Born To Be Wild

by Catherine Coulter

  He looked up for a response from Detective Vasquez, but an arched brow was all he got. “Please continue, Mr. Hodges. You called the phone number on the side of the van?”

  “Yes, I’m guessing it was a cell phone. He answered it right away.”

  “Do you have that number, Mr. Hodges?”

  “It was on the photograph. I’m not sure. Maybe it’ll be on my phone record?”

  “What did you say to him, Mr. Hodges?”

  “I told him I’d seen him following Mary Lisa Beverly and I wondered if he was the guy who’s trying to kill her. He was silent for at least ten seconds, then he offered to pay me five thousand dollars for the pictures and the film.”

  “How’d he know you had pictures and film, Mr. Hodges?”

  “Well, I guess I must have told him, you know, in the course of our conversation.”

  Mary Lisa snarled.

  “So before he went silent for ten seconds, you not only asked him if he was the guy but you told him you took photos of him and his van.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did. But I didn’t mean anything by it. I was nervous. I guess I blabbed it out.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Well, I told him that wasn’t going to happen, that I didn’t want to see Mary Lisa hurt and I was going to take the photos to the police.”

  “Weren’t you afraid of retribution?”

  “I didn’t really think about it. Besides, how could the guy know who I was?”

  “You think he could have known you’ve been taking pictures of Mary Lisa for the tabloids? Or maybe caller ID?”

  Puker looked down at his hands. “Oh shit.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He hung up on me.”

  “But you didn’t call the police, Mr. Hodges.”

  “No, not right away, but it isn’t why you think, Detective Vasquez. I was just taking a little time to think it over, you know? All right, I thought making a few extra prints might be useful, you know, when I took the prints to the police, so I was in the darkroom when the doorbell rang. I thought it was Mary Lisa, only it wasn’t. It was Ramos, and he hit me hard, knocked me down, then he kicked me, knocked me into the living room. I fought back, and we wrecked some of my furniture, but then he hit me with something hard in his hand-a sap, or something-and I was out.”

  Jack stood beside Mary Lisa, his hand around her forearm. She sucked in her breath, pulsing with anger, but she managed to be still. He grinned at her and began to lightly rub her elbow.

  Daniel sighed. “What happened then?”

  “Like I said, when he hit me with that sap, I was out. When I woke up, I was in this empty room staring at a blank wall, tied to a chair.”

  “Where did he take you, Mr. Hodges?”

  “I didn’t know then and I still don’t know. Like I said, when I woke up I was there, tied up.”

  “What color are his eyes, Mr. Hodges?”

  “I told you, Detective Vasquez, he always wore sunglasses, never took them off, but like I said, maybe he was Hispanic, on the dark side, you know? He didn’t look all that strong-kind of skinny, loose clothes, and his white T-shirt wasn’t clean.”

  It sounded like the description the California girl had given Jack on the beach yesterday afternoon.

  “Was he there when you woke up?”

  “No. I was alone, facing that wall. I don’t know for how long, but it seemed like a long time before I heard him come in behind me. He hit me first thing, in the stomach, then in my face-see, I still have bruises on my cheek. He told me I shouldn’t have gotten in the way, that he was going to make me pay for that. That’s when I knew he was going to kill me.”

  Puker began to cry.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Mary Lisa looked away from him. It wasn’t Puker’s sniveling she couldn’t stand, it was her own vision of this faceless madman she had dreamed about that Puker had brought to life. She felt her fear digging deep and tried to make it stop, tried to get hold of herself.

  Jack whispered close to her ear, “This yahoo isn’t going to hurt you, Mary Lisa. I’ll kill him first. Trust me on this, all right?”

  Mary Lisa’s fear, dark and endless as a corridor in a dream, dropped away at the sound of his voice. She looked up at him, saw the utter certainty in his eyes, and slowly nodded. And then it hit her, deep and fierce. “You won’t have to kill him, Jack, I will.”

  “Good girl.”

  Daniel looked at them a moment, jerked around, as if asking them for silence, and continued quietly, “Did Jamie Ramos tell you what Mary Lisa had done to him to make him stalk her, try to hurt her?”

  “No, he hardly talked to me, wouldn’t answer my questions. If I talked too much, he’d hit me. He acted kind of crazy, like he’d walk around hitting his fist against his palm. It was creepy. I was real scared.”

  “Did he say if he’d asked her out? That that was why he was angry, because she’d turned him down?”

  “He didn’t say. Like I told you, I was scared, you know? I thought he was going to kill me so I kept real quiet. He came and went, tied me up and gagged me when he wanted to. One time he ate a large pepperoni pizza in front of me, drank a giant-sized cola, slurped it right down, didn’t offer me anything. When he was done, he belched and laughed. I asked him what he was going to do to me.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He grinned at me-he was always grinning, even when he hit me, and he had crooked teeth, the front two overlapped, you know? I wouldn’t grin so much if my teeth looked like that-and well, he shook his head. He let me go to the bathroom a few times, gave me some slices of cold pizza and let me drink from the tap. Then he’d tie me to the chair again and hit me, cursing her while he did it.” Puker burst into tears again.

  Mary Lisa growled deep in her throat, tried to pull away from Jack. “This time he’s faking it, Daniel. The little weasel.”

  Jack placed his palm over her mouth. She tried to bite him. He whispered, “You’re being recorded, Mary Lisa. Can we let Detective Vasquez do his job?”

  She nodded finally, reluctantly, relaxed her hands.

  Daniel asked, “Mr. Hodges, he kept you tied up in that room for three days. Are you saying you didn’t talk about anything?”

  “He wasn’t there that much. I figured he was out following Mary Lisa around, maybe at the studio in Burbank, whatever. Maybe he was fixing a hog or two. I always hated it when he came back because he always came back mad and he’d hit me again, and he’d curse her while he hit me. I hadn’t done anything to him, it wasn’t fair! All I did was take his photo and try to help Mary Lisa.”

  “How did you get away, Mr. Hodges?”

  “I’m sitting there, real hungry, when he comes in, hits me, leans against the wall, and crosses his arms over his chest. He says some other people saw him at the beach, tells me he’s heading out of town, that the bitch can die of old age for all he cares. He hits me again, and I start praying because I think he’s going to kill me right there. But then he says he’s going to blindfold me and drop me off in the van.

  “I thank him. You know what he does? He looks at me and laughs and says something like, ‘They’re never going to find me, anyway. And you’re just a stupid paparazzo who can’t prove a thing. They might not even believe you. Nah, you’re not worth Murder One.’ He gives me this cocky salute and then swaggers out.”

  “That’s it? He let you go?”

  Puker nodded. “I was so grateful I would have puckered up and kissed the bastard, if he’d wanted me to. Anyway, he threw me out of the van in a parking lot and when I got my eyes free I realized I was in Santa Monica, off Delbert Avenue. I found an open coffee shop, got myself some bacon and eggs, then called 911. You know the rest.”

  Detective Vasquez nodded. “You’ll find this interesting, Mr. Hodges. There are a lot of people named Ramos, but there’s no record of any Jamie Ramos, there is no van registered in that name, and there is no such business.”

  “Well, what about my a
partment? His damned fingerprints ought to be all over it. And all over me! Dust me down!”

  “Actually, Mr. Hodges, your apartment was treated as a crime scene. We haven’t found any fingerprints that match our computer database. Except yours, of course.”

  Puker raised his tearstained face to Daniel. “I guess he’s a criminal and he made up his name. That makes sense, doesn’t it? I don’t know, it’s what he told me. That was the name on the van.”

  “Puker.”

  His head snapped up and he looked over into the shadows on the far side of the hospital room. “Mary Lisa?”

  “Why does he want to hurt me?”

  “I told you, Mary Lisa, I don’t know. I don’t think his bulbs were all screwed in, you know what I mean? Most of the time I saw him, he was just pacing or eating pepperoni pizza.” He tapped the side of his head. “But he left, Mary Lisa. He said he was out of there. I think it’s over, for all of us.” He sent her a big toothy smile.

  Daniel slowly nodded. He rose, looked over at Jack, eyebrow raised, but Jack shook his head. Daniel turned back to Puker. “We’ll keep someone outside your door, Mr. Hodges, in case Jamie Ramos decides to come pay you a visit. We’ll be inviting you down to the station when you’re discharged for a more formal interview. The doctor said you’ll be going home tomorrow. You’re going to be fine, Mr. Hodges.”

  “Thank God. It was agony, believe me.”

  “More like divine justice, you little whiner,” Mary Lisa said over her shoulder as Jack crowded her out the door. “And don’t think for a minute I believe that twaddle you made up.”

  “It’s the truth, I swear it’s the truth! Oh, sweet Jesus, I hurt.”

  Mary Lisa sent him a disgusted look. “I’d like to bean him with the bedpan,” Daniel heard her say before Jack closed the door behind them.

  “Twaddle?” Jack cocked an eyebrow at her.

  Mary Lisa opened her mouth, but Daniel came out of the room at that moment, his eyes on her face. “You’re right that it’s a just-so story. At the very least he’s holding back something.” Detective Vasquez paused a moment, streaked his fingers through his hair. “At least this Jamie Ramos isn’t a killer. And that’s a very good thing.”

  “If there is a Jamie Ramos,” Mary Lisa said. “All right, if there was a guy, do you think he could have stolen the van and put some kind of logo on it? Then driven around in it?”

  “Maybe, but it sounds stupid on his part, doesn’t it? Driving around something that identifiable doesn’t seem too bright, unless he only used the van a couple of times. And that starts adding up to a lot of coincidences.”

  Mary Lisa suddenly smiled. “Well, finally. I’ve got a way I can help.” She turned and walked away, pulling out her cell phone as she walked.

  “Where are you going?”

  She said over her shoulder, “I’ve got an appointment in a few minutes, Jack. You heard Puker. It’s safe for me now.”

  “Right. And I’m the Sheik of Aran.”

  She gave him a cocky grin, tilted her head to the side, and said, “Hmmm. I thought that was a group of islands off the coast of Ireland.” She stepped onto the elevator, and closed the doors before Jack could get there.

  Jack slammed his fists against the elevator doors. “Come back here, you twit!”

  He heard whistling, growing faint.

  Daniel said behind him, “I wonder who she’s calling.”

  “It ain’t Ireland, that’s for sure.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  By 1940, soap operas represented 90 percent of all commercially sponsored daytime broadcast hours.

  Daniel and Jack arrived at Mary Lisa’s house at exactly a quarter to six that evening, the exact time Lou Lou had made Daniel promise to be there when she’d called him two hours earlier. Jack had complained, and hadn’t stopped complaining when he stepped out of Daniel’s car.

  “Why does she want us here at exactly”-he looked down at his watch-“five forty-five?”

  “You heard me, ask Lou Lou. She said don’t bother trying to grill her like a cop and she started singing ‘Kiss My Earrings,’ that new funky song by some idiot I’ve never heard of that drives me nuts. I tried threatening her with handcuffs-”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll bet that really scared her. Knowing Lou Lou, I’ll bet she told you to bring them on.”

  “Hmm, she did mention something about soft fur lining being nice. It’s their show tonight, Jack, so it’s their rules-at least this time.”

  There were no parking places in the driveway so they’d had to park half a block away. They walked in through the open door to see a dozen people sprawled in Mary Lisa’s living room, all of them busy talking, eating Wheat Thins, cheese cubes, and deli food off huge trays, and drinking beers and soda. Jack carefully stepped over some remains of salsa and tortilla chips. Mary Lisa looked up, grinned, and waved them in. She looked so utterly pleased with herself, that Jack felt his blood run cold.

  Daniel watched Lou Lou dive for the last cheddar cheese cube, beating a tall, lanky guy he’d never seen before. He didn’t look like a movie star or a producer. Maybe he was just a regular guy, who knew?

  Someone put a beer in their hands, offered them some guacamole dip and a bowl of thick greasy tortilla chips.

  Lou Lou clapped her hands. “Showtime!” It was almost six o’clock on the dot. Everyone quieted, and the chewing noises grew faint as Mary Lisa clicked the remote to the local news.

  The camera panned over to anchorwoman Elizabeth Verras and for the first time Jack saw her on full display. She looked buff and gorgeous, her teeth so white they nearly glared on the TV screen. The first item out of her mouth, after her greeting, was Ramos’s name and a description of the white van, with an artist’s mock-up of what the van must have looked like with the letters and the motorcycle on its side. “If anyone knows the whereabouts of this van please contact Channel 6. The owner is considered dangerous and is wanted for questioning in connection with a kidnapping.” The station phone number scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Then Elizabeth read it aloud twice. She never mentioned Puker or Mary Lisa, but she presented the piece cleverly, acknowledging it was rare for the station to make such an announcement, but with an unspoken glimmer that promised all would be revealed if the right person called in to help.

  Mary Lisa clicked off the TV and gave everyone a big fat smile and a bow. “Well, what do you think? It’s gonna get called in, you know it will.” There was clapping and a chorus of cheers, with shouts of “Way to go, Mary Lisa,” and “Well done!”

  “I wonder if the guy really fixes hogs.”

  “Or if he brings home the bacon.”

  There were boos and laughter, and some high-fives for Mary Lisa.

  Jack dipped a thick chip into the guacamole, furiously chewed, and swallowed it. “So that’s who you called from the hospital.”

  She nodded, looking all superior, and studied her fingernails, lightly buffed them against her sleeve, knowing he was not taking this well and enjoying herself.

  “Yep, it’s my first foray into investigatorhood. Not bad, huh? You know, I should add a bit more lemon juice to the guacamole, it’s turning.”

  “Forget the frigging guacamole. How’d you get the station to do it?”

  “Well, not the station, really. It was Elizabeth. She did brilliantly, didn’t she?” She frowned down at the guacamole. “Fact is, she owed me one.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry, you’re the wrong chromosome.”

  Daniel shook his head at her and grinned when Lou Lou turned to smack him on the shoulder. “Is she smart, or what? Both she and Elizabeth.”

  Jack chewed on another chip. “She’s an idiot. If she had a brain, she’d probably loan it out to one of her friends.”

  Mary Lisa rounded on him. “Oh yeah? I’ll bet your brain is so primitive it takes you hours of excruciating concentration to achieve a synapse. Let’s see what happens, all right? What would you have done?”

  He counted
off on his fingers. “We put an APB on the damned van, we’re checking state and federal databases for a James or Jamie Ramos or his aliases, we put in a call to Immigration, and we have detectives out checking the motorcycle repair and parts shops.”

  “Right, Jack, we’ve done all that, but with no results yet-”

  “-So far.” Jack pointed a finger at Mary Lisa, ignoring all the interested onlookers, some of whose autographs he was sure he could sell back in Goddard Bay. “You are not an investigator, Mary Lisa, you’re a soap opera star with an alter ego who’s even nuttier than you are.”

  Mary Lisa was sore from her afternoon with Chico, but she managed to throw a pillow at him, and got him square in the face. “That was my fast pillow. You want to see my curve?”

  The place fell apart. Jack was sure the howls of laughter could be heard all over the street, that is, if any of her neighbors weren’t already there with them. He looked over at Daniel, who was trying not to laugh. He bent down and dove at Mary Lisa’s waist, caught her as she whirled around to run.

  “Police brutality!”

  “Hit him with your curve, Mary Lisa!”

  Jack carried her outside over his shoulder, climbed down her back deck stairs, and walked through the sand toward the ocean.

  She was laughing too hard to really hurt him, but she still pounded his back for show. He considered walking to the water with her and throwing her out as far as he could, but the fact was, he was wearing his new low black Italian leather boots.

  He set her down, still holding her arms. “You stole that line from me.”

  She laughed. When she was down to hiccups, she said, “When we get back, I’ll give you credit, okay? ‘Hey, guys, it was Jack’s line about the curve pillow!’ Talk about a pitiful ego. Poor baby, I didn’t-”

  Jack growled, pulled her hard against him, and kissed her. “You damned witch-” And he kept kissing her.