by Julia Derek
“Is this seat taken?” I asked, using my most seductive voice. He turned to face me, his eyes going from my boobs up to my face and then back to my boobs where they stayed for several seconds. Wearing a cheap-looking suit, he had wispy, dark hair and an unattractive face with a significant turkey neck.
“No, please have a seat,” he said, his buggy, pale eyes glued to my chest.
I pulled out the chair and took a seat. I smiled at Hutchkins, whose gaze had finally moved back to my face. He grinned back at me, revealing a jarring gold tooth.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
“Sure, a cosmo would be nice,” I replied.
He looked around and when he spotted a scantily dressed waitress, he waved her over. The willowy girl was soon at his side. He jabbed a thumb in my direction and said something into the girl’s ear. She nodded and disappeared.
I smiled at him. “The girls here are so hot. Can’t get enough of them.”
As expected, his eyes lit up with excitement. “You like girls?”
“As much as I like men…” I winked at him and he was practically drooling.
A brunette girl danced before us, shaking her shapely butt in our faces. To underscore just how much I liked girls, I stuck a ten-dollar bill into the stripper’s tiny silver panties as she squatted before us. She kept gyrating her hips for a while in appreciation and then moved on.
I turned to look at an open-mouthed Hutchkins, whose eyes were big like ping pong balls by now he was so excited. He licked his lips and grinned at me.
“You like to do them at the same time?” he asked.
“Yes. But tonight I’d like a man only. You know someone who’s available?”
He almost choked on his drink. Coughing, he wiped his mouth with a cocktail napkin, then cleared his throat. “Sure. I am. When do you wanna leave? Now?”
“Let’s enjoy a drink first and talk a little, watch the girls. That turns me on more...”
The waitress returned with my cosmo then. Hutchkins handed her a twenty and slapped her on the butt as she left, telling her to keep the change. Then his attention was back on me again. “What would you like to talk about?”
“How often do you come here?” I asked him.
“A few times a week. You?”
I licked my own lips and picked up my drink, holding his gaze all the while. “This is my first time. It’s something so incredibly erotic with beautiful dancing girls.”
“Yes, it is. Can’t get enough of them. What else turns you on?”
I giggled. “Oh, lots of things… I’ll show you later. What did you do last Thursday? Were you here?”
Having another sip of his drink, he looked like he was considering my question. “No, I was in Philly that night. My mother needed me to take her to the hospital that evening, so I spent the night at her place.”
“That’s so sweet of you. You’re a good son.”
“I try to be. I’m the only one she has.”
“Ah, an only child. I’m one too.”
“We have so much in common.” His gleaming eyes went to my chest as I had a sip of my starkly pink drink.
“Yes, it sure sounds like it. What was wrong with your mother?”
“She twisted her ankle badly and couldn’t walk. So I had to take her to the emergency room for X rays to see if she had broken something.”
“Oh, wow. That must have taken the entire night!”
“Yeah, we didn’t get in until one in the morning.”
“Was anything broken?”
“No, fortunately it was only a bad sprain. They put her in an ankle brace and gave her a pair of crutches. She’s not supposed to put any weight on it for a couple weeks.”
“That’s so good. I mean, that it wasn’t anything more serious. What hospital was it?”
“Pennsylvania Hospital. Why? You planning on going there?” He looked at me funnily. Something wild had ignited in his eyes and I didn’t like it. I had seen that look in criminally inclined people before and it was a bad sign. I needed to get out of there. I’d gotten what I’d come for. If his story panned out, he couldn’t be Ariel’s killer. Though given his touchiness, I didn’t think it would.
“Um, yeah,” I said. “I’m a med student, so I’m very interested in hospitals in general.” It was a lame explanation, but it was the best I could come up with.
“Uh-huh,” he said, staring at me now, the pleased grin long gone. It was obvious he thought I was bullshitting him. “Hey, how about you chug that drink and we get going?”
He kept staring at me, daring me to refuse his suggestion.
“Sure,” I said and smiled at him while grabbing the drink. But instead of bringing it to my lips, I tossed the almost full martini glass into his face. It was a surefire trick I’d tried before.
“Arghh!” he snarled as some of the pink liquid found his eyes, surely burning them like hell. Throwing the glass away, I shot to my feet and ran toward the exit. By the time Hutchkins was able to see again, I should be out of the club and in a cab, on my way home.
I found the stairs and started climbing them. But before I could get far, someone grabbed me by the arm.
“What’s the hurry, sugar pie?” a gravelly voice wanted to know. Breathing hard, I turned to see who had stopped me. A bearded man in a fedora was gazing at me under the brim of his hat.
“Let go of me,” I hissed, trying to shake myself loose from his strong grip. All that resulted in was his fingers closing tighter around my arm. What the hell is he doing? I threw a glance over my shoulder and saw that Hutchkins had recovered and was looking around the room, surely searching for me. The stairs were as well lit as the strippers’ stages, so it was only a matter of time before he spotted me. Swallowing the big clump that had suddenly materialized in my throat, I looked down at Fedora man’s hand.
“I think you should stay with me,” he said and began pulling me down the stairs. I was strong, but he was much bigger than me. Soon I was moving back down into the club.
My heart pumping like a jackhammer in my chest, I looked toward Hutchkins again. Fuck. He had spotted me and was coming toward me and my captor, who had managed to get me all the way back down by now. I was loathe to make a scene, but at this point I had no choice. With a well-aimed kick, the sharp point of my black boot slammed into Fedora man’s crotch.
Folding over and gasping, he let go of me at last. Throwing another look behind me, I saw that Hutchkins was only yards away from me, fury written all over his face. I swiveled around and dashed back up the stairs. I couldn’t afford another holdup or Hutchkins would get his hands on me. As mad as he looked, it wasn’t something I wanted to deal with. Especially since Fedora man would surely join him before I could get away. I could always pull the gun I had in my little purse, but if I did that, I might blow my cover. Those bouncers upstairs must have guns of their own and were surely trained to disarm people. I’d have no choice but to surrender.
“You fuckin’ bitch,” Hutchkins snarled behind me as I ran as fast as I could up the stairs, my lungs burning. On my way, I bumped into people walking downward.
“Hey, watch it,” one annoyed man yelled, but I was too frenzied to care. As I was near the top, a big cluster of men came toward me. Oh, God, how would I get by them?
As I had feared, they didn’t part for me as we met but just looked at me like I was crazy, forcing me to stop. I swiveled my head around and saw Hutchkins only a few yards behind me. He would reach me in a matter of seconds.
Frantically, I looked at the two men right before me. “There’s a man with a machine gun down there. Turn around and get the hell out of here or you’ll die! Five people are already dead.”
“What?” the first man said.
I jabbed a finger toward the club below and yelled at the top of my lungs. “Get the hell out of here! A man with a machine gun is killing people down there.”
Finally the group scattered and I could get through. Pushing myself forth, I disappeared between t
he men, just out of reach of Hutchkins. I could hear him snarl something behind me. I got beyond the last man and was close to the exit. I swept aside the curtains that hid the entrance and dashed outside, almost knocking my head against the chin of a famous basketball player. He grabbed my shoulders to steady me, but I shook myself loose and continued past him and his friend. I ran up the street, away from FlashDancers.
“Stop that woman,” Hutchkins yelled behind me. I moved my legs faster, praying that no one on the street where people walked would do what he wanted. I was lucky; all they did was step aside, giving me room to get away. The road was full of cars, many of them cabs. I raised an arm and waved violently for one to stop for me.
My luck had returned completely because one slid up to me and I dove inside. Closing the door, I locked it and told the cabbie to drive me to 70th and Broadway, using as calm a voice as I could muster. He pulled back into the busy street and we were on our way.
Leaning back into the seat, I allowed myself to catch my breath for a few moments before I turned my head to see where Hutchkins was.
He was standing at the side of the road next to Fedora man, both of them shaking their fists at my cab. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling a little as the adrenaline that pumped through my veins started to subside. That had been one close call.
I found my phone in my purse that I had miraculously managed to bring with me in the midst of my escape and dialed George. I needed him to check if there was any truth to what Hutchkins had told me about his whereabouts this past Thursday. Given his violent reaction, I remained sure he’d lied and was Ariel’s murderer. Of course, that meant my gut had been totally off in thinking Janine had been involved. Or maybe they had done it together somehow. Unlikely, but still possible.
I held the phone close to my ear as I listened to ring after ring going through without George picking up. It finally went to voicemail. When the beep sounded, I left a message, telling him to call me back ASAP.
The cab stopped on my street fifteen minutes later. I paid the fare and exited, heading to my apartment building.
By the time I had taken a shower and removed the heavy makeup from my face, George had still not called. I was on pins and needles, waiting for him to get back to me. Not until I had verified that Hutchkins had lied about taking his mother to the hospital would I be able to relax.
After having paced my apartment for a few minutes, willing my phone to ring, I sat before my laptop and began Googling Charles Hutchkins. Maybe I could come up with some answers about him myself. For example, if I could determine that his mother was already dead, I’d know he’d lied. But without access to his social security number that had allowed George to dig up all the information he’d given me, I came up with nothing useful. I pondered calling Ian to ask him to do some digging; surely he’d easily find out the status of George’s parents at least, whether they were still alive. But before I could call him, I remembered that he was convinced the conspiracy was behind Ariel’s murder. The last thing I felt like doing was arguing about that with him, so I put the phone back down.
I popped a couple sleeping pills instead and went to bed, leaving my phone on my nightstand. When George called, I’d wake up and ask him to check Hutchkins for me.
George did call three in the morning.
“Hello,” I answered groggily, half asleep still.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought it was urgent from your message. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”
I sat up in bed. “No, no. I want to talk now.” I rubbed my eyes to wake myself further. “I spoke to Charles Hutchkins tonight. He claims he was in Philly the night of Ariel’s murder because his mother had twisted her ankle and needed to go to the ER for X rays. I think he’s full of it. Can you check if his mother’s even alive?”
“Sure, I just need to go to my computer. Hang on.”
I lay back on my pillow and had almost fallen back asleep when George was back on the line again.
“His mother is not only alive still, but she lives in Philadelphia.”
I was suddenly wide awake. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Unless she died in the last few days and the national registration hasn’t been updated yet. Do you know what hospital they went to?”
“Yeah, he claimed they went to Pennsylvania Hospital.”
“Okay. I’m gonna check his credit card statements again. Hold on.” There was a long pause, then George said, “Bingo.”
“Bingo what?”
“There is a charge of $750 to the Pennsylvania Hospital on Friday. My guess is the charge was made the day before or early Friday morning. So it seems your man’s telling the truth.”
“Really? Wow… I could’ve sworn this guy had killed Ariel.”
“How about I give you his mother’s name and you can talk to her yourself to verify he was with her the entire night?”
“Yeah, maybe he just dropped her off and then went back to New York. He could’ve paid the hospital bill over the phone. What’s her name, address and phone number?”
George gave it to me and then we hung up. By the time I had fallen asleep again, the birds outside my window had begun to sing and it was almost time to wake up.
Chapter 7
I was sitting on my couch, eating a bagel and drinking coffee that I had picked up from a cart on the street, my head pounding due to lack of sleep when I received a text from Ian: Call me when you get a chance. There is a new police report about Ariel’s case.
Swallowing the big chunk of bagel in my mouth, I put the coffee cup down and called Ian.
“That was quick,” he said, having answered after the second ring.
“Well, it sounded like it was something important in this report. What is it?”
“They got an anonymous tip about Janine Eastwood and investigated her. You don’t happen to know who this anonymous person is, do you?”
“Yeah, it was me. I thought I should give them a push in the right direction. What did they find? Does it look like she’s involved?”
“Not directly at least. According to the report, she has a solid alibi for the entire evening. She was at the opera with her husband and another couple.”
“Okay. Though I don’t know how solid it is. She could’ve left the opera and done it, couldn’t she? Strangling a person doesn’t take long.”
“That’s true, but the opera they went to was in Washington D.C. I think they would have noticed if she was gone hours.”
“Oh. Well, I guess it’s pretty solid then. I’m currently investigating someone else I think is the perp.”
“Really? Who’s that?”
“A guy Ariel used to train that stalked her and was thrown out of the club a year ago.” I proceeded to tell Ian the details of the story, including what had happened yesterday. “I’m planning to contact his mother today to see if he was actually with her the entire evening. He might’ve just dropped her off and paid the hospital bill over the phone.”
“You’re calling her?”
“No, I think I’ll get a much better response if I go there in person.”
“That’s probably true. You could also just leave another anonymous tip for the NYPD and they can do it for you. Much safer. After what you did to Hutchkins, I’m sure he’s looking for ways to take his revenge on you. The man sounds like he has a really bad temper. If he’s suspecting you’re on to him, he might not only have prepped his mother to give you the answers he wants, but he might also be waiting for you when you get there.”
“Don’t worry, I’m bringing my gun. I think I’ll be able to solve this case more effectively than the NYPD. If he’s prepped his mother, I’ll probably notice. I can also head to Pennsylvania Hospital and ask around there.”
“That sounds like a lot of work, Gabi. You should just leave it to the NYPD.”
“No, I want to do it.” I really did; in addition to feeling personally responsible, I enjoyed solving cases too much. Catching the bad guy had
always given me tremendous pleasure. Even if Hutchkins might not be the one after all, I wanted to make sure I had covered all bases before I wrote him off. Besides, if Rolf had done as he promised, the NYPD would soon be doing their own investigation on Hutchkins anyway. I was just saving them some time. If it turned out Hutchkins had lied to me when I spoke to his mother, I’d leave the NYPD a message and inform them Hutchkins was their man.
“Okay, just be careful. See you at 11 a.m?” Ian had his training session scheduled for then.
“Absolutely.”
Twelve hours later I was on an express train to Philly. I had already placed a call to Hutchkins’ mother to check that she was at home, which she was. Considering that she was on crutches, chances were she’d still be there two hours after I’d called. Hopefully alone.
Martha Hutchkins lived in a house near the main train station, so it took me only twenty minutes to get there from the time I had left the train and found a cab. Her beige row house was situated in a shabby, low-income neighborhood where questionable characters hung on street corners, smoking cigarettes or panhandling. Making sure I had easy access to my gun that sat in its usual holster under my loose-fitting jacket, I made my way up to her front door and rang the doorbell. When no one came to open, I rang it again. And again and again. Finally, five minutes later, I gave up. The old woman was either not at home or couldn’t open the door. Another possibility was that she didn’t want to open it. She might be scared. Having seen the neighborhood she lived in, I couldn’t blame her. I walked to the sides of the door to see if I could spot her through one of the windows. I couldn’t see her anywhere despite getting good peeks through a couple of tall ones that were covered by the sheerest of white lace curtains. She must not be at home any longer. I sighed. Just my luck. Before leaving, I felt the door knob to check if it might be unlocked. Not so.
