The Christine Murders (9 page)

She should just accept and enjoy this beautiful gift as what it was, something lovely from an admirer. One day she and Bill would be laughing themselves silly over the whole situation.

She decided to relax, make something to eat, and stop worrying about Luther Ross-Wilkerson. There was nothing to fear really. He was odd, but he owned a respectable and well-known business right here in the city. She would let this all go, and in a few days he would realize he was wrong and forget about her. Maybe she could even interest him in one of her girlfriends, if need be.

Yes, Luther Ross-Wilkerson and the spilled coffee incident would be just one more amusing story to add to so many that Christine and Bill and all their airline colleagues collected in the course of travelling the world and dealing with all sorts of people, from all over the globe.

She smiled to herself. Maybe one day she would tell her children and grandchildren about this. But first she had to meet the one perfect man who could make that dream a reality.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SATURDAY NIGHT – OCTOBER 15
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Saturday night at Jaycene’s was the wildest night of the week. The trendy nightspot on Columbus Avenue had evolved over the past year into one of the most popular singles’ bars in the city.

The music was always loud and the dance floor packed with couples. The polished marble-topped bar stretched one entire length of the long building, its stools and floor space filled with customers. Along the back wall and facing the dance floor were small leather-covered banquettes, most of them just large enough to accommodate two people comfortably. Trendy, if not somewhat pretentious, artwork covered the walls.

Cocktail waitress Susan Sayles hadn’t even had a chance to take a break. The crowds had been big and demanding all evening, and the waitresses, dressed in their skimpy outfits, had been running drinks non-stop. By eleven p.m., Susan’s feet were burning with pain. She’d been running all night. But since she had accumulated overtime during the last couple of weeks, she had decided to call it quits before midnight. The main reason for leaving earlier was not so much her aching feet but the guy seated over on one of the banquettes, the guy she had been flirting with and hoping to score with later on.

He’d come in alone and had hung around the crowded bar watching the dancing before moving over to an empty banquette. There he had stayed, watching all the single women in the bar very intently, yet never approaching any of them.

Susan had noticed him right away. She always checked out all the single guys, paying special attention to the most prosperous looking among them. This guy interested her immediately. He looked like money, she thought. He was classy. She figured she’d watch him for a bit before making her move.

She wasn’t the only one, however. At one point, three women approached him. One gestured toward the dance floor, but had no luck and soon moved back to the bar. Susan, busy as she was, kept the man under surveillance and noticed that, although a few more women tried, nobody got anywhere. Strange, she had thought, but good for me.

She was sure things were about to change, once, when she saw her man watching a tall blonde who had come in alone and perched on a bar stool. The blonde wore a very short skirt, and her long legs were crossed enticingly while she spun herself slowly round and round on the bar stool, her hair flowing down her back. Susan was at the far end of the bar waiting for an order when she saw the man head straight toward the sexy blonde. Well, that’s the end of that, Susan thought, disappointed.

She watched as he smiled and said something. Whatever it was he’d said, Miss Long Legs wasn’t interested. She gave him a look, swung off her barstool and sauntered over toward the dance floor, several pairs of male eyes following her. Undaunted by the brush-off, Susan’s man turned and walked slowly back to his table. He kept on watching the blonde, however, who was now talking with two men near the dance floor.

Maybe he’s hot for blondes, Susan thought. Well, that one’s got nothing I can’t match, she thought, swinging her long crimped golden hair over one shoulder. She decided to deliver the tray of drinks she had just picked up and then move in on him, before anybody else arrived to grab his interest. “Ellie,” she called to another waitress who had been working the banquettes. “Switch places with me after I deliver these, will you?”

“Sure, Sue. How come? Got your eye on somebody again?” Ellie asked.

“Yea, the dark good-looking guy right over there.” She gestured with her head toward her man, who was still watching the leggy blonde intently. She was now on the dance floor, undulating by herself to the beat of the music.

“Forget it,” Ellie said. “Gals have been trying him all night. I just don’t think he’s interested.”

“He was interested in that blonde on the dance floor,” Susan replied. “She snubbed him. So I’m going to try.”

“Whatever makes you happy, Sue. Deliver your drinks and I’ll cover your tables.”

Susan served her drinks and then slipped quickly into the restroom, where she pulled the front of the already skimpy outfit down as far as she dared to reveal more of her breasts. Then she returned to the floor, glided over to the man, and stood next to his table. His glass was empty. “Looks like you could use a refill. Shall I bring one?” she asked him.

He was still looking at the blonde, who by now was dancing with her arms and upper body tightly wrapped around some guy. Slowly, the man pulled his eyes away and turned to Susan, who smiled seductively. “She’s not the only blonde here, you know,” she said softly, then watched while his eyes held hers and began to travel methodically over her body. Slowly, he smiled back at her. He had the bluest eyes Susan could ever remember seeing.

“No, I guess she’s not,” he said. “What happened to my other waitress?”

“She’s right over there. Shall I get her for you instead?” Susan pouted.

“No, no, you are quite suitable.” He had the cutest English accent. “Can you bring me another gin and tonic, please?”

Susan laughed now and picked up his empty glass. “Yea, I’m suitable, you bet.” She studied him a bit. He was very handsome. Not a regular at Jaycene’s, for sure. And he was older than most of the guys who came in. She had never seen him before tonight.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

“I’m Susan. What’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Luther. And no, I haven’t been here before, but thought I’d give Jaycene’s a try tonight. Just for the fun of it. To see what I might find.” His blue eyes bored into Susan.

“Maybe you’ve found what you’re looking for,” she purred. “Let me get you another drink.” Susan slithered away, aware of his eyes following her. Just what she’d hoped for.

When she returned with the fresh drink, Luther pulled out his wallet, picked out a few bills, and placed them on her tray. Then he selected something else and held it up to her. It was a one-hundred-dollar bill. “This is a little something for you, Susan. Just for being so nice, and so pretty.” He reached over and slid the bill between Susan’s breasts. “What time do you finish up tonight?”

“Very soon,” Susan said, a bit breathless now.

“Fine. I’ll be here.” He touched the edge of the bill sticking out of her outfit. “I have more where that came from,” he told her.

“I’ll bet you have,” she said. Then she giggled and went back to work. Things were definitely looking up tonight.

***

Susan kept busy, watching Luther’s table to make sure he didn’t leave without her. But he remained where he was, watching her and lifting his glass to her whenever he caught her glancing his way.

Miraculously, Susan’s fatigue and sore feet had abandoned her. The noise, the crowds, the loud music, the crude passes from other guys, all that ceased to exist. All she could think about was Luther. This is going to be easy, she thought, fingering the hundred-dollar bill, now safely in her pocket. Very easy. She had gotten a good look at that full wallet he had with him. Maybe this would go beyond her usual one or two night tricks. That was, after all, what she was really looking for. She was sick and tired of the life she was leading. She’d never intended to be a hooker; that had just happened. She wanted stability, a good guy who would love her and take care of her and give her a little bit of respectability, something she’d never had much of. Then maybe she would be able to give up this stinking job and the pickups for cash. Maybe she could go back to her poor mother, whom she really loved with all her heart, and tell her that for once in her life, she was going to be the daughter she had always wanted her to be, with a decent man who loved her and a good future ahead.

***

She had found her boss, Maury, and told him she was quitting tonight a little earlier than usual, and she was not going to be able to help clean up. “I feel rotten, Maury, and my feet are practically bleeding,” she said.

“Find somebody out there again who might be able to make you feel better?” Maury leered at her. “You know, I should get a cut of what you charge these guys you pick up here, that would only be fair. But sure, Susie, go ahead, do your thing. I hope he’s worth it.” He grinned at her and made a sucking noise that disgusted Susan. Dirty old sleazebag, she thought.

“It’s none of your business what I’m doing, Maury, and I owe you nothing. You, however, owe me time anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow night – maybe.” Then she headed to Luther’s table, passing Ellie on the way. “Well, I got him,” she told the other girl. “You wish me luck.”

Ellie looked surprised. “Please take care, Susie. I don’t like the look of him, he seems kinky to me.”

Susan laughed. “Kinky? Nah, but don’t worry about me. I like kinky. I can handle anything.”

“Susan, please,” Ellie said, but Susan interrupted her.

Oh, look what he already gave me.” Susan flashed the hundred-dollar bill in front of Ellie’s nose, then gave her friend a kiss. “And he’s got more in his wallet.”

She glided over to Luther’s table. “I have to change out of this thing I wear here, so why don’t you meet me out front in, say, ten minutes. Ellie will tally up your tab.”

“I’ll be waiting outside. Please don’t be long.”

***

When Susan Sayles left Jaycene’s, dressed outrageously in a fake fur jacket over an indecently tight violet tube top that left nothing to the imagination, skin-tight jeans and platform heels, she found the street empty, with not a soul in sight. The night had become deeply foggy again, too. Damn it, she thought, he left without me!

But then she heard her name called softly. She turned her head, her long beaded earrings glittering in the dim light. There he was, standing halfway down the block, the door of a luscious looking car open at the curb next to him.

Relieved, she almost skipped along the street to him, no small feat in her shoes, realizing as she got closer that the car was a silvery blue BMW. This is looking better all the time, she thought, sidling up to him and kissing his cheek before slithering down on the richly soft leather seat of Luther’s gorgeous car, oblivious of the blood stains spattered across the seat and door, and the thin surgical gloves Luther had slipped on his hands.

***

Exactly one week after Ann Heald’s body had been found in Golden Gate Park, an elderly Chinese couple returning home from a dawn walk and exercise group came across what looked to them like a pile of rags in the alley behind their apartment building, one block off Portsmouth Square. Closer investigation of the pile, thrown next to a dumpster, revealed the body of a young woman, her clothing ripped and a dark scarf tied around her neck.

The couple hurried away looking for help, eventually finding a police cruiser coming along Grant Avenue. In loud broken English, they related their gruesome discovery to two surprised and tired officers, who had been on their way back to their station, more than ready to call it quits after an unusually dull, cold Saturday night.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SUNDAY – OCTOBER 16
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Susan Sayles’ body lay covered on a gurney in the narrow alley in Chinatown. In her purse, John Kinsella had found her driver’s license. She was only twenty-two years old, and he and Phil Lawrence had gone to the Polk Street address where she had lived, to see what they could find out about their latest victim.

Her landlady told them that Susan worked as a cocktail waitress (“among other things I won’t talk about,” she said in a disgusted voice) but she had lived alone. She was able to give them Susan’s mother’s name and address, and by late morning Kinsella and Lawrence reached the woman in Daly City, a few miles south of San Francisco.

Mrs. Sayles knew that Susan currently worked at Jaycene’s in North Point, but she could tell them little else. She hadn’t seen much of her daughter during the last few years. Shown the composite, she could offer no help either. She knew none of Susan’s friends, nor had she ever approved of her daughter’s lifestyle, certain as she was that Susan was doing much more than waitressing. She had berated Susan many times about this. So Susan mostly avoided her, calling only occasionally to ask how she was and sometimes sending some money. She had no idea who Susan was going around with now. She felt perhaps it was best she didn’t know.

After she had come into the city to identify her only daughter, Kinsella took Mrs. Sayles home again, feeling terribly sorry for the poor woman, who cried quietly in the car all during the drive home. He waited with her until some neighbors and her brother arrived to stay with her. When he returned to headquarters, Phil had run a background check on Susan and found some interesting details.