“Because the cops showed me a picture of her. I’d seen her around, but she never went by Beth. She called herself Dixie,” Robbie reported.
“How did the cops know to come here when they were investigating Beth’s death?” Marlee inquired.
“Guess somebody told them. I don’t know who. Jeez, why don’t you just leave me alone? I got the cops off my back, and I don’t need any questions from you. Get outta here!” Robbie pointed at the door and when Marlee didn’t move, he started around the counter to physically remove her from the premises.
“Okay, okay. I’m leaving.” Marlee threw her hands in the air and backed out of the motel. There was no way she was turning her back on Robbie. No way in hell. If he was a pimp, then there probably wasn’t much that he wouldn’t do, including hurting Marlee. When the door slammed, she took off running. She only made it a block because she wasn’t athletic. The run slowed to a fast walk, and after a few minutes it turned into a slow walk. Her toes were beginning to crunch again from the cold, yet she knew she needed to get back to the dorm as soon as possible. Marlee was scared, pumped up on adrenaline, and nearly frozen. As she got to the halfway point between the motel and the dorm, she became aware of a car driving very slowly behind her. Then it pulled up alongside of her.
“Get in!” commanded the person in the car. “Get in right now!”
How many cops will it take to solve this thing? Jeez!
Chapter 11
The street light above was burned out, so she couldn’t see who was in the car. She recognized the voice, which prompted her to move in for a closer look. Marlee had no intention of getting into a car based on someone’s directive, but she was curious and wanted to determine the identity of the driver. Taking a tentative step toward the car, she leaned down to look in the front passenger window just as the door flew open. Sitting there was a man she’d never seen before in her life. He was bald and had a baby face, so it was hard to determine if he was prematurely bald or had a youthful face for his age. His eyes were squinty, and he had a blank expression.
The driver leaned forward and yelled again, “Marlee, get in the damn car!” It was Barry Stevens and he was in a pissy mood.
“Are you following me, Barry?” she snapped, irritated that she would now have to come up with a good story to cover for her investigation at the Moon Glow Motel.
“Somebody should be following you so you stay out of trouble! Just get in. We’ll give you a ride home,” Barry said, his voice evening out into a calmer tone.
“My mom told me not to get into cars with strange guys.” She continued to stall, deciding if a warm ride home was worth the interrogation she would have to undergo. Comfort won out, and Marlee slipped into the backseat. She figured she could drum up enough bullshit on the ride back to the dorm that she wouldn’t have to divulge why she was walking along the highway at night.
“This is Doug,” Barry said, jerking his thumb toward the passenger. “He’s a police officer too.”
“Hi, Doug. Whose car is this?” Barry was driving a junky car that looked like it was ready to give up the ghost.
“This is a work car. We’re going on a stake out,” Barry replied, sitting up a little straighter and puffing out his chest.
“Where are you going? Who are you staking out? Can I go?” Marlee was so taken with the idea of surveillance, she forgot she was trying to get away from Barry to avoid his questions.
“No, you can’t go. We’re watching some people we think have been passing funny money around town. Besides, don’t you think you’ve done enough sleuthing for one night?” Barry asked, making eye contact with her through the rear view mirror.
“I thought the police used white vans when they did stake outs. Or is that just the FBI?” Marlee hoped to stall Barry for another five minutes and then they would be in front of her dorm.
“Give it up. I already know that you went to the truck stop to find out about the motel manager that said Beth was a prostitute. Your roommate ratted you out,” Barry smirked.
“Did you beat it out of her? Or threaten her?” Marlee accused, sure that Jazz wouldn’t have volunteered Marlee’s intentions without some sort of intimidation.
“No, I just let her know that there are a lot of criminal types that hang out at that motel, and you might be in danger. She told me everything, including that you blabbed about the stuff you were to keep secret,” Barry said, staring her down via the rear view mirror.
“So what? The case is closed, and the PD isn’t going to do anything else. What difference does it make that I told Jazz about our conversations? She was Beth’s friend too,” Marlee insisted, knowing she was on weak ground.
“It’s all about you, isn’t it? Little Miss College Girl,” Barry said, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Nothing has changed for me. If the chief or one of the captains hears I passed on information to you, I might have a long time to wait before I get promoted. You probably torpedoed my career.”
“I told Jazz not to mention anything to anyone,” Marlee said, realizing Barry had a point.
“A lot of good that will do. I told you not to mention it to anyone, and you couldn’t keep a secret,” Barry accused.
“I can keep a secret really well. I have a bunch of them right now that I’ll never tell anybody. After you said the case was closed, I was mad at you so I made the conscious decision to tell Jazz about our information swap. She won’t tell anyone. I guarantee it.” Marlee sounded more confident than she felt. For all she knew, Jazz was retelling the information to anyone in the dorm who would listen.
“She better keep her mouth shut,” Barry said, but then realized that sounded like a threat. “Not that I’ll do anything, but I just really want to make detective, and you two could wreck it for me if word gets out. Now tell us what you found out at the truck stop.”
Marlee gave a full report of her evening, including how Robbie assumed she was a hooker and directed her to room 202. “When I asked him about Beth, he said she went by Dixie and that she’d been out there a few times before. He said he didn’t know how the cops knew to talk to him about her. Then he got really snotty with me and told me to leave.”
“So, if the cops know about Robbie and the prostitution at the motel, why doesn’t he get arrested? Why doesn’t the motel get shut down?” Marlee asked, disgusted that the police were aware of the criminal activity but chose to ignore it.
“His uncle is a big wig in this town. Nobody messes with him or his businesses,” Barry said. “All we can do is put pressure on Robbie from time to time when we need information. Beyond that, there’s not much we can do.”
“But there was a young girl in her early teens there tonight. Working, I’m sure. Doesn’t that bother anyone?” Marlee snapped.
“Of course it bothers us. There’s nothing most of us on the force would like better than to arrest Robbie and his uncle and the guys who are paying for sex, but the word came down from our bosses to leave them alone,” Barry reported with a degree of sincerity that Marlee believed to be true.
Feeling better about Barry and his stance on the prostitution at the motel, Marlee decided he wasn’t such a dipshit after all. “I’ll talk to Jazz right away. We’ll keep everything about the case between the two of us,” she assured him as she exited the car in front of her dorm. “By the way, you two need better disguises for the stake out. You totally look like cops.”
Jasmine was a nervous wreck when Marlee entered the dorm room. She was pacing, chewing her fingernails, and had opened another can of Marlee’s Bud Light. “Oh my God! Did they find you? Did you get hurt?”
“I’m fine, and yes, they found me. I assured Barry that you and I wouldn’t say a thing about the case to anyone else. His career depends on it. You haven’t told anyone else, have you?”
Jasmine shook her head. “No, I didn’t talk to anyone except your cop friend. He said he was worried for your life.”
“Barry exaggerated so you would tell him where I was and what I was do
ing. I don’t think I was in any danger. Well, not really, although the guy at the motel thought I was a hooker and tried to send me to some guy’s room,” Marlee said, thinking Jasmine would get a kick out of the story.
“He what?” Jasmine’s voice reached a high note Marlee hadn’t heard before. Any higher and it would have been a pitch only audible to dogs.
“Relax. I came into the motel, and the clerk assumed I was there to meet a specific guy. I told him I wasn’t and asked about Beth. He claims she worked there a few times and went by the name of Dixie. I asked some questions, he got mad, and then I left. End of story,” Marlee said, leaving out what a creep Robbie was and how she was afraid to turn her back on him as she left.
“So what now?” Jasmine enquired.
“The coroner ruled Beth’s death an accident, presumably from intoxication. The case is closed, and the police aren’t going to do anything else about it. Barry said the motel clerk and his uncle are big shots in town, and the police were told to leave them alone. Apparently they’re untouchable. The worst the police can do is pressure them for information, but that’s it,” Marlee repeated her conversation with Barry.
“That’s it? Nothing else can be done?” Jasmine was incredulous.
“What do you think should be done?” Marlee asked.
Jasmine thought awhile, chewing her nails again. “I think we should talk to the guys at Stairway to Hell to see what they know.”
“I already talked to Tim, but I never talked to any of the other guys. Whatever they have to say doesn’t change the fact that Beth’s intoxication level was almost at the lethal limit, but you know what? I don’t think we’ll find out anything that will reopen the investigation, but we might piece together more details about Beth and who she was. We’ve learned quite a bit already, and I for one want to know more. Who knows what other secrets are lurking out there.” Marlee said.
“Let’s go to Stairway to Hell tomorrow to talk to the guys,” Jasmine said, calming herself and sitting down.
“It’s only 9:00 pm. Let’s go now,” Marlee suggested, jumping up from the lawn chair and grabbing her coat. “But first, I’m putting on some socks and warmer shoes.”
The temperature was hovering just above zero, but the wind chill made it feel more like twenty below. The roommates cut through as many buildings on campus as possible on their trek to talk to Tim and his roommates at Stairway to Hell. The Administration Building, which was open until midnight, provided a temporary respite for the nearly frozen coeds. They lingered until they could feel their limbs again and then fast-walked the remainder of the way to the party house.
Marlee’s stubby legs were no match for Jasmine’s long limbs. She had to jog just to keep up with her roommate’s fast walk. “Dammit, Jazz. Slow down! We’re not running a marathon, you know.” Taking the icy cold air into her lungs was hard enough without adding panting onto it.
“Sorry, I’m just really, really cold,” Jasmine said. Marlee knew she outweighed her slim roommate by at least forty pounds and that those extra pounds of blubber provided a good deal of warmth. If Marlee was freezing, she could only imagine the level of cold her skinny roommate was feeling.
They reached Stairway to Hell in record time, even with the warm-up stops on campus. When they arrived, Tim was just coming inside with his dog.
“Hey, what are you guys doing? It’s a little cold for an evening stroll, isn’t it?” he called out in a cheerful manner.
“We’re here to visit you and your roommates. Can we come in?” Marlee asked, shivering.
Tim took his time maneuvering his dog up the steps to the deck and through the side door. Jasmine turned a light shade of blue by the time they finally made their way into the toasty house. “I think I’m going to die. There’s no way I can walk back to the dorm!” Jasmine’s chill, along with her flair for the dramatic, had kicked in.
“Don’t worry, I’ll give you a ride back to your dorm. Why did you decide to come for a visit on one of the coldest nights of the year?” Tim took his dog off the leash and put a pan of hot water on the stove. He opened a cupboard and withdrew packets of Swiss Miss hot chocolate and a bottle of peppermint schnapps.
Once settled in the living room with their hot libations, Marlee and Jasmine took turns telling what little they could reveal. Since Officer Stevens had reiterated his need for secrecy to protect his career, Marlee tip-toed around most of the facts and kept her questions general. “Tim, did you know Beth very well, other than from bars and parties?”
“We were in English together last year. That’s how we met. Why?” Tim picked up the bottle of schnapps from a TV tray and poured more into his hot chocolate.
“We’ve heard some rumors about Beth and don’t know what to think. Jazz and I thought we knew her fairly well, but now we’re wondering. I heard Beth earned money on the side through prostitution out at the motel by the truck stop.” Marlee didn’t add any qualifiers or additional information. She wanted to judge Tim’s reaction when he heard her revelation.
Tim looked at the television, which was turned off, then the wall, then the floor. He would not make eye contact with either of his guests, which Marlee interpreted to mean that he knew something.
“Yeah, I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’ve heard about it too,” Tim finally said, glancing up at Marlee then Jasmine. “I mean, there wasn’t any reason to tarnish her reputation. She was dead, and nothing was going to change, so why even mention it to the police?”
“How did you find out?” Marlee asked, again keeping the questions brief.
“A friend told me. I don’t want to say who, but it was a guy I believe was telling the truth,” Tim said, making direct eye contact.
“Was it fairly well-known that Beth was a hooker?” Jasmine asked, hugging her mug of hot chocolate to absorb its warmth.
“All of us guys here at the house knew,” Tim said bluntly.
“There’s no good way to ask this. Tim, were you or your roommates clients of Beth’s?” Marlee asked, unsure if she had crossed a line.
“No! I don’t have to pay for sex.” Tim was indignant, but didn’t seem offended.
“What about your roommates?” Jasmine asked.
“I can’t answer for any of them,” Tim said, bouncing his foot against the edge of the coffee table.
“Is that because you know one or more of them paid Beth for sex?” Marlee asked.
Tim’s look said it all, but he wasn’t prepared to accuse his friends. “I don’t know. All I can say for sure is that I didn’t. We don’t keep tabs on each other, so I can’t say what my roommates do and don’t do. You’ll have to ask them yourself.”
“Are they around tonight?” Marlee asked.
“John went to the library, and Blake went to see some girl at her apartment. Adam is in the basement. You can go talk to him if you want,” Tim said as he got up from the couch and walked up the stairs to the top floor, not bothering to introduce them to Adam.
Jasmine gave Marlee a fretful look. “I hope Tim’s still going to give us a ride home later.” Marlee nodded in agreement as they opened the door to the basement and descended the stairs.
Adam sat at the makeshift bar, holding a can of beer and looking off into the distance as he listened to Round and Round by Ratt blaring from a boom box. He turned as he saw them come down the stairs and looked at them with curiosity. Adam was clad in a gray university sweatshirt and tight-fitting black jeans. His short, blonde hair offset his hazel eyes and sculpted cheekbones.
Marlee introduced them and mentioned that they had been at the house party on Thursday night. “We’re friends of Tim’s and were just upstairs talking to him about Beth. She was a friend of ours, and we lived in the same dorm.”
“It’s a sad situation. I’ve seen Beth around, and she always seemed to be the life of the party, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, she was really bubbly and outgoing,” Jasmine said with a trembling voice as she sat down on a barstool beside Adam. “I
miss her so much already.”
“So we’re just asking around about Beth. You know, trying to piece together her life,” Marlee said with an air of nonchalance. “Anything you can tell us about her, even negative stuff, will be helpful.”
“Like I said earlier, I’ve seen her around. That’s all I can tell you.” Adam turned his swivel bar stool so that his face angled away from Marlee and Jasmine.
Marlee was cold, tired, and tired of all the bullshit. “Cut the crap, Adam. You knew she was a prostitute, didn’t you?” She moved around so that she was face to face with him.
Adam’s eyes darted around the room as he planned what to say. “Yeah, but I didn’t want to say anything bad about the dead.”
“I’m not buying it. There’s some reason you and a lot of other guys don’t want to talk about it, and I think I know very well what it is.” Marlee made her accusation clear enough for even the most obtuse to grasp it.
“Hey, are you saying I paid to have sex with Beth? Because I didn’t!” Adam jumped up off his barstool and glared at Marlee and Jasmine.
“Then why isn’t anyone talking about it? Seems to me the reason no one is saying anything is because they were involved,” Marlee continued with her accusations. She wasn’t convinced that Adam was complicit, but she had struck a nerve and wanted to see his reaction.
“Who do you think you are, coming in here and making accusations like this? I don’t even know either one of you. Get out of here, both of you!” Adam stood firm with his hands crossed in front of him. He was defensive, but Marlee couldn’t determine if it was because he had something to hide or because Marlee made a mess of the interview.
“Fine, we’ll leave. But one more thing. Did you know Beth was pregnant when she died?” Marlee asked, as she inched her way back from Adam.
“Beth was pregnant?” Tim gasped from the top of the stairs as he started walking down to the basement. That was when he missed a step, fell down the remaining stairs, and hit his head on the bare concrete floor, knocking him unconscious.
Fatal Footsteps Page 8
