Copp For Hire, A Joe Copp Thriller (Joe Copp Private Eye Series) (11 page)

Chapter Sixteen

IT TURNS OUT that
Tawney
is really Sandra Matthews and lives with her parents in a very nice home in San
Dimas
. Both parents work so Sandra is home alone; she recognizes me through the peephole in the door and is in-

stantly
terrified, but I quickly learn that it is not so much me that terrifies her as the mere fact that I am there.

      
I hear her gasp, "Oh my God," through the

peephole.

      
So I tell her, "Simmer down,
Tawney
. We

need to talk. Open the door."

      
"Please go away. I'll talk to you at the police

station."

      
She thinks I'm a public cop.

      
"It's better we talk here," I insist. "But not

like this. The whole neighborhood will hear us.

      
I can almost hear the agonizing on the other side of that door. Common sense prevails, though; I hear the bolt slide open and the door opens about six inches. She speaks to me through that slit, in a very shaky voice. "I guess you found Gil."

      
"What was left of him, yeah," I say. "Let me in,
Tawney
."

      
She opens the door all the way and steps away from it.

      
The kid looks terrible. She has been crying a lot; probably has not been to bed. She is holding a little pistol; looks like a toy but I know that it is the real thing. I hold out my hand. She drops the pistol into it; stands there looking like she is about to start crying again.

      
I put an arm around her and walk her to the kitchen.

"Make some coffee," I suggest.

      
She woodenly goes about that small chore while I am talking to her. "I am not with the police. Used to be, but not now." I put one of my business cards on the drainboard in front of her. "I won't pretend that Gil Tanner was a friend. But I have known him a long time. I went to his place last night to give him a message. He was alive when I left there."

      
She gives me a quick and curious look. "Yes, I know that."

      
"Who came after I left?"

      
"A man from building security, I guess. I heard them talking. I was in the bedroom. Getting dressed. Then another man came. Gil was yelling at him. Then I heard the gunshots. I hid in the closet."

      
"You didn't see the killer?"

      
She shakes her head, puts the coffeepot on the stove, turns to give me a level gaze. "Didn't have to see him," she tells me. "I recognized his voice. It was Gil's new partner, Ed Jones."

      
I use both hands to sit her down at the table; I take a chair across from her. "You're sure of that ID?"

      
She gives me the level gaze again. "I am absolutely sure."

      
"So why didn't you go to the cops?"

      
She replies simply, "He'll kill me, too, when he finds out I was there."

      
"Not if he's behind bars."

      
"He's a cop," she says. "They don't arrest cops."

      
"Sure they do. Sure as hell they arrest cops who kill other cops."

      
She shakes her head vehemently. "Gil was afraid of Ed Jones. I mean really afraid. He told me that Ed Jones has friends upstairs, very powerful friends. He warned me never to cross him, said he's a psycho and worse than that he's a psycho with a license."

      
I stare at her for a moment, then ask her, "License for what."

      
"Whatever he wants, I guess. I don't know exactly what he meant by that. But I do know that Gil was really afraid of him."

      
"So why didn't he get himself another partner?"

      
"He wanted to. But I think he was afraid to even try."

      
"Why do you think that?"

      
She shakes her head and mutters something I do not catch.

      
"What?"

      
"I just know that Gil wanted away from that guy."

      
"But he felt that he couldn't do that?"

      
She stares at me for a moment. "He knew he couldn't do that."

      
"How close were you with Gil? In love with him?"

      
 
She gives a sad smile. "He was old enough to be my dad. But he could be very nice. Before Ed Jones came along I thought Gil was God. But we just sort of...not love, no, not like that. We sort of comforted each other, I guess you might say."

      
"How old are you,
Tawney
?"

      
She gives the sad smile again. "Around here, please, I'm Sandra. I'm twenty-three."

      
"For real?"

      
She nods her head. "For real. My parents don't know about
Tawney
. I'd rather they didn't."

      
I tell her, "No way to prevent that now, is there."

      
She looks down, picks at the tablecloth. "I could just leave town."

      
"Forget it. I'll go with you to the cops, if you'd like."

      
She shakes her head. "They'd just twist it around. I was there, so I must have done it, or know who did. No thanks."

      
"Do you understand that Gil was not the first to die? Juanita got it; Juanita’s roommate got it, and George got it.
   
Did you know that?"

      
She murmurs, "I didn't know about Maria."

      
"Did Gil talk about the others?"

      
"Not much. But I know that he was very upset."

      
"Did he tell you who did it?"

      
She shakes her head, raises frightened eyes to mine. "I just know that he was scared, really scared."

      
"And so are you."

      
She lets her breath go in a shuddering sigh. "I am scared silly."

 
     
"Do you know Jim Davitsky?"

      
"Who?"

      
"The county supervisor, Davitsky. Ever meet the guy?"

      
She says, "Now ... wait a minute."

      
"Okay, I'm waiting."

      
"I think that's the guy ... Juanita knew him. Or—no, wait!—it was Maria, Juanita's roommate. Maria is pretty wild—I mean, you know, like anything goes—but Juanita was telling us one night ..."

      
"Telling you what?"

      
She surges out of her chair and takes the coffeepot off the stove; grabs two cups; pours the coffee.

      
"... it was me and—let's see—and George . . . and Linda. Linda is the house mother. We call her that. She's the senior girl. Juanita was—"

      
"Linda Shelton. Bewitching Belinda."

      
"Yes. Juanita was all worried about Maria, this mess she was in with this guy, this big shot. I'm sure that's the name, Davitsky, that's the guy."

      
"How long ago was this?"

      
"Oh, just a few weeks ago. Davitsky . . . yes, that's the one."

      
"What kind of mess?"

      
"I don't remember...just.. some kind of trouble. I didn't hear all of it. I just kind of walked in on it. Juanita was having a talk with George and Linda. It was in the dressing room. I walked in and they were talking about this."

      
"But you don't remember . . .?"

      
"Had something to do with the talent pool, I guess."

      
"What talent pool?"

      
"You know."

      
"I don't know. What talent pool?"

      
She sips her coffee; gives me a trapped look. "We're not like hookers, you know—I mean . . . life would be a lot easier if we were, and we'd make a lot more money. But we work for our money, and we work damned hard for it. It looks easy, sure, from the other side. Try it from our side, for just one week, try it."

      
"Damn it, Sandra, what talent pool?"

      
"There's this pool of sexy girls, see. Not hookers, not professionals that way, but girls who know how to get a bunch of guys all excited. So Linda and George decided, I guess, that here is a handy pool of talented girls that can be counted on to be a lot more fun than a bunch of flat-on-their-back hookers."

      
"George and Linda decided this."

      
"Yes. They started talking up this idea about six or seven months ago and they signed up a bunch of the girls."

      
"Signed up for what?"

      
"For the talent pool. Well, okay, you know what kind of talent I'm talking about. But this was big time. Not sleazy guys in sleazy motels but big shots and fancy places. And groups. Always groups."

      
"Parties."

      
"Right. And everything done with class. No money changes hands. I mean, not on the job. Our money comes directly from George and Linda."

      
"Good money?"

      
"Better than a sixty-forty split with the New Frontier. And a lot more fun. Some of these jobs are like a vacation. You know, a weekend on a yacht or at some swank resort."

      
"Or in Hawaii."

      
She gives me a wondering eye. "Why are you asking me if you already know?"

      
"I know nothing, kid. You're sure this was all George and Linda's brainstorm?"

      
"I just know they started talking it up. At first there wasn't any pressure on the girls to join up. Guess there still isn't, except as new girls come to work at the club. Pretty fast turnover, you know. I told you it's hard work. So the girls come and go. Some stay forever, of course. I've been there four years."