An hour was an hour.
Diana
turned on her side to face the new man. She stroked his abdomen as she
listened to him. It was her way of telling him that he could socialize
for the next forty minutes, or he could do more than talk. It was up to
him.
He
had told her that his name was Jonathan, but now he changed his mind.
“Call
me T-Rex. I’m used to it.”
“T-Rex,”
she said. She studied his face and decided that he would tolerate a
little teasing. “Sounds like something an ex-wife would come up
with.”
He
smiled tightly.
“Not
exactly,” he said. “Where I got it, a don’t-mess-with-me nickname
was a good thing to have. Like a first line of defense.”
“Oh.”
She
felt stupid. She had heard nicknames like that before, and she should
have recognized it.
“You’re
just out?”
“A
week.”
“Oh,”
she said again. It led to an awkward silence. “I’m sorry. That’s
kind of a conversation killer.”
She
sent her right hand lower.
“You’ve
got some catching up to do, then. That’s what I’m here for.”
But
her touch didn‘t have its usual effect.. After a moment he put his
hand over hers, not to remove it, but to tell her that she could take it
away.
“This
is cool,” he said. “Just lying next to a woman. It’s been ten
years.”
That
meant he had been inside for something heavy.
“Rape,”
he said, as if she had asked.
She
lay still. Perfectly still.
“I
was convicted of rape,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I did it.”
“Where?
Rahway?”
“Where
else. With the cream of the violent felony crop.”
She
let him decide whether to continue.
“I
have my sister to thank for it, believe it or not.”
“How’s
that?”
“She
introduced us. Said she had somebody for me to meet, living right there
in her complex. She thought we’d have a lot to talk about. Like what,
I said. Turns out we’re both ex-Marines.”
“You
didn’t already know her?”
“The
Marines aren’t exactly a small town,” he said, “I didn’t know
her, but I knew plenty of female Marines. Most of them are better men
than me. But what the hell, my sister went through the trouble, so I
went for dinner and met her. Turns out she was three for three--smart,
funny and attractive. And we got along really well. I couldn’t wait to
call her.
“Which
was when it started to get weird. We’re there on the phone, and
she’s acting like, what ever gave me the idea she would go out with
me?
“And
I felt like dropping it right there. But, see, that was always my style.
I would take no for an answer, and women would be like, what is your
problem? Don’t you know how to play the game? Maybe no means no, or
maybe it means maybe.
“So
I kept her on the phone for an hour, and I called her the next night,
and the night after that, and finally I wore her down. We went out to
dinner, and it kept right on being weird.
“You’re
easy to talk to,” he said suddenly. “Is that part of the job?”
“I
give GFE.”
He
gave her a blank look.
“Girlfriend
Experience,” she said.
Wow,
she thought. He really has been away.
“Sorry,”
he said. “I guess I can’t believe you’re listening. Where I’ve
been, everybody knows how to talk, but there‘s not a whole lot of
listening going on.”
He
paused, as if considering whether to stop there. Diana said nothing. It
was still up to him.
“We’re
sitting in the restaurant,” he said, “and it’s like she’s two
different people. Nice Eleanor stays as long as she can stand it, and
then Eleanor the bitch gives her a break. But somehow we get through
dinner. I had ideas for where to go after that, but I was exhausted from
trying to keep up with her moods. So I drive her home and walk her up to
her door, and suddenly she grabs me and sticks her tongue down my
throat. It wasn‘t a kiss. It was a sexual assault. All of a sudden
I’m choking.
“She
unlocks her door and drags me in after her. And she starts ripping off
my clothes. I start to get the idea, and I take over with my clothes so
she can get rid of hers. I had condoms with me. It was a good thing I
know my way around them, because I hardly had time to get one on.
“So
we go at it for about a minute and a half. I’m grunting, she’s
grunting, then I’m groaning and she’s squealing. We’re still in
her living room, by the way. On the floor, which is not where most women
want to be the first time with somebody. So I pull out of her, and the
rubber is still on me with my little contribution dangling in front, and
she’s looking at it like it’s the most disgusting thing she’s ever
seen. And here’s the weirdest part of the whole evening. She grabs the
condom and rips it off me. Then she gets up and screams at me to get out
of her house, and then she runs into her bedroom, I guess, and slams the
door.
“I
get dressed and go. The next thing I know, the cops are at my door with
a warrant, and that was the end of my life.”
It
was strange. Diana knew she should be unhappy about being alone with
him. But her hooker’s radar wasn’t warning her about him, and if she
didn’t trust it, she should get out of the business and go work at
Denny‘s.
“They
convicted you,” she said. “They must have had some kind of evidence.
Even if they got it wrong.”
“Well,
you probably figured out that they had my semen. Somehow it got from the
condom into her. They didn’t do DNA in 1984, but the blood type
matched mine. And she identified me while they were taking her to the
hospital.”
“So
she testified against you?”
“No,
and that’s probably the worst break I got. They released her from the
hospital, and then she disappeared. She totally vanished. They figured
she was dead. I did too. But they thought I got somebody to kill her,
and I know I didn’t.
“So
anyway, the prosecutor decides he can’t make a murder case, but he’s
got the semen and her statements and pictures of her all beaten up, and
he figures he’s got enough to go ahead with the rape. And what do you
know. He was right.
“My
sister came to the trial every day, but after a while she stopped
looking at me. So I had a pretty good idea where things were headed. You
know what it was like? It was like when you knock something over--maybe
a bottle of milk or something. It’s like the bottle has a mind of its
own, and it knows you can’t do a thing about it. So it makes you watch
while everything goes to hell in slow motion.”
As
he brooded, Diana thought about what he had told her. She could see why
the cops had problems with his story. She wasn’t a cop, though. When
it came to the cops, she and T-Rex were on the same side. For that
reason alone she decided to play along with him. It was something to
talk about.
“I
guess you know you had a lesbian,” she said. “A lesbian who hated
the idea.”
“I
guess.”
“So
why did she accuse you? Why didn’t she tell what really happened?”
Assuming
you’re telling the truth, she thought.
“Who
knows? If you’re right that she was a lesbian, it never came out. She
didn’t have anybody--girlfriend or boyfriend.”
“Were
there any other men around who got the same treatment from her as
you?”
“My
lawyer liked that idea, but his investigators couldn’t find
anybody.”
“Could
she have done it to herself? I mean, maybe she ran face first into a
radiator or something. I’ve heard of things like that.”
“That
came up at the trial,” said T-Rex. “They had experts on bruises and
blood spatter and stuff like that. They all looked at the photos and
said somebody did it to her. ”
“Any
enemies?” said Diana. “Anybody who might have been looking for a
chance to get back at you?”
“If
somebody hates me that much, I sure don’t know about it.”
“Did
meet any new people right about then?”
“Not
really.”
“What
does ‘not really’ mean?”
“Well,
a hooker.”
“Thanks,”
she said.
“Sorry.
I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, we didn’t really meet.”
“So
what happened?”
“I
called somebody from the yellow pages. You know, a ‘masseuse.’ I
opened the door, and I didn’t like her. Just like that. I knew I
couldn’t get it up for her.”
“That’s
interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because
you need to put somebody else on the scene. If there wasn’t another
man, what about another woman? And if Eleanor didn‘t have a lover,
that’s what hookers are for.”
All
he could do was gape at her.
“We
know she got beaten up,” said Diana, “but the semen inside her was
yours. You left it gift-wrapped in the condom, which means anybody could
have put it in her. And I think she might have had experience with
hookers, too.”
“New
one on me,” he said.
“I
don’t do women,” said Diana, “but some girls I know do. They even
have women regulars.”
“No
kidding. Why don’t you do women?”
“I
just don’t. If somebody else wants to, I don’t care.”
“Women
hiring women,” he said. “Damn.”
“Sometimes
it’s a female couple hiring somebody for a threesome. Sometimes it’s
a one-on-one thing, like with any client.”
“How
often does it happen?”
“More
often than I know about, probably. I mean, Vince knows not to send me
women. He wouldn’t even mention it to me if it came up.”
Vince
was the local bartender who had sent T-Rex to Diana.
“Why
do you think Eleanor hired a hooker?” said T-Rex.
“Just
a guess, but what the hell. She was military. This business would be off
by half without the military. And she was a lesbian who hated the idea.
People in that kind of situation want somebody they don‘t have to look
at afterwards. And if you and Eleanor had a hooker in common, that might
be the link you need. And what do you know--here’s this woman you just
happened to piss off right then.”
He
shook his head.
“I
made up some story about a sudden change of plans. I didn’t have
time--you know. I paid her just for coming out. She wouldn’t have been
pissed.”
“I
hate to break this to you,” said Diana, “but she didn‘t buy it.
You wouldn’t have fooled me, and you didn’t fool her. You were
telling her she didn’t have anything to sell that was worth buying.
I’d be pissed, too.
“Now
suppose Eleanor was one of her regulars. The hooker finds out you
screwed her. That’s twice you messed with her business. And suppose
she’s a psycho to begin with.”
He
smiled bitterly.
“It’s
a good story,” he said. “But I’ve got a feeling that’s all it
is.”
“Well,
I tried,” said Diana.
“You
tried,” he said. “Thanks for the effort.”
As
he stared at the ceiling, Diana glanced at the clock-radio on the flimsy
table. He still had five minutes.
Someone
knocked on the door and said something about the front desk. Diana
recognized the voice.
“That’s
Jerry, the clerk,” she said.
T-Rex
sat up and reached for his boxer shorts on the chair next to the bed. He
pulled the shorts on, stood up, and crossed the room.
But
when he opened the door, three uniformed cops piled in on top of him.
All four men landed on the bed next to Diana. For a moment she thought
she would stay where they could keep track of her. Making sudden moves
was a bad idea when cops had their adrenaline going.
Then
one of the men kicked her thigh and changed her mind for her. She got up
and moved to the nearest wall.
Diana looked away while the cops handcuffed T-Rex. She noticed an older
plainclothes cop standing in the doorway. He came halfway to her and
stopped. He was careful to look only at her face, and she remembered
that she was naked. It was his problem.
“You
don’t look happy to see us,” he said. “Did you get paid up
front?”
She
shrugged. She wasn’t going to answer a question like that.
“Never
mind,” said the detective. “I don’t care about that. I care about
murder. He’s killed two women since he got out. You were about to be
number three. Now are you glad to see us?”
She
couldn’t make herself feel relief, because she had never felt
threatened. Something wasn’t right here.
The
detective had already lost interest in her answer.
“Stick
around,” he said. “We’ll need a statement from you.”
After
she had dressed, they talked in an empty room next door. She repeated
T-Rex’s story.
“Sounds
like you believe him,” said the detective.
She
shrugged again. It didn’t matter now. She would never have to risk an
hour with T-Rex again.
“How
long have you been in the business?”
“Seven
years,” she said.
“If
you fall for stories like that, maybe you’re not cut out for this. You
might consider getting out while you can.”
“Thanks
for your concern,” she said.
The
detective got into his car and drove away toward the late afternoon sun.
There was nothing to keep Diana at the motel. She started to walk past
the office and around to the side of the building, where she always
backed into a space in case she needed to make a quick escape.
A
woman loitered in front of the motel’s office. She was in her forties
and attractively lean, but there was something forbidding about her. Her
arms rested at her sides, and her right hand was cupped. Diana told
herself to pay attention to that hand.
That’s
her, Diana thought. This is weird.
She
had been making conversation with the client, and here were her words
made flesh. Only God was supposed to do stuff like that.
Diana
recognized the tingling in her chest and the lightness in her arms and
legs. She was about to do something, but she didn’t know what.
Her
feet knew. They propelled her forward. As she walked, Diana tried to
look like someone who wanted directions to the Interstate. She hoped
that even another hooker would underestimate a woman in a skirt and
heels.
Diana
had a secret. She could do just about anything in heels.
She
knew she was taking a risk. This woman couldn’t afford to kill her
now. The cops would know that T-Rex hadn’t done it. But the woman
might enjoy killing too much to remember her priorities.
Walking
toward the other woman’s glare felt like charging a machine gun. Diana
kept going. When she was close enough, she drove her fist into the
woman’s midsection. A knife fell from the woman’s right hand and
clattered on the blacktop. Diana followed up with a left forearm smash
to the woman’s nose. The woman sat down heavily on the ground. Diana
kicked the knife away.
“That’s
my way of saying thanks,” said Diana.
“For
what?“ said the woman. Diana’s attack had taken her by surprise, but
it hadn’t surprised her. She had already started to recover her
breath. With the back of her hand she wiped blood from her nose as if
she had done it before. Diana told herself to stay alert.
“For
bringing the cops here before you killed me,” said Diana.
“Don‘t
thank me,” said the woman. “They must have figured out he was
here.”
“They
found him,” said Diana. “And they’ll find you. Count on it.”
“Not
a chance. They don’t even know I exist.”
“They
will,” said Diana. “I assume Eleanor is dead.”
“Of
course she’s dead,” said the woman, as if Diana had just embarrassed
herself. “I scared her, but she wouldn‘t have stayed scared long
enough.”
“What’s
your name?”
“Rebecca.
I went by Nuage. It means cloud in French. ”
“Which
means you had to explain it to everybody,” said Diana. “That must
have been a pain.”
She
shook her head..
“I
can’t believe we’re talking about this. You must bring out the
weirdness in everybody.”
“Don’t
talk to me about weird,” said Rebecca. “You could have just driven
away.”
She
has a point, Diana thought.
“So
you’ve been following him around and killing his hookers,” she said.
“Why not just kill him?”
“I
heard he was having so much fun in prison, I thought I’d help him go
back.”
“And
maybe have a little fun yourself?”
Rebecca
shrugged.
It
was fascinating in a queasy way. The psycho whore sometimes appeared in
TV melodramas, but Diana had never met a real one until now. Rebecca’s
obsession with T-Rex had survived ten years without him. It would
survive whatever he got for the new murders.
Diana
reached out to knock on the office door. Rebecca saw her opportunity.
She pivoted on her hip and kicked Diana’s feet from under her. Diana
didn‘t mind falling. She led with her elbow as she landed on top of
Rebecca. For the second time Rebecca’s breath left her with an
agonized grunt. This time she was slower to recover.
“Jerry,”
called Diana, “would you get those cops back here?”
“Why
do you care about him?” said Rebecca hoarsely into Diana‘s ear.
“I
don’t. You messed with my business.”
“Well,
he messed with mine,” said Rebecca.
“Then
I guess I win.”
Copyright 2007 by
Albert Tucher
Albert
Tucher has published Diana Andrews stories in Lynx Eye, Thug
Lit, Mouth Full of Bullets, Muzzle Flash, Crime Zine, and The
Deadly Ink 2006 Short Story Collection. His series of novels about
the character are still looking for a home. He can be reached at AlbertTucher@aol.com.
