“She said she had cramps,” said Boatwright.
“So? Is that some big deal? You don't get cramps every month? She had cramps and gas, she was… gassy all day. Thought it was funny. Let it out nice and loud. She had no problem with any of it til he got involved. Stupid punk. Like he's gonna be a father! Right! Telling her she'd been spayed. Idiot. She never even knew what the word meant! I tell you it was no big deal. Boom, boom. The gas is 'cause they fill you up with it, here,”- touching her own pubic region-“so they can see what's in there, then they go in through the belly button and boom, it's over. Like I said, she was walking around the next day.”
Angela Boatwright said, “Sounds like you know other women who've had it.”
Mary Farney stared at her, defensiveness giving way to pure anger. “So?”
Boatwright shrugged.
“Yeah,” said Farney. “I had it, too, okay? Dr. Cruvic said it was dangerous for me to have another kid, the way I'm built. Is that okay with you, miss? Do I have your permission?”
“Sure,” said Boatwright.
Mary Farney shook a hand at her. “What do you know? After Chenise was born and they finally figured out she wouldn't be normal, her father walked the hell out on me. You have any kids, miss?”
“No, ma'am.”
Farney's smile was smug. “Don't let her tell you she didn't know, 'cause she did. She signed consent. It's that little asshole, getting her high, convincing her they could be Mommy and Daddy. Like it was even his in the first place.”
“It wasn't?” said Milo.
“Who knows? That's the point. And even if it was his, so what? He can read at second-grade level. Maybe. He's gonna take care of her and a baby?”
“Can Chenise read?” I said.
“Some.”
“What's her level?”
Pause. “I haven't had her tested in a long while.”
“But she signed her name to the consent form,” said Milo.
“I told her what it was and she signed it.”
“Ah.”
Farney put her hands on her hips. “Do you have kids?”
He shook his head.
“No one has kids,” she said. “Must be I'm the only one crazy enough. What about you?”
“No,” I said.
She laughed. “Can I smoke?” Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a package of Virginia Slims from her purse and lit up.
“When's the last time Chenise's IQ was tested?” I said.
“Who knows? Probably in school.”
“Probably?”
“You think they tell me what they do? All they do is file paper, make files this thick.” Spreading her arms two feet wide.
“What was the last IQ score you got for her?” I said.
“What, you don't think she's smart enough to understand? Let me tell you something, I'm her mother and I say she can understand. When I give her five bucks for the mall and she asks for ten, she understands just fine. When she comes home late and makes excuses, she understands. When Darrell or some other punk says be ready at a certain time and she's there at the door, early, she understands. Okay? Only some things she don't understand. Okay?”
“Like what?” said Boatwright.
“Like how to clean her room. Like how to keep her pants on.”
Her laugh was brutal.
“She's like a magnet for it, since she's eleven the boys been sniffing around her. She walks that walk, winks an eye. All these years I been talking myself blue, trying to get her to see where that leads. She just smiles, sticks out her tit- her chest. Like, look what I've got, I'm a woman. So finally she went and proved she was.”
No one said anything.
“I love her, okay? Before she got her period she was a sweet kid! Now all I do is worry. About AIDS and stuff. Now there's one less thing to worry about.” Another laugh. “Maybe she should be in trouble with you guys. Maybe the best thing would be to lock her up. 'Cause I sure can't stop her from humping around. And who's gonna help me when she humps herself straight to AIDS?”
More silence.
“You think she can raise a kid? So I protected her the best way I knew how and she understood damn good- you know what she told me once? About men? We were sitting in the car, at a Wendy's or something, and she gives this smile and I know it's trouble. I say what, Chenise. And she says, I like when men sweat, Mom. I say, oh? Yeah, she says, like when they sweat between their legs. I nearly choked, she was only thirteen. Then she says, know why I like it, Mom? I say why, Chenise. And she takes a big deep breath, gives a great big smile, and says, I like it 'cause it tastes good.”
24
Shortly after 1:00 A.M., Chenise was released to her mother's morose custody. A sheriff's van had come by to transport Darrell Ballitser to the county jail.
Milo and Boatwright and I watched a late replay of the eleven o'clock news in the Beverly Hills station. The antsy blond, reading copy with a smug smile.
Long-shot of Cruvic entering his Bentley. The spin: Beverly Hills doctor fends off attack by crazed skinhead, Darrell's rage fueled by the “unauthorized sterilization of his girlfriend. Police are investigating a link between the attack and the unsolved murder of feminist psychologist Dr. Hope Devane, reputed to have worked with Dr. Cruvic. Now for an update on that drive-by in East L.A.-”
Milo turned off the set. “Better get to work on that warrant before media leeches are camped out at Ballitser's flop. Thanks, Angela.”
“Any time,” she said. “You see Ballitser for Devane?”
“He admits going after Cruvic but denies Devane.”
“Maybe 'cause Cruvic's an attempted assault and Devane's homicide. He does ride a bike.”
“Yeah. Let me check out the bike, his whole place, maybe I'll be able to tell more. Thanks again.”
“No problem,” she said. “Apart from rich little assholes shotgunning their parents, we don't get much excitement around here.”
Civic Center Drive was empty again, the steel garage door sealed tight. Milo looked tired but walked fast.
I said, “At the risk of being repetitive, what link could there be between Darrell and Mandy Wright?”
“Exactly. And on the IQ scale, Darrell makes Kenny Storm look like Einstein, so I'm not counting on this panning out. And something else, what I was telling you about Club None: A cocktail waitress who worked there also got killed. Four days before Mandy was killed in Vegas.”
“Stabbed the same way?”
“No, strangled. In the alley, four in the morning, after closing. Girl named Kathy DiNapoli. Left behind the dumpster, legs spread, blouse ripped, panties down. But no sexual entry. Maybe it was a sex thing and the guy got interrupted or couldn't get it up. Or maybe someone was trying to make it look like a sex thing. I know the M.O.'s different and that part of Sunset has its share of crime. But four days? Bartender couldn't say if Kathy served Mandy, but she was on shift when he thinks he saw Mandy.”
“So Kathy could have been eliminated because she saw Mandy with someone. But then, the fact that she was murdered first means the killer knew what he was going to do well before.”
“Exactly,” he said. “A planner.”
“Not Darrell.”
He laughed. “The club's definitely not Darrell's venue. We're talking studs and studettes, lots of hair and teeth. On the other hand, with what I've got so far I'd be laughed out of the D.A.'s office trying to make a case for DiNapoli as part of the package. And we do have motive on the little schmuck, plus he threatened Cruvic with a knife.”