THE COED MURDER CLUB. Ken Salter
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I took a seat with a view of the room. Mary’s smile was bemused at my surprise and confusion to see her dressed like a good-time girl on the prowl. “They teach you to dress like that at the Police Academy?” I asked tongue-in-cheek.
“Actually, they did give me some pointers. I was assigned to Vice when I first joined the Berkeley PD. There are lots of bars around town where I couldn’t go in alone now,” she said coyly.
“Might meet some of the Johns you busted, right?” I said with a chuckle.
“It’s hard being a single, woman cop. If I date guys on the force, they peg me for a kiss ass or an easy lay. If they hit on me and I don’t respond, they get hostile and think I’m trying to be uppity. I don’t get to meet many interesting men in my line of work. There’s something about the lady being a cop that scares a lot of guys off.”
I was about to add, “And that’s why you dress to kill and strut your stuff at the Wharf,” but I kept my thought to myself. We were getting off on the wrong foot. I wanted information and help on my case, but I wasn’t looking for a new relationship or a one night stand. Mary had thrown me for a loop. I recalled the way the attorneys and cops had eyed her when I’d met her in the bar after her shift. I had to change the subject and avoid discussing our personal lives. If I told her about my steady girlfriend, Rita, she’d probably blow me off and refuse to give me the help she’d promised.
“I must say I was floored when you came up with a lead on Mindy’s case so soon after we met.”
“I have to confess that her case has been bugging me, too. I always felt there was something sinister about what happened to her. It hit me hard when you said they infected her with the AIDS virus. If they knew they carried the virus when they set her up, then it’s like attempted murder in my book. I’m determined to find them and take them down.” Mary’s eyes were shooting sparks.
“I spent a frustrating day at the university trying to get a bead on those guys and have zip for my efforts. Hopefully, you’ve had better luck,” I said fishing for the new info she claimed to have.
“There’s another case that’s been bugging me, too. I got called in on it late, but I think there may be some parallels, at least some coincidences to check out.”
The waitress in a micro-mini and tee-shirt, tied off at the waist, appeared to take my order. I ordered a Hennessy straight up and Mary asked for another glass of chardonnay.
“Two college girls let themselves get picked up at a bar near campus by a couple of guys claiming they were grad students. The guys took the girls to an apartment and got them high on drugs and alcohol, then screwed them. What made me think there might be a connection was that one of the guys was black and the other one white. The girls admitted they put out for the guys willingly, but later, some other guys arrived, and after getting them high on crank and ecstasy, these new guys forced themselves on the girls. It could be the same M.O.”
“Was there anal intercourse like in Mindy’s case?”
“I think so, but I didn’t requisition the file from storage because I don’t want to leave a trail. My superiors wouldn’t be happy to know I’m providing information from confidential files or digging up cases that were closed.”
“Why wasn’t the case prosecuted?”
“The girls were stupid. They got picked up to party. They agreed to do drugs and have intercourse. They were so wiped out with the drugs and alcohol that it wasn’t possible to document any earnest resistance or threats if they didn’t put out for everyone that had them. There are lots of borderline cases that don’t get prosecuted because of time and money constraints. This one wasn’t even close. If the D.A. thinks a conviction is not a sure thing, he won’t prosecute. They get their promotions in part based on their conviction rates and everybody agreed this case looked like a loser.”
“So, if a young woman like Mindy gets set up by sexual predators with sexually transmitted viruses, the guys can get away with murder and the D.A. says, ‘Sorry, next case,’ right?” I was getting hot under the collar.
“Hey, I didn’t write the law. That’s the way the system works. Women have been getting the short end of the stick for a long time. It’s real tough to get a conviction in these cases where the women get loaded and agree to have sex with one or more of the men. Defense attorneys destroy their reputations and credibility in court, journalists gloat and publish all the sleazy details to titillate their readers and viewers, and the victim gets branded like in the “Scarlet Letter,” as a lowlife slut.”
“What happened to the two women?”
“They were both students and should be easy to locate and interview. Anita Parsons and Sherri Downs. They were pretty freaked out by the whole scene. The Parsons woman went bananas when I informed her that we were closing the investigation. From the names she called me, you’d think I was the person who set her up.”
“Did you get a make on the guys who picked them up?”
“No, it never got that far. Their descriptions were pretty sketchy except for the fact the black guy was clean cut and he looked and talked like the grad student he said he was. They described his buddy as a white, hunky, surfer type with sun-bleached blondish hair. That’s what rang a bell with what you said about Mindy’s attackers. The M.O. and physical descriptions are close. They could be the same pair that screwed Mindy.”
“I need to look at the investigation file. Can you get it for me?”
“Yeah, but it’s tricky. It might take me a few days. I have to get someone to pull it for me. Anything special you’re looking for?”
“For starters, I’d like to know the results of the rape kits if they were processed. Hopefully, the samples were saved. Maybe they could be compared to the semen samples in Mindy’s case. If the samples matched, we’d know we were dealing with the same guys who are probably HIV positive.”
“Yeah, that’s a creepy thought,” Mary gave me a funny look that caused me to blush. I had the feeling that she wanted to get the rapists as much as I did, but also wanted something more from me. Her way of looking at me made me uneasy. We both know how hard it is to know whether someone of the opposite sex is carrying a sexually transmitted disease, especially with the threat of AIDS hanging over our heads.
Mary passed me a note with the last known addresses and phone numbers of the two women involved in the gangbang. We spent the rest of the evening drinking and chatting. I needed to call Rita, but Mary needed to blow off steam about how hard it was to be a woman officer on the rape detail. She was risking her job to funnel me leads, so I felt I had no choice but to let her bend my ear.
By the time I got home, it was too late to call Rita. My sleep and dreams were troubled. I kept calling Rita and Mary kept answering the phone wanting to know who was Rita.
CHAPTER 5