the love play between Ken and Rose Peerson took place.
Totally out of character. She looked toward the kitchen again. Rose wiggled her bottom against her husband as he kissed and caressed her. The figure in the tree still looked away. He slipped the journal in his jacket pocket.
“What the hell kind of peeper is this?” she whispered.
Ten minutes later Ken and Rose shut the light off in the kitchen and disappeared from view. Before they did, Teresa heard Rose Peerson clearly.
“Ken...darling, don’t you dare get rid of that car, and don’t hurry fixing it.”
Both Teresa and Vincent heard Ken’s chuckle. “Whatever you say, sweetie.”
Teresa looked into the tree and thought she saw the peeper smile.
Jesus! Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice.
Ten minutes after the lights went out in the Peerson house, the figure in the tree appeared suddenly and silently at the top of the block wall. Teresa froze, sure that he would see her. Vincent hesitated for a moment, then she heard his voice clearly.
“Goodnight, Ken, Rose, Sarah, Peter.” His voice filled with affection.
Teresa was mesmerized. Vincent dropped to the alley lightly and ran toward the street. Without thinking, Teresa opened the window, hung from the sill for a moment, pushed outward and with arms outstretched for balance, dropped to the alley fifteen feet below.
It was a remarkably athletic move. She landed lightly, in perfect balance and sank into a deep knee bend. She moved up the alley running next to the wall, unaware that she wore only panties, bra and go-aheads.
At the head of the alley near the street she slowed keeping to cover. Across and down the street she saw a dark figure enter a pickup truck. She slipped behind a flowering mulberry bush in front of the apartment house.
The truck pulled out into the street and drove past where she’d ducked behind a shrub, then made a U-Turn and came back down the street. As it went beneath a street lamp, she got a close look at the occupant and the license.
“KWH-461...KWH-461...KWH...461...got it.”
She looked at her body and quickly darted back behind the bush.
“Jesus! Teresa, you are really loosing it!”
She looked around carefully and made a run for the entrance to the apartment house. She buzzed the apartment of her neighbors, the dynamic duo. The speaker hissed while she glanced around nervously. She heard a breathless voice.
“Yes?”
“Paul? This is Teresa. I’ve locked myself out. Buzz me in please, and meet me at my door with the key.”
“Sure, sweetie, here it comes.”
Teresa darted inside, looking around guiltily. She reached her apartment undetected, breathing hard. Paul stepped out of his apartment and looked her up and down. He raised his eyebrows dramatically.
“Well! Hello there. Very daring. This must be the newest in Police chic.”
“Now, Paul. Open the damn door now, before someone sees me for God’s sake.”
He unlocked her door. “Not to worry, darling. If you got it flaunt it, and honey, you have definitely got it!”
“Thanks, Pauli, thanks, I’m sorry to be trouble.”
She closed her door quickly. Paul stood staring at the door wistfully.
Inside, Teresa sat on the couch, hugged herself and laughed out of control.
“Whooo! It’s definitely getting away. If Jaime had been here my next stop would be the department shrink.”
She sat for a long time thinking about all she’d seen, then snapped her fingers with a loud pop. She got up quickly, went to the kitchen and pulled a pad of paper from a drawer. She wrote the number and all she could remember.
“KWH-461...Gray Chevy S10, 87 or 88. Man, thickset, strong, athletic, very light on his feet, moves easy. Wearing a dark jacket, wool watch cap, regular features. Peeper? Doubtful. Not like any Peeper I ever heard of.”
She went to a cabinet, removed a bottle of wine, poured herself a large glass and drank deep. She looked at her notes and began writing again.
“Surveillance? Cop? Doubtful! Peepers and cops don’t turn away at the sexy stuff. If it was agency work those dorks would have the Peerson’s house covered with a ton of electronic bullshit, sit in a van down the street, drink coffee, look at girlie magazines. Private detective? Maybe...no! Goodnight Ken, Rose, Sarah, Peter! No way! Very Strange.”
She drank the rest of the wine. “I’ll call Rita tomorrow.”
Vincent drove onto the 101 freeway from Pacific Ave., eased up to sixty five and held it there. He felt good. It had been a fine visit.
His face became hard. “Tommy Selkirk, you aren’t for Sarah. Not now, not ever.”
Chapter 6
Teresa stepped out of the shower and directly onto the scales. “Get it over quick. Jesus! 135. Something is wrong with this thing!” She kicked it into the corner viciously.
Teresa looked at herself in the mirror, gave her tummy a friendly pat, squeezed her breasts.
“Damn! What’s the point? A body to die for and no one dying.”
She braided her hair into a long, double twist. Dressed in jogging shorts, running shoes and a sweatshirt with a picture of Julio Igelesias on the front and back. She threw vegetables in the blender scanning her notes from the night before.
“Five days off,” Teresa sighed with satisfaction.
She picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory.
“Burbank Police Department Records. This is, Rita.”
“Rita, this is Teresa.”
“Hi, Miss Viking. What can I do for you?”
“You can start by knocking off the Viking shit. The name’s Teresa, and if your going to be a pain, make it Sergeant Keely.”
“Hey, sorry, pal. Lighten up a little.”
“Okay, okay, don’t mean to bite. It’s been a hard week, but I’ve got five days off, maybe that’ll help. I need you to run a number.”
“Working on your days off, okay, shoot.”
“California license, KWH-461 gray Chevy S10 87-88 pickup.”
“Okay, it’s running, mmm, here we go. Name: Vincent Andreas Vankelis, 21260 Sunland Boulevard, Sun Valley. No wants, warrants or arrests, not even a parking ticket. Clean as a whistle.”
“Occupation?”
