“You know, Leo, this lady’s real self is almost as invisible as her fake one. I ran searches on her in all the local courts. No suits, no civil actions. Driving record was good, no accidents. Credit rating was good. She did like to spend money on clothes. No problems with her car loans. I couldn’t find any reason to rabbit. At least not for any civil or financial problems.”
“That leaves personal. Work or love. And criminal. Is she a doer or a done to?” I ticked the options off on my fingers.
“That’s for tomorrow,” he said.
“Thanks, Larry. See you tomorrow.”
He left and Kelly came in.
“I had to ask you this before I left. I was typing your notes, and that guy, his name isn’t really Jack Meehof, is it? What a terrible thing to do to a kid.”
“No. It’s his byline, his nom de plume. I don’t know what his real name is.”
“Thank goodness. I’ll see you tomorrow, boss. Got to crack the books tonight. Big exam in criminal justice tomorrow.”
Kelly’s night-school pursuit of a degree was a marvel to me. I envied her drive and ambition. I didn’t want to better myself. I wanted to be someone else.
“Good luck,” I said, half meaning it. I hoped she approached her graduation as ambivalently as I did. She waved back at me as she went out the door.
Hoss would be off duty at eight in the morning. There wasn’t much for me to do until then. I stopped at the gym, did my laps, hit the iron, showered, and went home.
Drifting off to sleep, I thought Darla Jean Sorenson and I weren’t very different at all. Neither of us had much more than our jobs. I just hadn’t had to change my name. At least not yet.
CHAPTER 14
At six the paper hit the front door. I was already sitting in the kitchen watching my neighbors get ready for work. Catercorner was the local Madame DeFarge. She was the ex-mistress of a local tycoon, and he had put her up in this house and came by every now and then to see her. Not quite a golden parachute after years of loyal service. In between visits she sat in her window in a peach silk robe and slowly sipped a drink all day. Most of the time she pulled the curtain closed before she passed out. She was well known in the neighborhood. I had discreetly slipped some information about home security inside her screen door. She hadn’t used any of it. Maybe someday I’ll rouse myself to go over and talk to her about it. She was always home, alone and half smashed. It was only a matter of time before some local kids looking for easy cash ripped her off or a more serious predator decided to put her out of her misery.
Next to her were the Middletons. If this life is the karmic reward for your last one, they used to be tilling animals. All they ever did was work on their yard. It was a testament to their boundless bad taste that after every effort it looked worse than before and with no end in sight. I watched Bob Middleton bouncing up the street with his splay-footed gait.
My immediate next-door neighbors were the local Christian Militia. Their cars were festooned with every known pro-family slogan, and each year Mrs. Orton brought a new soldier into the world. So far they had nine of them tucked barracks style into the threebedroom house. Every spring in the latter months of the pregnancy I’d see Lisa, their oldest daughter, watch the brood with last year’s addition on her hip. That was the only change, who was on her hip. Her grim frown certainly hadn’t changed during her tour of duty. Dick Orton waved to his wife in the dormitory and backed one of the cars into the street and drove away.
I made coffee, English muffins, hash and eggs, and waded through the Post. Only five more months until the Redskins would begin the Petitbon era. The departure of Joe Gibbs was more important to this town than that of any president. Nothing galvanized this city like the Redskins. Or led to greater madness. I remembered Joe Anthony in his “Fuck Detroit” T-shirt and rubber hog’s nose leading other members of the bar in a particularly rude postgame cheer at the NFC championships.
At seven forty-eight Hoss called me. “Real simple, Leo. She ain’t on the big board anywhere. No arrests, no outstanding warrants. She’s been a good girl, Leo. Nobody’s looking for her from this end.”
“Thanks, Hoss. I appreciate it.”
I finished eating, dressed, and went to the office. At ten after nine, I called Ellen Piersall at her office number.
“Ellen Piersall? This is Leo Haggerty calling.”
“Mr. Haggerty, do you have any information for me?”
“Information, yes. Answers, no. I’ve called to see how things are going with Sarabeth. Is she still planning to leave?”
“Yes. Today. I’m going to see her at lunch and then she’s leaving. She won’t tell me where she’s going. She doesn’t even want me to know how she’s leaving town. I’m desperate. I don’t want to lose her and I can’t talk her out of this panic she seems to be in.”
“Well, I don’t think what I’ve got is going to help you very much. For a while I thought Sarabeth was running from the law, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. There are no outstanding warrants for her. She doesn’t seem to be running from a problem at work, or from her last relationship. It’s not a matter of money. She wasn’t running out on any bad debts or civil suits. Our inquiries confirmed that she left California very suddenly for no apparent reason. At this point, I have no idea what she’s running from.”
“That’s great. What can you tell me about her? Who is she really?” Frustration had whet an edge to her voice.
Good question. Which answer did I give? Fantasia or Darla Jean Sorenson? Did it really matter? Probably not. Except that you can’t get to Darla Jean except through Fantasia. I decided not to peel off any more layers than I had to.
“I can’t really answer that question either. She used to live in Los Angeles in a relationship with another woman named Rachel Porter. I can tell you what she used to do for a living, at least for the last couple of years, that’s about it.”
“And?”
“For the last couple of years she’s been working as an actress in porno films. She went by the name of Fantasia.”
“I see. Well, that really shouldn’t surprise me. Thank you, Mr. Haggerty. I don’t think I’ll need your services any longer. Please send the statement to my home.” Her voice had grown cooler and flatter with each word.
CHAPTER 15
At two o’clock I was wading through some of Dr. McNair’s later papers when the red light on my desk lit up, telling me that there was trouble in the outer office. I stood up and was halfway around the desk when trouble stormed in.
“You son of a bitch, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Darla Jean pulled right up in my face, waiting for my answer. Her brow had dropped like a visor and her hands were balled into fists.
“Yeah, I told my client what I found out about you. She’s concerned about you and herself.”
“Nice work, peeper.” She sneered. “You still don’t know why I’m hiding, do you? No, you don’t. You have no idea what I left behind in L.A. But you call around out there saying, Oh, by the way, I’ve found this woman, anybody missing her? News travels fast, you bastard. He’s probably one plane flight behind me now. Eight months of peace gone. All that work starting over shot to hell. Now I’m running again. Thank you very fucking much.”
She bent over and pounded her fist on the desk. “Damn it, damn it, damn it. I want this to be over.” She straightened up, squinted back her tears, and took a deep breath.
“What do you want over?” I said, gliding blithely over her anger and accusations.
“Give me a break. You’ve just about helped me to death already,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Then she stopped. “No, I will tell you. Maybe you’ll think twice next time somebody asks you to stick your nose into other people’s business. Maybe you’ll think about something more than your precious wallet. Maybe you’ll think about who you’re hurting while you’re making your money.”
Darla began to pace while she talked. “It was about a year ago. I was doing a vide
o show. You know, promoting my tapes to the big chains. So I’m sitting there signing pictures and T-shirts. We’re about to close up and there’s this guy, he’s hanging around the whole day but he hasn’t bought anything. I figured he’s shy. Most fans are like that. So I go up to him and ask him if I can help him. They can spend two hours glued to the screen but when I’m real they can barely look at me.
“He asks me if I’ll have a drink with him. I said no. I don’t have drinks with fans. That’s just a rule. So he asks me if he can take some photos of me. I said, You don’t get it, Jack. If you want a photo of me, they’re for sale. Come back tomorrow. Next thing he says is skip the pictures, how about you suck my cock? I tell him ‘Grow one first!’ So he tries to grab me and I yelled for security. They tossed him the fuck out.
“I figure, okay, let’s not make a big deal about this. There’s always going to be some crazy bastard out there who thinks that if I’m doing it on the screen then I’ll do it for him.
“So I go back to my room. Now the creep is hanging out in the lobby. He doesn’t do anything. He just watches me. He’s there when I come back. Next thing I know he starts showing up when I’m dancing. He’s always there. Watching me. Only it’s not like other guys’ eyes. You know, the hungry eyes. You get down real close and shake it in their faces, they get anxious or guilty and look away or they smile at you like little kids. This guy couldn’t buy a smile to fit that face.
“Anyway, I’m dancing at this club one night and I do a squat to put this guy’s money in my garter and the creep is there. He reaches up and grabs me and pulls me right off the stage. I’m kicking and scratching at him. Then the bouncers throw him out.
“By this time I’m a basket case. I finish my set and go home. I’m shook. Look at me, just thinking about him, I’m shaking. I’m going around locking up and there he is outside watching me from the street. I pull up the window and start yelling at him, that I’m gonna call the police. He says that’s okay, they can’t protect me. That I should never have treated him like I did and that he’s going to punish me for it.
“I mean, at this point I know that he’s off his meds, so I’m not wasting any more time talking to him. I flip him the farewell bird and go to bed.
“Three days later I’m going to work and somebody’s slashed the tires on my car. When I turned to go back inside he was right there. I absolutely freaked out. I was so surprised. He just stood there. He opened his mouth and wagged his tongue at me. He said that he’d have me when he was ready.
“That was it for me. I called the cops. So they send out this patrolman and a suit from vice, like I’m the criminal. They listen to my story and they say there’s not much they can do. They can’t arrest him for the tires and what he said wasn’t exactly a threat. They said next time I see him to get his name and then I could try to get a restraining order. Right.
“The patrolman goes out and so there I am with the suit. He looks at me and says, considering I’m a professional slut maybe I should throw the creep a mercy fuck and that’ll take care of it.
“That’s it. Not only do I have the creep to deal with, but the cops are on his side. I wasn’t waiting around for the next visit.
“Anyway, you know the rest. I got myself a new identity and just disappeared. Wrote everything off and came here to start over fresh. Until you came along, Mr. Private Eye. Now everybody knows that Fantasia’s back east in Virginia. That’s what I was running from, and now thanks to you I’m running again. You really fucked me up big time, you know that? I’d love to return the favor, but I can’t take the time. Have a nice life, Mr. Haggerty.”
That said, she turned around and stalked out of the office slamming the door behind her.
A moment later Kelly peered around the door.
“Everything okay?” she said hopefully.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine, Kelly. Let’s all go back to work, okay?”
She looked at me a moment longer to see if that was my final word. I motioned her to close the door.
I didn’t believe a word of that cockamamie story. Darla Jean Sorenson was too cool to panic like that. No, I saw her inviting this guy up to see if his dick played as good a game as his mouth said and then having a couple of steroid-driven nightmares pound him into marzipan. Whatever she was running from it was a whole lot scarier.
What was done was done. I knew all about things you couldn’t undo. Wanting them otherwise was the entrance to a maze of despair.
CHAPTER 16
Three days later I was visited by William T. Bellicosi, who identified himself as an investigator for the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s office. His identification card said the same thing. I motioned him to a seat.
Bellicosi opened his jacket and ran his thumbs along his waistband, arched his back, and stretched. He looked like the genuine government article. Absolutely presentable anywhere. Anonymity raised to an art form. Close-cropped brown hair and orderly features. Standard-size white male. Ten minutes out of my office and he’d be out of my mind.
I leaned back and rested my hands on my stomach. “So, Mr. Bellicosi, what can I do for you?”
“We received a request for information about a Darla Jean Sorenson. We understand that the request originated with you. We’d like to know the reason for your request and any other information you have about her.”
Sorry, Hoss, I hope I haven’t landed you in the soup. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bellicosi, but that’s part of a confidential investigation. I’m sure you understand.” I smiled blandly, waiting to see how he would respond.
“I was hoping we could handle this like a couple of professionals, Mr. Haggerty. A little reciprocal courtesy. I can go get a court order and be back here by four. Why cost the taxpayers unnecessarily?”
True enough. But I could have the file purged long before that. You’re not very well prepared, Mr. Bellicosi. If you bring the carrot, you’d better bring the cudgel too.
“Maybe, maybe not. I haven’t heard anything from you about why you want the information. Why don’t we start there?” More cheerless smiles.
Bellicosi sorted through his options and decided on disarming candor. “All right, I can tell you some things.” He sighed. “We don’t look great on this one. Sorenson is an informant for us.”
That would explain why NCIC drew a blank on her. Informant files always have an identification stop code that automatically advises whoever is running the informant that an inquiry has been made. Nothing goes out unless the handler approves it.
“How does that make you look bad?”
“She took payment and never delivered, just disappeared. We’ve been looking for her ever since.” Bellicosi shook his head with chagrin.
“How’d you guys let that happen?” Standard procedure was no information, no payment.
“This is where it gets embarrassing. You know who she is? A porno star. Instead of delivering the goods, she offered to play house with her handler for the dough.” I added what he’d said to what I already knew. Maybe that was where the money for the surgery came from and why she didn’t want her fingerprints on anything.
“Anyway, she’s going down on him, he’s standing there thinking with his little head and she puts the squeeze on his balls and steers him into a closet. That’s the last we see of her or the dough.”
This exchange was getting more aromatic by the minute. Handlers never made payments alone. A supervisor was always there. Eighty percent of the time the snitch is smarter than the handler and gets them turned around. No matter which head they’re using.
“Why not just call the commonwealth’s attorney and have them handle this? Unless you came out on Air Sununu, you had to cost more than the phone call would have. As long as we’re looking out for the taxpayer, of course.”
“Hey, we didn’t want this making the rounds in their office. Frankly, we’re trying to keep this in house and fix it ourselves. You can understand that.”
“I do, and I’ll tell you what. After hearing your
story I sure don’t want to do anything I have to clean up after. I’ll be glad to turn over my entire file to you.”
Bellicosi broke into a grin and leaned forward en route to shake my hand.
“As soon as you come back with an order from the court. That way everything’ll be by the book and neither of us will be ashamed of what we’ve done.”
“You asshole. You piece of shit.” Bellicosi swung his head from side to side. “You want to do it the hard way. We’ll do it the hard way. Let’s start with explaining how you got information from NCIC.” He grinned maliciously.
I leaned forward to match his smile. “While you’re taking the high road, Bellicosi, take it right out the door. Don’t set foot inside here again unless you’ve got more paper with you than a newborn puppy.”
He stood up and chewed his tongue. I waited for him to say “I’ll be back,” but he couldn’t find his lines.
At the door I fired a parting shot. “I hope you couldn’t piss and smile for a month.”
Now there was something to do. It wouldn’t undo anything, but it might keep it from happening again.
CHAPTER 17
I went into the records room and got out the Piersall file. After I closed the office door I examined the contents. Those items that would help Bellicosi find Darla Jean I removed. Into one pile I put the pictures from Dr. Howard and the list of names that Joe Anthony’s office had given me. I was the only one who knew about those items. Piersall would give Bellicosi the same physical description so I could leave the photos. Although explaining how I came to get them could be a problem. I left them out.
The bank account number and safe deposit box would help Bellicosi only if Darla Jean came back to clean them out. Also they were known to Del and Clancy and Kelly. No need to compromise them, so I left them in. The names and photos went into my inside jacket pocket. Now all I had to do was find Darla Jean Sorenson before Bellicosi.
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