Lookin' For Luv (9 page)
Authors: Carl Weber
“Miss, you do know it’s illegal to hitchhike in the state of Vermont?” the trooper scolded.
Dawn smiled when she heard his voice. She finally felt safe.
“Officer, I was abandoned about a two-hour walk from here. If you could just get me to Western Union, or even a phone, I’d really appreciate it”
“Let me guess. Light-skinned black guy, a little over six feet, green eyes, and drives an expensive car?” the trooper sounded as if he had met Dawn’s date.
Her jaw dropped and her eyes were wide. “How did you know?”
“Why don’t you step into my car, miss.” The officer opened the passenger door. “You look a little cold. You can warm up while I explain.”
Thawing out in the police cruiser, Dawn drank black cof fee from the trooper’s thermos as he drove.
“Excuse me, officer, but could you please tell me how you knew the man that abandoned me?” She was shaking. “I’m pretty scared he might be some kind of psycho”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that, miss,” he answered. “We had him pretty well checked out after the first couple of girls.”
“First couple of girls! There are others?” Dawn cried out.
“Yes, ma’am. Fifty-two girls in fifteen years. That doesn’t include you, of course, or anyone that might not have reported it.” The trooper did not take his eyes off the road as he delivered this devastating news.
“This has to be a nightmare! He made me feel as if I was the only woman on earth.” Suddenly she was angry. “If he’s done this to so many women why haven’t you arrested him?”
The trooper was aware of how upset Dawn must be. He had picked up so many women in the same predicament and was prepared for her anger. Counting slowly to twenty, he allowed her to shout at him for a while before he interrupted.
“Miss, there is nothing in the world my fellow troopers and I would like more than to arrest that man. But we don’t have a charge. Unfortunately it’s not against the law to leave a woman without a ride home, even if it’s over fifty women.”
Dawn was furious. She turned her head to face the trooper and put her hand on his arm.
“Yes, you do have a charge. What if I told you he raped me?”
“Miss, just drop it, okay?” The trooper seemed a little annoyed. “I’m going to take you to headquarters. The desk sergeant’s going to give you money for a bus ticket home, and then it’s over.”
Dawn couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Wait a minute. Lemme get this straight. A black woman tells a white cop that she’s been raped, and all he can say is take your black ass home? Fuck that! I want your badge number now!” She was waving her hands wildly as she yelled at the cop.
“You know, there’s really no need for that kind of language.” The trooper was not about to allow Dawn to continue this time. “This is not about race, miss. Both you and I know that he didn’t rape you.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “You must think you’re the first person to accuse him of rape, but you’re wrong. At least a dozen girls have said that he raped them. But we’re not dealing with a stupid man.”
“I didn’t say we were. Just take me to the hospital or have a rape kit sent to your headquarters. I have his sperm in me, and I even have bruises.”
“Look, you don’t seem to understand me, miss. So I’m going to explain it to you in black and white.” The trooper felt a headache developing. “’This Maurice guy asked you to go skiing in Vermont, he probably tells you about the early snow we just got. He’s handsome, intelligent, and rich too. Basically the man of your dreams. So you accept. Am I right so far?”
“Yes.” Dawn’s voice was weak.
“The two of you drive up in his big Mercedes or Lexus. Then he takes you skiing and buys you some expensive gifts....” Glancing over at Dawn, the trooper continued. “Like that leather jacket. Then he takes you back to the cabin he owns. It’s beautiful, isn’t it, with the big bearskin rug and the huge fireplace? He serves you expensive wine, and the two of you make love on that bearskin rug. You probably even got those bruises you were talking about on that rug.”
“That’s a nice story, officer, but I got raped.” Dawn folded her arms defiantly.
“Oh, there’s something I forgot. After you make love and fall asleep, this Maurice guy goes into the next room and takes a videotape out of a camera concealed in the wall. Your whole night of passion is on that tape. He likes to have it on the front seat of his car just in case some dumb trooper like me pulls him over and accuses him of rape.”
Dawn slumped down in her seat after hearing the end of his story.
“Look, miss. It could have been worse. One woman who insisted on pressing rape charges had the whole thing backfire on her and ended up doing thirty days jail time herself.”
“Get the fuck outta here! For what?”
“Vandalism, destruction of property, and filing a false police report. You see, when she woke up and found Maurice had left her behind with no money and no phone, she trashed his entire cabin. Now, trashing his place would have been all right. I think he considers that the cost of playing his sick game. But when she insisted on pressing rape charges against him, that pissed him off.”
Dawn sat there, thinking about all the things she had broken before she left Maurice’s cabin and was glad that trooper Perkins had talked her out of pressing charges. The whole thing had been a nightmare, and she just wanted to wake up.
“So he’s just a con man.”
“Pretty much. Except he takes your self-respect instead of your money.” The trooper pulled his vehicle into the headquarters parking lot.
“I think I’d much rather he’d taken my money.” Dawn’s voice was barely audible by then.
“That’s what most people say,” the officer replied, pointing at the building. “Just go in those doors there and ask for the desk sergeant. Tell him that Trooper Perkins sent you and explain your story. He’ll give you bus fare back home.”
“Thank you so much, Trooper Perkins.” A single tear slid down Dawn’s windburned face. She hugged the officer before she got out of the car.
Twenty miles up the road Maurice smiled at the elderly woman behind the counter as she poured his coffee into a paper cup. He had stopped at the small Vermont truck stop after leaving Dawn behind in the cabin.
Damn, I
should have thought of using
1-900-BLACK-LUV
years
ago,
he thought to himself, remembering how easy it had been to get the girl up to his cabin.
I
never
dreamed there were so many stupid women just a phone call away.
He felt two strong hands take hold of his shoulders. Looking up, he smiled as he saw a Vermont state trooper.
should have thought of using
1-900-BLACK-LUV
years
ago,
he thought to himself, remembering how easy it had been to get the girl up to his cabin.
I
never
dreamed there were so many stupid women just a phone call away.
He felt two strong hands take hold of his shoulders. Looking up, he smiled as he saw a Vermont state trooper.
“Well, if it isn’t Sergeant Landell.” Maurice’s smile became a devilish grin.
“I thought I told you to stay the hell out of Vermont, you son of a bitch!”
“You know, sergeant, you’re becoming a real pain in my ass.” Maurice straightened his shirt before putting on his ski jacket.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, you son of a bitch?” The sergeant’s pale white face was now beet red.
“I’m talking to you, sergeant. And if I remember correctly, the last time you tried that tough-guy shit with me, you were a captain. Now, the next time you or any other trooper fucks with me or pulls me over, I’m going to own this fucking state.” Maurice calmly reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone as if the sergeant were no more than a nuisance. “Now get the fuck out my way. Or do I have to call my lawyer?”
The woman behind the counter was in shock. In thirty years knowing Landell, he had never let anyone disrespect him. Now out of nowhere he was letting some arrogant tourist curse and point his finger at him.
“You’re one sick motherfucker!” the trooper growled, balling his fist up in his leather gloves but not taking a step closer.
“Give it up, Landell. You’ve been trying to catch me doing something wrong for fifteen years. I’m not doing anything illegal.” He laughed. “Maybe you’re just jealous, huh, Landell? You should have seen the one I was with this time Landell. Mmm-mmm, was she pretty!” Taking his container of coffee, Maurice grinned as he walked past the officer.
“I hate that fucking bastard,” Sergeant Landell said, clenching both his fists as Maurice walked out the door.
“I don’t like him much myself,” the elderly waitress replied from behind the counter. “But he’s a great tipper!” She took the twenty-dollar bill Maurice had left on the counter and put it in her apron.
The sergeant reached around and took his radio out of its holster.
“Base, this is Sergeant Landell”
“Go ahead, Landell,” the dispatcher spat out.
“I just spotted Maurice Johnson leaving Chance’s Truck Stop. You might want to send a trooper up Interstate Ninety-five to look for a girl.”
“She’s already been found, Landell. Base out.”
“That asshole thinks this is some kind of fucking game!” He slammed his hand down on the counter as he sat down.
“Can I ask you a question, sarge?” the woman asked.
“Sure, Mary.”
“I’ve known you for over thirty years, and I’ve never seen you back down to any man like that. What the hell is going on? Is he from the NAACP or something?”
“That son of a bitch and his high-priced lawyer are the reason I lost my captain’s bars.” Landell’s hatred showed in his eyes.
“Him?” She was shocked.
“He happens to make large donations to the Vermont Democratic Party. One day about ten years ago, me and a few of the boys decided to teach him a lesson for abandoning some New York girls out near Interstate Ninety-five. Well, two days later that son of a bitch shows up with a lawyer and sues for police brutality. The state, the governor, I mean, he sued everyone.”
“I think I heard about that,” replied the waitress, recalling vaguely having heard something through word-of-mouth.
“Yeah, well, you’re one of the few who heard. Those damn Democrats put such a tight lid on things, it never even made the news. They gave that son of a bitch three hundred grand to drop the lawsuit, then fired everyone involved but me.”
“Why didn’t they fire you?”
“Because that smartass lawyer of his said that it would serve as a better example if they busted me down from captain to trooper. It took me five years just to make sergeant again.”
“That’s a real shame.” The waitress shook her head slowly. “But, you know, what goes around comes around. Someday that man’s going to get what he deserves.”
The trooper stood up to leave. “You know, I hope you’re right about that.”
At the same moment Maurice’s wife was sitting by the phone in their bedroom, fuming.
This is the fifth time I’ve called that motherfucker! Where the fuck could he be at 3:45 in the morning? I should just forget his ass and go to sleep.
She had already tried to sleep but was too upset.
This is the fifth time I’ve called that motherfucker! Where the fuck could he be at 3:45 in the morning? I should just forget his ass and go to sleep.
She had already tried to sleep but was too upset.
This was not the first time Sylvia had found herself in this position, waiting for her husband at all hours of the night. Over the years her husband had spent many nights out late, and while he was away she would pace the floors, certain that he was with another woman. Most times he would come home with the excuse that he had been with his childhood friend, David. Sylvia rarely questioned his reason, mostly to avoid a fight. After pacing around the bedroom for another ten minutes, she dialed his cellular phone again.
“I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed is out of calling range at this time”
Sylvia slammed the phone against the nightstand in a rage. Grabbing her robe from the back of the bathroom door, she walked downstairs into the study, thinking she might find some clue in Maurice’s date book. On the page for that day, Maurice had penciled in “meet with David, 9:30 P.M.”
“That motherfucking liar!” she screamed as her fist pounded the desk. She knew he was not with David this time, since David had called two days before and mentioned to Sylvia that he and his wife were going to the Bahamas the following morning. She lifted the date book, and a slip of paper fell to the floor. It was an index card with 1-900-BLACK-LUV scribbled on it.
Sylvia was puzzled for a minute, until she figured out what the number probably meant. The reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Years of denial had built a protective wall around her ego, but it was shattering in seconds.
Don’t tell me that lowlife has resorted to using a date line!
Her shock quickly became anger. Not quite sure what she should expect to hear, Sylvia dialed the date line. She had to know if her husband had actually used the line to leave a personal ad. Sylvia listened to one man after another, amazed at the number of ads.
I can’t believe all these men call this date line. What the hell has happened to the black male that they have to stoop to this?
For forty minutes Sylvia kept searching the ads for Maurice’s voice. Each time she heard, “Hi, my name ...” she’d skip to the next message, listening for Maurice’s voice. She knew she’d been on the line a long time but was determined to keep listening until she’d found it. Her jaw dropped as she finally heard her husband.
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