Chapter 5
The phone screamed at them like a frustrated child as they entered the office. Ordinarily, Bishop would have let the sergeant take the call since he was on his lunch hour. But this was the direct line to the Chief of Detectives. .
"I've been phoning for nearly an hour," the Chief growled. "The son of a bitch broke loose in your area just a few minutes ago."
"Sorry, Chief. We were getting a bite."
"I got a call from Sanctimonious five minutes after the girl was attacked. You'd better check your office for undercover agents. All I need is Sanctimonious calling me to tell me what's happening in my own precincts."
Bishop grinned and winked at Trask. The Chief disliked the new district attorney whom he described as "a failed preacher who was kicked out of Yale divinity school and crossed the street to the law school." The DA was a puritan with a habit of wringing his hands publicly whenever sex offenders broke loose. He used every sex offense mentioned in the city's papers as platforms, to lecture the public on the startling decline of local morals. He also used the occasion to make snide cracks about the slowness of police action. All intended, the Chief said bitterly, to advance his own political career.
"He's already called the mayor to complain about the lack of protection we're giving housewives in your area," the Chief continued. "And the mayor's given him a green light on an independent investigation. Mike, you've got to wrap this damned thing up in a few days or I'll have to replace you."
"But we're doing all we can, Chief," Bishop protested. "I've got several men, including myself, working on the case. We've been tracking down tips for days. Every time a woman thinks she sees the guy, we follow it through."
"And, what the hell have you come up with?" the Chief said bitterly. "Nothing. Some kook, probably a psycho, is terrorizing housewives in broad daylight. In broad daylight, for Christ's sake! Mike, do you know what that makes us look like? We can't get a man who goes out and rapes and kills in the middle of town at noon."
"Chief, the guy could be knocking at the door of any one out of 2,000 buildings in my district. It would be impossible to watch every one of them. I'd need an army of men. All we can do is deploy radio cars up and down the area...."
"That's not enough, Mike. Sanctimonious told the mayor his office is flooded with calls from frightened housewives in the Hollywood area. He's not lying. We're getting them, too."
"So are we," Bishop said reluctantly. "They get all frothed up by these damned TV disk jockeys telling them women are afraid to shop or even walk out alone at noontime."
"Well, they are, goddamn it," the Chief said, furiously. "I've been getting beefs from the supermarket chains, too. Traffic in their Hollywood outlets is down over fifty percent since the prowler started moving there. Are you close to picking up any suspects?"
"No," Bishop said. "There just isn't anything pointing to anybody specific, Chief. All we know is that a tall man in a business suit, carrying an attache case has been seen walking around in the area. He could be a door-to-door salesman or he could be the prowler. He also could be ten thousand guys in this town. We can't go out and arrest every door-to-door pitchman in the area, can we?"
"I don't know. We may come to that," the Chief said. "Well, get on to this Bruce woman. Your sergeant has the report. I meant what I said about the replacement, Mike. This is too big for me to buck, I'm afraid. Hell, maybe you'd even prefer it that way? Aren't you always telling me you want another job?"
"Yeah, but I don't like being pulled out like some damned rookie. Give me a little more time, Chief."
"I'll give you three days," the Chief said. "And that's if nothing else happens. If he gets to any other woman, I may have to transfer you and your partner to the harbor patrol within twenty-four hours. Good luck, Mike."
He hung up.
Bishop made a face and turned to Trask. "I hope you like foghorns," he said sourly.
Lieutenant Mike Bishop sat down on the faded green chintz couch after he finished his check of Penny's bedroom. Penny sat in a love seat with her husband's arms around her while Sergeant Trask made notes. The small detective's spaniel-like brown eyes took in the girl's drawn face. She was wearing a negligee and mules.
"Just a few more questions," Bishop said, sympathetically.
"I've told you everything," Penny said nervously, her breasts shivering against the thin fabric of her wrap as she spoke. "I want a little rest now, please."
"Calm yourself a little and just tell me a few things," Bishop said gently.
The girl's tense face reminded him of his eighteen-year-old daughter, Laurie, the night she had come back from a high school party at 4 A.M. When he asked Laurie what had kept her out so late, Laurie had shuddered just like this girl. It was a terrible experience-having some stranger maul you that way and he knew how she felt. But he had to know more. One woman already had been killed and this one might be dead tomorrow if he did not catch the man.
"Would you like a little more tea?" Bishop asked softly. "Get her some more chamomile tea, Al," he said to the Irish detective.
"You know, my grandmother used to give it to us in Brooklyn when I was a kid," he said conversationally. "Anytime I was tensed up, like after my final exams at high school-or when I took the rookie tests at the police academy. The chamomile'll calm you a little, Mrs. Bruce."
"The only thing!! calm her is sleep," Cliff Bruce bellowed. The short, stocky husband's belligerence made his voice explode.
"If you'd been knocked around by a sex fiend who nearly strangled you, you think some goddamned tea would calm you?"
Bishop bridged his eyes wearily with one hand. Cliff's barely controlled anger was beginning to wear his nerves thin. He had sat there throughout the interview like a nervous terrier straining at the leash.
"I think you've asked her enough questions," Cliff said. "When I got here, I found her nearly hysterical. It was lucky she dropped the phone and ran. Now get up, honey, and come to bed. Take that sleeping pill the Doc gave you."
"In a minute," Bishop's slow, deep voice commanded.
"I don't think you got any right-" Cliff began.
"I've got every right," Bishop said, overriding him. "Don't you understand, damn it? This man's a killer. He's already killed one woman three blocks away and he may come back for your wife."
"Then put a guard on her," Cliff shot back. "I demand you give her twenty-four-hour protection."
"No," Penny yelled. "I don't want that."
"But, honey, you have to. This guy thinks you know him. He'll be back."
"He's right," Bishop said. He nodded his head at Trask, who was heading for Penny with the tea. "He thinks you know him. You may know him. Either case you're in danger."
"I didn't say I know him," she snapped. "I-I just stared at his face and he got that idea."
"Why don't you want a bodyguard?" Cliff insisted.
"I don't want to," Penny said petulantly. "I'm not going to have police around me all the time. When I'm shopping or sitting around or talking to the neighbors. I want to be let alone. Besides, you heard the lieutenant. He said he'd have the area patrolled."
"You can still ask for a guard," Cliff insisted.
"Maybe he's right," Bishop said. He frowned as he remembered how thin he was getting on personnel. He discouraged personal guards unless they were urgently indicated. And in this case the bastard might come back. He might skip through a patrol cruising the area. Anyway, if he did find himself minus personnel, he could ask the Inspector to take it up downtown. There was no reason why the sheriff and the district attorney should get all the men.
"No," Penny repeated quietly. "I don't want it. I'll be careful and the police will be nearby. But I don't want it. Now leave off, Cliff. Let him ask me what he wants."
She sipped some tea very slowly, staring at the window. Through the chink in the blinds she could see a knot of people standing behind the uniformed policeman.
"Now try to remember," Bishop said. "Did you ever see this man before?"
"I'm not sure," Penny said, as Cliff squeezed her hand. "There was just something familiar about him."
"Is there any reason why he'd want to come at that particular time? To see you, I mean," Trask put in.
"What kind of crack is that?" Cliff bellowed. "What the hell you trying to do, make my wife out to be a call girl?"
"Relax, Cliff," Bishop said. "What Sergeant Trask's getting at is, did anyone make a phone appointment to come and see you? Maybe someone did a few days back and you forgot?"
She thought for a moment and shook her head.
Bishop stared at her. "It's funny how he knew you'd be alone."
"He probably just saw her go into the house a few minutes earlier," Cliff said. "He may even have been waiting for her."
Bishop nodded. "I just wondered if he knew your movements, etc. You know."
Cliff snorted.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Bishop said irritably. Cliff's personality was as easy to swallow as ground glass in a bowl of chili.
"There are a dozen guys who know her movements," Cliff snapped.
"Cliff," Penny said, annoyed. "Cut it out."
"Like who for instance?" Trask interjected. The burly Irishman leaned over to hear Cliff's answer.
"My wife goes to art school, nights. The place's full of crackpots," he said.
What kind of crackpots?" Bishop asked slowly. He exchanged a meaningful glance with his partner. Penny's face stiffened.
"Any kind you can name, Lieutenant," Cliff said distastefully. "They all sit around eating up a naked girl on a stool and trying to make the women who are doing so-called sculpture and painting."
"Goddamn you, Cliff," Penny yelled. "That's a damned he! They're just nice men and women interested in art, Lieutenant. They're all fine people. None of them would do anything like this."
Cliff guffawed. "They wouldn't, huh? You ought to see those guys, Lieutenant. All they do is stand around licking their chops. Those girls do their stuff in the tightest shorts and capri pants you ever saw. Then afterwards they all shoot off to a beatnik coffeehouse and get real chummy. Some of these bastards even give the girls a lift home. I told my wife, if any of those bums asked to take her home, I'd knock his block off."
"Shut up, Cliff," Penny shouted. She glared at her husband.
"My husband's the most jealous man ever lived. If he had his way he'd have me in a chastity belt." She turned to Cliff, furiously. "Don't you go making any trouble for those poor people down there, damn you, or you'll wish you hadn't."
Cliff smiled noncommittally at his wife.
"You don't think it could have been someone at that class?" Trask asked carefully.
"Absolutely not," Penny said, unconvincingly.
"Did you know Donna Tyler-the woman who was killed a few days ago in this neighborhood?"
Penny shook her head.
"One more question," Bishop said. "Why did you go to the back door first when the bell rang?"
Penny thought for a moment. "I don't know. I guess it's kind of hard to tell where the ring comes from. If it's my neighbor, Mrs. Manning, she rings back there. I guess I thought it might be her."
Bishop got up wearily. "I guess that's all for now, Mrs. Bruce. We may want some more information later. We'll call you. Please be very careful. And if you see anything suspicious, call us at once."
The two detectives moved toward the street door. Suddenly, as he reached it, Bishop turned and asked casually, "What's the name of that school you go to, by the way?"
Penny's face reddened. "Why? You're not going to question all those people, are you?"
Bishop shrugged. "I don't know yet. But I'd like to know the name."
"The Acme Art Center," she said slowly, looking at Cliff with something akin to loathing. "You're not going to get them all excited down there?" she asked the detective, worriedly. "I won't be able to go back, if you do."
"I'll be careful," Bishop said, frowning.
"Pay no attention to what my husband says about them," she pleaded.
"That wasn't why I asked," the detective said.
"Then why does the school come into it?"
Bishop shrugged. "Donna Tyler was an art student, too. And she went to some school in this area."
Penny paled and said nothing. She saw Cliff's lips tighten. When the police were gone, he turned to her and said slowly, "You're sure you told them everything, Penny?"
"Of course," she said nervously. She did not like the look in his eyes. "I think I'd better lie down a while, Cliff. I'm tired."
He followed her into the bedroom and watched her undress, put on a diaphanous negligee. He watched her for a long time as she lay there. She closed her eyes fitfully, opening them each time to see her husband's eyes staring at her lightly-clad, voluptuous figure.
"What is it, Cliff?" she said impatiently. "Why do you keep looking like that?"
"Did you tell the cops everything?" he said slowly.
"Of course. Why shouldn't I?"
"You sure you didn't know the guy?"
"No."
"You sure you didn't invite one of those wolves from the art school?" he said ominously-
"Now why the hell would I do that?"
"I don't know," he said quietly. "Maybe he invited himself. Maybe he caught a look at that bosom of yours in that school, practically falling out of your halter. Or those shorts pulled up tight against your crotch like a jockstrap glued to your fanny. And, maybe you let him in and gave him a drink and let him get at you?"
"You're crazy, Cliff," she said worriedly. She could see Bishop's remark about the school had triggered his every-ready suspicions. "You know I never let a man come in here."
"If I ever find out you put out for any of those S.O.B.'s, I'll kill you," he said. "My brother once caught a telephone man giving it to his wife. He shot the bastard with a .45. Don't ever let me catch you loving up anybody!"