“Why you need our help?” Another kid asked, this one not nearly as insolent.
“He’s dead. I’m trying to identify him and find the asshole who beat the shit out of him, then left him in the alley over off Geary.” I figured blunt was the way to go. These kids didn’t fear much, but I guessed they feared being killed by a john.
Still no one moved. I waited. Within about two minutes the group disbanded, not one walking in my direction. Well, shit, that went well. Then again, it told me none of their friends had gone missing, so I was looking in the wrong neighborhood, and maybe I should concentrate my efforts closer to City Hall.
I pulled away from the curb, only to notice a boy of about fifteen still standing in the doorway of the business where the group had been huddled. He stared at me, willing me to get out of my car. So what, they could jump me? I was big, but these kids were street smart and played dirty. Five or six of them could easily rid me of my gun, and I’d be in a world of hurt.
I rolled my window back down. “You…come here.”
The boy looked in both directions down the sidewalk. So did I. No one.
He jogged up to my car and crouched down low, his face right in my window. “Can I see the picture?”
“Because you’re curious, or because you think you can help?”
Like a rat, his head again jerked as he checked his surroundings. He was still alone with me.
“Look, I ain’t seen my buddy Romeo in about three days. He got into a car with some rich looking dude, and I ain’t seen him since.”
“What’s your name?” I hoped to befriend this kid, and with a relationship, we’d find out more.
“Ain’t got a name.” He backed away from the car. “Ain’t done nothing either, so you can’t arrest me.”
I put both of my hands in the air, surrendering and telling him I came in peace. “I just want information. I’m not here to arrest anyone. My name is Nick, Nick Christianson, so now you can tell me your name.”
“Nick Christianson, like the 49er?” The kid’s eyes went wide.
“Sure,” I said, noncommittal. “So who are you?”
“Everyone calls me Rat.” His beady eyes scanned the area again.
Rat, how ironic, and how appropriate.
“Well, Rat, everyone calls me DB. So should we shake hands and be friends?”
The last thing I wanted to do was shake hands with this dirty street rat, but in the interest of finding an identification on my victim, and possibly the murderer, I’d sacrifice myself.
Rat shook his head. “I’m cool.” He looked around again.
“Look, get in the back seat. I promise I’m not arresting you. I’ll take you to a diner, and we can have breakfast while you tell me what you know.”
I could almost see Rat’s stomach growl. Mine was growling too, since I paid Elsie and threw my food in the garbage.
I was not prepared for the stench of this unwashed teen when he got into my car. But I had invited him, and my car was warmer than standing on the street. I made do by cranking up the heater and rolling down the front windows.
“Dude, can you roll up the windows, it’s fucking freezing in here.” Rat crossed his arms over his front and shivered.
“Sorry Rat, you don’t smell all that great, and I don’t want to pass out while driving.”
“Whatever, man, what a douche.”
I had to laugh. I was taking this street boy to a diner to eat, and I was the douche.
On second thought, I didn’t think any diner was going to want us in there, with him smelling like he did, so I made him an offer.
“What if I took you to the YMCA, and you could get a shower? I could round up some clean clothes for you.” I thought it sounded like a great deal. He apparently did not.
“Fuck you, let me out of the car. You said you were going to feed me, and now you want to see me naked. You’re a pervert, just like the rest.” He tugged at the door handle.
“No way, Rat. You aren’t getting out until we talk. And I’m not taking you into a diner smelling like that. So let’s compromise, I’ll go to a drive thru somewhere and we can eat in the car.”
Rat lifted his shirt and tucked his nose in his threadbare jacket. “I don’t smell that bad.”
“Take my word for it, you smell. Drive thru or starve.” That was it. And I wasn’t letting him out of the car until I had what I needed.
“I’m starving.”
Food it was.
I let him eat his burgers and fries and even start on his apple pie before I showed him the pictures of the dead kid.
With his mouth full of pie, he looked at the photo and said, “That’s Romeo all right. I know because of the pants.”
I looked closely at the photo to see what might be so identifiable about the jeans. I didn’t see anything. “What about the pants?”
“Romeo was wearing girl’s jeans. We’d played a joke on him, because he’d shit himself one night, and he needed new underwear and jeans. I gave him a pair of my street sister’s because she be fat and he be skinny, and between the two, the jeans almost fit. See how baggy they are?” He pointed at the legs in another photo. “He stole the underwear from a store, I think. Easier to steal than pants.”
“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. So do you know Romeo’s real name?”
Rat chewed. “Nope, best not to know, that way no one can snitch out the other guy. And besides, he hadn’t been around that long. You know, no one ever is.”
This wasn’t helping me much. “Was he ever arrested?”
Rat laughed. “Oh, hell no! Romeo charmed the old men and ran like a rabbit from the police. Sneaky little bastard, too. Twists and turns and always lost the fat ass cop chasing him.” He looked at me a bit. “But I’d bet he couldn’t outrun you. You’re pretty fit for a cop.”
“Stop with the stereotyping. We aren’t all fat. As a matter of fact, most in my department are quite fit and pass our PT tests with flying colors.”
Rat smiled. “Because they’re paying off the training officer.” He thought this was brilliant and nearly choked as he laughed his head off.
“Don’t die on me, dude, I still have more questions.”
This sobered him. “Shoot.”
“So you don’t know his real name, but do you know where he’s from? How he ended up on the streets?”
“What’s with you? We ain’t a bunch of girls, getting all touchy feely and spilling out all our troubles. We hunt together, sometimes huddle up and sleep together…”
I huffed.
“It ain’t what you think. We don't fuck and suck or nothing, we just keep warm.”
I shivered at his “fuck and suck” comment. I couldn’t even imagine.
“Was Romeo gay?”
This got a good laugh. “No way! Don’t think none of us are. But when you’re too young for a job and need to eat and stay warm, you’ll suck an old creeper’s dick for money. Can’t get a real job, and besides, who’d want one. Five or six dollars an hour, when I can make ten for two minutes of sucking off some shriveled old coot’s knob?”
It made sense in a very sad way. I felt more pity for these kids now than before.
“So he’s not gay. Did he have any family nearby? Or ever mention ‘back home’?”
Rat thought on this one. “He wasn’t from here, I know that. He said he came here on Greyhound. He’d left home because his step-dad was a jerk, and he’d come up here for a concert, just to get away and enjoy the music.”
“What concert did he come to see?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Why did he stay?”
“No money, no phone, and no desire to go back home, I guess. Like I said, he ain’t been around long.”
Long enough for parents to get worried? Was he from California? “Where you from?” I asked.
“Nowhere. And I ain’t even going to try to remember. But hey, I do remember Romeo saying something about the ride taking hours. So he was from far away. Maybe like San
ta Cruz or something.”
Now I had to laugh. Santa Cruz wasn’t that far.
“You know anything else about the night he disappeared?”
Rat chewed on the end of his drink straw and looked contemplative. I wondered exactly how much his brain was really working, or if he was just taking a break from thinking.
“There’s a guy around here, he likes the new boys. Hates to poke the same butt hole twice. He maybe went with him. And that old man can’t usually get a guy around here to go with him more than once, because he ain’t gentle. Not that many of them are, but he’s brutal.”
“Can you give me more details about him? What’s he drive? When does he usually come around? How old is he?” Now I was getting somewhere, and I needed to know more.
“He’s older than dirt, prolly thirty or forty. And I’m not sure exactly what kind of car, but it’s an SUV. Ford maybe? And dark, like brown or black, maybe blue. I ain’t never been with him, but Butch said he’s like six feet tall and has a bald head. I only seen him with a hat on, so I didn’t know he was bald ’til Butch said.” Rat was on a roll. “He’s a week nighter. I seen him early, and I seen him late. Last night he was cruising, but didn’t get no takers.”
“What time last night?” My heart raced at the thought of having my first suspect.
“I look like I got a watch?” Rat pushed up his sleeves. “What I need to know the time for? Ain’t got to be nowhere.”
He had a point.
“Give me an estimate. Late? Early? Dinner time? Hell, anything.”
“Before I left the streets.” He looked out the window. “And I left early, so’s I could meet up with a friend. He had us some booze, so I didn’t feel the need to hustle, I felt the need to be drunk.”
“Okay, and you come out after dark?”
“Sure do. Not much trolling before sundown.”
“And you hung around for a couple hours?”
“Give or take. Coulda been twenty minutes, but felt like hours.”
“White guy, black? Big, scrawny?”
“Between black and white, Filipino or Asian or something, tall and skinny.”
“Not many tall people who are Filipino or Asian.” Now I was stereotyping. Ming, the basketball player was tall, so there was that.
“Who knows, maybe Mexican. I look like an encyclopedia to you?”
This could go back and forth for another hour or more, so I decided I’d gotten what I could. Besides, the stench had started churning what little food I’d eaten. I turned back around in my driver’s seat and put the car in gear.
“Where we going? I might want seconds,” Rat whined.
“I don’t think you can give me enough information to warrant seconds.” I pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to where I’d picked Rat up.
“It’s cold out there, you know?” Rat whined a bit more.
“Well, you can always go home. Or to a halfway house.” Not that I was being callous, but I needed him to give me more, and I wanted him to know he had options other than hooking on the street.
“I tell you something else, will you get me into a house?” The lilt in his voice told me he had something he was holding back.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I had no idea how to get him into a halfway house, but I figured he’d point me in the right direction. “Where do you want to stay tonight?”
“Taylor Street House will work.”
The smugness of his response made me think he’d given me the most difficult house to get into.
“Cough it up, and I’ll take you there.”
“Yeah, right. Do I look that stupid to you? You get me in, and I’ll tell you what else I know.” He was back to chewing on the straw.
“Fine, but if the intel isn’t outstanding, I’ll make sure you’re right back out on your butt. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Besides, Romeo was a nice kid. If this guy offed him, I like to think I helped catch the fucker.”
3
I was right, the little prick set me up. Taylor Street House didn’t take minors. And no one there owed me any favors, so I had to work a hustle all my own. I promised the kid would behave, or I’d come get him myself, and I also promised an autographed football. Seriously, a football got Rat a place to sleep for the night. I hadn’t played pro-football for almost two years, and people still remembered me. Crazy. I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Rat it was that easy.
I walked back to my patrol car and saw Rat lying on the seat. I could practically hear him snoring from the outside of the car. I went around to the driver’s seat and got in.
“You’re in. Now tell me what you know.” I was getting tired of the game, and the smell, so I may have sounded slightly irritated.
Rat moved and groaned. “Man, I was having a good dream.”
“Start talking, or I’m driving you back to where I found you,” I snapped.
“Fine. The dude always took the boys to the Motel 6 on Geary,” Rat said as he sat up.
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. The mother load! This had to be him. But what Rat gave me so far wasn’t going to help me find this guy.
“That’s it? That’s all you got?” I made my voice sound menacing.
Rat shivered. “That’s it for now.”
But it may have been enough. I had the hotel, and I had the time narrowed down, so all I had to do was see if the sicko registered under his own name. And I had to see if he’d actually taken Romeo there.
I unlocked the back door of the car. “Get out. And behave. They have my phone number, so if you act up in any way I’m coming back to get you. Understand.”
The grin on Rat’s face made the whole smelly date worthwhile. Someone had paid a fortune for orthodontics because even though his teeth were yellow, they were perfect. And just before he got out of the car, he pulled something out of his pocket and popped it in his mouth. He smiled again, and I saw it was his retainer. Huh, the things we can instill in our kids, and the things that don’t take will never cease to amaze me.
I reached in my pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill and showed it to him. “Here, take a shower and wash your clothes, then go have a nice breakfast in the morning.”
Rat’s smile faded. “You want me to blow you?”
My eyes went wide. What the hell? “No, I want you to go inside that halfway house, get a good night’s sleep, then clean up a bit and go have a nice breakfast. No strings attached.” Then I thought about it. “Well, there is one. If you hear anything else about Romeo or this old dude, I want you to call me.”
I folded the twenty around my business card with my cell phone number and reached across the seat to hand it to him through the passenger side window.
Rat took it between his index and middle fingers, then tucked it into his hand. “Thanks dude.”
“Make sure you have change left for the phone call.”
“Whatever dude.”
He walked away, and I waited until he was in the building before I rolled all of the windows down again and cranked the heat. I hoped I didn’t barf or pass out before I had a chance to call Detective Rhoden.
Rhoden answered my call to her cell phone on the second ring. "Hey DB, what do you have for me?"
“I may have an idea who our victim is, I just don't have his real name." Somehow I felt stupid for calling her with this little bit of information.
“And that’s supposed to help me how?” The irritation leaked through the phone line.
“If it’s who I think it is, he’s a street boy. From Castro, just like you suspected. They call him Romeo.” Hell, I bet I knew more than she did at that moment.
“That’s a start.” She sounded tired.
The case had barely started and she sounded tired. This didn’t bode well for Romeo.
“He’d been picked up by a guy who likes little boys. And get this, he takes them to the Motel 6 that’s on the corner next to that restaurant.” I swear my chest had puffed out while I shared my know
ledge.
“Good work, officer. Now we just need to know how long the boy has been in that alley.” There was a pause, then she said, “I want you to follow through on this. We have a full plate, and if you can help, I’d sure appreciate it. We just pulled an APE.”
What the hell did an ape have to do with homicide? “Excuse me, an ape?”
“Acronym for an acute political event. A city council woman’s husband was murdered yesterday, and you know how it is.”
I was about to flip my shit. “No, I can honestly say, I don’t know how it is.”
She sighed. “Don’t get all worked up Christianson. You know damn good and well the murder of a council woman’s husband is going to take precedent over a street kid. Not much I can do about it.”
I wanted to throw my phone out the damn window and turn in my badge. “You do whatever the fuck you need to do. I’m going to find justice for this young boy. And I’m going to find out who he is…was.”
I didn’t wait for a response, and I didn’t care if she called me back and told me to stay away from the case. I was going to follow through. Yeah, so what if I was a naive young cop and didn’t understand the politics. APE my ass. I had a KID, and as far as I was concerned, no one was a throwaway, except maybe a politician.
4
It’s pretty unusual for the person who can make the decisions to be working the graveyard shift in any business, so I decided to work out the rest of my shift on my normal beat, then sleep a few hours and start the morning by visiting the Motel 6.
My mind raced with the possibilities: Would I have to get a warrant? Would they even listen to what I had to say? What were the chances I’d find the killer of this kid so quickly?
There are some motels that take cash and some that require a credit card, and as far as I can remember, all require identification to check in. This would make my job so much easier if the clerks had done their job correctly that night.
The last hours of my shift seemed to drag on for days, and I’d hoped for a call from Rat to tell me something new. I also hoped he kept a bit of change, so he could call me. But I doubted he’d look out for anyone but himself. The way of the streets.
Monday's Child Page 2
