Rip Tide by Robert F Clifton (small books to read .txt) 📕

“And, how old is Alison??”,asked Wallace.

“Sixteen”.

“Go on”.

“Pauline had no steady boyfriend. She dated occasionally, but never got involved in any serious romance or fling. I believe that her real ambition was to be an actress. In case you didn't know, her minor at Rutgers was drama”.

“I see”.

“I also believe that she saw modeling as a stepping stone to acting. You know how young people are. They read about the success of some actor or actress who got their start in show business by modeling and they think that it's the quick way to get what they want. Anyway, her mother and I talked to her until we were blue in the face about not getting involved in modeling, but what could we do? Pauline was eighteen, legally

able to do what she wanted. And, she did”.

“Not to change the subject Mr. Harris, but we are in possession of

your daughters wristwatch. At this time it has no bearing on the case. I will have photo's taken of it and then return it to you. Just give me a day or two”.

“Take your time Captain. The watch was a present on her graduation day from high school. I'm sure her sister would like to have it”.

“I'm sure”

“My next question is when can we have her body? Funeral arrangements have to be made”.

“I think the medical examiner is still conducting postmortem tests. I'll see what I can do to speed things on their way”.

“I see. Then an autopsy is being conducted?”

“Yes sir”.

“I understand, but please don't let this information reach the ears of my wife and daughter”.

“I'll do my best Mr. Harris”.

“Thank you Captain”.

“You're welcome sir”.

When Douglas Harris left the office Wallace reached for the telephone on his desk. He lifted the receiver, dialed a number and listened to the ring tone on the other end of the line. “Morgue, Doctor Wescoat”.

“Doctor. Captain Wallace. I just spoke to Pauline Harris father. He is aware of the autopsy, but wants the fact that one is being conducted quiet. At the same time he wants his daughters body. When can you release it?”

“I'll stay late and remove the hyoid and examine it. I should be able to release her body tomorrow or the next day. It depends if I find anything that requires further study”.

“Then, I'll wait to hear from you”.

“Fine. In the mean time find out what mortuary I should contact”

“I will do just that. Thanks”.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, but you won't want to hear it”.

“Good by Captain”.

“Good by Doctor”.

At three thirty in the afternoon Detective Tom McKenna was the first investigator to return to headquarters. When he did he entered the Captain's office.

Wallace looked up from the paper files he was working on and asked, “How did you make out?”

“I met with Amanda Wells. She was very co-operative. According to her all of the women involved in modeling do so more or less as a hobby. They have known each other for years, went to school together, attend the same church and belonged to the same sorority. According to Mrs. Wells, Erica Butler is the boss. She sets up the fashion shows with the clients request. Most of the business is with conventions that come to town. It seems that Derrick Butler, is the go-for. He drives the models to the show, carries in all of the fashions they are going to exhibit and runs errands.

I asked Mrs. Wells about the teenagers that were hired by the Butler's. What we heard she substantiated. There was an increase of requests by clients for younger models and teenage fashions.

When asked who these young women were Mrs. Wells could only remember two young women, Angela Rodman and Pauline Harris. Naturally ,she knew about the Harris murder, but here's the best part.

According to her Angela Rodman is a singer known as “The Desert Angel” and she's working at the Timbuktu Dinner Club on Sebastian Island, right

across the bridge”.

Chapter Three

The Desert Angel

When they had entered the Timbuktu Dinner Club Wallace had asked to speak to the manager. When he met the man he identified himself and the detective with him and requested to meet with Angela Rodman, the Desert Angel, the headline singer at the club. Now ,seated at a table next to the dance floor Captain Wallace and Detective Myers dined on lamb kebabs and hummus as they waited for Angela Rodman to appear, finish her set and become available to answer some questions.

Like many entertainers appearing where food is served The Desert Angel waited until all dishes and silverware was removed from patrons tables. That way she was assured busboys and the noise they created clearing tables did not interfere with her music and the attention of the paying customers.

With the room near absolute quiet a deep, male voice came over the sound system. “Ladies and Gentlemen. The Timbuktu Dinner Club is proud to present for your entertainment, Miss Angela Rodman, The Desert Angel.”

A man at a piano began to play. As Wallace listened he was impressed with the talent of Angela Rodman. She had a beautiful voice and her act had elegance, so much so that she received a standing ovation from the diners, including Robert Wallace. The only thing lacking was a live orchestra.

Twenty minutes later, a waiter appeared at their table and Wallace was told that Miss Rodman would see them in her dressing room. Captain Wallace and Detective Myers followed the waiter down a narrow, dark, hallway. Then, they stopped in front of a wooden door which had gray paint peeling off of one panel. The waiter knocked, was told to enter then showed the police officers into the dressing room.

Angela Rodman was now dressed in blue jeans and a gray sweatshirt. She sat barefooted at her dressing table, smiled and said, “You must be Captain Wallace”.

“That I am and may I introduce Detective Carol Myers”.

“Hi. Now, what do you want to talk to me about?”

“I'll get right to the point. I'm sure that you are aware of the murder of Pauline Harris”.

“Only what I read in the newspapers”.

“Our information is that Pauline occasionally modeled for the Nautilus Beach Model Agency and that you were also modeling with them about the same time”.

“Yes, I was”.

“What can you tell us about Pauline?”

“Not too much. She was attractive, intelligent, but still a kid”.

“What do you mean by that?”, asked Myers.

“You know, naive, too trusting”.

“Anything else?”, asked Wallace.

“No. I can't remember even having a long conversation with her. We would see each other when Derrick picked us up or when we changed back stage for the show. We weren’t even friends, just acquaintances, two people on the job. That's all”.

“We have information that there was another young woman hired and working about the same time you and Pauline were together. Do you know who she is?”

“Sure. That would be Patricia Baker. Her and I were hired about the same time. We worked maybe three conventions and she up and quit”.

“Do you know why she quit?”

“Not really. I do remember that when she did ,her parting words to me was, “Watch your ass”.

“Do you happen to know where Miss Baker is right now?”

“The last I heard she was a black jack dealer at one of the casino's in Las Vegas”.

Myers wrote that piece of information in her notebook then asked, “When was the last time you saw Pauline Harris?”

“I don't really know. I do remember that she was having an argument of some kind with Derrick”.

“Do the models have a problem with Derrick?

“Not really. Erica is the boss, so much so that she has him doing menial tasks. I got the impression that he resented what he had become and tried to exert his manhood at the girls to project a macho image”.

“Did he do that with the older models?”

“Not that I know of. As I recall they got along fine with him”.

“Interesting. One more question. Why did you leave the agency?”

“Money. Modeling paid me maybe two hundred dollars a show. I had to kick back to Erica. There aren't too many conventions that want fashion shows, so that means work wasn't steady. As a singer I make three hundred dollars a night. I sing five nights a week. Do the math”.

“And, may I say you are an excellent vocalist. Thank you for your co-operation. Carol do you have any other questions?”

“No sir”.

“Fine, now on the way out I'll pay the dinner bill”.

On the drive back to Nautilus Beach Wallace looked at Carol and said,

“ Follow up on Patricia Baker. Start with the Nevada Gaming Control or Commission. See if you can find out where she's working. If you have any problem with them then contact the Las Vegas P.D.”

“Now, or first thing in the morning?”

“Morning is fine, just remember the time difference”.

Wallace walked into his condo. Tossed the unmarked radio car keys on top of his desk and saw the blinking red light of his telephone answering machine. He pushed the PLAY button. When he did he heard the voice of Doctor Wescoat. “Sorry I missed you. Anyway I checked the hyoid. It is fractured. Just wanted you to know. Oh, and by the way I can release the body to the parents just as soon as you tell me where they want it. Bye”. He waited for the second message to play. When it did he heard, “I'm sorry. I forgot to give you my number. It's 609-243 0809. Bye.”

Removing his holstered revolver he placed it on top of the desk then dialed Emily Wescoat's telephone number. He listened to her phone ring four times and then she answered. “Hello”.

“Hello yourself. I'm just returning your call”.

“Then you know about my findings in relation to the hyoid bone”

“Yes and as far as what mortuary the Harris family wants the body sent to I'm afraid that will have to wait until tomorrow morning. I could call them this evening, but I still think it can wait. I'm sure the body is refrigerated”.

“Certainly. Anything else?

“How did you get my telephone number here at my home?”

“I had to call the Assistant Prosecutor, Theodore Watkins. Remember our conversation about the slides I made of the skin tissue I found under Pauline's fingernails?”

“Yes”.

“Well, it seems that I, as the County Medical Examiner should keep them as evidence, safe guard them until further orders. At the same time I informed him about my findings regarding the hyoid. He suggested that I inform you right a way. I asked for and he gave me your number. I hope that you're not upset about me calling”.

“Not at all. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you called”.

“Were you engaged in business or pleasure?”.

“Business. Had to interview a possible witness”.

“I see. Well, I'll wait for your call in the morning”.

“Bye”.

“Good bye”.

The next morning Wallace got out of the unmarked car in the headquarters parking lot. When he did he entered a steady downpour of summer rain. Occasional lightning raced across the slate covered sky and the sounds of thunder followed each strike. Clutching the traditional white paper bag containing coffee and doughnuts he began to run towards the automatic doors of the building. He soon realized that running was a mistake as he feet splashed water from large puddles that had accumulated on the asphalt parking lot surface drenching the lower part of his trousers. At the same time his shoes, socks and feet were wet. “Son of a bitch!”, he said out loud.

Fearful that the torrent of rain would cause the paper bag to disintegrate he unbuttoned his blazer and placed the bag and its contents next to his body keeping it dry. Then, with water soaking his hair and dripping down his face he finally made it into the building. Just as he did a flash of lightning and an extreme clap of thunder occurred and he turned back to see that the lobby lights had gone off. “Dirty bastard! Now I've got to walk up three flights of stairs. You won't