William Bernhardt - Deadly Justice

“Did you have a chance to call any other witnesses?”

“Who would I call? No one else knew, except his buddies and my mother, and I knew they wouldn’t say anything. It was just him against me. And they believed him.”

“Did they hold a hearing?”

“Yeah.” Her hands gripped both ends of the kitchen counter. “My stepfather showed up with some fancy lawyer and a buddy from the police station. Some clown I’d never seen before in my life came in claiming to be my guardian or something. What a joke—he didn’t even talk to me. My stepfather’s cop friend got the whole thing fixed. He talked to the judge privately and he talked to the other officers who were going to testify. He convinced them I was a troublemaker. A discipline problem, that’s what they kept calling me.

“The judge said a lot of stuff I didn’t understand about how I hadn’t proven a right to be emancipated and ordered me to go back to live with my stepfather. Can you believe it? No matter what I did, I couldn’t get away from him. The judge ordered me to go back and live with the man who…who…” She turned away from him and dabbed her eyes with the dish towel.

Ben cleared his throat. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that he understood, but he didn’t know how to begin. “Sometimes there are some…problems with the juvenile justice system.”

“Justice?” She was crying full out now. Ben took the plate from her hands, turned off the running water, and led her back to the Jiving room. She crumpled onto the sofa and continued to cry. Ben sat next to her and waited.

After a long while, Trixie composed herself enough that Ben felt he could ask another question. “Did you go home with your stepfather after the hearing?”

“I had no choice. They literally put me in the car with him. As soon as we were out of sight, he hit me in the face. With his fist. And promised he’d do a lot more when we got home.”

Ben swallowed. He was afraid to ask what happened next.

“We walked through the front door. He turned toward me, his face all twisted up real mean, like he could kill me with his bare hands, and I kicked him right between the legs. Just like that, before he even had a chance to think about it. Hard. While he was down, I grabbed his wallet from his coat pocket and ran out the door. I ran to the bus station, got on the first bus that left and didn’t get off till I was in Tulsa.”

“Do you have relatives in Tulsa?”

“No. I don’t have relatives anywhere, at least not that I know of. I was just out of money. Someone picked me up at the bus station, though. Someone who was scouting for Sonny.”

“Sonny is your…boss?”

“Right. I had no hope at all at this point, and my stepfather’s money was almost gone. I was certain I was going to starve to death, or freeze to death, or the some other horrible painful way. Or get sent back to my stepfather, which would be worse. Sonny offered me hope. He offered to take care of me.”

“If you’d work for him.”

“Right. I didn’t like it, but what could I do? I couldn’t even get a job at McDonald’s at my age. I almost didn’t get a job from Sonny.”

“I didn’t realize he was all that particular.”

“He requires all his girls to have a physical regularly, especially before they start. Says he doesn’t want them spreading diseases that might put off his customers. I couldn’t get a physical, though, without some kind of ID. Thank God for Buddy. I guess you’ve met him; he works the other side. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had. Only friend, really. He pretended to be my stepfather and got a copy of my birth certificate.”

“And you passed the physical?”

“Of course. And I’ve been hooking ever since. Maybe it’s not my dream come true or anything, but I had to keep on eating somehow. So I made a compromise.”

“Another compromise.” Ben was quiet for a moment. “Seems awfully risky.”

“Hey, life is risky. If you don’t believe me, just try crossing the street in these heels sometime.”

“How long has it been since you left home?”

“Over a year now.”

Ben felt himself sinking into the sofa. Over a year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty-five days on the street. “Trixie, I’m so sorry. I just wish—”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. What a whiner I am.” She brushed away her tears and grinned. “You’re a nice guy, you know. Sweet.”

“Well, anyone else would feel the same—”

“I know that’s not true. Boy, do I know it.” She nodded toward the upstairs bedroom. “You wanna…you know, go upstairs?”

Ben closed his eyes. “No, Trixie. I don’t think that would be…” He struggled to find the right words. “We still need to talk. I know this has been hard for you. But I need to know how you became involved with this Kindergarten Club.”

She shrugged, disappointed, but unwilling to show it. “The Kindergarten Club was around long before me. I was a late entry. They drafted me to replace Carol Jo after she went back to L.A.”

“What exactly is it?”

“A bunch of gross old guys who worked together looking for some cheap easy thrills. They didn’t like to be seen on The Stroll or any of the usual places you’d go to pick up a…date for the evening. So they had this one guy, kind of the head creep, he made all the arrangements. He sent another guy out to gather us up and drive us to The Playground—that’s this place north of the city where no one else ever goes, including cops. The five of us girls would go out there, and then the men would show up, and we’d do…whatever.”

“What’s whatever?”

“Whatever they wanted. It changed from one night to the next. Usually some kind of weird show to get them worked up, then we’d finish off with the usual orgy.”

“The usual orgy?”

“That’s what they liked to call it. It really wasn’t an orgy, ’cause most of those guys weren’t good for more than one time, and only about thirty seconds at that.”

“What kind of a show?”

“Oh, we’d dress up in costumes, or we’d make a big deal of undressing. One time we stripped down and kind of messed with each other. They really liked that. Another time we let them pee on us. They got a big charge out of that, too. One time we tied some of them up and, you know, kind of teased their private parts. I wouldn’t let them tie me up, though. I drew the line there.”

Thank God. Ben’s teeth clenched tightly together. He wasn’t sure which was worse—thinking about her committing these acts, or hearing her recite them in such a matter-of-fact manner. “Why did you do this?”

“Because Sonny told me to. Besides, it paid very well. Every time the Club met, I could afford to take a night or two off, and sometimes Sonny would let me.” Her voice grew quieter. “That would make almost anything worthwhile.”

“This one guy you mentioned—the head creep. What did he look like?”

“I don’t know. I heard about him, but I never saw him.”

“Could you recognize these men if you saw them again?”

“Oh…possibly. You know, we’re told not to look the Johns in the face, and I think that’s usually sound advice.”

“Do you remember any of them?”

“I recognized one of them when I saw his picture in the paper. The one who got killed.”

Ben leaned forward eagerly. “What was his name?”

“I don’t remember, but he was the one who used to drive us out to The Playground.” Trixie crossed the room and took a folded newspaper out of the coat closet. “Here it is. I saved the paper.”

Ben glanced at it; he didn’t have to look long. It was the Tulsa World article about Howard Hamel’s murder. Hamel’s picture was on the top left corner of the page.