those two disappear to this time?”

     * * *

     L.A. to San Francisco is about four-hundred miles straight through on Interstate Five North. Fallon Dawn and Joanie Kwan got off near Bakersfield and ate a leisurely dinner at Sizzler while allowing the five p.m. rush hour traffic to subside. Mudcat Jones pulled into the gas station across from the restaurant, gassed up and bought a couple of microwave burritos. When the green rental car regained cruising speed back on the interstate, Mudcat’s stolen Monte Carlo settled in smoothly a few car lengths back. Like a panther patiently waiting for his prey to tire and return to the nest, Mudcat calmly followed, steadily relighting his crack pipe and occasionally snorting a small line of angel dust. Just high enough to quell the pain of his patched gunshot wounds, but not enough to prevent him from exacting his revenge on the one who had caused them and the other one who had inflicted the damage.

     It was nearing midnight when the city came into view. The lights from the bridges spanned the bay heralding the majestic sight. Towers of concrete, high-rise monuments clustered tightly together like a fortress, surrounded by hills and fog and water on all sides. San Francisco appeared as a surreal, story book place in Fallon’s imagination. Her eyes filled with wonderment at the sight. She wondered if this beautiful, new city was her Oz, where adventure, danger and enlightenment awaited and beckoned. And would her own story ever end happily? Surrounded by loving friends and family, after finally discovering that there truly was, no place like home?

     ”It’s beautiful!” Gasped Kwan.

     ”Yes, it is.” Fallon agreed.

     After driving the main streets for about an hour, they settled on a Day’s Inn motel with a majestic view of the bay and Golden Gate Bridge, and easy access to the wharf and the downtown area. Tomorrow, Fallon Dawn would deposit Vivian Valentine’s check and open a temporary account in one of the large banks in the financial district. She would then run down the lead that Vivian had provided in hopes of finding Frankie. She also was hoping to locate the forwarding address from Jake Barnes’ Hollywood mail drop on O’Farrel Street, and they would have to find a more suitable living space. The motel was adequate for a couple of nights, but she calculated they’d be staying in town longer than that, and a hotel would be more suitable and less expensive.

     They rented a room with a small refrigerator and double beds, then lugged their suitcases and groceries up to the room. It was small but clean and sufficient for sleeping. The view was splendid. Kwan showered and changed while Fallon unpacked necessities. When Kwan emerged wearing a pink baby doll nightie with flowery lace and combing her silky hair deliberately, Fallon swallowed with difficulty and pretended not to notice.

     ”So, ah...which bed do you want?” She asked Kwan.

     ”No matter...which ever one you like.” Kwan answered easily.

     ”That’s not what I meant.” Fallon spoke harsher than she intended.

     ”Well, what do you mean?” Kwan asked.

     Fallon was tired and a little edgy from the long drive and preoccupied with thoughts and strategies for the next day. She didn’t want to argue or have to explain herself at the moment. ”You shouldn’t even be wearing that, it’s not suitable.” Fallon spoke flatly.

     Kwan appeared perplexed and looked down at the nightie. ”You don’t like it?” She asked innocently.

     Fallon opened her mouth, words didn’t come out easily. ”No! I mean, yes...” She was stuttering. Fallon shook her head and stormed past Kwan to the bathroom. ”You don’t understand!” She said loudly from the bathroom. 

     After a long shower, she sheepishly returned to the bedroom, Kwan was under the covers and quietly reading a magazine. The pink nightie was carefully draped over the lamp on the night stand, giving the room a warm, pinkish hue. Fallon began pulling suitcases off of the other bed.

     ”What are you doing?” Kwan asked.

     ”Getting ready for bed.” Fallon said, turning to face Kwan.

     Joanie sat up in the bed, and in doing so the sheet fell from her shoulders, revealing her tanned nakedness.

     Fallon spoke softly. ”What are YOU doing?”

     ”You said I shouldn’t be wearing that.” Kwan rolled her eyes to the nightie.

     Fallon didn’t want to say anything harsh or renew the argument. Barely audible, she whispered. ”Joanie...I have to sleep.”

     Kwan lifted the bedcovers, inviting her to lie down. ”So sleep.” She slid over to make room.

     ”Joanie...” Fallon spoke weakly.

     Kwan took hold of her hand and tugged gently. ”Shhh...you sleep now.” Kwan’s words were more of a reassuring purr.

     The fog horns sounded in the bay and the cold settled over the hills like stardust sprinkled on an angel cake. Inside the motel rooms, couples snuggled warm and content, the darkness outside locked out and forgotten for the night. The glow of the windows and city lights flickered silently in the thick fog.

     On the street below, Mudcat Jones drank cheap wine from a flat bottle and loaded a used syringe with a healthy shot of heroin. He’d nod for a few hours and keep a watchful eye on the motel. A tired looking young prostitute was passing, huddled against the cold wind, her high heels clicking noisily on the damp pavement. Mudcat rolled down the car window and called to her.

     ”Where ya headed slim’?” Mudcat said.

     ”Depends.” The girl eyed Mudcat suspiciously.

     The seasoned hunter lit a fat joint and inhaled deeply. ”Awful cold out ta night.” Mudcat drawled.

     The girl leaned in closer to the car window. Mudcat had the engine running and the heater blasting, smooth jazz played on the stereo softly.

     ”You lookin’ for a date mister?” She asked warily.

     ”Maybe.” Mudcat answered slowly. ”What they call you slim?”

     ”Cherry.” The hooker answered.

     Mudcat chuckled. ”Well now...I’n gone call you Cherry Bomb, cos I bet y’all give up the bomb head...s’at right girl?”

     ”If tha’ price is right.” The prostitute studied Mudcat’s jewelry and looked around in the car for signs of weapons or anything suspicious. She wanted to get out of the cold, she needed to make some more money before calling it a night, but Mudcat was obviously a playa, and she knew to be cautious. The nagging doubt in the back of her mind gave way to the cold and the tempting aroma of the thick smoke. She stepped to the passenger side as Mudcat opened the door.

     High on a hilltop with the fog rolling in off the bay and temperatures dropping faster than satin gowns at the senior prom, Cherry Bomb made a fateful decision that would forever change the course of her young life. Sliding into that blue Monte Carlo with Mudcat Jones was like diving off a pier without knowing how deep or shallow the water is, or if the currents are too strong to swim against. The soft-spoken girl who had only taken up streetwalking. recently in desperation had unwittingly stumbled into a situation that was far beyond her abilities to manage. She had fallen into depths where sharks swallowed the little fishes in one ravenous bite. If only she had heeded the warning that had tugged at her ear, if only she had listened to her mother, if only so many things. But fate is a cruel master and all of us inevitably fall victim to it’s randomness. Some are lucky and paths are lighted with road signs directing the way to safety, others, not so much.

     In the warm car with soft music playing and sweet herb smoke lilting about, Cherry Bomb was on a date with the devil. Over Mudcat’s shoulder, the sign from the Bay Day’s Inn flashed on and off. Cherry Bomb wasn’t sure if she was seeing right, it could’ve been the fog or the effects of the strong weed. She thought she saw the sign flashing, ”Ba D s In”. But that was just silly. Bad sin...she grinned inwardly and took another toke, then she handed the joint back and turned to share the odd thought with Mudcat. What she saw in his eyes halted the words in her throat and sent shivers down her thin spine.

* * * * *