“What did the cowboy say?”
“He said, ‘Tell Viv I’ll be back.’ I guess he went to Orphan Andy’s and had his corn flakes. I hope he didn’t stop in at the Twin Peaks on his way. Some of those old guys would have probably tried to hit on him. It would serve him right, too. If he’s gonna hang out in the Castro, he’d better get used to it.”
“I can’t imagine,” Ruth laughed.
“I’m sorry I haven’t taken you anyplace fun yet. I wanted to show you more exciting things in San Francisco than Castro Street and the restaurant where I work.”
“That’s okay, dear. We still have plenty of time.”
“We could have gone to Beach Blanket Babylon while you’re here, but it’s always sold out months in advance. Next time you come I’ll try to get tickets if I plan better. It’s been running for years. They have these huge mechanical hats that light up and grow and do everything but levitate. It’s lots of fun! You’d love it.” Tim took a swig of his beer. “I didn’t intend for you to be stuck here at Arts for your entire vacation in San Francisco.”
“I really don’t mind, as long as I get to spend some time with you.”
“Well, we may need your expertise behind the bar if things get any busier. The trouble with working with Artie is that it’s hard to get past him back there,” Tim chuckled. “Legend has it that he was bartending one night in the Tenderloin years ago with some other old drag queen named Greta Grass and they got stuck between the beer coolers trying to pass each other.”
Tim pointed out the Ladies’ room beyond the swinging kitchen doors. Ruth excused herself and as she stood up she noticed Roy Rodgers with a ‘D’ staring so intently that it made her uneasy. As she walked past him his eyes moved up from her legs to her face, so she introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Tim Snow’s Aunt. My name is Ruth Taylor.”
“How do, Ma’am. Roy Rodgers here.” He gallantly stretched his lanky frame up off the bar stool and raised his cowboy hat. “Ah’m mighty pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Thanks… same here,” Ruth said. “My goodness, you’re certainly are a tall fellow, aren’t you Roy?”
“Yes, Ma’am, six foot five inches without the hat and boots on.” He raised his hat again as Ruth headed back to the Ladies’ room.
She had to dodge one of the waiters carrying a row of hot dinner plates up one arm.
Artie leaned over the front corner of the bar. “Tim! Psssst! Hello!”
Tim was staring out at the foot traffic on Castro Street. So many cute guys were going by and some of them were stopping, getting in line for dinner. “Yeah, Artie? Sorry. What’s going on?”
“Could you check on Arturo in the kitchen? That damned Jorge still hasn’t showed up and I’m sure Arturo’s swamped with orders. Make sure he’s okay, would you?”
“Sure. No problem. I’ll do what I can.”
“Oh… and Tim… when you get caught up with Arturo, could you get me a couple of buckets of ice and see if there’s another keg of Anchor Steam in the walk-in cooler. I know this one is going to blow any minute.”
“I’m on it, Artie.”
When Ruth came out of the Ladies’ room, Tim was gone and Roy was still staring at her. She wasn’t so sure it was flattering any more and hurried back to her bar stool and her glass of wine, wondering where Tim had disappeared. Artie was even further behind and she restated her offer to help him. By the time Tim got to the kitchen, Arturo was frantic, too. “What can I do to help you, Arturo?”
“Tim! Bless your heart! I’ve got all the burners going with veal scaloppini and salmon steaks grilling that I have to keep a close eye on. Could you rinse that lettuce that’s in the sink and grab another container of crab out of the fridge please? Then give a stir to that sauce… oh, never mind. I can reach that. It must be crowded out there tonight the way the orders are coming in.”
“Everyone’s heard about Jason.”
“How’s Artie doing tending bar by himself?”
“Slow, but the customers are patient.”
They could hear Viv plunking out Nine to Five in her best honky-tonk fashion whenever the swinging doors opened.
“I never realized how much I’ve become dependent on Jorge lately.”
Tim asked, “Where do you think he is, anyway? Has he ever just disappeared like this in the past?”
“No… I don’t know… not this long, anyway. That damned kid! I couldn’t find him this morning when you and your aunt stopped by. He came back though, said he’d been at Walgreens getting something he needed. This afternoon I told him to take my car to Costco for a couple of flats of strawberries. For some reason our order got fouled up and they didn’t come with the produce delivery. He took my keys and I didn’t think about it again, but I looked outside later and saw my car parked up across the street in front of P.O. Plus. The keys were still in the ignition, but there was no sign of Jorge and I still need the strawberries. I told Artie I’m ready to send him back to Nicaragua!”
“What did Artie say?”
“You know Artie. He’s always trying to calm me down. He reminded me that Jorge was born in Daly City. I’d send him back to his mother there, but her phone’s disconnected and I don’t know where the hell she is, either.”
“You mean your sister or your sister-in-law?” Tim asked.
“No… neither. Jorge calls me ‘Tio Arturo’ but I’m not his real uncle. I suppose we could be some distant relation, but Artie and I have had lots of nephews work for us over the years. It’s just a term of affection. Jorge’s mother might have gone back to Nicaragua, honestly. I heard Jorge mention that his grandmother was sick and she must be a hundred and two!”
Tim shook his head and laughed, “Well, just let me know what I can do to help. My Aunt Ruth is here with me, but she’s cool. I think Viv’s new husband has the hots for her. Oh, I forgot! Artie needs ice and I’ve got to check on that keg, too.”
“Go on, Tim, I’ll be okay now. Thanks.” Arturo turned back to stir his sauce.
At the ice machine, Tim filled the bucket in six quick scoop-fuls. On busy nights Jorge might carry at least a dozen buckets-worth to the bar.
A medley from The Rocky Horror Picture Show began for the two drunken straight couples who’d just discovered they were in a gay bar. Viv was working them for all they were worth with her pink feather boa around the shoulders of one man while his wife snapped pictures. The other woman scrounged through her purse for more money to stuff into Viv’s tip jar.
Jake pointed to one man, cursed with a leisure suit. “ J.C. Penney’s all the way.”
Tim chuckled. “Look at his feet. Nothing spells tourist like white patent leather shoes with gold buckles and a matching belt.”
“And nothing screams closet case louder than pink marabou feathers with polyester.”
Arms heavy with ice, Tim paused while Artie slipped past him. He caught Aunt Ruth’s asking someone, “Three with salt and two on the rocks? Or was it the other way around?”
Artie rubbed his back. “Your aunt is a lifesaver. She just jumped right in and the customers love her!”
Tim dumped the ice in the front well as his aunt stepped back to make room for him. “Aunt Ruth, you’re bartending?”
“I’m having a ball. This all reminds me of my college days.” She turned back to the customers. ”And how are you sweet boys doing over here?”
Chapter 5
Tim and Ruth were on his patio laughing about the events of last night when they heard a crash of broken glass. “What the heck is that?” Ruth almost spilled her coffee.
“It must be Teresa. I don’t know who else would have so many bottles.” Tim yelled over the fence, “Hey, Teresa! Is that you? What’s up with all the racket?”
“Sorry, Tim. I had to haul out the recycling before it overflowed. I wondered where that cackling was coming from. Are you and your Aunt Ruth still on coffee?”
“Yah, you betcha!” Tim said in his best Frances McDormand in Fargo accent. “Come on a
nd join us. People from Minnesota drink coffee morning, noon and night, ya’ know. It’s nice and sunny in my little garden.”
“I’m through with coffee, hon. I need a hair of the dog and it must be after five o’clock somewhere on the planet. I had to celebrate a wedding yesterday, remember? My ex and his new husband tied the knot. Why not bring your aunt up to my place instead? I’ll mix up a pitcher of margaritas.”
“Don’t start without us, Teresa. We’re still in our bathrobes.”
“Don’t get dressed up on my account, honey. If I look as bad as I feel you’d better dress down! Better yet, wear blindfolds. Just come on up! My door’s always open!”
They found Teresa’s door standing wide open when they got to the top of the stairs. “Yoo-hoo! Here we come!” Ruth yelled out. “Teresa?”
“I’m on the deck out in back. Come on! It’s nicer out here than inside the apartment. The fog’s almost gone.” She poured margaritas from a tall pitcher into three salt-rimmed glasses. “Here you go Ruth, welcome to my humble abode. I didn’t ask if you wanted salt. If you don’t like it, just wipe it off on a cocktail napkin.”
“No, salt is fine. My blood pressure is good.” Ruth raised her glass to clink with Teresa’s and Tim’s. “What a lovely view you have from up here!”
“It’s real pretty at night when those lights are turned on over at the Castro Theatre. They finally got them all working again when Sean Penn was making that movie about Harvey Milk a while back. So tell me, Ruth… How are you enjoying your San Francisco trip so far?”
“Other than starting a new job and almost witnessing a murder, it’s been quite… well I can’t call it relaxing, but I do love being back here in the city again.”
“Murder? What murder? Who murdered whom?” Teresa sat up straight. “What are you talking about… murder?”
Tim said, “Haven’t you heard? I guess we haven’t seen you to bring you up to date. Someone killed Jason.”
“Jason who? I saw you outside the plant store on Friday morning! Where’d you go after that? Who’s Jason? Give me all the bad news! I’m already sitting down.”
“I don’t think you even knew him,” Tim said. “He was a bartender from Arts. We found him stabbed. Well, I did… on his kitchen floor. It must have been just a few minutes after we saw you.”
“Jason. The handsome one… with those eyelashes? The guy you were going out with a while back?”
Tim nodded.
“I thought he was a little old for you, but he was gorgeous. Oh, my Lord! Do they think it was an anti-gay thing? Why would anyone want to hurt him?”
“Nobody knows,” Tim said.
Teresa sat back in her chair, took a sip of her margarita, and squinted hard. “Was he into something kinky, Tim? I read the papers, you know.”
“Teresa! How could you even ask that? Why do people want to jump to the conclusion that a victim is responsible for the crime? Even if he was into something kinky, I’ve never heard of any sexual fetish that involved getting knifed to death, have you?”
“I’m sorry! That was insensitive of me, but you know me and my big mouth. It always kicks in before my brain does.” She sat quietly for a moment and then reached over to pat his knee and he finally squeezed her hand.
“I’m sure it was a shock to everyone,” Ruth said, wanting to break the tension.
“I just can’t believe it… only a few blocks away from here!” Teresa said. “Do they have any idea at all who could have done such a thing, Tim?”
“Not yet, but the police are working on it. Aunt Ruth found a knife on the ground across the street from the house. That might have been the murder weapon, but I doubt if there were any fingerprints. There wasn’t even any blood on it. An autopsy will tell more.”
“This is all so hard to believe… and you two found him?”
“I did. Aunt Ruth was still out on the driveway. She called the police on her cell phone.” Tim was feeling strained enough without reliving the scene in his head. “Meanwhile, Arturo’s nephew has disappeared, too.”
“Jorge is gone again?” Teresa wagged her finger at them. “Well, this isn’t the first time. He’s got that cute little girlfriend of his over there on Guerrero Street, you know. I’ll bet he’s run off somewhere to shack up with her again.”
“How do you know about that?” Ruth didn’t want to appear nosy, but she was becoming intrigued with the mystery, in spite of herself.
“Because I caught them going at it in my bed in this very apartment!” Teresa was shouting now. “And wouldn’t you know it… I recognized the girl! Carlotta Sanchez! She was one of my students a few years ago. They grow up too damned fast nowadays!”
“In your bed? What was Jorge doing in your apartment?” Tim asked.
“Well, right after school let out this spring I went to visit my mother in Seattle. She’d just had her surgery and needed help and I hadn’t been to visit since my divorce. Arturo suggested it. He thought Jorge could be trusted to house-sit, water my plants and bring in the mail for a week or so. You know I’m no green thumb, but I’ve got a few African Violets and I hate to leave the place empty and come back to it all closed-up and musty-smelling. Heck, I thought Jorge would appreciate a few extra bucks, too. He can’t make much more than minimum wage in the kitchen, I don’t imagine. I figured it would be convenient for him to stay here and he’d be able to walk to his work at the restaurant.
“Oh yeah, I remember now. I saw him in the building, but I figured he was visiting his Uncle Arturo across the hall from you. We tip him when he busses tables for us, but you’re right; I don’t think he earns more than minimum wage and meals.”
“I even paid him in advance and I told him when I’d be back,” Teresa said. “I always figured his understanding of English was selective, but maybe it’s worse than he lets on. Or else he just doesn’t know how to tell time! I told him exactly when I’d be home. It was a Wednesday afternoon. My flight landed at 2:05. I had to wait at the baggage claim for a few minutes and then I caught a cab right away. Anyway, I walked in my apartment door and there they were in my bed going at it!”
“What did you do?” Ruth asked.
“What would anyone do? I screamed. Oh, they both grabbed their clothes and ran like the blazes. What a sight for the neighborhood. The last thing I saw of him was that little brown butt running naked down the hill, with Carlotta close behind him, trying to get her bra strap fastened.” Teresa laughed out loud at the memory.
“He does have a cute butt,” Tim said with a nod, “although I’ve never seen it naked.”
“Well, he disappeared for nearly two weeks that time,” Teresa said. “I’m sure he was afraid I’d tell his uncle about it. It’s not that I would have volunteered anything. I didn’t want to get the dumb kid in trouble, but Arturo knew he’d been staying here. Anyways, that was no secret. Arturo and Artie were both pissed off and more than a little worried about that boy. Arturo had to squeeze the dirt out of me about the girlfriend and then he really hit the ceiling. On top of that, my poor African Violets were as dry as a bone. They’re about the only house plants I can grow and I had to replace nearly all of them.”
“I love African Violets, too,” Ruth agreed. “Tim has some beautiful plants on his little terrace. I would think with all this sun you get on the top floor, there should be lots of things you could grow. I’ll try to find you a book on house plants one of these days, Teresa.”
“Don’t waste your money, Ruth,” Teresa protested. “I’m better off dusting than fertilizing. See that big rubber tree in the corner. It’s about as real as half the noses in Hollywood…”
“Well, I don’t know what set Jorge off this time,” Tim said. As glad as he was to get his mind off the vision of finding Jason, another thought occurred to him. “I hope Jorge didn’t have anything to do with Jason’s murder. Artie and Arturo treated Jason more like family than they did Jorge. Maybe the kid was jealous. Boy-oh-boy… that would be the last straw for them if Jorge was involved in
Jason’s murder.”
“I can’t imagine Jorge having it in him to kill anyone,” Teresa said.
“I can’t either.” Tim held out his empty glass. “I just thought he might know something about it… something that would make him stay away. But hey, Teresa, you haven’t told us how was Lenny and Teddy’s wedding and all?”
“Oh, Ruth, you’ll have to forgive us for talking about all these people you don’t even know.” Teresa lifted the pitcher to fill their glasses again. “I can whip up another batch of these in a minute, but first I have to tell you…”
Ruth said, “Don’t make any more for my sake--”
Teresa patted Ruth’s knee, “You nephew is one of the more normal people around these parts. I’m afraid you’ve walked into quite a hornets’ nest this week.”
Tim didn’t want the topic of conversation to steer back toward him again. “Teresa, the wedding?”
“Yes, yes.” She took a deep swallow, and then burped gently into her palm. “Well, first of all it’s not ‘Lenny’ anymore. He wants to be called ‘Leonardo!’ On our wedding license it was only ‘Leonard,’ for crying out loud! I think he saw Titanic one too many times.”
“I loved DiCaprio in Revolutionary Road,” Tim interrupted.
“Oh yes, so did I,” Teresa agreed and then continued her rant, “and ‘Teddy’ was always good enough for ‘Teddy’ back while they were just ‘dating,’ but now that they’re officially married, whether it’s legal or not, he insists that people call him ‘Theodore,’ don’t you know?”
Tim laughed. “You’re not ‘Terry,’ either, are you? You’ve always used your full name.”
“My point exactly. I’ve always been Teresa. I didn’t go by Terry for twenty, thirty years and then expect everyone I know to up and start calling me something else! It’s just you gay guys that do that, if you ask me. If someone were a criminal or something and had to start out fresh with a new identity, that might be a good reason to change your name, but in that case you would move to a new place where everybody doesn’t have to learn to call you one thing after they’ve known you by something else your whole life.”
Cold Serial Murder Page 4
