The Last Innocent Man (3 page)

“About two minutes later they turned around and fired the rest of the shots in the gun off at me.”

It was very quiet in the room. David was having trouble taking this in, which was unusual for him. He was an old pro at this sort of thing. How many mutilated bodies had he seen in photographs or in person? How many hu
man tragedies had he been involved in? What was this girl to him?

“How close did the shots come to you?” David asked.

“One bullet spit up dirt right near my head. So did another.”

“Did you hear any of them say anything when they left?”

“Yeah, someone said, ‘I think we got her,’ but I don’t know who.”

“Do you know who shot at you from the car?”

She shook her head and put it down on her crossed arms again. She looked very tired.

“How did you get down to the bottom of the mountain? It’s several miles from where the shots were fired.”

“I crawled.”

“Crawled?”

“I got scared lying there. I stayed curled up for a while, but the pain wouldn’t stop and there was no sound up there. Just the wind and animals in the woods. I didn’t want to stay put, so I crawled. And it took hours and it hurt so much.”

There were tears in her eyes and David felt dead inside.

“But I wasn’t gonna let them do this to me. So I crawled and sometimes I walked a ways and I got to the bottom and just fell in that ditch, and anytime a car come by or a truck I’d pull myself up. That was the worst. Even worst than the shooting and being alone. No one would stop for me or help me.”

The tape recorder spun on. The rays of the sun created splotches of light on the tabletop. Monica placed her arm around Jessie’s heaving shoulders and spoke soothingly.
David stared at the wall. It took every ounce of control he had learned in the courtroom to keep his features from showing any emotion. Sometimes he wondered if that wasn’t one trick he could do now without trying.

M
ONICA AND
D
AVID
agreed to meet by the reception desk, and Monica took Jessie back to the girls’ detention area. It was a little past noon and the reception room was empty. David sat down on a couch in the corner. The interview had shaken him, and he wanted some time to calm down.

A teenage boy walked up to the reception desk and David thought about the man-boy, Tony Seals, whom he was being paid so much money to represent. Eighteen years old, his brains burned out by controlled substances, not caring about anything or anyone, not even himself.

And the boy’s parents. David would never have come into the office the day after the Gault verdict if Anton and Emily Seals had not been old and valued clients of his firm, and close personal friends of Gregory Banks, one of the senior partners and David’s closest friend.

During the meeting Anton Seals had sat straight-backed and expressionless, wearing his conservative pinstriped suit like a uniform. His only show of emotion had been the constant stroking of his wife’s hand. Emily Seals had also kept her composure, but David could see that her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. The Sealses represented old money. They were elegant people. Neither of them fully understood what their son had done to Jessie Garza, himself, or their lives.

“Why did you shoot Jessie Garza?” David had asked Tony Seals yesterday at the county jail. Even now David
did not know why he had asked the question. You didn’t have to know why a person violated the law to get him off.

“She was a pain in the ass.”

“You shot her because…”

“Well, you know, she knew how to get drugs, so we used her like that for a while, but she was a pain in the ass. Then she tore up some marijuana plants that Sticks had growing. So we were talking about what a pain in the ass she was and how no one liked her because she’s got such a big mouth and Zack says he’ll bump her off.”

“Just like that?” David had asked. “Just because of the plants?”

“I guess so. Zack was always talking like that. About how he was a hit man. He said he’d killed guys before, but Sticks and me didn’t believe him even though he was always flashing this gun around. We didn’t think he’d use it.”

“Why didn’t you try to get Zack to take her to the hospital after she was shot?”

“I did say we should back at the hole, but Zack said, ‘Don’t worry about her, she’s just gonna die,’ so I forgot about it. Besides, I was real tired and I didn’t want trouble with the cops.”

David saw Monica walking toward him and he stood up.

“Is she okay?” David asked when they were outside.

“It depends on what you mean by ‘okay.’ Physically, she’s doing fine. Psychologically…” Monica shook her head. “She’s one tough cookie, Dave, but I don’t know. And her ordeal on the mountain isn’t the worst part. We’re holding her until the trials are over; then we want to send her back to her parents in Montana. Only they’re not sure they want her.”

“Shit,” David said.

“Yeah,” Monica answered bitterly, “but that’s life, right? Why the interest?”

David shrugged.

“She got to you, right? You better watch that, Dave. It’s bad for the old ‘Ice Man’ image.”

“Give me a break, Monica,” David said without anger. “I’m not in the mood.”

Monica sensed his exhaustion and backed off.

“Say, I haven’t congratulated you yet on the Gault verdict.”

The way she said it, David wasn’t certain it was a compliment, so he said nothing.

“Norm says you tried a good case.”

“We both did.”

“Who’s going to play you in the movie?” Monica asked with a mischievous grin. David laughed.

“You angling for a part?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe if Tom Cruise gets the lead.” She struck a pose. “Whadda ya think? Do I still have what it takes?”

“Yes, Monica, you still do.”

And they were suddenly too close to personal problems for comfort.

“Look,” David said to change the subject, “is there any possibility we can deal on this one?”

“Not a chance, Dave,” Monica answered.

“Not even if I threw in Tom Cruise?” David asked with a smile.

“Not even for Tom Cruise.”

“That’s what I thought, but I had to try.”

“You always do.”

They stood together for a moment, until they both realized they had run out of conversation.

“Take care of yourself,” Monica said. David knew she meant it. She was the one who had been hurt most by their divorce, and that fact always made him feel bad.

“You, too,” he told her. They walked out to their cars, and David watched Monica drive off; then he shut his eyes and sat in the hot car for a moment while the air-conditioning came on. He didn’t need a case like this so soon after Gault. He needed a vacation. But, then, he always did. He couldn’t remember the last time he had not been under pressure. The difference was he had never thought about it before.

D
arlene Hersch was out of breath by the time she reached the squad room. The clock over the water fountain told her the bad news. She had sprinted from the car and she was still late. There was nothing she could do about it now. Only she hated to make a bad impression. All the other officers in the special vice unit had been on the police force for several years. She was new, and it looked bad to be the only late arrival.

The squad room was small. The dull-green paint on the walls was peeling, and the linoleum-tile flooring buck-led in places. Rows of clipboards hung from two of the walls. A bulletin board occupied the third. All the space in between was covered by cartoons about police work, bulle
tins about office procedure, and a large poster that gave instructions about what to do in the event of a fire.

A sink and a countertop ran along the outer wall. The countertop was littered with paper cups, and two pots of coffee steamed next to the room’s only window. The center of the room had been taken over by two long Formica-topped tables. Sandra Tallant and Louise Guest, the other policewomen on the squad, sat at the end of the table near the door. Darlene slid onto a metal bridge chair and hoped Sergeant Ryder would not notice that she was late.

“Have another rough night, Darlene?” Ortiz asked in a loud voice. Darlene flushed. Neale grinned and Coffin snickered. Sergeant Ryder looked up from the desk at the front of the room, and Darlene turned her head and glared at Ortiz. Ortiz winked. The bastard.

Ortiz perched on the countertop near the coffeepots. He was handsome, and he knew it. With his dark complexion, shaggy mustache, and thick black hair, curled and cared for like D’Artagnan’s, he played the lady’s man. Darlene thought he was an asshole.

Sergeant Ryder stood up and checked his notes on the clipboard he always carried. A big, insecure man, he was always rechecking his facts, as if he feared that they would change if he did not keep constant track of them.

“Are we all here?” he asked rhetorically. He had known the precise number of people in the room every minute since he had arrived.

“Okay, for those of you who have not been keeping up with the captain’s weekly bulletin on developments in the law, last week the public defender filed a motion claiming that the equal-protection rights of Vonetta Renae King were being violated….”

“They got us there,” Ortiz called out. “Vonetta’s been violated more than any whore I know.”

Coffin giggled and Ryder stared at him. Coffin covered his mouth and coughed.

“Is it all right if I continue, Bert?” Ryder asked in a tired voice. He knew there was no way to keep Ortiz from acting the clown. He also knew that Ortiz was one of his best vice cops. It all balanced out.

“As I was saying, the public defender is claiming that the prostitution laws are being unfairly enforced, because only the…er…females are being arrested. Since the statute makes anyone guilty who offers or agrees to have sex for a fee, the PD is saying that that includes the trick too.

“Chief Galton agrees. You ladies will work with a male cover. You are to stay within eye contact at all times.”

“Sergeant?” Darlene asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking about this. We’ll be dressing up like prostitutes, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what about entrapment? I mean, isn’t that planting the idea in the john’s head?”

“The legal adviser said it’s not, but it’s best to let him bring up the subject of sex and the price.”

“How far are we going to have to go to make a bust?” Louise asked.

“Yours is made pretty well already,” Ortiz said. Coffin laughed, then looked embarrassed and stopped.

“Come on, Bert, for chrissakes. This is important,” Ryder said.

And it was important, Darlene thought. And god
damn Ortiz and Coffin and Neale. Why wouldn’t they take the women seriously instead of treating them like secretaries in uniform?

“That’s a good question. The way the law reads, you don’t have to…er…uh, have sexual relations with the trick to make a case. The law is broken if the male offers or agrees to have sexual intercourse, which you ladies know what that is, or deviate sexual intercourse, which is, uh, as the statute says, contact between the, er, genitals of one person and the, er, mouth or, er, anus of another.”

Ryder blushed. Actually blushed! Darlene wanted to laugh, but it was too sad a state of affairs. Why wouldn’t he say “blow job” or “asshole” or any of the other words he used when women weren’t around?

“So if you get such an offer for money, you can make the arrest.”

“How are we going to work this?” Ortiz asked.

“I don’t want any arrests made alone on the street. We don’t want anyone freaking out on us. Bring the trick to your male cover. There’s less likelihood of trouble with a man there.”

“What if the trick wants you to get in his car?”

“Absolutely not. We don’t get into cars. I don’t want you ladies isolated from your cover. If a trick asks you to get in his car, tell him there are cops around, and they’ll make a pinch if they see you get in the car. Suggest a meet where your male cover is waiting. If the trick insists, brush him off.

“Okay, any more questions? No? Good. Now, I want good collars. There are certain judges, and you know who I’m talking about, who are going to jump at a chance to
throw out these cases. You just wait until we bag a doctor or some big-shot attorney. So don’t give them the chance.

“All right, I want Tallant and Coffin to work the area around Ninth and Burnside. Louise, you and Neale take the area by the Hilton. And Darlene and Bert, you take the park blocks.”

D
ARLENE STRAIGHTENED HER
tight black miniskirt and dipped her knees so she could adjust her blond Afro wig in the sideview mirror of the unmarked police car. The California-surfer-girl effect produced by her straight blond hair, large blue eyes, and deep tan had been destroyed by false eyelashes, tons of pancake makeup, and gobs of red lipstick. Grotesque, she thought, as she put the finishing touches on the wig.

“Not bad, Darlene,” Ortiz chuckled. “You may be in the wrong line of work.”

“Stuff it, Bert,” she snapped, still angry at him for the incident in the squad room.

“You know, Darlene, your trouble is you never took the time to get to know me. Now, if we had a drink after the shift, you’d get to see the real me.”

“Look,” she said, straightening and looking him in the eye, “I don’t have time for any of your macho shit tonight. Hand me my coat, please.”

There was heavy emphasis on the “please.” Ortiz laughed and pulled a cheap rabbit coat out of the trunk. Darlene was wearing a fire-engine-red sweater that left her little room to breathe. She kept the coat open so the sweater showed. Black panty hose and high black boots completed her official whore uniform. She checked her
purse to make sure she had not forgotten her service revolver.

Ortiz had picked a darkened parking lot for his surveillance post. An office building occupied the other half of the block on the same side of the street. There was a jewelry store, a shoe-repair shop, a beauty salon, and an all-night café across the way. The only illumination came from a series of evenly spaced streetlights.

“What’s the plan?” Ortiz asked, suddenly all business.

Darlene looked up and down the street. It was a one-way street going south.

“I’ll walk down the block to the corner, across from the café. That way I can get the traffic on both streets. Will you be able to see me from here?”

“Yeah. Just stay under the streetlight on the corner. This building blocks a little of my view.”

“If I get a proposition that’s good enough for an arrest, I’ll pat my wig. Then I’ll have the trick come to the lot.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Darlene hadn’t thought about the story she would use to lure the trick to Ortiz. Ortiz leaned against the side of the car watching her.

“I’ll tell him I have a car in the lot and the keys to my room are in it. How’s that?”

Ortiz stood up and stretched.

“Good. There’s enough shadow here to keep me Kidden until you’re almost to the car.”

“Okay,” Darlene said. She turned her back to Ortiz and started across the parking lot. There were butterflies in her stomach, and she had a sudden urge to go to the bathroom. She always did when she was nervous, and she was suddenly nervous and a little scared.

“Darlene,” Ortiz called after her, “don’t take any chances.”

D
ARLENE HAD BEEN
standing near the corner for fifteen minutes when the beige Mercedes drove by the first time. She got a fast look at the driver as he went by. Blond, good-looking. He had smiled at her. Darlene had smiled back, hoping he would stop, but he hadn’t. Darlene had no idea why she had brought the rabbit coat along. It was way too hot for it. If she didn’t get a nibble soon, she was determined to take it back to the lot. She glanced back toward Ortiz but couldn’t spot him in the shadows.

The Mercedes drove by again and pulled to the curb across the street. The man signaled to her and she walked toward him, remembering to swing her hips as she went. She had to concentrate to keep from stumbling in her high-heel boots.

“Nice night,” the man said. He was a little nervous, but trying to be cool, Darlene thought.

“Nice enough,” she said. “What are you doin’ drivin’ around in this big old car all by your lonesome?”

The man smiled. Probably married, Darlene thought. Where was the little woman while Papa was out cavorting? Bridge club? Maybe home watching TV while hubby is at a “business” meeting. She could imagine how that pretty face was going to look when Papa had to explain to Mama that he had been arrested for prostitution.

“I’m just driving around, looking for a little fun. How about yourself?”

“I’m just hangin’ around, sugar. Lookin’ for a little fun myself.”

“I know a place where we can have a lot of fun. You want to come along?”

Darlene leaned over and rested her elbows on the window of the car. The top buttons of her sweater were open, and the blond man couldn’t keep his eyes off her cleavage. This close, she could smell the liquor on his breath. He had been doing some heavy drinking, but he appeared to be able to hold it.

“I’d love to have some fun, sugar. What kind of fun did you have in mind?”

“Fun. You know,” he said evasively.

The trick was getting more agitated. Maybe he was new at the game. Darlene was beginning to get impatient. She wanted him to say the magic words so she could make her first arrest.

“Are you thinkin’ of the kind of fun I’m thinkin’ about?” she asked with a smile that she hoped looked lascivious.

The trick looked up and down the street.

“Look,” he said, “why don’t you get in and we can talk about it?”

“You have any money, sugar?” Darlene asked, trying to speed things up. The blond looked startled.

“Why?”

“The type of fun I’m thinking about could get expensive.”

The trick seemed very agitated. His eyes were darting back and forth rapidly.

“Look,” he said, “I don’t want to stand around here. There are cops all over. If you want to get in, get in.”

Darlene patted the wig with her right hand.

“Why are you worried about cops? I don’t see any cops.”

“I can’t wait anymore. Do you want to do business or not?”

Darlene felt her stomach churning. So close. She didn’t want this one to get away. If she could just make him wait a minute. She was almost there.

O
RTIZ SAT UP
when the Mercedes slowed down. He slouched back down in the front seat of the unmarked car when it sped up and drove on. This whole assignment was a waste of time, he thought. Busting some poor slob who wanted a little pussy and had to pay for it. That wasn’t why he’d joined the force. Why did they have to take him out of narcotics just as he was beginning to get some heavy action? And working with Darlene Hersch…Jesus H. Christ, if that wasn’t the luck of the draw. Miss Tight Ass herself. Then again, maybe she wasn’t such a tight ass. Sometimes it was the ones who gave you the hardest time that wanted it the most and just wouldn’t admit it to themselves. He wondered what she’d be like in bed. Good old Darlene. He chuckled to himself. Probably want to be on top. She sure acted like it most of the time.

There was that Mercedes again. And it was stopping. Ortiz sat up. Darlene was wiggling over and talking to the driver. He couldn’t see much of the guy from this distance.

She was leaning over now and resting on the ledge of the driver’s window. Must be a live one. Yup, she was patting her wig. Now all she had to do was get him to drive into the lot.

Ortiz was wearing a light jacket. His revolver was in a holster on his belt. He checked it. Someone who drove a
Mercedes was probably going to be no trouble, but no use taking chances. Darlene was still leaning on the window. Nice ass. Even from this distance. Ortiz wondered what was taking so long. Christ, he was tired. He had a thing going with a cocktail waitress at the Golden Horse, and they had been at it all night. He yawned and shook his head. He should cut down. Too many women could kill you. Just like cigarettes. Still, he…What the—

Darlene was walking around to the passenger door and getting in. The car was driving off. Ortiz jammed his key into the ignition. The engine turned over and he started out of the lot. Shit! He remembered. The street was oneway, the wrong way. That dumb cunt. If he went around the block, he’d lose them for sure. It was late and the street was deserted. He made up his mind and wheeled right. His tires squealed when he made the turn. That stupid bitch. When he made his report she would be…Of all the dumb things to do. He picked up the radio mike. He might need assistance on this one if the Mercedes got too big a lead. He was about to make the call when he changed his mind. If he reported what was happening, it would be real trouble for Darlene. He didn’t want that. Besides, everything would be okay if he could keep the car in view.

He made the turn onto Morrison, and there it was. Two lights away, but there wasn’t much traffic. He relaxed and slowed down. He didn’t want the driver to spot him. Why did Darlene have to prove how hard she was? She wouldn’t be half-bad if she could get the chip off her shoulder. He’d bawl her out for sure once they made the bust. No, he’d have Sandra or Louise talk to her. She’d never listen to a man.