Chapter Three
She awoke to the sunlight coming into her bedroom through the slats of her blinds. She had slept for quite a long time, and the sun was already beginning to warm the inside of the apartment. She was sprawled width-wise on the bed, still in her blue sweater and short skirt. She got up slowly, paced over to the mirror, and saw the smudged eye makeup beneath her eyes and smeared red lipstick. Her hair was a mess, full of tangles. She groaned and pulled at it, then decided to have at it with the brush. First things first, she was going to take a shower and rid herself of the horrible evidence of what had taken place last night.
Once in the shower, she could begin to remember meeting Garrett in the crowded bar. Emotions swarmed through her as she thought of him, and realized that their meeting could not have come at a worse time. In the wake of her friend’s death, how could she even think about engaging with a man, albeit a highly intriguing one, under such terrible circumstances? Silently she cursed herself for being so forward. What now must he think of her, now that she was entirely certain that he knew about her prostitution? How could she face him?
And she was overwhelmed, also, by feelings of grief and loss. This was the girl who had started out with her, back in those lonely days when she had just run away from home and was living on the streets as a homeless woman. After being drawn in by her first pimp, Landon, Darlene had been an immeasurable form of support and companionship for her.
It had been another cold day. Maggie was counting the money she had just picked up from a highly satisfied customer. The man had been wearing a pinstripe suit and presented her with the money beforehand—more than enough to cover her regular dues. He insisted on her quietness and cleanliness, ordering her to shower before the deed. When she had come out, his suit was flung over the easy chair in the hotel room’s sitting area and he was sitting very primly on the bed, looking up expectantly at her. Landon came in and demanded the cash. Maggie looked up smartly and said, “What about my cut?”
Landon growled, “Not this time, Star. You’ve been taking more than you should. I know you’ve been slighting me. I asked one of them how much he had paid for you, and it was well over what you ended up telling me. Hand it over.”
“It’s not true!” Maggie protested. “I’ve always told you the truth. I’ve never once taken more than my share. You have to believe me!”
Landon back-handed her with a ringed hand. Maggie saw shooting stars and reeled, overcome with a swarming dizziness. She staggered back.
A newcomer entered. She was of average height, thin and with long, dark shiny hair. Her eyes were rimmed with especially dark make-up, framing a set of deep brown irises. Immediately the girl raised her voice. “That’s enough, Landon. I told you from the beginning that if you became violent with us, then I would personally report you to the police.”
Landon eased back. “Darlene.”
“Now step away from her. This is another one of your girls, right? I’m telling you not to touch her.” The girl had her fists squarely on her hips, and was cocking her head towards the long, curly-haired pimp, angling her chin at him.
He backed off. Addressing Maggie, he said, “Just don’t think about cheating me again, Star,” the last with a growl. And at that he left the apartment and ambled down the stairs.
“Hi, girl,” she said. “I’m Darlene. Are you alright?”
Maggie thanked her and said, “He’s a peach. I’m glad you came when you did.”
The two girls became fast friends from that moment on. Landon was eventually jailed for assaulting another one of his prostitutes, and Darlene and Maggie went on to go about their business on their own.
Turning from the mirror, Maggie let out a gasp. “Landon.” She had seen his haggard reflection, but when she turned he seemed to look even more disheveled and menacing. “Are you out of jail?”
“Yeah,” he said, in a low, breathy voice.
“How did you get in here?”
“The door was open. I’m sure you don’t mind, Star,” he said, even though she did.
“Are you back to do more business with me?” she said, her hands shaking a little.
Landon looked as though he had been through a nightmare. There were huge, puffy dark circles beneath his eyes, and his chin looked more refined, as though the incarceration had taught him a few lessons in toughness. He glared at her menacingly, even though Maggie doubted that he would lay a hand on her at this point.
She let her shoulders relax, conceding to him. “If you want to be my pimp again, it’s a little too late,” she said, remembering Sam’s warning last night about the serial killer. “I can’t do that anymore. It’s become too dangerous. And besides,” she said flatly, “Darlene is dead.”
Landon’s eyes widened. “Our Darlene? Are you sure? Star, what happened to her?” He grabbed her arms and began to shake her. He sounded as though he had never heard of such a thing happening before. Maggie narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing his believability. Maggie wondered if the timing of his release and the start of the prostitute killings matched up.
“When were you released?” she asked slyly.
But he looked honestly shocked. Maggie couldn’t imagine Landon being that good of an actor. In his face she saw genuine surprise, and, though small, a little hint of sorrow. Beneath that tough exterior and criminal behavior, she thought, maybe there was some part of him that cared. Nevertheless she was still frightened of him, and his re-appearance could not have come at a worse time. “Yesterday,” he said plainly, and then let her go from his grasp. He seemed to be mulling something over, the wheels of uncertainty and disbelief churning on his face. “When did this happen?” he asked. “How could it have happened? Tell me everything that you know.”
She shook her head, drained of energy and patience. “She was killed, Landon. There’s nothing that we can do. I was the one that found her hanging from the rafter. There’s a serial killer on the loose, and he’s targeting streetwalkers. I wish I could have told you differently, but she’s gone.”
A wild look appeared in his eyes. A second there, she was wondering whether to go back on her previous guess that he wouldn’t harm her. He rolled back on his heels, blew a large sigh, and cast his eyes downwards. “I had no idea…” he said. Maggie watched him leave.
Well, she thought, that will tide him over for a while before he comes back to claim me as one of his girls again. She fiddled with the blow-dryer and then dried her hair, what was left of it, anyway. Where there had been tangled clumps of ratty strands, the hair had come out onto the brush, thinning her mane disproportionately. Maggie did not think that Landon would bother her again that day, although she was still reeling from her close-encounter with the man she detested more than any other person. Her hands were still shaking, and her knees felt wobbly. She wanted more than anything to sit down.
On the table beside her bed, she noticed a sharp-looking business card with numbers sprawled across the back. It was the one that Sam had given to her yesterday, with his cell phone number on the back. At their departure yesterday, Sam had told her to give him a call whenever she would like, for any reason at all. Maggie couldn’t help but wonder if this officer had a thing for her. Obviously he was nice, and sensitive to her feelings. But there was a certain way that he looked at her, though, almost like… interest.
The huge lips-shaped telephone rang. Maggie picked it up on the second ring. “Hello?” she asked guardedly.
“Hi, Maggie. It’s me, Sam.” Well, speak of the devil, she thought.
“To what do I owe this honor?” she said blithely.
“Well, I just wanted you to know that the department is looking for any living relatives or family of the deceased. No leads yet. Would you know if Darlene Campbell was her real name?”
“As far as I know,” she said, “Darlene had no other names. She’s never been married and she never spoke of any other identities. I think it’s pretty safe to assume that that was the name that she was born with.”
“Well, I’m sure it won’t take long before we get some more information about her. How long had you known her?”
“A couple of years. She told me that she had left home just as I had, never looking back. We were both eighteen at the time that we met, although I first ran away from home when I was fifteen. I think that Darlene told me that she was sixteen. Her parents are from Ohio, but I do not know their names.”
“Do you know the place of her birth?”
“I can’t say that I do. But I think she lived in Cincinnati for a while. I hope that helps.”
“Yes, Maggie Star. It helps a lot. I’m sure we’re that much closer to finding her family. I’ve put her name and face through a search-engine for missing persons during the last ten years. I have a few leads. With your information, I believe we’ll find her a little faster. And if we do manage to find them, would you like me to notify you?”
“Of course,” she said. “I may not have known everything about her, but like I said we were best friends. Meeting her family would give me some much-needed closure, and of course I would want to pay my last respects.”
“I also wanted to call you to tell you that I had a good time at the restaurant.” So that was it. Maggie had been right that Sam had taken an interest in her.
“Oh, me, too,” she said. “It was a delicious meal. I had been so hungry that it was that much more delectable. And thank-you for picking up the tab—I had needed that.”
“We’ve been working steadily on the Sidewalk Stalker. No major breaks in the case yet, but I will keep you posted, and, Maggie, I would still advise you to keep clear of your former life. I can’t tell you how much of a risk it would be for you to return to it at this point.”
Maggie had thought about his warnings, but for the first time she realized something with a sinking feeling that was going to be a major problem. What about her finances? How would she be able to afford living in her apartment without prostitution? She could apply for a job, but never in her life had she had an honest job, and she didn’t feel that she would know how to even begin. Nevertheless, she had a sinking feeling that she just might have to go that route, seeing as how necessary it would be for her to stay off the streets. It had always appealed to her to be able to make a quick buck, and that was one of the things that led her to prostitution in the first place.
“I won’t do it, Sam,” she swore. But inwardly she was wondering if she was going to be able to do that.
“I trust you, okay? Many women have been able to turn their lives around and I believe that you can, too.” She smiled wanly. “Listen, I just wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing, and ask you if you would perhaps like to have dinner with me later this week.”
Well, that had come as a surprise. She mulled it over quickly in her mind, and felt trapped. This was the officer who was possibly going to detain her last night, and this was the man that she was trying so much to be amicable with. She knew what a hassle police officers could be, and frankly she didn’t want to risk his ire. “Sure,” she said airily, hoping that she came across sounding genuine. “You name the time, you name the place, and I’ll be there.”
When she let the phone drop, she had an overwhelming urge to be outside. She got dressed hastily in a pair of gray jeans and a dark purple turtleneck sweater. She placed argyle socks on her feet and then laced up a pair of boots. She did not wear any jewelry, but had finally conceded to wear a little bit of blush and eye make-up. When she was dressed she donned the black nylon coat with a fake fur hood lining. She zippered up, grabbed her keys, and left.
It was brisk outside. Her breath fogged up in long clouds as she walked, hands in pockets. The dry air stung at her cheeks, but the sensation left her feeling stimulated and invigorated. She walked along a familiar route, looking up at the tall, looming buildings and to her sides, where homeless men in coats huddled against the sides of stony building where grates radiated much-needed heat. Vendors selling refreshments and flowers called out to her, but she declined brusquely with a wave of her hand and walked forward. There was an intense, thick darkness which pervaded the sky, but at the horizon a small band of grayish light partially illuminated the sky. The moon was clear and crescent-shaped, jutting out starkly in the high sky of darkness.
She did not know where she was going. She just knew that she had to be here, among the crowds of amblers, people that she passed by every day, and lonely strangers with wondrous looks in their eyes. She passed by the bar she had stopped at last night, and peered inside. She could not see Garrett, but looked for a long time at a protruding, masculine hand wearing a gold band around its ring finger. That hand was cradling what looked like a glass of scotch and ice, and the man slowly lifted it up, sloshing it back and forth in his hand. She looked at his face, but did not recognize it. Scanning the other faces in the still crowded bar, he was nowhere to be seen.
Was she crazy to want to come back here, in the hopes that she would see him again? She half hoped that he would call her, perhaps apologizing that he had taken so long to get back with her, and charmingly asking to get together for some drinks. But she also half hoped that she would never be able to face him again after he had discovered what she truly was—trash. She knew not much of all about his background, which line of work he was in, or if he was attached. Wouldn’t it be nice if they could get to know each other more? Maggie wrestled with these thoughts as she strolled along the 160th street sidewalk. Just as she turned a corner, a shadowed figure moved quickly and stealthily ahead of her. She braced herself, and moved back.
A rustling sound emanated from where the shadow-person had disappeared. Maggie’s breath quickened, and she remembered Sam’s alert. Try to be brave, she asserted herself, and backed away by minuscule steps. She turned on her heel and started to run away, but she collided with a telephone booth to her left. She reeled with the impact of her head to the glass plating, but picked herself up and scampered away. Her breath was uneven, and she had a slight sensation that someone was following her.
She ran past telephone poles that seemed to zip past her in lightning speed. She flipped back her scarf, which was falling down, and rushed back in the direction she had come. She did not see many people around; it was growing later and the normal crowds that came by these streets during the day had waned to almost nonexistence. She ran to the next telephone booth that appeared before her, intending to call 9-1-1, but as she slowed and then stopped, she could hear no sets of footsteps, not another person breathing, or even stirring. There was only the sound of the wind rushing gently past her on the desolate streets of this part of the city. She thought she heard another rustling; she looked to her left and saw a frail homeless man coughing in the alleyway. She looked left and right, and then all around her for any indication that someone was around her.
There was a closed convenience store across the street with its green neon lights still glowing eerily; it cast a green light on the streets for about a half a block in either direction. She saw a form behind the store window; he was masked and swiping things from the counters. Maggie decided to place an anonymous call to the police that Spencer’s was being robbed, and then resigned to go home. As nervous as she was, she was highly relieved when she made it back to her building in one piece. She stripped off her coat and scarf, and tumbled onto her bed. Inside, the warmth felt invigoratingly good.
Silently, that night, she prayed that she would come through this experience in one piece, and that whoever this person was who was doing this would be caught and given the proper punishments. She cried for the one girl who had accompanied her through this latest leg of her journey through life, sobbing with more and more emotion until she finally fell asleep, plowing into such a deep slumber that she could not even hear the telephone ring in the morning.