It was Friday night. Chloe grabbed her basket of dirty clothes and headed down to the laundry room. It was 11:00 in the evening, but she wasn’t tired. Harry was going to be spending the weekend with her, so why waste precious time doing laundry on Saturday morning? Might as well get it done now.

She knew she might be foolish doing this alone, but at this point she refused to be intimidated by the killer. Damn him! She should have taken it upon herself to go door to door and see who all lived here!

She and Monica should do that very thing next week. If anything, they’d at least get to meet everyone who lived here. They would be brave together. Yeah, the more she thought about it, the more she got excited. They would report anyone who looked the slightest bit suspicious. Have Harry check them out. After all, Harry hadn’t managed to talk to everyone in this building. Or had he? Harry didn’t tell her everything…

Chloe flipped on the light and clomped down the stairs in her brown suede low-heeled boots, carefully watching around the cumbersome basket to see where she placed her feet. There were two washers and two dryers down there.

It was a lonely place even during the day, and suddenly Chloe wondered just what the hell she was doing down here at this time of night. Was she nuts? That crazy man could be anywhere! She’d promised others and herself she wouldn’t put herself in this very position!

Oh my God, she thought, sensing a presence. I’m not alone! Sure enough, over in the corner, sitting as still as stone and watching her was the weird guy from down the hall… Timothy Zeff!

Startled beyond belief, Chloe let out a shriek, dropped her load, and raced back up the stairs. She ran as fast as she could, and that was an ordeal, being so heavy.

Timothy Zeff stood up slowly and looked at the pile of clothes dumped on the floor. Now what was she so scared of? He didn’t have a chance to tell her he’d been standing guard every night down here in case the killer showed up to surprise some innocent woman. He was doing his civic duty, protecting the women in his building. Shoot, he didn’t mean to startle that woman.

Chloe made it to the second floor, extremely out of breath and gasping like she was going to die. She’d thought she could run up to her apartment on the fourth floor, then realized that was stupid. She needed to run outside for help!

So now, being on the second floor, she was going to run across to the opposite stairwell when an apartment door opened and Walter, Wally, whatever the hell his name was, appeared in front of her.

“Oh God… you’ve got to help me,” she gasped, staggering toward him. “There’s a man, the killer, down in the laundry room. Call the police!” she panted.

“Come on in here and I’ll call them.” Wallace gripped her arm and half-dragged her into his apartment. How easy this was, he mused. It was only a matter of time! The fly came to the spider….

“Oh, I was so scared,” she gasped out, gripping the sleeve of his shirt. She was shaking uncontrollably. “Call the police right now before he gets away….”

“Well now, how do we know he hasn’t gotten away? Why don’t you relax and I’ll get you some water?” He led Chloe to the sofa and gently pushed her down. Then he went into the next room, not the kitchen. He appeared once again almost instantly with something in his hands.

Before Chloe’s mind could register, he had his hands about her wrists, trying to wrap a tie of some sort about them. Chloe’s strength returned tenfold. Her adrenaline pumped, and Harry’s crash course in self defense kicked in.

Screaming, she kicked out at him, connecting her heel to his kneecap painfully. Wallace yelped as he lost his grip on Chloe, enabling her to scramble to her feet. She staggered to the front door. Wallace regained his balance and followed suit. Just as Chloe grabbed the doorknob, trying to twist it, he had her once again in his grip of death.

Chloe faced him, her eyes wide in terror as she tried to fend him off. He tried to control her enough to get her into the bedroom. No sense killing her immediately. He’d had his eye on this one for quite some time. He wanted to get to know her first.

Chloe remembered Harry’s tactic. Aim for the nose with the heel of your hand. That will drive the bridge of the nose deep into their brain! Yeah right! Not a good angle for that. The old stomp on the instep! She tried it. Wallace howled like mad as pain shot through his left foot.

He lost his grip once again on Chloe and in that instant, found himself flat on the floor, his head banging painfully on the edge of the hearth.

Chloe stared at the large man for a few moments to see if she truly had managed to incapacitate him. He wasn’t moving! Crying uncontrollably under her breath, she managed to get the door open and once again raced down the second floor. She heard her keys jangling in her pocket and grabbed them in hand. She decided driving to Harry’s was a better idea.

She flew down the stairs to the underground garage.

* * *

Cha Cha DuBois had been tied to the chair for hours again. She was struggling with the ropes around her wrists and feeling them give a little. Unbelievable! she thought. He’d always tied her so tightly. Could luck be with her tonight? What in the world was going on in the other room?

She fidgeted with the ropes again as she heard the struggle in the living room. It sounded like Chloe’s voice! My God! Then she’d heard a thud like someone falling!

She wished she could get this tape off of her mouth! She tried rocking the chair but it was too heavy.

Wallace moaned and shook his head. He felt the back of his skull gently, then examined his fingers. Hmmm, no blood, that was a god sign. He’d survive. Now where had the fat bitch gone? What the hell had she done to him? He got up and staggered to the door and almost fell headfirst into the hallway. Being near the stairway, he could hear the faint clomping of the bitch’s shoes. Garage!

Chloe’s hands were trembling so badly, she nearly dropped her keys twice. Finally she managed to get inside her Corolla. The engine started immediately. Bless you, she prayed.

She threw the car in reverse and, as her lights swept over the doorway leading into the apartment building, she saw his silhouette! He started running toward her. She stepped on the gas.

Wallace made it to his car seconds after Chloe exited the garage. She flew down Mission Street, intending to go straight to Harry’s. Looking in her rearview mirror, she caught sight of Wallace’s lights as he maneuvered out onto the street in hot pursuit!

As Chloe sped through the intersection, luckily the light was green, Harry was stopped to make a right turn going to her place. Say, wasn’t that Chloe’s car? he thought as he watched her taillights, then saw the older white Toyota hot on her heels. Cressida?

Flipping his wheel immediately to the left, Harry gave chase. He didn’t know what was going on, but he thanked God he was in the right place at the right time.

Seeing his headlights in her mirror, Chloe decided going to Harry’s wasn’t such a good idea. She’d better just try to lose this guy. And he lived in her apartment building all along! They’d been right! My God! The killer! She sobbed out loud as she strove to keep her car on the road.

Wallace cursed as he followed that friggin’ woman. He still couldn’t figure out how she’d managed to escape. Must have used karate on him or something. Well, that only meant her death would have to be more painful. He laughed out loud as he thought of the things he was going to do to her. Then he’d kill the black bitch when he got back.

Harry picked up the radio in his car. He called in and made it known he was in hot pursuit of a potential problem but not too sure of what it was. The dispatcher at the other end told him to be more explicit.

“Never mind, I’ll call in again when I know I’ll need backup. But it looks like we’re headed for the Presidio.”

“Officer, you know you can’t do that. You’re not calling in the correct procedure,” the dispatcher tried to explain.

He hung up.

Chloe drove like a madwoman. It was hard to see the streets through her tears and fighting the growing fear. She was afraid she could drive forever and he’d follow her… she’d never lose him.

Maybe her only chance would be to abandon her car and hide till morning. Maybe hide and try to find a house where she could call 911 for help. She turned onto Lincoln Boulevard and sped toward the Presidio.

Harry Moretti once again called control. “Now I need back up. I’m on Lincoln Blvd. turning onto Long Avenue. A friend of mine is being chased. That’s all I know. But something is very wrong, and I need help. It’s possible this is the serial killer we’ve been after.”

“There’s a unit near the Presidio–”

“It looks like they’re headed to the Fort Point Historic site,” relayed Harry. “Send the unit over there and have them look for me. I’m driving my white Nissan 300. Like I said, I don’t know what’s going down, but odds are it’s real bad.”

“Ten-four.” she replied.

Harry saw the car he was following slow down and pull over to the right. Harry killed his lights and slowed to a stop.

Chloe parked her car and jumped out. She ran as fast as she could toward the Old Station Hospital. It had been built back in the 1860s and was the oldest standing building in the Presidio. She desperately tried a side door, but it was firmly locked. No way could she try the front… he’d see her. She had to hide!

She pushed away and started running, trying to find a place to conceal herself. She found a wide hedge with pointy leaves to fit behind. This would work for a few minutes, but then she must find people for help!

If she could keep out of sight for hours it would be to her advantage. Her hand still stung where she’d struck his face back at the apartment, and she shook it back and forth.

Wallace saw her taillights pull over, and he did the same. He thought he saw a pair of headlights following him, too. Then the lights disappeared, so maybe he’d imagined it. He was too concerned about the bitch he was going to get. How could she be so quick while being so fat?

He jumped out of his car and headed for the Old Station Hospital. He was very pissed off now. It was so dark in places, how would he ever find her?

The dumb broad was probably in the hospital, Wallace thought, as he rattled the locked side door. He knew he hadn’t seen her go in the front. Nope, she couldn’t have gotten inside. She must be around here. Maybe she was heading for the Fort Point Historic site? It was at the base of the south tower of the Golden Gate bridge.

Close to the site was a cliff leading dangerously down to the bay. In the distance, Wallace could hear the waves breaking over the rocks below. He looked around quickly, grinding his teeth together in boiling fury. He didn’t think she’d be heading that way.

Chloe heard heavy footsteps and labored breathing. She knew it was him. She scrunched down lower behind the hedge, wishing like crazy she weren’t wearing her light-colored sweater. Fear tasted like copper in her mouth as she licked her dry lips. Oh God, there he was!

She could make out his silhouette as he passed by a yellow street light, hazy with light fog. He was only a couple of yards from her hiding place. She hoped he couldn’t smell fear like an animal, or she was dead for sure!

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and prayed she was only dreaming, and that she would wake up in her warm bed with Harry by her side. Why was all this happening?  Because the world is full of nuts! That’s why. Tears began to flow.

Wallace started humming tunelessly. Chloe thought he sounded like a madman, making her instincts to flee all the more powerful. He suddenly stood still, listening, and then started walking in her direction.

Harry pulled out his gun and headed toward the hospital. That’s where the man was headed. Chloe had to be here somewhere. He prayed she was safe and was using her head, if what Harry was finally figuring out was true. This guy was obviously chasing her and could very well be the killer!

Wallace spotted her light sweater through the bush. His handsome, grinning, lunatic face coming closer brought a sudden sharp scream from Chloe’s lips. She tried to scramble out from the bush, twigs snatched at her hair, scratching her face, but she fell out into the open. And Wallace fell on top of her.

Chloe kicked and struggled as hard as she could. Her knee connected with sheer luck and accuracy with Wallace’s targeted crotch and he once again found himself momentarily incapacitated. Paralyzed, he could not believe she’d done it again! Rage boiled out of control as he writhed in absolute agony.

Chloe used that precious moment to get away. Scrambling and sobbing, she flung herself away from his prone body and staggered to her feet. Then she ran as fast as she could into the dark in one direction.

Harry ran along in the moonlight, straining his ears for any sounds at all. He heard scuffling and a cry that could only be from his beloved Chloe. He felt the panic rise and ran faster in that direction.

Suddenly he stopped and peered into the dim darkness lit only by a lone street light and the moon. He could make out a form on the ground and a fleeting glimpse of a light color going off into the direction of the cliffs. But before he could take another step, the figure on the ground rose swiftly, staggered once, then took off after what had to be Chloe.

Chloe Banyon whimpered and sobbed as she ran, blind terror taking her over completely. She knew her killer now. Knew his face. How could this be happening? She had no sense of direction now and was following every fiber of instinct to flee. She heard the man’s pounding footsteps as he came closer. All of a sudden she felt strong arms wrap around her waist, and she was knocked flat on her face. His weight pressed her down into the soft, moist earth.

“Got you now, bitch. You’re going to die,” he panted hoarsely in her ear. His breath was stale and sour. She whined and closed her eyes tight, willing him away.

“But first, I’m gonna give you what you deserve. I gotta watch out for you because you’re a clever one,” he panted. She was a fighter, and he liked that. No sense killing her immediately.

He tried to flip her over onto her back. Chloe was exhausted. She had never had so much physical exertion in her life! But the strength came from somewhere, and she planted another lucky jab, this time into the man’s solar plexus with her knee. Was he stupid or what? She was a fighting machine! Strength flowed through her limbs as once again she scrambled to her feet while Wallace Carrick fell onto his side. But just as she made it to a standing position, he rose quickly and made a grab for her.

Chloe screamed and ran about three feet before she found herself treading air and began to fall.

* * *

Cha Cha finally got her wrists untied. Sobbing with the effort, the relief, and the fear he would return and catch her, she managed to stagger to her feet.

She was naked and grabbed the thin blanket off the bed. She half-wrapped herself in it and headed for the door. She listened before opening it, thinking he could be on the other side, teasing her, waiting to grab her. Then, feeling relatively safe, she opened the door into the living room.

* * *

Wallace stopped in his tracks as he saw the woman disappear over the edge of the cliff. He backed up and started to turn to run back to his car, coughing and sucking in air painfully from that vicious kick he’d been given.

Wallace took two steps when he was hit by a flying body. Harry punched him in the jaw and sent him sprawling. Then he jumped on Wallace’s chest and grabbed him about the throat. “Where is she?” Harry hollered into the stunned man’s face.

Wallace replied with a jab to Harry’s ribs. Gusting out a breath of air, Harry was knocked painfully over onto his side. The man was now on top of him and trying to get a grip around Harry’s throat. Briefly Harry wondered where the backup was. But his thoughts were turned to Chloe. He had to find her!

“The friggin’ bitch went over the side, man,” whispered Wallace horribly. “She hit the rocks below like a broken doll. And that’s where you’re going, too, you fuckhead.”

Harry fought like a man possessed. Chloe was not dead! He refused to believe it. He managed to get a solid punch into the madman’s eye and knocked him back, his fist burning in pain.

In a moment, the two were standing and punching wildly. Harry backed the man closer to the edge of the cliff. His punches grew stronger with his fueled desire to find his love. Two more solid punches sent Wallace back and spinning… careening, right over the edge of the cliff!

His surprised scream was heard all the way down. As he initially went over, his eyes were open in stunned disbelief. In the brilliant full light of the half moon, he found himself staring straight into the terrified, wide-open eyes of Chloe!

She was hanging precariously by a tree root and perched on a small ledge of rock. Her right foot bent painfully under her weight. She watched in frozen horror as Wallace Carrick spun out of control past her, flying to his death upon the water-covered rocks below.

She closed her eyes tightly shut and began to whimper.

Harry, staggering in one spot while wiping the blood from his cut lip with the back of his hand, watched incredulously as the man pinwheeled over the cliff. But then his attention instantly turned to Chloe.

“Chloe! Chloe!” he screamed into the night.

“Harry!” she called up weakly, hoping her voice would carry. She was so feeble.

Suddenly Harry’s strained face appeared over the side, dancing in an eerie yellow glow. A beam of light played over her body. “Harry!”

“Chloe! Hang on! Hang on, baby! Oh God! I’ll get you up!” She looked to be about fifteen feet down. “Hang on!”

Two uniformed officers came running up behind Harry. “What’s going on here?” they wanted to know. Harry filled them in quickly in while they raced to the unit to call for paramedics and a  rescue vehicle.

As he waited for the rescue team, Harry never left Chloe. He swore to himself that she’d be okay and they’d get her to safety. He soothed her nerves with talk of what they would do later that night. He’d fix her hot chocolate, they’d watch the late show… he just rambled to keep her mind off of the dangerous rocks below.

He glanced back at the road, and parked not far from Chloe’s car was the Cressida that had eluded Harry. He knew he’d checked the underground garage twice for this car. It was never there. Perhaps it was just his rotten luck the guy hadn’t been home every time he looked. But that was all in the past now.

* * *

As Chloe sat in the ambulance, she cried uncontrollably on Harry’s shoulder. “I could have died, Harry.” She looked at him miserably, breath hitching painfully. “I could have been down there—” she shuddered.

“Shhhh, shah, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he patted her head as he hugged her tightly while she sobbed. God, he was absolutely aghast at the thought of how close he’d come to losing her.

They’d have to fish out the killer’s body as soon as it was daylight. His identity would have to wait. As long as the son-of-a-bitch was dead, that’s all that mattered to Harry at this moment.

Only God could have placed him at that intersection tonight at the right moment for him to see Chloe racing off into the night.

“Moretti? Can we see you for a moment?” asked the young officer. Harry kissed Chloe and said he’d be right back.

One of the officers informed Harry that they had just heard a call over the radio that a woman was found half-alive in the Breakers apartment house, and she’d said that she’d been held captive since last Friday. “I think it might be the DuBois woman.”

“Cha Cha!” Harry said, unable to believe it! But he also knew it had to be her. Harry closed his eyes and made a vow. He and Chloe were flying to Reno next weekend and getting married. Nothing would stop them now. They’d make a grand weekend out of it.

“Thanks, guys,” he told the officers. “That’s the second best news I’ve heard tonight. The first is that the shithead is finally dead!” He climbed back into the ambulance.

“Chloe?” He wrapped the blanket tightly around her and looked into her face, now devoid of make-up and streaked with dirt and a couple of bloody scratches. Her hair was a damp tangle of weeds and darkly matted with mud.

Knowing her, if she’d looked into a mirror she would have screamed in fright to have him see her like that! But never had she looked more beautiful to Harry. She looked up him in utter exhaustion.

“What?” she said in a tiny voice. Her eyebrows knitted together under her tangled blonde bangs.

“Good news. Cha Cha was found alive. Right there in The Breakers.”

“No! Really?” she threw her arms about him and cried from relief. “Oh Harry….”

He let her cry for a moment, then lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “And one more thing, Chloe Banyon. Will you marry me? Now, this weekend? I can’t live without you honey, and I can’t bear to be apart. You can invite Monica and Ben, Cha Cha, whoever you want. But after the ceremony, I want you to myself. They can go their merry way. It’ll be our weekend. What do you say?”

“I say… you bet!” she grinned ear to ear. The nightmare was over at last!

“Sir? We’re leaving for the hospital.” The paramedic indicated Harry was to leave the ambulance now.

“I’ll be riding with her because I’m not leaving this woman’s side ever again.” The young man shrugged.

The double doors closed with a bang, and the two of them hugged tightly as they headed out for General Hospital… where unfortunately, Wallace Carrick would not be reporting for work tomorrow.

THE END

Their hearts weren’t exactly into it, but they’d been booked far in advance and they had to attend. Chloe and Monica were to be at Sak’s Fifth Avenue at 11:00 on Thursday. The fashion show was for Jean Paul Gaultier’s latest fall fashions.

A big media party would be held afterwards at the St. Francis Hotel. There were even two guest models appearing, Vendela and Christie Turlington, who was home in San Francisco for a visit.

Chloe was using Bobbi Brown make-up today and had a model named Chelsea in the chair. She drew a thin line of pencil liner next to the top lashes, then for a smoky effect, layered it with outward strokes of dark powder eye shadow on a sponge applicator.

“I keep it close to the lashes,” Chloe told Chelsea as she worked. “It would be too much on the lid, and you’d look like a raccoon.” Then she curled Chelsea’s lashes and applied a coat of her favorite mascara, a volumizer.

Then she separated the lashes with a metal comb. Chloe added the brownish lipliner and brushed the whole finished face with sheer powder. “Okay, you’re done. Next!” She tossed the used applicators into the trash and dug out a fresh batch.

Monica was next to her, working just as diligently. The show was to start in an hour. Jean Paul was walking through, talking with the models and adjusting the clothing on their skinny bodies. His very white-blond head stood out among the crowd of feminine half-dressed bodies. He came up to Chloe and watched her for a moment as she worked on a redhead’s face. “Mmmm, do I smell my fragrance?” Jean Paul asked Chloe playfully.

“Yes, you do!” Chloe made sure she wore his fragrance just in case this very thing happened. She felt elated that he’d even spoken to her.

“She looks fabulous,” he told Chloe of the model she was just finishing. Then he turned to Monica to compliment her work.

“Okay, you’re done.” Chloe told the redhead.

“Thank you, I’m gorgeous once again!” she trilled. She went off to find her outfit.

After the show started, Chloe and Monica were still busy with the touch-ups. One of the models, a first-timer, after her first time out on the catwalk, came back and threw up!

A janitor was called to clean up the awful mess she made in a corner. The smell nearly made Monica’s stomach contract. She had to open a back door and take in several deep breaths.

Finally, the show was over and the cheers had died down. Another success. Everyone came to the back, and cameras went off again. These shots would be in Allure Magazine in a couple of months. It was extremely exciting.

Chloe and Monica gathered up their gear and waved goodbye. This time they left with their paychecks in hand. They drove over to the St. Francis in Monica’s little white Escort.

Chloe found a phone and tried to call Harry. He was out, she was told. She wondered if they had found Cha Cha. She asked Monica, “Do you want to stay for the luncheon?”

“Yeah, why not? Take our minds off things.”

They had as good a time as they could manage. The media and photographers were everywhere snapping photos of the models with Jean Paul. It was rather exciting. Finally, about 5:00, the girls decided they’d better go home.

“I want to give Ben a call when we get home. I haven’t spoken to him all day,” mused Monica, staring our the car window as they fought the downtown traffic.

* * *

Ben Fuentes and his brigade arrived on the scene just as the suspected pyromaniac was leaving. Unbelievably, the idiot was just dropping the red can of gas. Obviously, he was having too much fun watching his handiwork, and in fact, may have subsconsiously wanted to get caught.

Ben flew off the truck before it completely stopped and made a running charge after the guy. He gave it everything he had despite his boots and heavy fire apparel. With a grunt, he threw himself into the air, knocking the guy to the ground. They both lay there stunned as Josh and Scott ran up to pull Ben off the struggling firebug.

Josh pinned the guy’s arms behind him while Ben caught his breath and checked his painful rib. He might have cracked it during the fall. Scott helped Ben over to the truck so he could sit down. Josh had the guy’s arms pinned behind so he could not move until the authorities showed up.

The rest of the crew was able to put out the fire without too much trouble and not much damage, while the police finally arrived to take the man in custody.

Later, Ben found out the perpetrator was a young man of twenty-two, a Thomas Bean, who was shuffled from foster home to foster home most of his life.

Thomas Bean had deep-seated problems, and what really made him cheerful was to see buildings go up in flames. Never mind that he destroyed people’s lives in the process.

Intensive therapy was in store for him, plus he’d be put away for a long time to come. Bean had caused three deaths before he was apprehended, and many thousands of dollars in damage to property. Ben and the crew were absolutely relived to know he was in custody.

Ben later found out that he indeed had a cracked rib from the fall. He was sure to get the ‘accident-prone of the year’ award. He got a hold of Monica and had her come and get him at the General Hospital. Monica was panicked again, of course. She was sorry to let Chloe know that she needed to spend time at Ben’s apartment to take care of him. As soon as he could get around on his own, she’d come back and stay with her.

“Don’t worry about it, Monica. I’ll be fine. I’ll keep the door locked tight and won’t go anywhere.” Chloe assured her. While she assured herself.

“Harry, I can’t stand it. Why don’t we go from apartment to apartment and look for her. We can’t sit on our asses—”

“Chloe. Calm down, honey. I know you want to help all you can. But believe me, we’re doing all that is possible. Maybe she took off with a new man or something—” he trailed off, knowing that was ridiculous.

Chloe just looked at him.

“Oh come on, Harry,” said Monica. “You know that’s just not true.”

“Girls, that’s all I can say. She’s not a missing person yet, and it’s out of our hands.” Harry was telling the truth. What good would it do to go from apartment to apartment? All someone has to do is not answer. You can’t go kicking in doors.

“Why did we say we’d meet her? It’s our fault! We knew better than to be alone. I can’t believe this!” moaned Chloe.

“Look, don’t start blaming yourselves! That’s the worst thing you can do,” Harry explained. “Yes, I told you all to stay together, but what happened, happened. You’ll make yourself crazy with the ‘what-if’s’.”

“Harry’s right,” said Monica. “We’re all adults here. My God, it was only a few yards away.” She was trying to rationalize, but still the guilt crept in.

* * *

She wouldn’t, couldn’t look at him. She was so embarrassed at being naked and helpless. Tears leaked from her eyes and were absorbed into her hair. This is a dream, she tried to believe over and over again. But he was right here in this very building all along. How could they have been so blind!

“See? I didn’t touch you. And you thought I was going to rape you or something worse. I can’t even bring myself to think such thoughts with women like you!” said Wallace in disgust, yet grinning at her. “Are you crying because I psyched you out? You women are so good at faking.” He liked having them stripped of their protective clothing. That put them in their most vulnerable state.

He stood in his brief black bikini underwear at the foot of the bed and flexed his muscles. He wasn’t exactly buffed, but he had a nice physique and he was good-looking. Cha Cha thought maybe she should try a new approach.

“Um, yes, I felt rejected… but it’s not the first time. I was wondering… could I have a bite to eat? I’m awfully hungry….” she tried a wavering smile.

Surprisingly, Wallace agreed. “I’ll go fix something and bring it in.” He left her alone with her fearful thoughts.

* * *

It was Sunday. No word from Cha Cha. The girls had to go to work the next day. How were they supposed to carry on? The police couldn’t find anything. They had scoured the apartment building Sunday afternoon and came up with nothing.

She was just gone. Poof! All they could do was wait for a body to be discovered in the bay. Chloe and Monica even drove by the Baby’s Breath and asked if they’d heard from her.

All that managed to do was make Cha Cha’s co-workers very afraid and worried for her. They thought maybe she was ill, but it wasn’t like her not to call in.  Yet no one thought to check on her.

Everyone at the salon was pretty free with their time around the Baby’s Breath… most were part-time models and took off when they needed to. But they always checked in.

Just as Chloe and Monica were leaving the shop, Detective Doyle pulled up to question the employees of the Baby’s Breath about Cha Cha’s last hours at work. He nodded hello at Chloe and Monica.

* * *

Harry Moretti and Sam Mooney drove around the Embarcadero. “Do you think we’ll find her here?” asked Sam, squinting his eyes looking out into the bay.

“Well, if I had my guess, yes. But I’m praying she won’t. But realistically, I have no hopes for her being found alive. That woman does not pull stunts like this. I’m afraid she’s dead, and it’s only a matter of time till she surfaces.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid you’re right.” Sam sighed. “Let’s go get some lunch and check in.”

* * *

Chloe and Monica went through the motions at work. Their supervisor, Sylvia Waters, was concerned. They looked so depressed and upset. She suggested they take the day off, but they refused.

“What can we do at home but worry?” Chloe said. That was the last thing she needed, time on her hands that did no good. And that was the truth. They couldn’t look for Cha Cha because where would they start?

No, the awful visions of her submerged and getting ready to surface was inevitable.

Later during lunch break, Monica and Chloe ate in silence at a nearby Burger King in the mall. Looking around at all the busy shoppers doing their thing, oblivious to the heinous crimes being committed in this beautiful city by the bay, Chloe shook her head.

“What?” asked Monica, popping a french fry into her mouth.

“It’s just impossible to believe. First Steffi, now Cha Cha. The killer has to be right there in our building or hers. Has to be! Right under our noses! How else could they be caught? Jesus, Monica. I feel so helpless, and the police are useless!”

“Hey, okay… I know how you feel.” She patted Chloe’s arm carefully. “Don’t start me crying—”

“I’m sorry,” she placed her hand over Monica’s comforting one. “All we can do is wait. But I can’t help wondering if she’s out of her misery…or if she’s hurt somewhere—”

“I know. I think that too. You know, I have these feelings that she’s still alive….” Monica said honestly. She’d been having dreams of Cha Cha held captive somewhere. But maybe that was left over from a movie she’d recently seen on TV. She hadn’t wanted to mention it to Chloe.

“Wouldn’t that be something if she was….”

“Mmmm,” Monica replied around her hamburger. “Look, we’ve got to get back to work. Finish up and let’s go.”

* * *

Wallace was scrubbing down the metal drawer where the latest car accident victim had lain before the mortuary came to retrieve him. He was thinking about his captive and how unusual it was to have a person to come home to.

The thought of what a normal life would be, a man coming home to his wife and kids, had never entered his mind. Wallace Carrole was completely insane and probably never had a normal thought cross his mind since high school. Thanks to Mother.

Cha Cha was tied securely to the bed, and when he left for work, he made sure her mouth was taped shut. He didn’t want nosy neighbors checking out any screams.

Since Sunday, he’d been working the 10:00 till 8:00 shift. Then he went home and tormented his guest. He fed her a small dinner, read out of the Bible, and preached to her. She was always quiet and didn’t sass back. He appreciated that.

But by Friday, it would have been one week since he’d captured her. That was the time limit he set for himself. He’d do away with her then.

Maybe he’d better make it Saturday, since that was his next day off. Yeah, Saturday morning… then he could take his time and do it right. He kept those thoughts in his mind as he scrubbed the metal briskly till it gleamed brightly. No more blood staining it.

“Wallace!” Dr. Hackburn came hobbling up to him. “I’ve got another one on the fifth floor to bring down. Need you to collect her. Woman in room 535. Cancer got her.”

“I’ll go get her,” Wallace grabbed a gurney and headed out the swinging double doors to the service elevator. He whistled a Broadway tune as he stood waiting for the doors to open.

As he entered room 535, he saw the elderly woman prone on the white-sheeted bed. She looked as bleached as the bedding. She was ravaged and emaciated and must have put up one hell of a fight before surrendering to the disease.

Wallace pushed the gurney next to the bed and gripped the sheet she was lying on. With a good hard tug, he pulled the sheet and the frail body onto the gurney with a grunt.

A slim, blonde nurse popped in through the door. “Oh hi! Finally,” she threw him an exasperated look with her hands on her hips. “She’s been here for over an hour. I’ve got to get this room cleaned out.” She smiled at the handsome, tall man dressed in surgical greens. She didn’t know his name but saw him often in the halls maneuvering gurneys with sheeted cadavers on them.

“I’ll be done in a minute.” He flashed her a brilliant, pearly-toothed smile. Wallace covered the woman with the white sheet, and he was ready to roll.

* * *

Cha Cha lay there staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts scurried like laboratory rats searching for the maze exit. Her mouth hurt and itched where the tape covered her.

She didn’t dare start to cry again because it made breathing too difficult when her sinuses plugged up.

What day was it? She’d lost all track of time. She was lying on the bed still nude, but with a thin blanket over her. At least he’d made sure she wasn’t cold. Maybe he was going to let her go eventually? But deep down she knew that was never going to happen.

She looked about the room. It was painted a peachy color. There were several small pictures of Jesus on one wall and a crucifix over a small mirror. That looked normal enough. However, turning her head to the right, she saw a collage of large black and white pictures.

Women with their heads snipped off with scissors, naked bodies of women… dead she supposed. Where he’d acquired these pictures she didn’t want to know. But they weren’t phony pictures—they looked too real, and they were blown up to about 11” x 14”. She turned her face away in shuddering trepidation.

And there was also a large zodiac sign in a frame, with smaller pictures of dead-looking women surrounding it. Like it was a shrine or something. He was a crazy man, to say the least. He preached at her and ranted and raved about sin and temptations, taunting her. All the while telling her what a slut she was. How she used men.

Cha Cha shook her head slowly at the memories of her few nights with this madman. Finally she closed her eyes and prayed for rescue or a quick death until she mercifully dozed off.

* * *

When Wallace arrived home around 11:00, he woke her up. She was startled.

“You smell, bitch. I’m going to have to give you a bath.” He gripped the duct tape over her mouth and pulled sharply. It stung so bad that all she could do was feel her eyes water.

“I can take one by myself if you let me. I won’t try anything,” she said meekly, her mouth difficult to move.

“You bet you won’t try anything. I’m giving you the bath.” He untied one of her hands and hauled her upright, then untied the other and secured them behind her. Cha Cha was so weak from hunger, she had no strength to fight if she tried.

He led her into the bathroom and made her sit on the toilet seat while he ran the water. For good measure, he tossed in some Calgon. He pressed the tape back over her sore mouth.

Finally he eased her into the water and he left her to soak, but not before she caught a glimpse of herself in the medicine chest mirror. She couldn’t believe the reflection staring back with hollowed out, red-rimmed eyes with deep black circles! Her hair was sticking up all over the place, and that black strip of tape across her mouth just added to the miserable picture. She closed her eyes and moaned pitifully as Wallace steered her into the tub.

Cha Cha thought nothing ever felt so good as this hot water cleansing her aching and weakened body. The filth from his brief touches was finally rinsing off. He used a large bath sponge on her, and the hot, fragrant water felt so good as it sluiced over her shoulders and back. Then he left her to soak in leisure.

But after an hour or so, the water had turned quite cold. Wallace had fallen asleep on the sofa. Cha Cha lay there in chilled misery as she waited for him to come and get her.

About 2:30 in the morning, he did. He dragged her shivering body from the water and shoved her back into the bedroom, pushing her onto the bed. She wasn’t even dry, and the sheet under her felt clammy and damp. Her teeth chattered behind the tape. Wallace rolled her over onto her stomach and released her wrists, but hung onto one of them for security.

Then he tied her back up, on her back, with her wrists secured to the posts. After binding her ankles to the foot of the bed, he stood back to survey his work. She was clean but appeared very cold from the look of gooseflesh. She stared up at the ceiling, not at him.

“Too good to look at me?” He jumped on her chest suddenly, knocking the breath from her. She felt like her ribs had been crushed, her breasts flattened.

His hands snaked around her neck, and he began to squeeze. She stared at him now, pleading. Little noises deep in her throat came from behind the tape. This is it!

She felt his grip tighten, her head felt light, and a buzzing started somewhere back behind her eyes. She looked into his frightening slitted gold eyes; sweat was popping out on his forehead.

He’d done this to her before, several times… But this is it, she thought. I’m going to die. That was all she remembered until she woke to the bright sunlight streaming in through the curtains. She was alone in the house and secured as tight as ever.

Her stomach growled from hunger, and she was so thirsty… how long was he going to keep her like this? Is this what he did to Steffi and the others? Silently, she wept until she fell into a exhausted sleep.

The telephone rang shrilly. Chloe answered it breathlessly.

“Hello?” She had run from the bedroom and nearly slipped on that damn throw rug again. It was Bradley James from downstairs. Bradley was inviting the girls to a birthday party thrown for Jeffrey. It would be this Friday evening, and no gifts were required. Could they come?

“Of course we’ll come, Bradley. How nice of you to invite us,” said Chloe. “We’ll bring him a gift, too.”

“Oh no, please don’t… that’s not why I invited you. We’d just like your company.” Bradley said emphatically.

“Mmmm, all right. What time?”

“8:00 sharp. Dress up, too. We love to dress up,” he giggled. “Your boyfriend is welcome, too.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yes, the nice handsome Italian man we met when he was questioning that Mr. Zeff down the hall.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember that. Well, he may be working. We’ll bring our other friend, Cha Cha. She loves a party! Thanks again, Bradley. Bye.” She hung up and went to find Monica.

It was Friday night and the party was in full swing by 8:15. Monica and Chloe brought Jeffrey a gift anyway from Bendel’s, a hot-looking black rayon shirt. He was thrilled with it and so happy that they could make it to the bash.

“We see you all at the Cellar but never really party together. I’m so glad you came, but you shouldn’t have gotten me this lovely shirt! But thank you so much anyway!” Jeffrey beamed holding it up to his chest, then squeezed them both in a delicate hug.

Harry and Ben couldn’t make the party. The girls thought maybe because it was a ‘gay’ party, they’d found an excuse! But honestly, Ben and Harry weren’t like that. They told the girls to go ahead and have fun. They were going to Charlie’s Tavern on Division Street for a guys’ night out.

Jeffrey and Bradley were quite the couple. The life of the party. Their apartment was tastefully decorated in a ‘40s theme and very spacious compared to Chloe and Monica’s.

There were only two other women attending, and they appeared to be a couple themselves. The rest of the party were friendly and flamboyant men in various forms of dress and undress. Music blared, almost as captivating as at the Cellar Club. That sexually primitive dance beat.

“Hasn’t anyone complained yet about the music?” asked Chloe as Bradley danced by, shaking his little butt.

“No, but if they do, we’ll turn it down. Have fun, sweetie!” Off he danced once again.

“That’s good, because we love it!” said Monica loudly.

Chloe and Monica each grabbed a new drink and danced by themselves. This was fun… forgetting their troubles for a while, not even noticing the time. But then someone just had to bring the subject up.

“Are you girls being careful? You know there’s a deranged killer running around here,” said an extremely effeminate made-up young man with very short purple hair. He looked frightening enough to be a mad killer with those black-rimmed eyes!

“Yes, we know all about it and we’re careful. Thanks.” Monica said, glancing at her watch. Suddenly she realized that Cha Cha had not shown up yet.

Chloe knew exactly what was going through Monica’s mind, and the two of them exchanged worried looks.

* * *

Cha Cha was leaving her apartment. She was ten minutes late and was rushing. She ran out onto the sidewalk, still pawing through her purse to make sure she had her brush and lip liner. She ran around into the Breakers entranceway. She clomped up the first flight, then the second heading to the third floor. A man was standing on the landing as she tried to pass to go up to the third floor.

“Hi there. Going to the party?” asked the sandy-haired man with a grin.

* * *

“You’ve got to let me go. My friends will be looking for me. Please!” Cha Cha was shaking violently. She was tied securely to a heavy chair in a bedroom.

The bastard had just reached for her shoulder, and that’s about all she remembered because the pain had been paralyzing! Now, here she was, incapacitated in this damn chair! She tried to thrash her large body, but the chair wouldn’t budge.

“Well, I see you’ve come around.” Wallace said from the doorway. “And no, little liar. Your friends do not know where you are, so how can they come look for you?”

Wallace entered the bedroom and took a sip of the bourbon in the small glass he carried. “Drink?”

She shook her head, glaring at him. “You know, you’re not going to get away with this… I have friends who will keep looking for me, and one’s a cop!”

“Oh, shut up. I know exactly who you are and who your little group is. There are two more of you. I plan on getting you all. See, what you don’t understand is that I’m the Caretaker. I take care of all the scum in this city.

“You ‘women’, and I use the term loosely, are not to be allowed to continue to spread your evil ways among us men. You women who are fat and slovenly….” He ground his teeth as he watched her growing terror.

“You may look pretty on the outside, but you’re evil on the inside!” He inched his face closer to hers. “I know!” he hissed. “You can’t fool me… Mother showed me just how well you disguise it.”

“You’re crazy! Let me go!” She started to scream… loud. Wallace crammed a small lace doily from the nightstand into her mouth. Cha Cha was now quiet and trying to swallow around the dusty-flavored material. She stared at him with frightened eyes. She had a bad feeling she was not going to get out of this one.

She flashed back to the photo shoot she had on Tuesday. A happy memory to hold onto. The shoot had gone well, with everyone complimenting her on what a great job she’d done.

Max Crawford, an advertising manager for Large and Lovely, had been standing off to the side, giving her the thumbs-up signal.

He was the one who had taken a shine to her several months ago and had invited her to lunch now that she was a free woman. Things were looking up again for Cha Cha DuBois in the love department. She might even have a chance at marriage! Every man she was free to date was a potential mate!

Now why, oh why, did this have to happen? It wasn’t fair! Hot tears began to flow and drip down past the doily filling her mouth, making her want to gag.

Wallace glared hatefully at her, then turned and left the room. He had made up his mind when he saw them all at the funeral. This select group of sluts were all going to have to go.

* * *

“It’s late… where is she?” Chloe was beginning to panic. This was not like Cha Cha. She said she’d be there at 8:00 and it was now 9:00. She turned and grabbed Monica’s top in a death grip. “Where is she? How could we be so stupid?”

Bradley saw their panic and asked what was wrong.

“It’s our friend. We don’t know where she is. Would you mind coming with us to see if she’s at her apartment in the next building?”

Seeing the desperation in her face he replied, “Of course, honey. Jason! Come with me for a minute.” A tall, muscular blonde man walked over.

Chloe and Monica felt better having two men with them as they hurried next door to find Cha Cha.

When they finally realized she wasn’t home after knocking on the door for several minutes, the sickening feeling settled in.

“We’ve got to call Harry. I just know something bad happened to her.” They hurried back to Bradley’s apartment and made the call to Charlie’s Tavern. The guys weren’t there. They had left.

“We’ve got to get home. I’m sorry Bradley, but we’re going to have to leave. We’ve got to get home and try to locate my boyfriend.”

“Of course. Good luck, and let us know what you find out. I hope your friend is okay.” Bradley did feel bad. He kissed their cheeks. “My heart is with you.” Women were being killed almost every week. This was insane!

“Thank you Bradley. Please tell Jeffrey we’re sorry to have to leave….”

“You girls get going. I know everything will be fine,” Bradley said, wringing his hands together in concern. As he watched them race down the hall, he said a quick prayer.

The two women ran back to their apartment to wait to hear from the guys. Amazingly the phone rang about fifteen minutes later. It was Ben.

“Ben! My God, where have you been?” Monica said with great emotion. “We’ve been trying to find you—”

“We moved on down the street to another tavern. We were just checking in to see if you’d come back from the party. What’s wrong?” asked Ben, now concerned.

“Cha Cha is missing!” A sob broke through her voice. She bit her knuckle to keep herself in check.

“Now, hold on, honey. How do you know she just didn’t go somewhere?” Ben reasoned.

“Because she was coming to the party! Where else would she go?” Monica was getting sick to her stomach.

“Hmmm, right.” He knew Cha Cha well enough to know that was not her style. He covered the phone and Monica could hear his muffled voice talking to Harry. He came back on, “We’ll be right over.” He hung up.

* * *

Wallace paced about the brightly lit yellow kitchen. Every room in his apartment was painted a different pastel color. He liked clean walls. He was thinking hard.

What was he going to do with this one? He knew a party was going on upstairs, and that meant late night partiers. He couldn’t chance lugging a body down the stairs to the garage. He might have to keep her awhile. He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of orange juice, drinking thirstily from the plastic container.

Well, that meant he’d have to care for her. Take her the bathroom, feed her, all that good crap. Three days was too much with the one before. Of course, she was a mouthy bitch… he couldn’t take all that shit from her.

But maybe if he tried real hard, used patience, he could string it out for a week. Hey, wouldn’t that be a first! Keep her for a week. He could have some entertainment every day…. until he eliminated her.

She was very pretty. But don’t forget… the evilness! Yes, Mother! That has fooled man every time. And he saw how easy it was to forget that just by looking at her. He walked back into the bedroom.

He leaned down just inches over her face. “Wake up!” he hollered. Her eyes flew open.

* * *

“Where could she be, Harry? I’m so worried…” said Chloe, wringing her hands and pacing. She had given Monica a glass of wine to help relax her. But she didn’t feel like numbing herself.

“I’ve called the station and told them the circumstances. All they can do is be on the lookout for a woman of her description. She hasn’t been missing twenty-four hours.”

“That’s all? Harry… she could be in his clutches!” Chloe couldn’t believe this! Policemen were supposed to be there to help!

“That’s all that we can do, baby. I’m sorry,” said Harry sincerely wishing he could take the pained look off her lovely face. He held her and kissed her lips.

* * *

Cha Cha squeezed her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to see that horrible face. She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. She supposed that’s how all victims felt when they realized they were about to die. Probably the best way to go was to be shot instantly. This was a living nightmare!

“I think I’ll keep you around awhile, pretty one. Where in the world did you get that awful name, anyway? I can’t even bring myself to say it. It’s whorish.” Wallace said with distaste.

“My mother—”

“I know, you already told me that, you dimwit. I was being facetious.” Jeez, how would he ever put up with this for a week? Maybe he’d better just get it over with.

“What are you going to do with me… kill me?” she said defiantly, yet her voice betrayed her with its tremble.

“Is a frog’s butt watertight?” he replied with a sneer.

Cha Cha thought it best she just be quiet. He seemed very easy to agitate. Instinct told her now to be quiet, be compliant. This man was insane. Why hadn’t she paid more attention when she first met him?

Wallace Carricck walked over to her and pinched her shoulder, once again incapacitating her. She felt the pain, numbness, then darkness. When she awoke a few minutes later, she was tied to the bed and he was in the process of cutting off her clothing with a sharp kitchen knife. Her feet were free, but not for long.

Ben had been back at the station for only thirty minutes when the fire alarm blared, jarring Ben and his cronies off the couch. Grabbing their gear, they headed for Truck No. 17 and took off like bats out of hell for another address in the Tenderloin district. Sure enough, another antiquated tenement house fire. Several old folks were rescued. An elderly man was burned badly and overcome by smoke, and eventually died on the scene.

This time it was Josh who rescued two men, though he was not in time to save that one poor soul. Smoke-grimed and exhausted, Josh was devastated that he wasn’t able to help the aged man.

But unfortunate incidents like that were out of Josh’s hands. He’d done his best, and at least saved two. And like twice before, the investigator and his accelerant-sniffing dog discovered signs of arson. It had taken six exhausting hours to put out that fire.

Ben had tripped over the hose and fell, and almost ended up in the emergency room again. But all he managed to do was twist his foot—painfully but not seriously.

It seemed like Ben was very accident-prone lately.  Maybe that was because he had Monica on his mind… or the funeral of poor Steffi.

He called Monica when he got back to the firehouse to tell her about the fire and that he was fine. He didn’t mention his foot because he hardly felt the ache anymore. He said he missed her and wished they could spend the night together. He asked if she and Chloe were okay.

As he talked to her, Monica again realized he was such a caring man. She loved him so much, Monica thought with a smile.

* * *

When Wallace Carrick got back to his apartment and stripped off his black wig disguise, tossing it on the kitchen counter, he rejoiced that the two women he’d seen with Cha Cha had to be the two who lived upstairs. Monica and Chloe. They were the ones from the Club.

He went into his bedroom to retrieve the two pairs of panties he had confiscated from their apartment. He placed them on the coffee table.

Then he sat on the sofa and stared at them, those very personal items of theirs… fantasizing about ridding the world of those three bitches dressed in black, mourning their slut friend.

* * *

Cha Cha decided she’d better get home. Bill would be calling soon, if he hadn’t already, as it was nearing 6:00 and she wanted to hear him beg… or maybe she’d be surprised and he’d be willing to be dumped. Whatever, she needed to get home to her own environment. Cha Cha was one to grieve by herself. When her parents had died in a car accident, she grew stronger from that pain. She had found herself on her own at seventeen and made a life for herself. It wasn’t easy, but she did it. She always considered herself a very capable person, and being very beautiful didn’t hurt in job-hunting. Landing the modeling contract was the height of her aspirations.

She hoped the Frosts wouldn’t be over at Steffi’s apartment… but if they were, hopefully she’d be able to get into hers quickly without a confrontation.

But, on the other hand, Steffi’s parents didn’t seem like the conversing type. If they saw her coming, likely as not they would be the ones to go inside and shut the door.

“I’ll see you guys later. I’m going home. It’s been a long day, and I’ve got no more tears to shed.”

“Okay. We’ll be talking to you. Let us know what ‘Bill the Pill’ has to say.” Monica smiled weakly. “Now I can call him that with a clear conscience.” She kissed Cha Cha’s cheek.

Cha Cha walked purposefully down the hall to the stairwell. She clomped carefully down the steps to the third floor, then around to the second flight. She thought she heard a door shut, and she hurried faster down the stairs. Her nerves were very on edge lately.

Her heart was trip-hammering in her ears by the time she reached her apartment. She quickly unlocked the door, flew in, and slammed it shut behind her. Hurriedly  twisting her deadbolt, she slid home the chain. Leaning wearily against the door, she took a deep breath.

God, things were so scary now. The phone jangled, and she screamed shrilly. Then, laughing at herself, she answered it to find Bill on the other end.

“I’ve been trying to call you, Babe. Are you all right now? I know that was hard on you this morning.”

“Yeah, it was, Bill. I’m going to really miss her. But I’ll be okay, though. We all will. So how was your trip to Dallas?” She ran a hand through her bangs, noting they felt a bit greasy.

“It was okay. Work as always. Say, about that Tallulah, she’s just an employee. A model for the new perfume line.”

“Yeah? So what are you telling me, Bill? That you had a thing with her?” Cha Cha was getting nasty.

“Well, what if I did? You know I love you, baby… but maybe it’s best that we cool—” Let her down easy, he was thinking.

“Cool it? You wanna cool it, Bill?” Cha Cha laughed harshly in his ear. “I’m the one who wants to cool it, Bill. You need your ass cooled real good, you selfish, no good, son-of-a-bitch. I know you’ve been cheating on me and hey! That’s okay because I got a new man in my life—”

“New man? Wait a minute… I never cheated on you—”

“Oh pah-leeze, this is me you’re talking to, honey. Not lame-brain Ta-loooo-lah! She’ll have her hands full, believe me! Somebody should enlighten her… but it won’t be me!” She snorted a laugh. “No, Bill, I got myself a good man who wants me, and I’ve been the fool by not letting him into my life. Well, he’s in now! Big time! Have a nice life, Bill… thanks for the ride to nowhere!” She hung up with a bang and a smile.

The phone rang back immediately, but she let the machine take it. She turned the volume off so she wouldn’t have to hear him.

She dusted off her palms with satisfaction. “Okay, now I’m ready for a bubble bath and a little wine.” She had her photo shoot to look forward to.

* * *

The police had just left. Wallace took a deep breath and smiled. God, he was so smooth! They bought everything he’d told them. Stupid fools.

Wallace had been working hard, cleaning up the surgical tools, when Dr. Hackburn walked up and informed him a couple of uniformed policemen were here to speak to him. They could use his small office for privacy.

Wallace took a deep breath, put on a brave smile, and greeted them cordially. What did he have to fear? Not a damn thing!

All they wanted to know was where he had been on certain nights. What hours he worked. He told the truth. Well, lied a bit, of course, but who didn’t? He said he’d been working as usual, and Dr. Hackburn could verify.

Of course, Dr. Hackburn did confirm, even though he had no idea if Wallace had been working or not. His memory was not so good anymore, and besides, he didn’t like the police much since he’d had a run-in with them several years ago when he applied for the Medical Examiner position.

For some reason—Hackburn could not understand why—they picked the little Asian physician over him, and he never forgave them for that. Called them ‘racist pigs’, though in that situation, the situation would have had to have been reversed for the slur to make any sense. But Hackburn had no use for the police department ever since.

So, Wallace had an alibi now. And fortunately for Wallace, he was not wearing his ring that day. He’d forgotten to put it on after his shower that morning. Once again, luck was on his side.

Getting fidgety, the two young policemen looked as though they had better things to do and didn’t pursue any more questioning. They left within fifteen minutes, thanking Wallace and Dr. Hackburn and walking briskly away like they couldn’t get away fast enough from the creepy morgue.

“What was that all about?” asked Dr. Hackburn. “You in some kind of trouble, Carrick? Parking tickets?” he chuckled.

“Not at all. Murders in my neighborhood,” he replied nonchalantly. “They’re questioning everyone in our building.”

“Murder—nasty business.” Dr. Hackburn shook his head as he walked away, muttering to himself, into his office.

Wallace stood over the metal table, scrubbing like mad. He started shaking a little with exceitement when the realization that he’d just spoken with the enemy and escaped unscathed set in. Now more than ever, he realized he was special!

The two young policemen made their report when they got back to the station that evening, regarding their interview with Mr. Carrick. They made no mention that the man had sandy hair. No mention of his vehicle because they failed to ask about it and didn’t want to go back.

In other words, Wallace Carrick would not be on the suspect list due to the inept officers’ slackness. A characteristic that unfortunately had been plaguing the department for the last few years.

* * *

It was 10:00 at night. Monica and Chloe were both lying in Chloe’s bed so they could feel safe. “I’m so glad you decided to stay with me for a while… you know, not move out right away. But you are a married woman now and you should be with your husband!” said Chloe.

Monica said, “I know. But honestly, it’ll work out better this way. Anyway, Ben and I don’t want you staying alone.”

She laughed a little. “You know, I was just going to spend the night with Ben, with you gone and all, because I wouldn’t have felt safe staying by myself. Anyway, we got to talking about eventually getting married, and all of a sudden it hit me! I could be next!” She sighed and ran a hand across her face.

“I could die tomorrow and never have known the happiness of being Ben’s wife! I had this uncontrollable urge to get married. Poor Ben. He agreed, but he was supposed to go to work Sunday. What could we do?” She looked over at Chloe.

“He called a couple of the guys at the firehouse to cover for him Sunday and Monday, and off we went! Sweet guys, huh? We called our parents right after the ceremony. They were very happy, and my mom cried. My sister was there visiting, and she was crying, too.” Monica laughed.

She had missed her parents and sister ever since they moved away to Washington state three years ago. Her sister, Paula, two years younger than Monica, had gotten married last year to a wonderful man who made a living as an architect. Monica didn’t make it to the wedding.

“Ben said we could have a big reception for everyone later at the St. Francis Hotel.” Monica added.

“Oh, that would be nice. It all sounds so romantic, Monica. Running off and getting married…. But you know, I had the same feeling while I was walking along the beach with Harry. I looked over at him, and all of a sudden I knew I wanted to be with him so bad! Wanted to marry him!” She looked over at Monica. “In fact, I was going to ask him that night in our bed, but something else came up, and I actually forgot!”

“Gee I wonder what could have come ‘up’?” Monica teased.

“Oh you. Not that!”

“Well, what came up that was so astounding that you forgot to ask the man you love to marry you?”

“Well… Harry told me they had another clue. It’s very icky, but the killer leaves an impression in the middle of the women’s foreheads. Like he presses a ring into them, or punches them with it—”

“Ohhhhh, that’s enough!” Monica waved her hands quickly in front of her face to erase the horrible thought. “But what does it look like?”

“It’s a Virgo sign. Have you seen a ring like that on anyone?” asked Chloe. “Anyone around here?”

“Hmmmmm, no. I can’t think that I have,” said Monica. “And you know I know no one from this building except for Jeffrey and Bradley, and only because they hang at the Cellar.”

“Yeah, me too. That’s kind of sad, don’t you think?”

“I guess, but that’s the way it is nowadays… people keep to themselves. And really, there’s only a lot of old ladies around here from what I’ve seen. Say, by the way, have you seen my new Victoria Secret black panties? Did they get mixed up with yours by any chance?”

“Nope, haven’t seen them. But they’ll turn up. Maybe they’re over at Ben’s!” Chloe laughed.

“No, seriously, I only got to wear them three times…I can’t find them, and you know I wash them by hand.”

“I’m sure they’ll turn up.” Chloe rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes.

They lay there awhile, each in her own thoughts, until they fell asleep.

“You got married!” Chloe exclaimed. “Oh my God!” Ben and Monica Fuentes were grinning from ear to ear as Harry and Chloe stood open-mouthed. They had just gotten back from Half Moon Bay, and Ben and Monica had been waiting with the great news. Monica proudly stuck out her well-manicured left hand for Chloe to inspect the sparkling diamond wedding rings.

“Gorgeous! But why? Why didn’t you wait till we could come along?” Chloe whined. How could Monica do this! A selfish thought struck her… now she’d be all alone!

“Well, you know why. I didn’t want another day to go by without being Mrs. Fuentes. It was a crazy, spur-of-the-moment thing….but it’s something we’d both wanted. Why wait? But don’t worry, Chloe. I’m not moving out right away. And I won’t be leaving you alone. Ben agrees. We’re going to try to find a house in the next two months, so living arrangements will be the same till then.”

“But you don’t want to really do that? You want to be with Ben. You’re his wife!” said Harry.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. No sense moving all of my stuff twice! Two months will go quickly, and besides, we’re married; that’s the important thing. This is the most practical thing to do,” Monica explained as Ben nodded in agreement.

“Well, I appreciate that. Especially what with all this crap going on—”

“Exactly, Chloe. That’s why we want it this way.” Ben said, hugging her.

It was Sunday evening, and tomorrow was Steffi’s funeral. That put a damper on Monica and Ben’s celebration. But they opened a bottle of champagne anyway, and made a couple of toasts to the new happy couple.

* * *

“Cha Cha? Are you there? Pick up please, if you are. I’m back in town….” Bill Drake’s pleading voice came over the machine.

“Bill, I’m here. What do you want?” Cha Cha said in a subdued tone as she picked up the receiver.

“Oh great, you’re there. I was wondering if I could come over. I wanted to see you to explain some things—”

“No, now is not a good time. I’m dressed and ready to go to Steffi’s funeral.” Cha Cha said stiffly.

“What? Look, I’ve been out of town… what do you mean funeral?” he said getting upset. What was going on?

“Funeral. How else do I have to say it? She was a victim of that insane fucker who’s still roaming about, Bill. He killed her.” She felt the hot tears spill down her cheeks, ruining her make-up job. Damn, she’d have to touch up.

“Get outta here! No way! When? I can’t believe this, Chaquita. I’ll be there. Where is the funeral? I’m on my way.” He couldn’t believe this! This only happened to people in the newspaper….

“Please Bill–”

“I knew her too, Chaquita. Now where is it?” he demanded.

She gave him the details, then told him she’d see him there as she was riding with Chloe and Monica.

* * *

The funeral was depressing, as funerals usually are. But the kind-faced, middle-aged minister managed to ease their pain with his beautiful words, making Steffi out to be such an incredibly loved and cherished person.

He sounded as though he knew her well, though in fact he didn’t know Steffi at all. He probably would have said those same flowery words about her if she’d been some whacked-out drug-addict killed in a bank robbery.

Her parents were both redheaded, and the resemblance to Steffi was uncanny. They were both slightly overweight, reserved, and surprisingly none too friendly to the girls. It was obvious they hadn’t approved of Steffi’s line of work, nor her choice of friends.

There were quite a few people attending, friends from Steffi’s agency and people she’d known in her profession. Chloe and Monica and Cha Cha were somewhat impressed.

Neil Broder, whom they’d seen on the news, was sobbing into a hanky. An older woman was patting and rubbing his back. He seemed genuinely broken up.

After the service, Steffi’s parents were having her remains cremated and taking her back to Minnesota with them in an urn shaped like a large bronze book. They were probably planning on putting her in their library or something, Chloe mused when she found out.

Chloe, Monica, and Cha Cha were all dressed in black. It was a somber occasion for them and they were thankful their men were with them for support.

Bill Drake was handsome as ever and hovered about Cha Cha like never before. Cha Cha was being reserved around Bill for once, and it was noticed by Chloe and Monica.

Monica thought it was about time and secretly applauded Cha Cha for her stand. Bill was great looking but as shallow as a wading pool for worms.

Cha Cha was dying to hear Bill’s pathetic explanation, prepared not to believe it for an instant, but she needed to be with the girls after the cremation. She told Bill he could go and call her later, but right now, she needed her friends.

Bill left for the office, promising he would call. No one noticed the man with the jet black hair and bristly mustache who lingered about the back of the church. The only one at the ceremony with a smile on his face.

* * *

“I wish we could have seen her. I don’t know why they wanted a closed casket,” Monica said as she served a tray of cheese and crackers and ham slices.

“It was their choice, Monica,” said Harry taking a couple of crackers. “How come Bill didn’t come back here?” he asked Cha Cha.

“I told him to call me later. I didn’t want him fawning over me anymore. I guess I might as well tell you all. I made up my mind to dump him.” Cha Cha heaved a sigh of relief.

“Terrific! About time,” said Monica, raising her wine glass in a positive toast.

“Yeah, that’s great,” said Chloe reaching over to pat Cha Cha’s knee. “I know it’s hard… but you’re doing the right thing.”

“I know. I was going to wait to tell you, but what’s the purpose in that? I’ll get out and meet other men. In fact, there are men who have wanted to date me, but I’ve been unapproachable.” She smiled confidently. “I’m actually doing okay with the breakup. I actually feel ‘liberated’!” She took a deep gulp of wine.

“You won’t have any trouble at all, believe me!” said Ben. “In fact, I know a guy, a fireman, who might be—”

“Ben! Give her a moment to enjoy her ‘single’ status!” laughed Monica. She realized now, in all the confusion of getting to the funeral, no one had mentioned to Cha Cha the fact that she and Ben had gotten married! Cha Cha hadn’t even noticed her diamond ring.

“Okay, okay… but I know a guy who’d be a perfect catch,” Ben said. “When you’re ready, I’ll introduce you. Now for our great news. We didn’t feel like mentioning it before the funeral. Monica and I are married. Did it Saturday night.” Ben added, pleased as punch.

“Oh my God!” Cha Cha was stunned. “I’m so happy for you! Really! Why did you do it so sudden? I wanted to be there…”

“Yeah, we know… we felt the same way,” said Chloe. “But they had their reasons.” And they proceeded to explain how the wedding came about.

After about an hour of reflecting on Steffi’s life with them, the guys needed to get going. Life went on. Ben went back to work, now a married man, and Harry headed downtown.

They pulled the bloated body from the water as they had three times before. Harry and Sam and Detective Doyle stood about, watching the paramedics load her onto a gurney. She was nude, dark-haired, with skin as luminous as a pearl.

Something, even from that distance, struck Harry as familiar about the woman, and he walked up for a closer examination. The body was covered for decency with a sheet now, as a few more people were beginning to gather.

What with three police vehicles, an ambulance, and now Channel 5’s van converged near the dock, it was hard to hide the fact that a crime had been discovered.

They had gotten the phone call right after Bristol’s call to Harry, and in a flash, they raced down to the scene. They were on the Embarcadero again; this body had been spotted floating several yards out by a dock worker heading to work.

The young man had noticed what appeared to be a white mannequin but knew that was probably not the case since women had been found floating lately.

Harry now could see the hair was not dark brown as he had first thought. It was a wet dark red! Taking a deep breath, he pulled the sheet back. He put his hand over his mouth and shook his head slowly. Goddamn it!

Sam stepped up. “What’s wrong? You look kinda pale….”

“I know her,” he whispered. He couldn’t stop staring at the bloated face. She was slightly bruised about her left eye, but it was obvious by the purple tinge around her throat that she’d been strangled. Brutally.

“What?” Sam said.

“Yeah, she’s a friend of mine… of Chloe’s. Stephanie Frost… one of her good friends. Shit! When is this madman going to be caught!” He stepped away and leaned against a patrol car. How was he going to tell Chloe? Well, he’d better do it quick before this reached the news.

“I’ve got to get downtown and see my girl, Doyle. I can’t have her hear this on the noon news. This poor gal was one of her best friends.”

“I understand, Better get going. I’ll see you back at the station. We’ll try to get a positive ID on her as soon as possible.”

“Look, she has no family here. I’ve already made the ID. I won’t let Chloe or any of her friends have to go through this. Okay?” Harry put his hand on Doyle’s shoulder. He gave the older man a pleading look.

“Yeah, I guess I can do that. Since you know her. I’ll handle it.”

“Thanks Sam. I gotta go.”

* * *

Chloe smiled when she saw Harry coming her way. He must be coming to take me to lunch, she thought happily. Then why did he look so glum? A small knot of fear gnawed at her stomach.

“Hey, Chloe,” said Harry. “How are ya doing?” His voice sounded low and strained. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” She felt frozen in place. Something bad had happened. She knew it.

“Um, can we go into another room? Break room? Where’s Monica?” He looked around, then spotted Monica helping a customer with some cosmetics choices.

“I want to talk to both of you.” That’s all he wanted to say.  He wanted to reach across the counter and hug Chloe tight. The look on her face was panic, held in check. He hated to be the bearer of this regrettable news.

Chloe went around the corner and over to Monica’s area. She told Sandy, Monica’s co-worker in the Elizabeth Arden cosmetics, that she needed Monica this very instant and would she mind taking her place. Sandy agreed—the look on Chloe’s face frightened her.

Chloe excused Monica to the bewildered customer and dragged her away by the hand. They led Harry into the break room and luckily were alone.

“Sit down.”

They sat, looking frightened and pale.

“Steffi was found this morning.” That’s all he needed to say. They looked at each other in horror and started to cry.

“No, no… I don’t believe it,” cried Chloe. “She can’t be…”

“No wonder she didn’t return your call.” Monica sat staring straight ahead, tears running down her cheeks. “I need to call Ben.”

“I’ll call him. In fact, I’ll go by the station.” Harry bent and hugged the girls tight. A woman walked into the room and stopped and stared. Harry looked at her and said, “A friend of theirs died.”

She nodded and stepped back out of the room.

Suddenly the two women fell into each other’s arms and bawled like babies for several minutes. Harry stood by gently patting their heaving shoulders.

Finally, Chloe and Monica got a grip on their emotions.

“H-How did she die?” asked Monica wiping her eyes carefully with a napkin from the table.

“Same way as the others. It looks like she was killed several hours ago. Where is Cha Cha? At the Baby’s Breath?”

“Yes… she should be,” said Chloe. “I think Monica and I need to go home. I’m going to find Sylvia and ask if we can leave.” Monica nodded in agreement.

* * *

“I just can’t believe it,” said Cha Cha. The three of them had gathered at Chloe and Monica’s apartment. They were waiting for the 5:00 news to come on.

“I think I heard her knocking on my door last evening, but I was soaking in the tub. I didn’t feel too much like getting out because I’d been drinking.” Cha Cha felt the guilt cover her like a suffocating gauze. She dabbed at her swollen eyes with a Kleenex.

“It’s not your fault, for Heaven’s sake!” Monica insisted. “Why is that fucking madman still running loose? What does Harry say, Chloe? Aren’t they any closer to catching him? And where did he get her? She wasn’t at the club… God this is getting so scary!”

“Maybe it is that Zeff guy….” Cha Cha said firmly.

“No way, he had strong alibis. He’s no longer under suspicion. Harry says there are just no clues whatsoever.” Chloe held her head and moaned.

“She had everything going for her. She was so happy. God, I hope she didn’t suffer.” Monica started crying again.

“We’ve got to let her parents know. I’ve got their number. Steffi gave it to me in case anything like this ever happened to her. She was always well-prepared. She said going on these interviews might be dangerous. You never knew if there was some psycho photographer or if a job was legit. She was in a dangerous business actually. Maybe that’s what it was? She was on a job—”

“Then what you’re saying is that the killer is a professional person who sets women up?” Chloe said, unwilling to believe that.

“Or this time is was a copycat killing. He lured her to an interview, and killed her the same way….” offered Monica.

“We don’t know, and we’ll never know until he’s caught. We have got to remain together. It’s easier said than done, I know… but this has hit home.” Cha Cha wished Bill were back in town, then quickly changed her mind.

“We should go over to her apartment and start packing up her things.” Monica said.

“It’s too soon. I’ll bet her parents will fly out here and want to do that. Leave it as it is. I’ll call right now.”

Chloe went to the phone and looked up Steffi’s parents number in her Rolodex. When she broke the news to Steffi’s mother, she cried along with her. It was a hard thing to tell them, but they said they were not surprised. California was filled with fruits and nuts, and their daughter was right in the middle of it all.

When Chloe hung up, she was not so sympathetic to Steffi’s parents any longer. They were a strange couple and very cold. They didn’t act as though they loved Steffi very much.

“Maybe it’s just that they’re in shock?” said Cha Cha.

“No, I think that they didn’t care very much for her line of work. They acted like she had it coming to her and they weren’t surprised. Hmmm, maybe Steffi made them out to be model parents and they really weren’t?”

“Well, it’s too late to speculate now.” said Monica. “Let’s make some dinner… I’m hungry.”

“How can you eat? Oh, the news is starting!” Cha Cha hushed everyone. They all sat with their eyes glued to the TV screen.

The anchorwoman talked about the discovery by a dock worker that morning. It appears to be the same type of killing. The woman’s name could now be released. Chloe cried when Steffi’s name was announced. Monica hugged her.

The cameras showed a covered body on a gurney, and Chloe thought she saw Harry off to one side. It was a miserable picture to be sure.

“I’ve never known anyone—” murmured Cha Cha as she stared at the TV screen.

Then a shot of a young man came on who spoke highly of Steffi. His name was Neil, and he mentioned he and Steffi were dating.

The three of them looked at each other in confused wonder. “She never said anything to me about that,” said Chloe.

“Me either!” Monica said.

“Well, don’t look at me,” said Cha Cha. “But you know, last time I talked to her she said she had something to tell me but that it could wait.”

“Maybe that was it? That she had a boyfriend? But news like that was nothing to hide!” Chloe said sipping a Pepsi laced heavily with bourbon.

The anchorwoman continued. “The work of this serial killer seems to go on without any clues whatsoever. The police are looking closely at a local man who is under surveillance at this time.”

“There is no local man,” Chloe threw in. “Harry says they do that to let the public think they’re on to something. But they’re not. Damn it!”

The report was now over, and the anchorwoman was onto a child who saved his cat from a house fire.

“Let’s fix some dinner or call out for pizza. I’m starving!” cried Monica.

Chloe dialed out for Domino’s.

* * *

Wallace Carrick watched the evening news on the TV in one of the small rooms where people waited for the report of their family member while they were in surgery.

He couldn’t help but smile as the pretty blonde anchorwoman blurted out the latest finding in the bay. Her name was Stephanie Frost, and she was an actress. She was a gregarious woman and was loved by her many friends.

A young man was being interviewed, and he looked as though he’d been crying. “She worked for our agency for three years. We all loved her. She and I were dating.”

“That was Neil Broder, one of the owners of the Golden Gate Talent Agency, where Miss Frost was employed,” announced the anchorwoman.

Too bad, thought Wallace insincerely. She was such a damn blabber-mouth. That Neil character doesn’t know I did him a favor! Wait! What was that they said? The police have a local man under surveillance? Yeah, right!

He looked at his watch. Time to go back downstairs to the morgue. Too bad they wouldn’t be bringing Miss Frost in here… she’d be going to the Medical Examiner’s over at Mercy Hospital.

He stood up and stretched. He gave a sincere smile to the middle-aged, slender lady sitting half-curled on the sofa, who was also watching the news.

“And how are you today?” he said congenially.

“Not good. I’m waiting for my husband, who’s having his gall bladder removed.” She ran a hand through unruly graying brown curls and presented quite an attractive picture. Nice married woman, Wallace thought. Not such a bitch.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll pull through just fine. The doctors here are the best. Have a good evening now.” Wallace tipped an imaginary hat as he walked out of the room leaving the woman thinking what a pleasant man he was.

Harry was hearing that damn O.J. joke for the fourth time. He wished Sam would quit reciting it to anyone who walked into their office.

Sam Mooney and Harry had been partners for the last two years. They had both been assigned to this serial murder case and were sick and tired of it. Around the office, they were called the ‘Floater Murders’, trying to put a comical spin on the otherwise ghastly crimes.

Harry didn’t appreciate that term at all, and he made it known… but the moniker still stuck. However, he knew the guys always needed some kind of diversion when they dealt with appalling crimes. It helped make it easier to do their job.

Sam Mooney was a jovial kind of guy, about two years older than Harry and married… very married. He mentioned Mary Ann all the time. He had three small kids and a heavy mortgage.

Sam loved his job and was a good partner for Harry. He was a big, dark-haired, pale-complected man, with a receding hairline that would cease to exist in a few more years.

The downtown precinct office was spacious, well-lighted, carpeted, and all the beige metal desks were new.

Normally, Harry didn’t have a desk, but on the task force, he was given his own… temporarily. It gave him a taste of what it would be like when he made detective.

Harry had a full day cut out for him. A full day of nothing! That Zeff character was a solid zero. They had no new suspects. The file hadn’t been touched. He and Sam needed to get out and do some more searches of the area in question.

Harry was positive the perp lived around that neighborhood. He’d been staking out the Cellar Club every night this week. He had a couple of guys undercover, yet they had come up with nothing.

This guy had to slip up somewhere. Serial killers usually did eventually. Got too sure of themselves. They thought they were invincible and eventually took careless chances. One day this guy was going to pick the wrong woman, and his luck would run out. But until then, how many more women would have to die?

Harry hated these types of cases. “Sam? What do ya say we put someone down by the Embarcadero. A cruiser or two in the early morning hours.”

“Yep, got one already in that area. But I think we could squeeze in another. Run it by Detective Doyle. Hey, Looper, did ya hear the latest one about O.J.?” Sam laughed raucously and began his inane monologue once again.

Oh Jeez, sighed Harry, there he goes again. Maybe he ought to give Chloe a call. They’d had a great time yesterday. He wished he lived with her already. She’d be so nice to come home to.

He slammed the file closed. He shoved his chair back and stood up. “Come on Sam.” Let’s see what else Doyle has for us to do since we’re his ‘special’ team.”

Detective Doyle was leaning back in his chair with his large, booted feet up on his desk. He smiled at the two men as they entered. He had lots of silver hair and a clean-shaven, amiable face. He was in his early sixties and looked forward to going home every night to be with his wife. A real homebody. And this particular kind of detective work got him down.

“Are you getting anywhere on the Floaters?” he asked them as he peeled an orange delicately.

“No, leads are coming in everyday… but they just don’t pan out. And sir, if I may be so bold. I was wondering if I could get back on my regular shift…” said Harry. “I feel like I’m not doing the public any good—”

“

And give up this task force?” He dropped a moist peel on the desk.

“Well, sir, we’ve got units and men in the places where this guy has shown up… what more can we do until another one turns up? We have zilch to go on. I really want to continue, but Sam and I are not doing any good…”

“You’re under my wing, and you’ll do as I say. Just hang in there and keep putting the small pieces together. Every interview, every bit of info will soon add up to something important.” He popped a small bit of orange into his mouth.

Chewing quickly and swallowing the bit of fruit, he said with conviction, “We’ve got this guy under our noses… it’s just a matter of time before he surfaces. Did you interview everyone who lives around the dance club? I know there are a few apartment houses…”

“Yes sir, we have. Interviewed everyone who might have been there on those nights… bartenders, people at the club. I’ve got tons of notes as you well know,” replied Sam Mooney stroking his mustache.

Lifting up his feet from the desk and placing them on the floor, he sat up straight at his desk and looked at the two men before him. “Well, that’s just what I said. Keep going over them. I want you two to stay with me on this. Going back to your regular jobs will not give you the seasoning you’ll need for making detective. Chalk this up to experience, hear me?”

Detective Doyle was just as frustrated as these men. If it took another victim, so be it… but the killer would slip up at some point, and they had to be ready. He’d been a detective for the last twenty years and was about ready to retire. He’d seen plenty of murder cases, and now and then, one as repulsive as this came along.

He closed his eyes briefly and thought back fifteen years ago to the kidnap/murder case of the little thirteen-year old girl. Never was solved. Pathetic. He still went to sleep nights thinking about it. This was a thankless job at times, but somebody had to do it!

Harry Moretti reminded Doyle of when he was that age. All eager and taking disappointment hard, but determined to dig for clues. Yet wanting to feel you were giving your all to your job… not sitting around twiddling your thumbs, waiting for the killer to strike again.

He’d hand-picked these two men for his task force with their futures in mind. He knew Harry Moretti and Sam Mooney were going to get promotions. They were good men, and he wanted to get them in on this murder case, which was the crime of the year so far.

“Are you thinking or having a movement?” Detective Doyle said sarcastically waiting impatiently for their answer.

“Yes sir. We’ll continue to do our best.” said Harry.

* * *

Chloe Banyon went to work at Bendel’s. She and Monica rode together today. It was foggy and unusually chilly for March.

“I wonder why Steffi hasn’t returned my call?” mentioned Chloe as she looked into her rearview mirror, getting ready to change lanes.

“Mmmm, don’t know,” murmured Monica as she peered intently into her compact mirror. “Do my eyes look puffy to you?” She gave Chloe a squinty look.

“Well, don’t look at me like that! I can’t tell.”

Monica made a poker face.

“No, you look fine. Maybe you’re retaining water, or maybe it was all that Chinese food you ate last night… you know how that affects you.” Chloe pulled into the underground parking lot at the mall where Bendel’s was located. Her mind was on Steffi. She was always so good about calling back. Oh well.

Damn! She hit her horn at a car backing out. The echo was ear-splitting.

“Chlo-eee!” whined Monica.

“Well! He wasn’t looking!” Chloe realized she was a little out of sorts today. Harry was on her mind, and she knew he must be thinking of her. She slid her Corolla easily into a compact parking spot.

They took the escalator up to the main level of the mall and headed toward Bendel’s, nodding hello to other employees they recognized along the way.

“I hope this is a quick day, because I’m not in the mood to work,” said Chloe. Steffi popped uneasily into her mind once again.

* * *

Harry hung up the phone with a strained look on his handsome face.

“What’s up?” asked Sam as he sipped his coffee. It was getting hard for them to find things to do other than pore over their notes time and time again.

“That was Bristol, from Unit 234. He was reporting in that he stopped a man in a white Cressida who was driving along the Embarcadero early this morning… about 2:30. They stopped him and questioned him. He said he was driving around because he’d had a fight with his lover and was cooling off. Gay guy.” Harry took a bite of his donut. “That was it. But Bristol wanted to report it since it was on the Embarcadero.”

Harry sighed and picked up a blue packet of sugar, flipping it back and forth before tearing it open and pouring it into his hot coffee.

“Hmmm, well, it certainly isn’t a gay guy doing this dirty work.” Sam said with a snort.

“Yeah…” Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. White Cressida. Now why did that seem to nibble at his mind?

Chloe and Harry were driving back into the city from their day of relaxation. They had managed to have a very nice lunch on the coast at a quaint restaurant, and now he was going to take her to Grisson’s Grill and treat her to a terrific dinner.

They ordered juicy steaks and salad and even splurged ordering Cherries Jubilee for dessert. It was 6:00, and they were both feeling a little tired from the full day.

“Oh Harry, this was a perfect way to spend a day. Do you think you can get away this weekend, or even next, I don’t care, and we can go up the coast to spend the night?”

“I’d love to. But this case! I have to be on call.” He put his hand over hers and squeezed. “I was lucky to get away today as it is….”

“I know, it’s okay. Some other time. But let’s do that soon, okay?” Chloe was looking forward to being totally alone with Harry. She really wanted to forget this horror in her neighborhood.

“Check please!” said Harry to the waiter. “Let’s go home to my place and make love… what do ya say, little lady?” he teased, wriggling his eyebrows in his best Groucho imitation.

“Yes… let’s.”

* * *

Cha Cha was alone in her bed. She re-lived the frightening walk over and over again. God, she was stupid! What had made her think she was invincible? If that man hadn’t been a bum, he could have been….

She shivered all over again and huddled deeply under the covers. When the Yellow cab had brought her home, she literally ran to her apartment on the third floor.

She thought of Bill in Dallas. Glancing at the clock, she knew he had to already be there. He was a real pant load! He probably had that Tallulah woman with him! Did he think she was an idiot?

Cha Cha had known of his two-timing her all along. She’d never ’fess up her friends about it, but she knew he was wrong for her.

Just because he was handsome and successful and the best thing that had come along in her life… was that a reason to hold onto him? No. It wasn’t. Not if it was costing her happiness. The girls were right. She needed to get out and find someone new.

In fact, the more she thought about it, she felt as though a weight were lifted from her shoulders. Life was good. She didn’t need that shithead Bill. Let someone else put up with his selfish ways. Cha Cha DuBois had better things to do.

Tuesday she had a photo shoot for Large and Lovely magazine, and that was the boost she needed. She got up and looked at herself in the floor-to-ceiling closet mirror.

Looking back at her was a beautiful, tall, and well-proportioned woman with… well, several pounds added on to her large frame. But it all fit nicely. Wonderfully!

She was successful, had money tucked away, was happy with her work, her friends… what more could she want except a good man in her life. And that would come. Of course it would.

She knew several available men… only she’d never been available. Well, now she was. And she had nearly thrown it all away by being so stupid tonight.

Sighing heavily, she made her way back to bed and lay there trying to think positive thoughts and fantasizing about a bright future with a handsome new and loving man.

* * *

“I have to call Steffi first thing in the morning,” said Chloe as Monica relayed Steffi’s good news. “I’m so happy for her. It’s about time she got a break.” Harry had just dropped Chloe off, and he was heading back home. She told Chloe that Ben was home from the hospital and doing just fine.

“Well, thank God it wasn’t serious! I guess they kept him overnight for observation?”

“Yeah… he couldn’t wait to get out of there,” laughed Monica. Then she told Chloe about Steffi’s news as they were getting ready for bed.

“No kidding. You know, I know Steffi’s strapped for cash half the time. She never admits it, but I’ve noticed it’s been quite a while since she’s bought any new clothes.” Monica was getting her bed turned down. She shook out her pajamas and laid them on her bed.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. I wish she’d find a good man and get out of the singing telegram business. I think it’s stupid. She could get on with the Little Theater, have her agent find her something steady. There’s even the dinner shows.  They might pay well. She just seems so…disconnected.” Chloe was at a loss for words for her friend. Steffi was like a little girl in many ways…never quite growing up. Play-acting.

“Mmmmmmm, well, this Nissan job will be a start, maybe. She’ll be recognized, anyway. And that’s what she wants.” Monica said.

“Harry and I had a swell time today. He’s such a great guy. How’d we get so lucky with our guys, Monica?” Chloe knew Monica would be getting married soon, and she hoped she would be following close behind.

Out of the four of them, Chloe felt she and Monica were the most stable in their relationships. Cha Cha had it together, too, but only if she dumped that bum, Bill Drake.

* * *

It was 1:30 in the morning. Wallace knew he’d better get some sleep. Steffi Frost was stretched out supine on the bed. Her dull green eyes stared up at nothing. The thin black belt looped about her neck was tight… so tight, the skin on her neck was abraded and slightly bleeding.

She was sweet, thought Wallace fondly. He stroked the side of her face. She had tiny freckles all over her white creamy skin. But she was an actress! So good riddance!

And what a talker she was! Whew! She was a phony and lured men on with that phony red hair. Who did she think she was talking to him that way?

Steffi had used her only weapon, her voice. She ranted at Wallace; teased him, scolded him, even tried to seduce him. She couldn’t seem to shut up… until he shut her up permanently.

Wallace decided that it was late enough to get her down to his car. He wrapped her body in a blue sheet and secured it in place with two belts. One was the belt he’d strangled her with.

With great effort, he lugged Steffi’s heavy body onto his shoulder and carried her to the front room. Pressing his ear to the door, he didn’t hear any footsteps out in the hall.

It was usually quiet on this floor anyway. Only three old ladies lived on his floor and one older lesbian couple. One apartment was vacant.

He opened the door and stepped out.

Cha Cha DuBois decided to show up at Bill Drake’s office unexpectedly. Why not? She was entitled. She managed to leave work early and figured the surprise might be nice.

She knew Bill would be taking off again for Dallas by 5:30 tonight. If she didn’t see him now, she wouldn’t see him until next week. Bill wouldn’t mind, and he’d certainly he’d be pleased if she showed up.

She parked her little red car in the underground parking lot and took the elevator up to the fifth floor of the advertising offices of Burns and Kohler. She said hi to Suzi, the receptionist, and breezed on into the inner offices like she usually did. She smiled at a couple of the secretaries and headed on into Bill’s closed office. Knocking once, she entered. What she saw, she didn’t expect.

Bill and a woman were standing closely at the window overlooking Golden Gate Park. Bill had his arm about the tall woman’s waist, and they both turned slowly as she entered the room.

Bill looked instantly embarrassed and flustered. The woman stood back with a small smile on her pretty face. She could have been a model…she probably was a model. A slim model!

“Chaquita! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Bill said, coming easily around his desk, his baby blue eyes unnaturally bright as they strived for the innocent look.

Now, Cha Cha didn’t have proof anything was going on between these two, but this scenario had the room reeking of guilt.

“Well, this is what you call a surprise visit, Bill. And I see that it sure was.” She smiled bravely at the beautiful young chestnut-haired woman, who was still staring at Cha Cha, standing erect and poised.

“Um, oh, this is Tallulah. She’s our new model for the latest perfume ad we’re setting up. Tallulah, this is my er, my girlfriend, Chaquita DuBois.” Cha Cha nodded to the woman, who nodded back.

“Are you free for coffee?” Cha Cha asked. “In the cafe on the fourth floor?”

“Um, yes… yes I could be, in just a moment. Um, would you mind waiting out in front?” That right there was a slap in the face.

She stared at him for a stunned moment, then said nothing as she turned on her heel and left the office. She walked over to the small sofa in his lush waiting room, plants everywhere… but didn’t sit. His secretary, Polly, was away from her desk, probably at lunch, which saved Cha Cha from any uncomfortable silence.

She looked at her watch, tapping her foot. Her anger was building. She was being silly. Nothing was going on between them… or was it? Why did that woman look at her like that? The more she thought about it, the more hurt she became. Her woman’s instinct was kicking in. Big time!

She decided to leave. She hurried out the door before they came out of the office. Damn him! The girls were right. What was she doing wasting her time with him?

She had a lot to offer a man… someone who could appreciate her. She didn’t need this. By the time she reached the lower lobby, tears had started to fall.

* * *

When Cha Cha got home later, her phone was ringing. She could see by the message light blinking that she had several messages waiting. She let the machine pick up. Naturally it was Bill.

His tone was condescending as usual. He hoped she wasn’t upset. He’d gone looking for her. He could explain. This was the tenth time he’d called because he was concerned. Uh-huh—the usual bullshit a man gives a woman when he knows he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Cha Cha just ignored the message. Right now all she needed was a hot bath and a drink.

By 6:00, she was plowed and her fingers and toes pruney. She had stayed in the tub for two hours, letting the water get cold, then refilling the tub. What else did she have to do? Not a damn thing!

That no-good son-of-a-bitch! She could think of more potent words than that for him, but it was not her style. Okay, start getting him out of your system, she told herself sternly.

Maybe she should go out and party it up. Meet someone new? It was Thursday night, though, and she had to work tomorrow. But she felt like going out. Getting out of this apartment was what she needed, if only for an hour. She could take a cab over to the Cellar… it was safer than walking, tonight, and they’d all promised to be careful.

In front of the bathroom mirror, she twisted her black hair up onto her head. She pulled long strands down about her face. It gave her a sophisticated, yet disheveled look that fit her mood perfectly.

Then she pawed through her closet and took out a comfortable long navy dress, something that made her feel attractive. Then she slipped on her favorite pair of low-heeled black boots. She needed to feel attractive and pretty. Bill Drake and his chiseled cheekbones had dashed her confidence if only for the moment. And it was enough to hurt.

* * *

Cha Cha stood on the corner and hailed a cab, it sailed on by, its on-duty light just winked out. Damn, she thought angrily. Well, the next one. She headed toward the Cellar, walking none too steady from all the booze she’d consumed at home. She’d turn and walk backward for a few steps, in hopes she’d see a cab come zooming down the street.

None did. On she walked, wrapping her arms about herself as the evening grew chilly. Luckily she’d thrown on her light jacket, but it might not be enough.

Maybe she’d have to walk the whole two miles. By then, she’d be sober and it would be late! Normally, on a Friday evening, it didn’t bother her. That was her form of exercise and time to clear her mind. It was only 8:00, and there would be people there… she’d be sure to call a cab for the ride home.

As she walked across an alleyway, she heard a noise. She stepped up her pace, and a shiver of fear shot through her. She realized when she changed purses she’d forgotten to put in her .22! Not that she’d ever used it! Damn, if she got out of this, she was going to be sure to get to the shooting range and practice!

She didn’t look around; she kept her eyes straight ahead, let her senses do the listening. Her heart pounded madly in her ears, and she swore she heard a footstep.

* * *

Bill Drake was flying to Dallas. Damn Cha Cha for not answering his calls. Well, who was to blame? Only himself. Cha Cha was a lovely and talented woman. He didn’t really love her, though. He’d been dating her for two years now and knew he was not particularly in love with her. He’d had too many dalliances during this time with her. One thing about Bill: He loved the ladies.

He ran a hand through his slicked-back black hair and stroked his black mustache. He was a damn sexy-looking guy for forty-five, he thought to himself as he winked at the pretty brunette flight attendant offering coffee with a beaming smile.

Chaquita was different in the fact that she was an exotic, big, beautiful woman and had such a different outlook on life than those empty-headed skinnybones. She was a breath of fresh air to Bill, and at times he wished to God he were a different man. She’d make some man a wonderful wife some day.

But he was a shit! What could he say? And it really wasn’t fair to keep Cha Cha stringing along. Maybe it was best that she saw him and Tallulah together. It was probably time to end it with her because he and Tallulah would be spending a lot of time together.

He’d miss Cha Cha. When he got back from Dallas next week he’d get together with her and let her down easy. That is, if she’d even speak to him. But with their many battles over his not spending enough time with her, he was sure she’d be waiting for his call.

* * *

Too bad Steffi hadn’t been home. She could have used some company. She thought she’d heard Steffi knocking on her door while she was in the tub, but then when Cha Cha knocked on Steffi’s door, got no answer.

Now she definitely heard footsteps behind her but was afraid to look. Cha Cha was getting concerned now. Up ahead there was a drugstore with its red Paul’s Drugs sign flashing. She would go in and call for a cab and get the hell home. Dare she look behind her? If she did, she knew she’d see something right out of her worst nightmare!