The Girl In the Morgue

by D. D. VanDyke

  “But you know where he does hang. Or who he hangs with.”

  “No…”

  “No?” Cal bent over and took a beer from the cooler without looking. “Then I guess I’m going to have to start my investigation right here…” She patted the plastic.

  “He lives farther south, I think,” the surfer said, suddenly recovering his memory. He motioned in a roughly southerly direction. “He rides closer to Merced. That’s all I know, honest. He doesn’t usually come up this way.”

  “How much further south?”

  “Like…a mile, I don’t know. Out from the park, like I said. By the zoo.”

  Cal nodded. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “We don’t want any trouble, okay? I don’t have nothing to do with Cruiser.”

  Cal shrugged and walked away from him, twisting off the cap off the beer and enjoying the cold beverage.

  Persistent questioning of more surfers got her closer and closer to Cruiser. The wave-riders were a fairly close-knit community, and while not eager to turn one of their own in to the police, they knew who she was talking about and pointed her in the right direction with a little arm-twisting.

  Finally, within sight of the tree-lined corner of the San Francisco Zoo, someone pointed to a tanned man in a black wetsuit. He had a slim surfer’s build and looked to be a few years older than Randy Roubicek. Like Randy, he had dark hair, but with sun-bleached highlights. It was cut above his shoulders, and his beard was barely more than trimmed stubble. He reminded her of Swayze in Point Break.

  While Cal watched, the black-suited man identified as Cruiser walked over to a small boy in a short blue wetsuit and planted his tall board in the sand beside him. The boy didn’t look up. Cruiser bent over and talked to him. The boy kept playing in the sand as if he didn’t even hear anyone. There was a child-sized board lying close to him. Apparently, he wasn’t into it right now.

  Cal walked up to them. Cruiser looked her over, lips pursed. “Who are you?”

  “Are you Cruiser?”

  “Yeah.” Cruiser straightened up. He put one hand on his surfboard. “What’s it to you?”

  “What’s your real name?”

  “What’s yours?”

  “Is this Alan?” Cal looked down at the boy with sudden sorrow. He sat there playing without a care in the world, with no idea that his mother had been brutally killed the night before. “Alan Duncan?”

  “You a social worker?”

  “No. I’m investigating—”

  “A cop?”

  “Shut up and let me talk. I really think you’re going to want to hear what I have to say. How about you tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine, and then we’ll talk about where you were last night.”

  “Last night?” He shook his head. “Home. Where else? I got responsibilities.” He nodded at Alan.

  “My name’s Cal Corwin. I’m a private investigator, not a cop.”

  He rubbed his neck, looked away. “Leonard Holberg. Don’t use it, though.” That seemed like a request, not a statement.

  “Fair enough. Has anyone been in touch with you yet about…your ex-girlfriend?”

  “I haven’t had a girlfriend, or an ex-girlfriend, in a long time.”

  There was nothing in his manner to indicate that he wasn’t telling the truth. “And Jenna Duncan?”

  “What about Jenna?” Cruiser’s eyes went to Alan. But the boy gave no sign that he was listening to what they were talking about. Cal wondered if he were deaf. But if he were, Cruiser wouldn’t be checking to see if he’d overheard.

  “Jenna met with…unfortunate circumstances last night. No one’s reached out to you?”

  “I’ve been here most of the day. What does that mean, unfortunate circumstances? Did she have an accident? Is she okay?”

  Cal shook her head.

  Cruiser’s eyes got wide. He looked down at Alan and back at Cal before leaning on his vertical surfboard, face pale behind his suntan. “What happened?”

  “Is there somewhere we could talk?” Cal asked, deciding that some gentle handling was going to be required.

  Cruiser put his hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Alan. Alan, buddy, time to go home.”

  Alan didn’t look up. “Go home,” he echoed.

  “I know it’s early, bud. But we need to go home, okay? Come on.” Cruiser got down on his knees beside his son and pulled the boy’s hands out of the sand. He proceeded to collect Alan’s bucket and sand tools. Alan started to whine, a wordless protest, starting low and getting gradually louder. He slapped at Cruiser, but Cruiser paid no attention. He handed the bucket of tools to Cal, then the small surfboard. He picked up Alan and the boy’s whining broke into screams. A few of the surfers nearby glanced over, and then looked away again.

  Cruiser threw Alan over his shoulder, the boy kicking and yelling, then picked up his own surfboard under his other arm. He jerked his head at Cal to follow him. Trailing behind, she wondered why he would put up with Alan’s temper tantrum without even a word of reprimand. If Cal had screamed like that as a child, her own father…well, let’s just say Dad was loving but strict, unlike her mother.

  She followed Cruiser back to one of the nearby townhouses, a pale blue corner unit. There was a tricycle and some children’s toys on the front step. Cruiser put down his surfboard and pulled out a key to unlock the door. He marched into the house, still carrying Alan, and left the door open behind him.

  Cal put the smaller surfboard down with the big one and put the sand tools down inside the door. She followed the sounds of Alan’s protests to the living room.

  Cruiser turned the TV on and put Alan down. “Batman, Alan. Let’s watch Batman.” He put in a disk and let it boot up. Alan’s eyes went to the TV and his whining started to quiet.

  Cruiser motioned to the couch. Cal sat down. He sat at the other end. She frowned and indicated Alan with a nod. “Is he…?”

  “He’s autistic,” Cruiser said flatly. “It is what it is. So…what’s this about Jenna?”

  “I’m sorry.” Cal hated having to do death notifications when she was on the force, and doubly so now. She found herself wishing that Macey and Raymer had beaten her to Cruiser. “I’m afraid…she’s been killed.”

  “Killed? How could she have been killed?”

  “Apparently, she had a fight with her boyfriend. She went after him with a knife. He shot her.”

  She watched Cruiser’s eyes, trying to discern whether it was news to him, or if he already knew. He seemed bewildered. “Randy? Roubicek killed her? He shot her?”

  “You know Randy?”

  “Of course. He lived with Jenna. Jenna and me, we share—shared—custody of Alan.”

  Cal found it interesting that Cruiser knew Randy’s full name, but Randy had no idea what Cruiser’s real name was…or so he said. “How’d that go? Sharing custody?”

  Cruiser looked over at Alan, who had calmed down watching the animated Batman. “I was fighting for full custody.”

  “Full custody? Isn’t that pretty hard for a father to get?”

  Cruiser nodded. “It’s not easy. The courts like mothers. Nothing compares to a mother’s love, you know.” Sarcasm tinged his statement.

  “Not the case with Jenna?”

  “She loved Alan, but…she wasn’t always good for him.” Cruiser seemed reluctant to go on. He fiddled with the zipper on his wetsuit. “I should get changed. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  He got up and went up the stairs. He was only gone for a couple of minutes, then returned wearing a t-shirt and cut-off shorts that showed his long, lean legs to good advantage. He went over to Alan, and while the boy continued to watch the show with fixed eyes, stripped off his wetsuit and dressed him in dry clothes. Cruiser went to the door to shake sand out of the wetsuit, and then returned to the living room. “Be with you in a minute,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

  Cal watched Alan. “Do you like Batman, Ala
n?” she asked him softly.

  Alan turned his head to look at her. For a moment, it seemed he actually saw her. She smiled encouragement. “Batman?” she repeated. “Do you like Batman?”

  He looked back at the TV again without comment.

  Cruiser returned to the room. “Alan is mostly nonverbal,” he told Cal. “He understands some of what you say to him, echoes it now and then, but he doesn’t really talk.” He handed her a bottle.

  Cal took it automatically before realizing what it was. Water. Bottled water. She’d been expecting some form of alcohol. Cruiser handed a covered cup with a straw to Alan, who continued to stare at the TV screen as he drank.

  Cal cracked the seal on her water bottle.

  “Lots of time in the sun,” Cruiser said. “Important to stay hydrated.”

  “Right. Of course. I took you more for a beer guy.”

  “I don’t drink anymore. Not since Alan.”

  “I see. So…” Cal took a sip of the water. “You didn’t think Jenna was good for Alan…?”

  Cruiser took a few long swallows of water, as if avoiding the question for as long as he could. “I know she loved him and tried to do the right thing for him,” he said slowly. “But the last few months…whenever Alan came back from a visit, he was irritable and out of sorts. He wouldn’t sleep. It would be a few days before he would start sleeping on schedule again, and since we are trading off weeks, that meant he would just get halfway normal and have to go back again. It was getting…unmanageable.”

  “Just the disruption of trading custody back and forth?”

  Cruiser shook his head. “It was more than that. I…I was worried that Randy was abusing him.” Cruiser glanced down at his son. “There weren’t bruises or anything…but Randy didn’t like Alan there…didn’t really like Alan at all. He used to fight with Jenna about having to take him.”

  “That’s why you were trying to get full custody.”

  “Yeah. But Jenna wanted equal time. I thought that was selfish. You know, putting herself before his needs. Not even sure why. Maybe just to spite me.”

  Cal let her eyes rest on Alan. Cruiser obviously cared about him. How far would he go to make sure that Alan was safe from harm? If Randy was abusing Alan and the court system was reluctant to award full custody to Cruiser, what options did Cruiser have?

  “Did you take him to the doctor? Talk to a social worker?”

  “The doctor said there were no detectable signs of abuse. Alan couldn’t tell us what was wrong. Sleep problems and behavioral issues are ‘normal’ for autistic kids, so everyone thought I was just being paranoid, or trying to make stuff up to use against Jenna.” He scowled and shook his head. “I know my son. This was a change. And it was whenever they had him.”

  Cal nodded and sipped her water. Cruiser had motive, but wouldn’t Randy have just pointed the finger at Cruiser? And wouldn’t Cruiser have shot Randy as well, or instead of, Jenna?

  “So where were you last night?”

  “Last night? I told you, here, just like always.” It took a beat before Cruiser realized Cal was asking for an alibi. “Why the hell would I kill Jenna? Seriously?”

  “You wanted full custody.”

  “So I would murder the mother of my child to get it? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! I’d never risk going to jail and leaving Alan without any parent. If I wanted to go that route, I’d kill Randy, right?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first to do something crazy. Spouses and ex-spouses are the most likely suspects. Especially if there’s a custody dispute.”

  “You said Roubicek shot her.”

  “That’s his story…but some things don’t add up.”

  “I did not kill Jenna. I was here.”

  “Was anyone else around? Besides your son, who obviously can’t testify?”

  “Yeah, Milo and Vic.”

  Cal had not been expecting that. “Who are Milo and Vic?”

  “My roommates. Housemates. We split the rent.”

  She had been wondering how a surfer could afford a pricey waterfront property. But even with three people, she had an inkling it would be difficult to make the rent. Was it possible he was in deep with some unsavory types, drug dealers maybe, and they’d gone after his family? It might explain an execution-style killing, but not Randy’s confession. And Cruiser was not throwing off any deception indicators. His preferred drink was water and she could see no signs that he was a drug user.

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a programmer for an up-and-coming social network called Facebook.”

  “The Facebook? Where university kids post what they’re doing and pictures of each other?” Cal remembered Mickey talking about it. “And it just opened up to other people, right? Silicon Valley startup?”

  Cruiser looked suitably impressed. He sat back, re-evaluating her. “Just ‘Facebook’ now. How do you know about it?”

  “My tech guy,” Cal said offhandedly. “It might be a great investigative tool, if it became popular.”

  “Oh, it will,” Cruiser assured her. “But I can’t see cops or private investigators using it.”

  “Why wouldn’t they? If people are posting all about what they’re doing, posting pictures, why wouldn’t the police take advantage of it?”

  “People aren’t going to post if they’re doing something illegal.”

  “I was thinking more about alibis. But since when have criminals been able to keep their mouths shut about what they’re doing?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’m not a criminal.”

  “What are your hours? You aren’t at work today; did you call in sick?”

  “We work remotely from home. It’s called telecommuting. I’ll punch in after Alan goes to sleep. Work through the night. Catch a few zees in the morning before he wakes up. If he’s quiet or goes down for a nap in the afternoon, I’ll get in a couple more hours of work or sleep, whichever I need.”

  “So you can do everything you need to from here?”

  “Just about. Go in for team meetings when Alan’s with Jenna. Or…I did.” He rubbed his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to find a caregiver now. This sucks.”

  “You were here working last night?”

  “Like always.”

  “And your employer can confirm that?”

  “They keep track of the hours I work. They could probably prove my online activity if needed.” Cruiser looked concerned for the first time. “But I don’t want them to think I’m in legal trouble. I don’t want to lose my job.”

  “I’ll be discreet.” She wasn’t sure if she could keep that promise, but she needed his cooperation. “What about your roommates? They were here all night and can confirm that you didn’t leave? Or were they asleep or out partying?”

  “They’re…kind of geeks.” Cruiser chuckled. “They don’t party. We all work for tech firms. I’m pretty sure they were both still up when I knocked off. With Alan, I can’t burn the midnight oil as long as they can.”

  “I’ll need to follow up with them. If I could get their names and phone numbers.”

  Cruiser sighed. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “And how you spell your full name.” She pulled out her notebook. “Leonard…”

  He cleared his throat and took another sip of water. “Leonard Holberg.” He grimaced, and then spelled it out.

  “Leonard Holberg,” Cal repeated, writing it down. She smoothed the page in the notebook. “If it wasn’t Randy Roubicek who killed Jenna, who would you suspect?”

  Cruiser rubbed his stubble. “Jenna worked at a bar. Some Russian dude. I can’t remember the name of the joint. Some dive in the Tenderloin. She liked the work. I think the old guy was a bit sweet on her.”

  Cal nodded encouragingly.

  “I dunno. I got the impression he was Russian mob, from some of the things Jenna said. She’d throw stuff in my face. Maybe she saw or heard something she shouldn’t have. Or did something.”

  “It’s always possible.
”

  “I don’t know what was going on lately. She was acting differently. And she had money. She never had extra before. Paycheck to paycheck. But all of a sudden, she’s buying new SCA gear. Taking Alan to new therapies, cash out of pocket, and that shit ain’t cheap. When I asked her about it, she just said, why wouldn’t she get him the best treatment she could?”

  “And she hadn’t taken a second job?”

  “Nothing she said. No change to her schedule with Alan. Maybe you can find her boss and ask him about it.”

  Sergei had said he was thinking of promoting Jenna. That would have brought in more money. But he hadn’t done it yet, so where was she getting the extra cash? “Maybe the money was from Randy?” Cal suggested.

  “He might treat her nice, but wouldn’t spend anything on Alan. I told you, he didn’t like that Jenna had Alan half the time. He didn’t want to be burdened with a kid.”

  Alan got up from his spot on the floor and climbed into Cruiser’s lap, whining. “What’s wrong, bud?” Cruiser asked, giving him a hug.

  Alan cuddled up close to Cruiser’s chest, making choking sounds Cal assumed were sobs. Alan pulled at Cruiser’s t-shirt, pulling it up to show off his tight abs and short, dark hair. Cruiser pulled it back down.

  “Mom’s not here, Alan.” Cruiser’s voice became rough, his eyes suspiciously shiny. He stroked Alan’s head. “That’s sort of his sign for Jenna. She would comfort him by nursing, you know, until he was almost three. So he’ll pull up her shirt when he’s upset or needs to soothe himself.” Cruiser kissed Alan on top of the head. “He’s too old now, but he still remembers.”

  Cal watched the two of them together. She hadn’t thought Alan was listening to her conversation with Cruiser, or that he could comprehend it, but she was no longer so sure. Alan was insistently pulling up Cruiser’s shirt, and Cruiser kept tugging it back down. He wrapped his arms around Alan, murmuring to him.

  “I think you should go now,” Cruiser told Cal. “I’ve told you everything I can and it’s upsetting him. I need to get him settled before he gets too wound up.”