The Castro '76

by G.P. Field

face was pale and his eyes darted nervously between the two men. They all looked up as Israel stepped into the room. The conversation ceased.

  ‘I am sorry to intrude on your conversation, gentlemen. I was just on my way out.’ Israel breezed across the room.

  Harvey threw out an arm as he approached. ‘Wait. Have you got everything you need? Sorry to leave you in the lurch. It’s just we had some bad news …’

  Israel looked from one solemn face to another. ‘I am sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?’

  Harvey shook his head but stepped across, silently guiding Israel into their huddle. ‘There’s been another killing. They’ve found another body.’ His tone was measured; a bald statement of fact that Israel guessed was designed to lower the hysteria.

  ‘Another victim of the Zodiac Killer?’ Israel hazarded.

  ‘No, there’s another one out there… One that just goes after us…’ Harvey opened his palms to include the two men beside him. ‘He’s a pick-up killer who’s been operating here in San Francisco for the last couple of years. He cruises the valley, finds a willing partner and then goes off somewhere private and stabs them.’

  ‘They call him the Doodler,’ added the aggravated stranger in the jumpsuit. ‘People say he sketches guys and then comes on to them. Flatters them with their own picture. Then they go outside for… you know… and then he kills them. Creepy, huh?’

  Harvey rolled his eyes towards his companion. ‘The Doodler – I think it’s a horrible name.’

  Israel coughed politely. ‘I agree. It is an awkward name for a serial killer. There will be many local policemen at the conference, perhaps I can find out more about this ‘Doodler’. I can ask them what they are doing about this case, or if they have any leads?’

  Harvey’s face twisted into a wry smile. ‘Don’t count on it, Israel. They don’t care about us fags and they’ve got a lot on their hands with all the other crazy things that go on in this city.’

  Israel waved the comment away. ‘Nonetheless, I will try to find out as much as I can, I solemnly promise you.’

  Harvey touched Israel on the shoulder. ‘That’s sweet of you Israel, good luck with that… I think you’re going to need it.’

  ‘I, ah… thank you, Harvey… I have left my case at the top of the stairs. I am going out for a walk now to clear my head and give you and Scott some space.’ He noticed Scott nodding at the floor in silent commendation.

  ‘Can I ask you, is there a big park or open space nearby? Preferably one that is home to a variety of birds?’

  Corona Heights Park was a short but steep walk from the Castro. It took Israel about fifteen minutes before he stood, breathing hard, at the top of a treeless windswept hill. Below him San Francisco sprawled out towards the bay in a long rambling panorama. The sun peeped out from behind a travelling cloud and then disappeared. The skyscrapers downtown stood grey and foreboding in the distance. He found a bench to sit on and took a moment to observe the wildflowers that bloomed on the otherwise stark hillside around him. After a few quiet minutes, his sharp eyes spied a nest in a rocky crag about fifty feet away. He lifted the binoculars from his chest to take a closer look. As he waited patiently, he detected the faint scent of cologne on the breeze blown in from the ocean. He turned in his seat as a portly man approached walking a large curly haired dog. The man puffed to a stop and let the dog off its leash. Israel looked away and raised his binoculars to hide his annoyance. He was not averse to dogs but they did tend to frighten off his birds.

  Over the years he had formed something of an affinity with birds. From a distance, the freedom of flight, the lightness of their existence seemed attractive. Careful observation, however, showed that behind the plumage their lives were as harsh and as that of any other animal, sometimes more so. As if to prove his point, the shaggy hound bounded into a stand of nearby poison oak, flushing a small flock of sparrows out of their shelter and into the dangerous, open skies. Israel watched as the birds darted for cover, heads perpetually twitching and turning in heart-racing vigilance. Beauty, danger and freedom all packaged in tiny balsa-boned bodies. The man and his dog sidled away and peace returned.

  An hour later, with fog rolling ominously in from the Pacific, Israel started his downhill route. As he strolled back towards the shops and bars on Castro Street his head was clear and he felt calmer than before. He had resolved at least one issue that had been troubling him. When Harvey and Scott returned he would find a place to stay in a local hostel. He wandered languidly down the hill and turned down Market Street looking for a place to eat. He eventually settled on a quaint-looking Italian place near the corner of 14th.

  ‘Are you dining alone tonight, sir?’ asked the friendly waiter as he guided Israel to a table near the window.

  He watched closely as the darkly handsome waiter produced a pencil and wrote his order with a flourish.

  He ordered an espresso as the waiter came to take his plate away. A siren suddenly came to life on the street outside and they both peered out the window as a black and white police car wailed past them.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ Israel looked earnestly into the waiter’s dark brown eyes.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Do you always use a 12B pencil to write your orders?’

  The man looked at the pencil in his hand and laughed. ‘Nah, this is the only thing I could find around here to write with. The boss likes to do sketches in his spare time.’

  ‘Oh, I see… Have you heard of the Zodiac Killer?’

  ‘Sure, who hasn’t?’

  ‘What about the Doodler?’

  ‘What’s that, a cartoon character?’

  Israel didn’t bother to correct him and asked for the bill. He finished his espresso and glanced at his wristwatch. It was past eight now, so the coast should be clear for him to return to Castro Camera without stepping on any toes.

  The front of the shop was in darkness and he fumbled with the unfamiliar lock before he managed to slide the big bolt out of its housing. Inside, he groped for a light switch on the near wall but found nothing. He wished Harvey had taken the time to familiarise him with the building. He felt his way across the darkened front room with caution. The creak of a footfall on the floor above him brought him to a halt. Could they still be here? The flick of a lighter and the unmistakable smell of tobacco smoke wafted down the stairwell. He didn’t think Harvey smoked, but he wasn’t sure about Scott.

  He tried to convince himself to go up. It was probably just a friend of Harvey and Scott’s. But how did they get in? A light under the stairwell gave him the answer. He walked around and discovered a back door that he had not realised existed. He tried the handle – unlocked. No forced entry then. And why would an intruder hang around smoking cigarettes? There was only one way to find out. He turned back towards the foot of the stairs.

  At the top, he paused next to his suitcase. Across the room, bathed in dramatic lamplight, an elegant figure sat cross-legged on the sofa.

  ‘Oh!’ The exclamation escaped from Israel unbidden.

  The familiar, handsome visage highlighted in the pool of light looked up. ‘Hello there, sweetie. Did you bring Harv with you?’

  The deep, syrupy voice was undoubtedly the one that went with this face. There could be no question – it was him!

  ‘Good evening, mister …’ Israel was at a loss as to how to address this god-like man.

  ‘You can call me Roy, cinnamon skin. And you can close your mouth now. You look like you’re trying to catch flies.’

  Israel’s jaw snapped shut and he searched for something reasonable to say. The situation was surreal and all the words in his head were rendered ridiculous.

  ‘So, do you know where Harvey is?’

  Speak you idiot, he asked you a question, idiot, idiot.

  ‘I will take that as a no. Are you one of those eunuch creatures who’ve had their tongues removed?’ He tilted his head back and drew deeply on the cigarette before he leaned forward and stubbed
it out.

  Israel gathered his wits. ‘No, I have a tongue mister… Roy. Harvey invited me to stay here… I’m in town for a conference… He is in Carmel – with Scott. They’re having some time together.’

  ‘So sad. I’ve just had a terrible thing happen to me and I wanted to have a little chat with my friend Harvey. He’s one of the few I can confide in, you see.’

  Israel’s eyes lit up at the possibility of intrigue. ‘I am a very discreet person … and I live overseas …’

  The man motioned to the seat opposite. ‘Take a seat. What’s your name by the way?’

  ‘Israel … Israel Wren.’

  ‘How sweet.’ He leaned forward: ‘Now look here, why should I trust you?’

  Israel gave his brightest smile and held up the keyring shaped like a large gold ‘H’. ‘I am a friend of Harvey’s and he has asked me to look after his home while he is away. He trusts me and you trust him…’ His voice trailed away and he thought he’d blown it.

  The handsome man groaned and rubbed his eyes. ‘Oh God, I have to tell someone or I will simply die.’ He sat up straighter and adopted a more serious tone. ‘I wouldn’t normally do this but if you’re flat-sitting for Harvey then I know you’re a friendly. You can pass this on to Harvey, but no one else, understand? If I tell you this, I’m trusting you with nothing less than my career, comprehende?’

  ‘Yes, I understand, mister… Roy.’

  ‘Alright then… Have you