Random Victim (16 page)

“Looking for a little action, Officers?”

The other girls laughed hysterically.

“No problem making us, huh?” Hart said.

Leal waved back at the hookers and smiled.

“The wagon’s on the way, ladies,” he said, pulling Hart toward them. “Say, you girls mind helping us out a bit?” He took the
picture of Martin Walker out and showed it to them. “Seen this dude around here lately?”

“Shit,” the hooker said. “This boy’s so ugly he have to pay for it.”

“Pay me double,” another one said, looking over her shoulder.

A Lincoln town car pulled up and slowed as the passenger-side window lowered into the door. “Hey, good-looking,” the driver
called.

The girls waved him away and stared at Leal and Hart.

The picture got quickly passed around and returned.

“Let’s go take us a smoke break, girlfriend,” one of the white hookers said, sounding like she was doing her best to emulate
a black accent.

“I do know this dude,” the first hooker said, turning to go. “Look like one of Bobbi’s boys.”

“Hey,” Leal said, holding up a bill. “Who’s that?”

The girl did a quick about-face and snatched the bill. “Bobbi work that club there now,” she said, pointing to the Kit Kat.

“She in the life?” asked Leal.

The hooker nodded. “Bobbi into a whole ’nother kind of kink. But lately, she pretty much dealing in chemical transactions,
if you get my drift.”

Leal nodded. “Can you point her out to us?”

The hooker’s face scrunched up.

“Don’t want to be narcing on nobody,” she said. “I got a reputation to uphold.” She smiled.

Leal smiled back. He held up another bill.

“Maybe we can do it on the sly?” he said.

She grabbed the bill and tucked it into her Wonderbra.

“You know, I guess I could use a trip to the ladies’ room,” she said.

As they went inside, the security guy stopped the hooker at the door.

“Get your motherfuckin’ hands off me, bitch,” she said.

He looked about ready to slap her and throw her out the door when Leal said, “She’s with us.”

The security guard raised his hands in an I-give-up gesture, and took a step back.

“Thank you,” the hooker said in a smug voice, and went down the steps. She paused in the darkness, her voice barely audible
between the squeals from the crowd and the pervasive beat. “Let me go in and look around. If I see her, I’ll lean over and
talk to her and put my hand on her like this.” She touched Hart on the shoulder, then said, “Damn, girl, you strong. Come
by and see me, honey, and I’ll show you some good times.” Hart recoiled slightly at the thought and suddenness of being touched,
and the hooker laughed. The song ended and the disc jockey said something special, really special, was coming up.

The hooker circled the floor, taking the long route to the ladies’ room. They watched her progress as she went inside, and
after coming out, she stopped, pausing to take out a cigarette. Through the haze Hart saw the hooker stop at the bar and lean
between two patrons, her hand resting on the shoulder of a slender white chick with dark shoulder-length hair feathered back
to just above her collar. Her excessive eye makeup gave an almost grotesque exaggeration to her slim face.

“The broad in the black leather,” Leal said, moving down the stairs. “Let’s go down and check her out.”

Hart followed, trying to watch as the hooker grabbed a book of matches off the counter, lit her cigarette, and then looked
up. She melted into the crowd as Leal and Hart drew closer. The blond bartender seemed to see them coming, as she was refilling
a customer’s drink. She leaned forward and said something, and Hart saw the brunette’s extreme outlined eyes seek them out.
They pushed past a couple of stumbling drunks who were all hands and apologies.

“I think Blondie tipped her off to us,” Leal said, shoving past the drunks.

Hart saw Bobbi pick up her shoulder-strap purse and slip off the stool, her sequined stockings sweeping together as she headed
for the back of the room.

“She’s booking,” Leal said.

They watched as Bobbi pushed open the washroom door.

“What do you want to do?” Hart asked.

“I wonder if there’s a window in the ladies’ room.”

She shrugged. “Want me to check?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Ask her to step outside and we’ll question her about Walker. It’d be nice to set something up so we could
catch him with a hooker or some drugs.”

Hart smiled, thinking that maybe they had a chance to catch that break they needed. She pushed past a few people to the ladies’
room.

“I’ll guard the door,” she heard Leal say. “Be careful in there.”

I can handle it, she thought.

Leal stopped just outside the door as Hart went in.

Surprisingly, the room was fairly spacious as club washrooms went, and empty, too. Hart looked at the rear wall and saw a
partially open window and thought, Oh, shit. But the window was pretty high off the floor, and Hart just couldn’t see Bobbi
risking her tight leather dress to scurry up the wall and belly out of a window. She decided to check the stalls.

Hart paused at the sinks to take out her badge. Then she bent at the waist and looked under the three stalls, but saw no feet.
She checked the doorknob of a small closet on the opposite wall and found it locked.

Things aren’t always what they seem, she thought and pushed open the first stall door.

Empty.

Giving the middle door a shove, she saw that one was empty, too.

The third one’s the charm, she thought, and pushed the door. It was locked. Peering between the space between the frame and
the door, Hart saw black leather, sequined stockings, and black patent-leather pumps resting on the horseshoe toilet seat.

“Come on out, Bobbi,” Hart said. “We need to talk.”

“What the fuck do you want, bitch?” came the husky whisper.

Hart was in no mood for a smart-ass comment from a smart-ass whore.

“Police,” she said, grabbing the stall door and giving it a shove. The door flew backward, swishing past Bobbi’s hunched up
knees. Hart held up her badge. “Let’s step outside for a minute.”

Bobbi stepped lightly off the toilet with a dancer’s grace, and strolled to the sinks. She leaned over and looked in the mirror,
one hand digging in her big black purse. Hart was having trouble stuffing the badge case back in her purse, wishing she had
pants with pockets big enough, when the little alarm inside her head started to go off.

I’d better not let her go digging in there, she thought.

“Hey, keep your hands where I can see them.”

Bobbi smirked and removed a lipstick tube, holding it up.

Hart relaxed slightly.

“So what do you want?” Bobbi asked, slipping the gold top off the tube.

A remix version of “I Want to Dance With Somebody” began blaring over the sound system. Hart moved her head at the sudden
noise, and when she looked back in front she saw Bobbi whirling toward her. Hart raised her arm to block what she thought
was just a punch, not seeing the hooking blade protruding from the top of the lipstick tube. The blade sliced down the underside
of Hart’s left arm. She felt a cutting sensation, then the pain and gushing of blood. Bobbi tore Hart’s purse away with a
sudden quick jerking motion. Hart backed away, but Bobbi followed, grabbing at her with long, black fingernails. Hart tried
to snatch away the blade, but only got a slice across her hand. Bobbi slashed outward, obviously aiming for the throat, but
hitting Hart’s left shoulder and back, ripping and tearing her blouse as she tried to run for the door.

Summoning all her strength, Hart grabbed Bobbi’s right hand, the one with the blade, held it in both of hers, and yelled,
“Frank, help!”

Leal, who had positioned himself outside the ladies’ room door to prevent anyone else from going in, heard what he thought
was a scream mixed in with the lyrics of the Whitney Houston song that was blasting from the speakers. He pushed open the
door and the sight of the bloody struggle sent a shock up his spine.

Inside in seconds Leal seized the raven-colored hair only to have it come off in his hand, exposing a shortly cropped head
covered by a murky hairnet. Tossing the wig down, he slammed into them, the force sending everyone crashing against the stall
assembly. Leal grabbed Bobbi’s right wrist, his fingers meeting around the slimness of the bones, and together with Hart,
managed to twist the bladed lipstick tube loose. It fell to the floor, rolling over Leal’s arm. His gaze followed it for only
seconds until an elbow smashed into his temple. Long black talons raked over his face. Leal backed away slightly, but it was
enough to loosen his grasp and Bobbi wormed free of them. He saw Hart slip to the floor, a bloody mess, and half a second
later a sequined leg snapped up to catch him in the crotch. Leal stumbled forward, his balls on fire, and braced, half a second
later, for the inevitable gut-wrenching nausea that usually accompanies a deftly delivered groin blow. The black fingernails
flashed for his eyes, but suddenly fell short, and Leal saw Hart’s bloody arms looped around Bobbi’s legs, sending her plopping
down on the hard tile floor.

Waving off the nausea, Leal gritted his teeth and drove his right fist into Bobbi’s jaw as she was getting up. The blow staggered
her, and her wobbly two-step bought her within range again. Leal put his legs behind a body blow, catching the leather dress
at the midpoint. Bobbi sunk to her knees, and Leal pivoted, slamming the close-cropped head into the nearest porcelain sink.
Then, using his superior weight, he forced Bobbi to the floor and reached for his cuffs, snapping them over the slender wrists
as he twisted them behind her back.

“Get my purse,” Hart said. She looked groggy, out of it.

Leal shook off his own dazed fuzziness and picked up the lipstick blade. As he straightened up he saw the short leather skirt
riding up over Bobbi’s hips as she writhed on the floor, twisting on her side. Through the sequined panty hose Leal could
see some sort of black padded sheath, and spilling from the side of it was the unmistakable bulge of a dick and balls.

“Fucking freak,” he said, giving Bobbi a kick in the gut.

He moved to Hart, kneeling beside her as he fished his cell phone out of his inside pocket. The front of her blouse was in
shreds, and he could see her breasts and the lacy edges of her bra. She was bleeding so much he couldn’t tell how bad the
wounds were. But they were bad enough, he knew, as he put an arm around her and dialed *999 on his cell.

What the hell’s the address here? he wondered as he waited for the emergency operator to connect.

“Is it bad?” Hart asked.

Shock. He had to keep her from going into shock. “Easy, Ollie. It’ll be all right. You’re gonna be okay.”

She murmured something.

The door pushed open just as the operator came on the line. The hulking security guard stuck his face inside, his mouth gaping.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“We need an ambulance,” Leal said. “Tell them we have an officer down.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

Lost In the System

The paramedic holding the IV bag was staring down at the front of Hart’s torn blouse. Leal reached over and pulled the white
sheet up over her breasts and the guy looked away. The other paramedic pierced a vein on her right forearm and wiped away
the trickle of blood as he taped the needle in place.

“No problem finding a vein on her,” he said.

“Where you taking her?” Leal asked.

“Augustana’s the closest.”

“That place good?” Leal asked.

The paramedic nodded.

“She your wife or girlfriend, sir?” the first guy asked as he fastened the glucose bag to the metal clip and adjusted the
flow meter.

“She’s my partner,” Leal said. He held up his badge and realized he still had Hart’s purse slung over his shoulder. He lowered
the purse to his hand.

“So you gonna ride over with us?”

Leal turned to the uniformed Chicago copper who was standing by the open rear doors.

“Can you guys keep the asshole for me while I see to my partner?”

The cop nodded. Behind him Leal could see Bobbi being shoved none too gently into the back of a squad car.

“We’ll take him over to eighteen,” the cop said. “I assume you’ll want to go felony, right?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Leal said. He looked over at Hart again.

“Okay, Sarge, we’ll put him in the lockup and the dicks will do a follow-up to the violent crime report.”

“Did I mention that we originally wanted to talk to her…” Leal stopped and shook his head. He was tired, and feeling
it. “…him, in connection with a homicide case we’re working?”

“No shit? He a suspect?”

Leal shook his head. “Maybe one of his johns is. So can you keep him on ice for me till tomorrow?”

“Not a problem,” the copper said. “We’ll run his prints, get a rap sheet, have everything for you by the morning when you
come back.”

Leal nodded a thanks. “Ah, no phone calls?”

“Lost in the system,” the copper said, grinning.

“You’ll have to ride up front if you want to go with us,” the paramedic said.

Leal moved closer to Hart and said, “Ollie, I’m going to take the unmarked over to the ER. I’ll be right behind you, okay?”

“Okay, Sarge,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

He smiled and got out of the ambulance. The siren wailed and the heavy vehicle moved off with an array of flashing lights.

Leal badged his way past the security guards in the emergency room and went into the space where they had Hart. He squeezed
her hand slightly and sat down next to her.

“How you doing, kid?”

“I’ve had better days,” she said, holding up her bandaged arm. The blood was already beginning to seep through the gauze.
“Does it look very bad?”

“Not too bad,” Leal said. “You’ll be all right. I locked your purse in the trunk, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she said. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“God, she was so strong. I couldn’t believe it. It all happened so fast.”

“Well, don’t feel bad,” Leal said. “She wasn’t a ‘she’ at all. She was a ‘he.’ ”

He saw her forehead wrinkle.

“Woman on the top, man on the bottom.”

“Oh, my God,” said Hart.

He saw a tear roll down her cheek. “It’s okay, Ollie. Everything’s going to be fine.” He patted her head with his left hand
and reached for the seam in the curtain with his right. Leal had been in emergency rooms enough times to know they always
give you a number and have you wait, no matter where you were. But that’s not going to happen in this case, he thought.

“Nurse, I want a doctor over here now,” he said, holding up his badge. “We’ve got an injured police officer.”

The nurse looked at him, nodded, and walked away from the cubicle area where she’d been standing. Several other people in
the cubicle glared at him, but Leal just stared them down.

Presently a young-looking guy with glasses and reddish hair walked up. The stitching above his left pocket said Dr. Forrester.

He stepped inside the curtain and grabbed the chart.

“Good evening,” he said, slipping on some rubber gloves and unwinding the gauze on Hart’s arm a bit. “How are you feeling,
miss?”

“It’s Officer,” Leal said.

The doctor looked at Leal. “And you are?”

“Her partner.”

A nurse came through the curtain carrying a tray of instruments, a hypodermic syringe, and more rubber gloves.

“Would you mind waiting outside, sir?” she said.

Leal looked at Hart, who nodded and smiled. She squeezed his hand as he left.

“So how’s Hart?” Ryan asked on the other end.

Leal, who was standing amid a group of hospital employees taking a smoke break outside the emergency room doors, sighed into
the cell phone.

“They had some plastic surgeon who was on call come in to stitch her up,” he said. Leal looked down at his jacket and shirt,
both of which were covered with dark crimson stains. God, she lost a lot of blood, he thought. “They don’t think the scarring
will be too bad. They’re gonna keep her the rest of the night and I’ll take her home tomorrow.”

“Aha,” Ryan said. “I knew it. You’re gonna get her to switch back to men, right?”

“Will you knock it off?” Leal said. “You’re gonna talk to Brice, right?”

“Of course. Say, Frank,” Ryan’s voice sounded conspiratorial. “How does this all connect to the Walker case?”

“Bobbi, the pervert, was wanted on a warrant,” Leal said. “That’s probably why he fought so hard. I won’t know much until
I can lean on him a little tomorrow, but he was supposed to be one of Walker’s associates.”

“Okay,” Ryan said. “I’ll contact the brass in the morning and give ’em a heads-up. Then I’ll come by and help you with the
interview.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Leal said. “Me and Bobbi don’t exactly have a good rapport.”

Bobbi slouched forward, elbows on his knees, smoking a cigarette. He still had on his leather blouse and miniskirt, but was
without his wig, and the crew cut, coupled with the mascara, gave him a faintly reptilian cast. The bruise under his left
eye was beginning to turn purple. He flicked the ash into the empty paper cup in front of him on the sparse wooden table.
No other furniture was in the interview room except for the chairs in which the three of the four sat. Leal paced back and
forth by the door.

“So we talking deal, Bobbi?” Steve Megally asked. He was one of the honchos from the State’s Attorney’s office who had come
down personally to handle the interview after Sheriff O’Hara had called. “No goddamn pervert slices up one of
my
officers, much less a female officer, and gets away with it,” he’d raved. That’s why they’d sent a seasoned pro like Megally,
to discuss all the aspects of the case before the interview began.

“Deal?” Leal said. “You got to be kidding.” His voice was filled with rising intensity.

“Frank, take it easy,” Ryan said, standing up as Leal began moving toward Bobbi from across the room.

Leal halted but continued his tirade.

“That fucking little bastard tried to kill my partner and me, and you’re talking a fucking deal? No way.”

“Look, Frank,” Ryan said. “I know you’re upset, but—”

“Upset? I’ll show you fucking upset,” Leal said, and he lurched forward again as Megally jumped up and helped Ryan hold Leal
back. “C’mere, you little piece of shit.”

“Keep him away from me,” Bobbi said. “I’ve got rights, you know.”

“I’ll give you some rights,” Leal yelled. His face looked flushed as the other two men struggled to restrain him.

“Easy, big guy,” Ryan yelled.

“Get him out of here, Ryan,” Megally said. “That’s an order.”

Leal seemed to deflate a bit, and Ryan walked him to the door.

Leal opened it, poised to leave, but pointed back at Bobbi and said, “I’ll find you later, you little fuck.”

Bobbi stared at Leal for a moment, and then looked downward. Ryan pushed Leal all the way out and closed the door behind him.
He turned to Bobbi, taking out his cigarettes.

“To put it mildly,” he said, shaking the pack and holding it toward Megally, who shook his head, and Bobbi, who grabbed one
and lit it from the one still smoldering in the ashtray, “you have pissed a lot of people off, to a high degree of pisstasity.”

He watched as Bobbi began to hot-box the cigarette.

“Look at it logically, Bobbi,” he continued. “Attempted murder of a cop, and a female cop no less. No judge in his right mind
is gonna let you off with anything less than the maximum.” He paused and took a drag on his own square. “This is, after all,
an election year.”

“My office would concur,” Megally said.

“So we’re talking major time here, Bobbi,” Ryan said. “Hard time. No good time. In Stateville. For a white boy with big titties
and a pretty face, that could be an eternity.” He watched Bobbi staring at the tabletop, the smoke trailing out of his dainty
nostrils. “You’ll be getting butt-fucked by every nigger and Puerto Rican in the joint. You’ll be kept property, just something
to be passed around.”

“So what kind of deal we talking?” Bobbi asked.

Ryan raised his eyebrows and looked at Megally.

“You give us the straight scoop on this Walker guy,” Megally said, “and we’ll drop the attempt murder and go with one count
of agg batt.”

“Which translates to what?” Bobbi asked.

“A substantial reduction,” Megally said. He looked to Ryan.

“Don’t try to fucking jack me off,” Bobbi said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ryan said. He nodded fractionally to Megally.

“All right, here’s our final offer,” he said. “As good as it gets. You can plead to felony probation on the agg batt.”

Bobbi stared at him. “I can walk with felony paper?”

Megally frowned and nodded. “But what you’ll have to trade has got to be the real goods.”

“It is,” Bobbi said, and bit his upper lip. “Okay, I’ll do it. But I want it in writing.”

“How about we call in a stenographer?” Megally asked, smiling up at Ryan.

Approximately two and a half hours later, Leal woke up to see Ryan and Megally standing by the coffee machine, laughing and
slapping each other on their backs. Leal stood up and stretched, feeling the stiffness of having fallen asleep sitting in
a straight-backed chair. He walked over to them.

“So how’d it go?” he asked.

“Great,” Ryan said, rubbing his palms together and grinning broadly. “The he-she-it gave us Martin Walker on a silver platter.
The fucker’s a kink. Likes to have sex with boys, and lately has been preferring them younger and younger.”

“That’s what Bobbi’s been supplying,” Megally said. “Mostly runaways.”

“And in return,” Ryan said, “Old Marty’s been giving Bobbi his blow supply.”

He dropped some coins in the coffee machine and held his hand out to Leal. “Go ahead, Frank. We couldn’t have done it without
you.”

Leal smirked and pressed the button marked black.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No, he’s right,” Megally said. “If I ever need a bad guy again, I know who to call. You even had me shaking.”

Leal removed the cup from under the spout and brought it to his lips.

“Intimidation is my business,” he said, before taking a cautious sip.

“And the beauty of it is,” Megally said, “we’ll keep him remanded until he pleads, at which time we’ll also violate his probation
for the pandering charge and send him bye-bye to Joliet for two to four.” He grinned and pressed the buttons for cream and
sugar.

Leal knew that two to four for Bobbi meant he’d probably be out in a year and a half, but a year and a half in Stateville,
for someone with his silicon-acquired attributes, would be time in pure hell. If he survived at all.

“Well,” Megally said, “I’m going to finish up my file.” He shook hands with Ryan and Leal. “Nice working with you two.”

After Megally had left, Ryan slapped Leal on the back with a familiarity that made Leal tighten.

“We did it, buddy,” Ryan said. “I never in my wildest dreams, thought we would, but we are this close,” he held up his thumb
and forefinger and narrowed the gap to about a centimeter, “to clearing the Miriam Walker murder case.”

“Let’s hope so,” Leal said.

But he knew he still had to break the news of Bobbi’s deal to Hart.

Leal was heading to the hospital elevators when he spotted Rory Chalma, head down, walking slowly toward him. After debating
for a split second whether or not to say something, Chalma looked up and stopped.

“Oh, Frank,” he said. “Isn’t this terrible?”

“How’s she doing?”

Chalma swallowed hard and Leal wondered if the man was holding back tears.

“She’s a trooper,” he said. “I got the feeling that she was just putting on a happy face, though. She said you were coming
to take her home.”

Leal wondered if that was what had Chalma so upset. Maybe he and Ollie did have something more besides the trainer/protégée
relationship.

“Yeah,” Leal said. He was about to say that he’d brought her some new undies and clothes, since hers had been taken as evidence,
but thought better of it. No sense pissing this big guy off, if they are seeing each other, he thought, even though Leal had
asked the nurse to get Hart’s sizes the night before. Him going through her stuff seemed too much like another violation.

“And the doctor was saying no sun,” Chalma was saying. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with the contest coming up. I
mean, looking bronzed is half of looking buffed.”

Leal nodded as though he’d been following Chalma’s line of conversation.

“They say anything about the scarring?” Leal asked.

“Oh, thank God you saw to it that she got proper treatment last night,” Chalma said, laying a hand on Leal’s forearm. “She
said the doctor that stitched her up was a plastic surgeon specialist.”

Leal nodded again.

“He said her fair skin usually doesn’t scar too badly,” Chalma said. He brought his hand to his face, and suddenly looked
like he was on the verge of breaking down completely. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Ollie.”

Leal felt almost like patting the man on the shoulder or something, but Chalma mumbled something about having to leave and
hurried off. Leal decided to make a quick detour to the hospital gift shop for a minimal bouquet. If Hart was depressed, maybe
flowers would cheer her up.