Grievous Sin (24 page)

Although he had no problem getting through the front door of the hospital, the nurseries were still under microscopic scrutiny. Even after he showed his I.D., he was met with suspicion by TECHWATCH’s body for hire. Finally, the guard let him pass through the maternity halls. All the nurseries had guards posted outside the entrance doors. Once again Decker showed his badge to the sentry outside Nursery J and was allowed to step inside the glass station. A blond nurse turned around. She was young, slim, with a round face and saucer blue eyes, but the ingenue effect was ruined by a face weathered with stress. Her name tag said C. Simms, RN. Decker showed her his I.D.

“Can I speak to you for a moment, Christine?”

Christine smiled wearily. “Have a seat. I have to check the lines on the premies. That can’t wait, Sergeant. But it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Is Darlene Jamison on duty this morning?”

Christine looked pained. “Darlene’s on temporary leave of absence. I suppose it was inevitable, but I feel bad for her.” She looked down. “Susan Altman is with the babies in the back. If you need anything, page her. But please don’t cross the yellow line—contamination.”

“Is Darlene at home?” Decker called out.

“Probably,” Christine answered.

“Do you have her phone number on hand?”

Christine didn’t answer as the door closed behind her. Decker opened his briefcase and checked his notes. He found Darlene’s number and used the wall phone to get the hospital operator and an outside connection. Darlene’s machine kicked in after two rings, and Decker left his message slowly, giving the woman time to interrupt the call and come on the line.

She never did. Either she wasn’t home, or she was avoiding him.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, then noticed the door to the nurses’ area. Much to his surprise, it was open, so he went inside. The glass room held three identical-size desks that were typical institutional issues—sturdy and ugly. Two of the desks held nameplates—
Marie Bellson, RN,
and
Darlene Jamison, RN.
Staring at the letters so intensely, Decker found the names undulating like waves of heat. Like the ghosts they were. How many victims did the case really have?

Marie’s desk had been gone through meticulously the day of the kidnapping. Decker’s notes contained the items reported—nothing significant. But since Darlene was not an immediate suspect, her desk had remained a private affair. Decker scanned the charts resting on top, then began to sort them. He took a quick peek over his shoulder, then quietly he opened the drawers, looking for personal items: a desk calendar or Rolodex or diary or letters—anything revealing. But as with Marie’s desk, Darlene’s drawers seemed to be repositories for medical charts and patient information. At a glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“Detective, that’s private!”

Decker turned around, smiled at Christine, and closed the file drawer. “I was just passing time.”

Christine raised her eyes. “You were snooping. Do you have a warrant to snoop?”

Decker grinned boyishly. “If I had a warrant, I wouldn’t need to snoop.”

“How can I help you?” Christine sat down. “Better still, how can I help the baby? We all feel so responsible. I keep going over that horrible night, asking myself what
I
could have done differently.”

“Did you come up with anything?”

“Maybe I should have checked in more often. We were so short-staffed.”

“Who else was on duty in Nursery J, Christine?”

Christine stared at him. “I’m sorry. Everything’s a blur. Maybe you can check the duty roster.”

“I have.”

“So why do you need me?”

“To see if your account agrees with what’s on the roster,” Decker said. “I’m sorry to take up your time, but it’s important.”

“I understand completely. For J, on duty officially? I think it was just Marie, Darlene, and me. I was actually assigned to three nurseries. I was moving back and forth between them. No backup. Budget cuts, they tell us….”

Her voice trailed off.

“What about Lily?” Decker said.

“Lily Booker?”

“Wasn’t she one of Darlene’s trainees?”

“Yes, she was, but I don’t think Lily was on that night.” Christine paused. “Don’t hold me to this, but she may have been crossed off the roster at the last minute. Another reason we were so short-staffed.”

Decker glanced at his nails and said, “Refresh my memory, Chris. Isn’t your nursing roster written in pen?”

“The official assignments are written on paper, then transferred to the plastic board that hangs from the wall in the front nursing station. We use a grease pen on the board, because assignments change at any given time. If the roster was written in pen, it would be a big mess.”

“Just like our station house’s scoreboard.”

Christine smiled. “Yeah, that’s what we call it, too.”

Decker tried to be casual. “So by ‘crossed off,’ do you
mean you remember seeing Lily Booker’s name on the plastic board, and then it was erased?”

“I guess that’s what I meant. Why?”

“When is Lily due back on duty?”

“I really don’t know,” Christine shrugged. “She wasn’t written into today’s roster. Why all these questions about Lily? Was she involved?”

“Do you have her phone number?”

“No. But she should be in the medical directory.”

“Even if she’s just a trainee?”

“Oh, that’s right. She’s too new. But Darlene would probably have it. I’ll get you Darlene’s number.”

“I just called her house. Either she isn’t home or she isn’t answering her phone—at least for me. She may be mad at me.”

“More like scared.”

“That could be. Can you do me a favor and call her? See if she picks up the machine for you?”

Immediately, Christine picked up the phone and punched in some numbers. After a moment, she said, “Hi, Darlene, it’s Christine, are you there?” Pause. “Darlene, hi, are you there? Can you pick up the…Hi. Yeah, everything’s fine over here. Detective Decker is here…Darlene, he’s looking for Caitlin Rodriguez. He
needs
to talk to you. We’ve got to
help
!” There was a pause. “Hold on.” She handed him the receiver. “Anything else?”

“No, Chris, you’ve been an enormous help.”

“Then I’ll get back to work.”

Decker mouthed her a thank-you and spoke into the receiver. “Darlene, I need to ask you a few questions. Was Lily Booker on duty the night Caitlin Rodriguez was kidnapped?”

There was a long pause over the line. “What does Lily have to do with this?”

Darlene’s voice sounded frightened. Decker felt his stomach sink. “Can you just answer the question?”

There was another long moment of silence. “She called in sick.”

“At the last moment?”

“Yes, at the last moment. How did you know? Have you talked to Lily recently?”

Her voice had become anxious. Decker said, “No, I haven’t talked to her. Have you?”

“No.” Darlene quickly added, “But I haven’t talked to too many people since I was relieved of my duties.”

“Darlene, did you take Lily’s sick call?”

“No, Detective.” Another hesitation. “Marie did.”

“Marie did?”

Again the pause. “Yes.”

“Darlene, you seem to be unsure of yourself. Should we talk in person?”

This time Darlene started to cry. “Yes, Sergeant, I think we really should.”

First the low
one went away.

That was good except the low one wasn’t the real bad one.

It was the high one that wreaked the most havoc.

And so hard to listen to. So sure of herself when calm, and shrill when she wasn’t.

But even the high one was fading—a peep now and then, but she could shut her up.

Turn her off.

Things returning to normal.

She could turn her off, because she had the control.

Control.

Better than drugs.

Better than food.

Control.

She had the control.

“Where are you?” Decker asked. “You sound like you’re on a portable phone.”

“I think the technically correct word is ‘cellular,’” Marge said. “And in answer to your question, I’m outside Tandy Roberts’s condo in Marc’s Beemer. Let me give you the phone number.”

“Wait a sec.” Placing the mike in his lap, Decker reached
over into the backseat of the unmarked and fished out a pen and his notebook from his briefcase. “Shoot.”

Marge dictated the number. “These gadgets are real neat. You know, you don’t even have to dial one before the area code.”

“Let’s hear it for technology,” Decker said. “Just hope you don’t get brain cancer.”

“Perish the thought.”

“What’s Tandy up to now?”

“I came up to her place about a half hour ago. Kind of acting like Columbo—‘Uh, just one more thing, ma’am.’ I was looking for the baby. Obviously, I didn’t find her.”

“Anything suspicious?”

“No telltale signs like a playpen in the living room.”

“Could you check the other rooms?”

“Superficially only. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What was the ‘one more thing’ you asked her about?”

“If she remembered specifically where she and Marie camped.”

“Did she remember?”

“With unusual clarity. Now I’m not an expert camper. Take me into the wilderness, and all mountains look the same. But Tandy described the flora and the fauna in detail. You’re right, Pete.
She’s
the camper.
She
knows all about the Angeles Crest region.”

“Meaning she’d know where to shove a car off the mountainside.”

“My very thought,” Marge said. “Man, I’d sure like to pop her trunk and find out if it reeks of gasoline. I’m sure she had the car cleaned, but lots of times people forget about trunks.”

“Be hard to convince a judge to give us a warrant.” Decker thought a moment. “Tell you what, though. I’ll call Mike and ask him to run a credit check to find out what kind of plastic she owns. Let’s see if she recently charged a major gasoline purchase on any of her cards. Did you have a chance to call Tujunga Memorial? See if Tandy was working there the night of the kidnapping?”

“Offices hadn’t opened yet. I’ll call in about ten minutes. Ye olde cellular does have its merits. So you think our body’s this Lily Booker?”

“Unfortunately, it’s possible. I just came back from Lily’s apartment. Found out the address from Darlene Jamison. No one was home, but I did find the manager, and she opened the door for me. There was mail on the floor, old messages on her phone machine, wilted salad in the refrigerator. Whole place seemed a little stale. It doesn’t look good.”

Marge was quiet.

“She was a young kid,” Decker went on. “Twenty-two. Didn’t even own a car yet. She had a bicycle in the living room, and the manager told me she went to work by bus. Now it looks like I’m going to have to locate a set of parents and ask them for her dental X rays. God, I
hate
this part of the job. You know, you should really make the call, Marge. Cut your teeth for homicide.”

“I’m on a stakeout.”

“All you need is a phone, Detective.”

“But having them call me back would be a bitch. This is not the type of call you can do from a cellular phone.”

“All right.
I’ll
do it.”

“Look, if you really want me—”

“Nah, it’s all right,” Decker said.

“You happen to check in with Lourdes while you were at the hospital?”

“She and Matty are gone. When I asked the desk for a forwarding address, they informed me that all further contact with them must be conducted through their lawyer. Looks like they took my advice.”

“Did they set themselves up with someone good?”

“I’ve got a name and a number. That’s all I know about him.”

“Poor little girl…girls, actually—both Lourdes and the baby.”

“It’s a real tragedy,” Decker said. “I’m off to see Nurse
Jamison. I’ll check in with you in about an hour. Oh, and one more thing, Dunn. Who the hell is Marc?”

It was one thing to be on unfamiliar ground. It was quite another to be on alien soil. Garbed in bicycle shorts, a green muscle shirt, and sneakers, Cindy had dressed the part, but her body didn’t fill out her clothes the way the others’ did. She took a quick peek in a cracked wall mirror. Besides her having been cursed with pale, freckled skin, her arms and legs had absolutely no shape or definition.

It was only nine in the morning, and yet the place was hot and smelled of sweat. About half the machines were taken; those remaining idle beckoned her forward with a malevolent finger. She didn’t know what to do with her gym bag, she didn’t know where to begin on the machines, and no one had given her so much as a glance, let alone a smile. It was moments like these that let her know how truly stupid her ideas usually were.

She found an unoccupied bench, dropped her bag at her feet, and sat down. Rather than looking stupid, trying to fake out that she knew what she was doing, she felt it was probably better to observe a while. Then, afterward, maybe she’d try to imitate.

She chuckled to herself.

As if imitation were possible. These guys were lifting Mack trucks. Staring at the grunting masses, bodies sculpted and defined, she could almost discern the striae in the voluntary muscle and the vessels that fed them. It was weird—like looking at three-dimensional pictures from
Gray’s Anatomy.
She found it interesting, but not at all sexy. The muscles seemed too waxen to be real. Probably because all the guys were hairless. Still, it was fascinating to watch the human body being stretched to the limit. Like observing a freak science experiment. So entranced by the motion, Cindy didn’t even notice the blocky body looming over her until he cleared his throat.

His bronze skin was shiny with oil. He had blond hair past his shoulders and wore a headband to keep the tresses out of his eyes. He looked like the cartoon character He-Man. His smile was nice, though. He sat beside her.

“Are you looking for someone?”

Cindy stared at her feet. “Not really. I thought…you know.” She looked up. “That maybe it was about time I started to do something with myself.”

His eyes slowly scanned her body, and he nodded. He was agreeing that she was a wreck. It made her feel terrible.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Cindy admitted.

“That’s obvious.”

“Thanks.”

He stuck out his hand. “Eric.”

She took it. “Cindy.”

“So what brought you here, Cindy?” Eric said. “Why not a health club?”

“I’m interested in building my body, not in getting picked up.” She smiled. “No offense.”

Eric smiled again. His teeth were too white to be real. “None taken. That’s the correct attitude. So much of what we do is attitude. The other part is hard work.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“By who?”

Cindy paused for just a second before she thought of a response. “By friends.”

“Who are your friends?”

“You don’t know them. They live in New York.”

“You’re from New York?”

“No, I just go to school there. Columbia.”

“Columbia, huh? That’s cool. There’s nothing wrong with brains and brawn.”

Cindy laughed. “So where do I begin?”

“What are you interested in?”

Cindy paused. “My arms, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“My whole upper body maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t know really.”

“Well, you’d better figure out what you’re after, or you’ll never last.”

Cindy bit her lip, trying not to get sucked in by the dare. “Any girls around here?”

“Why? You a les?”

“No, I’m not a
les.
And even if I was, it would be none of your damn business.”

Eric smiled. “Hey, now you’re getting good!”

Cindy stared at him. “Good at
what
?”

“Getting mean. You’ve got to get mean, or you’ll never last.”

“I’m supposed to be mean?”

“Yep.”

“How mean?”

“As mean as you can. You’ve got to look at the weights as enemies to conquer and
control.
Without that attitude, you won’t last. Believe me, I’ve seen chicks come and go in this place. The kind of girls who bitch and moan every time they break a nail? We don’t put up with that kind of ’tude around here. That was the first thing I noticed about you. You have short nails. It tells you a lot about a person.”

Cindy sneaked a look at her hands. She had tried growing her nails, polishing them. It was fun but too much work. “Are you a teacher here?”

“Two days a week.”

“What does it cost to join?”

“Fifty a month to use the equipment. But the boss always gives newcomers a month free. If you last a month, you’ll probably last, period.”

“Are there any girls around here?” Cindy asked again.

“We’ve a few dedicated chicks.”

“No offense, but maybe I’d be more comfortable if there were some girls around.”

“No one will hit on you here, Cindy. We’re all friends, but that’s all. Friends in work. Guaranteed.”

“Still…when do they come around?”

Eric frowned at her. “We’ve got about six serious chicks. They pop in and out all during the day and night. We’re open twenty-four hours, in case you’ve got a bad case of insomnia.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Yes, it really is. Anyway, do you want a little help starting up? First lesson is on the house.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

Cindy stood. Why not? “Sure.”

Eric said, “First, I’ve got to take your measurements.”

“Why?”

“Because how are you going to know if you’re improving if you don’t have a baseline?”

“True.”

“Yeah, true.” Eric pulled out a tape measure and stretched it across her back. “Now lift up your arms.”

Cindy obeyed.

Slipping his arms around her body, Eric placed his hands over her breasts. Quickly, she spun around and stepped backward. “What the
hell
are you doing?”

Eric growled at her. “I was
trying
to measure you—”

“You were feeling me up!”

“I was feeling you, but not up—”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Hey!” Eric grabbed her right hand. “It’s muscle, Cindy. That’s all it is! Just fat and muscle.” He wrapped her fingers around his arm. “Muscle.” He placed her hand over his chest. “Muscle.” Around his leg. “Muscle. Over his groin. “Muscle. That’s all we humans are. Fucking bone, muscle, and fat. The idea here is to get more muscle than fat. I can’t tell a fucking thing about your chest if I can’t feel your tits, see what the condition of your underlying muscle is. From
the quick feel I got, it looks like you’ve got some decent pecs under all that mammary fat.”

He released her hand. Cindy stared at him but said nothing.

Quietly, Eric said, “I probably should have warned you. I’m used to people who know the routine. You want to try again?”

“I would really feel more comfortable if this was being done by a girl.”

“Get used to guys, Cindy. ’Bout ninety-eight percent of our clientele is guys. And just for your info, ’bout a third of them are gay. They don’t give a shit what’s between your legs. Like I said, to a dedicated builder, it’s all muscle.”

“Are you gay?” Cindy asked.

“No,” Eric answered. “But I’ll say yes if it’ll make you feel better. Will you relax?”

“It’s difficult.”

“Just go with the flow. Lift your arms up.”

Cindy wondered if Marge had ever been in a situation like this. Of all the dumb things she’d ever tried to pull off, this had to be one of the dumbest. But she was here already. She lifted her arms.

Again Eric snaked his massive limbs around her body. Each arm must have weighed fifty pounds. Again she felt his hands on her breasts and involuntarily flinched.

“Just take it easy,” Eric said, “you’re doing fine.”

After a moment, it was clear to Cindy that old Eric was telling the truth. He was feeling her breasts, but it wasn’t sexual.

“See…right there,” Eric stated. “That’s where the fat of your tits ends and where your underlying pecs are. Did you ever do lifting before, Cindy?”

“No.”

“You’ve got good raw material.” He let go of her breasts, then measured across her bust. It took him twenty minutes to finish charting her body, recording the inches of her waist
and hips and thighs. When he was done, he said, “Good raw material. I’d like to take you through the first month myself. You want to set up some dates?”

“Can I call you on it?”

Eric gave her a disgusted look. “Are you committed or what?”

“How should
I
know?” Cindy placed her hands on her hips and stared at the entrance. Just then a woman walked through the door. She was absolutely gorgeous—perfect skin, sleek black hair, and black eyes as luminous as obsidian. She was wearing a black lace body stocking, filling it out in all the right places. She turned to Eric and said, “Can you turn me into her?”

Eric let out a deep laugh. “Tandy’s certainly an example of everything that can go right.”

“Tandy?”

“That’s her name. She was over two-fifty when she first walked through the door.”

Cindy’s eyes widened. “What?”

“No lie. I’ll introduce you.”

Cindy watched Eric duck-waddle to Tandy. He threw his arm around her lithe shoulder, leading her over to Cindy. He said, “Hey, Roberts, come and meet the new kid on the block.”

Cindy suddenly felt her heart race. This was the whole reason she was here, and now that she was face-to-face with Tandy, she had no idea what to do. She looked up at Eric as if he had the answer. All he had was a goofy grin on his face. With deliberate motion, Tandy sidled up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Her fingers were long and delicate, but the nails were clipped short. She didn’t just rest her hand on his muscle, she kneaded it. Then she offered her hand to Cindy.