Sex, Murder and a Double Latte (18 page)

I heard the noise again and quickly changed my mind. I ran toward the main entrances. They would be closed up in a matter of minutes and after that the only available exits would be in places much less conspicuous. Less conspicuous was not good.

I got to a more open space. Now there were a few people around. A pasty-skinned man with red dreadlocks was lounging under a tree. A Samoan woman was chatting on a pay phone. A group of teens all wearing heavy jackets and baggy jeans was huddled around the fountain. How would someone look after brutally murdering a young woman? Would they look scared? Crazed? Or would they have the presence of mind to just blend in? I looked over my shoulder just in time to see a man locking up the gates behind me. I ran to his side and grabbed his sleeve through the bars.

“Please help me. She’s dead. Oh my God, oh my God…he killed her, she’s dead.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “You know it’s a felony to drop acid in a public park.”

“What? No, listen to me, there is a woman on one of your park benches that has been hacked up with an ax or something.”

“Okay now, why don’t you just calm down….”

“
You
fucking calm down! Oh shit, this isn’t happening. I’m the one who sent her here and now she’s dead. Barbie’s dead.”

“Oh no, whatever will happen to poor Ken.”

Without even thinking about it I moved my hand from the sleeve to the collar of the city worker’s shirt and yanked him against the gate. “Listen, asshole, a woman has just been killed and is lying on a park bench some sixty yards away. Either you call the police now or I will hurt you, got it?”

“I’ll call the cops.”

“Good idea.” I released him and watched as he retreated into a trailer that I assumed was used as an office. I slid down to the ground and pulled my knees up to my chest. This couldn’t be happening. Andy had been arrested. I had just come to accept that the majority of my fears had been based on nothing but an overactive imagination. And now Barbie was dead. She had styled her shoulder-length dark hair in a manner similar to the style Marcus had given me just hours ago, gone to my hang-out spot and been murdered. She wasn’t supposed to have been there, I was. Dena and I.

Where was Dena?

CHAPTER 11

“Alicia understood how a person could be driven to the act of murder. What she never could grasp was why anyone would want to inflict pain.”

—
Sex, Drugs and Murder

I
slowly turned my wrist so I could see the numbers on my watch. Four thirty-eight. I used the iron bar to pull myself up and crossed over to the now abandoned payphone.

“Hey, where you going? The police will be here any second.”

I ignored the park worker, who had apparently fulfilled his promise, and put two quarters into the slot. It took three attempts to dial because my fingers kept slipping. Finally, ringing.
“I can’t get to the phone right now. If you’re feeling friendly, leave a message.”

“Dena? Dena it’s me, pick up. You’re there, right? Please pick up.” Silence.

I put the receiver back in its cradle. A police car pulled up and two officers went over to talk to the park worker who subsequently pointed in my direction. I stayed rooted by the phone. Where was Dena?

The cops crossed over to me. The shorter one folded his arms across his chest and smiled. “So you’re the one who found the body?”

I couldn’t find my voice so I just nodded.

“Well, I’m Officer Campbell and this is Officer MacLean.”

“Sophie Katz.”

“All right, Miss Katz, care to show us where you found this guy?”

“Girl, found this
girl.
” The last thing in the world that I wanted to do was go anywhere near that area again, but clearly drawing them a map and hoping that they found her in a timely manner wasn’t an option. “I’ll show you.”

The policemen followed at a close distance. “Sorry you had to see this,” Officer MacLean said. “It’s never pleasant. Usually we find homeless people in other areas of the park. They rarely come into this part.”

Homeless people?

“Usually the cause of death is overdose. Occasionally, it’s natural causes, but we got to take a quick look to make sure there’s nothing suspicious before we turn it over to the—”

“You don’t understand.” I stopped and turned around. “This isn’t a homeless person. I knew this woman. And she didn’t overdose, somebody killed her. They killed her and now my other friend is missing and I can’t find her. I can’t find her anywhere.”

The expression on the officers’ faces had changed. Campbell’s hand was now resting on his gun. “Why the hell weren’t we told this when we were called?”

“Don’t look at me. I practically had to physically threaten that guy to get him to call you at all.”

MacLean took a few steps away and started talking into his radio. Campbell scanned the area. “Okay, let’s take this from the top. You lead us to the body and tell us exactly what happened, all right?”

MacLean joined us again. “Backup’s coming, let’s go.”

I led the way to the Bitches’ Circle and told them the events of the last hour. I took some comfort in the fact that someone was finally taking me seriously, but the main thoughts running through my mind were of Dena. When we finally reached the circle, I hung back and studied the bark of a large redwood.

I heard MacLean take a sharp breath in. “Holy shit.”

My eyes traveled from the bark to the wood chips on the ground. Something was glittering among them. I knelt down and discovered it was a silver lighter with the letter
B
engraved on it.

“Don’t touch that!” I looked up to see Campbell glaring at me. “Larry, get her out of here. Have her wait by the main entrance. Be sure to get a full description of her friend so we can get an APB out. I’m going to radio in and make sure the team knows what’s up.”

MacLean came over to my side, carefully sidestepping the lighter, and led me out of the area. That was actually a major relief. I heard the sirens of more police cars and then an ambulance. When we finally got to the main entrance I collapsed on a bench. I robotically answered MacLean’s questions about Dena. He said something about not going anywhere but I barely registered it. There were cops everywhere now, some with dogs in tow, others in plain clothes. They were questioning all the remaining visitors and asking for ID. The park worker who had called the police for me was now being interrogated in earnest about thirty feet away from me. He caught my eye and mouthed the word “sorry.”

I looked away without acknowledging him. I could care less if he felt guilty about not initially believing me. I could care less about him. I had to focus on pulling myself together. But every time I tried to form a coherent thought, images of Barbie overwhelmed me. There was so much blood. Was it possible for one person to bleed that much? Where the hell was Dena? I couldn’t panic. I had to think logically, had to work this through. The lighter…had the
B
been for Barbie? But it had been so far from the body. Of course that didn’t mean anything. Barbie could have dropped it on the way in, before the attack. Or maybe she had seen the attacker, dropped the lighter and tried to get away. Or maybe the lighter wasn’t hers at all. Maybe it belonged to the murderer. Whose name started with
B?
No
B
initials in Dena’s name, thank God. Who else, not Anatoly Darinsky. What had been Jason’s last name…Jason, Jason…Beck.

I jumped up with the intention of running to the phone, but I was blocked by two plainclothes officers. The woman was around my height with medium brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail and the man was Latino with his hair cut in a military style buzz cut. The woman flashed a warm smile. “I’m Detective Peters and this is Detective Gonzales. We need to ask you a few questions. Why don’t we sit down.”

I felt like screaming. I didn’t have time for this shit. I had to find Dena now. “I really have to use the phone first.”

“Why is it so urgent that you use the phone?” asked Gonzales.

“I don’t think
B
is for Barbie.”

“Excuse me?”

“They found a lighter at the scene that had the letter
B
on it. I saw it. I don’t think it stands for Barbie, I think it stands for Beck. Jason Beck. That’s Dena Lopiano’s boyfriend.”

It took Peters all of two seconds to grasp my implication. “Do you know where this guy lives?”

“No. He works at some bar in the Lower Haight. I’m not sure which one.”

I gave them a description of Jason, while Gonzales scribbled it down. “I’m on it.” He gave his partner a quick nod before leaving us.

Peters sat down on the bench and gestured for me to do the same. I glanced once again at the phone. There was really no one to call, the police were already there and Dena… Dena wasn’t home. I just felt like I should be actively doing something, making phone calls, turning every stone over by hand until I found my friend, my best friend.

“Miss Katz?”

I became aware again of Peters’s presence. I sunk down to sit beside her without responding.

“Miss Katz, why do you think your friend’s boyfriend might have done this?”

“Because he’s out of his mind, that’s why.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“He thinks he’s a vampire.”

“A vampire?”

“Yeah, or at least he wants to be a vampire and is trying to be one, I’m not quite sure.”

Peters put her pen down. “So this guy’s a wannabe vampire.”

“Something like that. Look, I’m not really clear on the specifics. All I know is, he thinks he’s Dracula, and that all the other legendary characters of his kind are real, and he lives in hope of being added to the coven of some blood-sucking literary figure.”

“Wait a minute, are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“And your friend is dating this guy?”

“She has a taste for the offbeat.”

“I guess.” Peters made a note to herself. “Okay, let’s talk about the events that led up to your finding the body. You told Officer MacLean that the only reason Barbie was here was to tell Dena that you were going to be late. How did that come about?”

“My mom’s bladder infection.”

Peters’s pen hovered over her notepad.

“I’m sorry.” I pushed my hair back with both hands. “I’m not being very clear. I’m just a little shaken up.”

“That’s understandable. Let’s just go step-by-step, okay? Take your time. Now what’s this about your mom’s bladder infection?”

A new realization overtook me. She was taking everything I said to heart. I could tell this woman about the events of the last few weeks and there would be an investigation. They would find my stalker, figure out who killed Barbie, and everyone would be safe, again. Including Dena. I had to believe that Dena would be safe too. I angled my body so that I was facing Peters.

“Well, the events that led me here really started two weeks ago when I got this weird note in the mail….” I went through every detail of the things that had been happening to me and made a point to include the dates and names of the police officers I had reported them to. I went into more details about my suspicions concerning Jason, although I did leave out Dena’s suspicions about Anatoly. I also omitted the part about JJ Money and Tolsky for fear that I would come across as a conspiracy-theorist freak. I ended my account with the discovery of Barbie’s body.

“The thing is, Barbie and I had worn our hair done in a similar style today and we have the same skin color. I can’t help but think that she wasn’t supposed to be the target of the attack. That the real target was me. I think I was supposed to die the same death as Kittie.”

There, that was it. I had told her the whole story. And throughout my account there had not been one scoff, one eye roll, one snicker, nothing. Well, maybe not nothing. I could tell by Peters’s expression that she was definitely taking me seriously, but there was more to it than that. Her mouth now formed a straight, tight line and her eyes seemed to have narrowed from their original shape.

“Miss Katz, who can attest to your whereabouts for the last three hours?”

“My whereabouts? Well, like I said, I picked up my mom’s prescription about forty minutes ago, then I brought it to her—wait a minute. Are you accusing me of something?”

“I’m asking you a simple question, that’s all. What pharmacy did you go to?”

The panic that had begun to subside began to rise again in the pit of my stomach.

“Miss Katz? Do you remember what pharmacy?”

“What? Oh right, Golden Gate Pharmacy on Noriega. I’m sorry, but why is this relevant, what exactly do you think I did?”

Gonzales approached, smiling broadly. “Miss Katz, we found your friend.”

My eyes widened. “D-Dena?”

“She had some car troubles. She came by here to see if you had left yet. I filled her in on what’s going on. She’s pretty upset. She’s waiting for you outside the gate.”

I jumped up, and Peters rose too. “I think we should question Miss Lopiano first.”

Gonzales’s smile disappeared. He looked at me with a new intensity, then at Peters. “Got it. Do you think Miss Katz should come down to the station with us for more questioning?”

“No, I have all the information I need from her right now. Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Katz.”

“I can’t see Dena?”

“I’m sure she’ll contact you after she’s answered a few of our questions.”

The look on Peters’s face told me there would be no negotiating on that point. I nodded to Gonzales and turned to leave.

“One more thing, Miss Katz.”

“Yes?”

“If you’re planning on leaving the city, we’d appreciate a phone call.”

I had no idea how I was able to keep it together enough to drive home. Every time I got stuck behind a slow car or a red light, I had to battle the overwhelming urge to leap out of the Mustang and run home as fast as I could. That’s all I wanted now. To just be barricaded inside my flat with Mr. Katz and to never come out. I was forced to park four blocks from my place. Normally that would have been a minor irritant, but today the length of the walk was way outside my comfort zone. I peered at the sky through the windshield; it was now a cool shade of blue-gray. I stepped out of the car, took a deep breath of the rapidly cooling air and booked it to my apartment.