He hung up, looked at me. His expression was a curious one, self-satisfaction mixed with something that might have been pity.
He said, "The Powhattan Motel, you know where Queens Boulevard cuts the Long Island Expressway? It"s just past the intersection. I don"t know just where, Elmhurst or Rego Park. Right about where they run into each other."
"So?"
"One of those adult motels, waterbeds in some of the rooms, X-rated movies on the teevee. They get cheaters, the hot-sheet trade, take a room for two hours. They"ll turn a room five, six times a night if they get the volume, and a lot of it"s cash, they can skim it. Very profitable, motels like that."
"What"s the point?"
"Guy drove up, rented a room a couple of hours ago. Well, that business, you make up the room soon as the customer leaves it. Manager noticed the car was gone, went to the room. Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the door. He knocks, no answer, he knocks again, still no answer. He opens the door and guess what he finds?"
I waited.
"Cop named Lennie Garfein responded to the call, first thing that struck him was the similarity to what we had at the Galaxy Downtowner. That was him on the phone. We won"t know until we get the medical evidence, direction of thrust, nature of wounds, all that, but it sure as h.e.l.l sounds identical. Killer even took a shower, took the towels with him when he left."
"Was it - "
"Was it what?"
It wasn"t Donna. I"d just spoken to her. Fran, Ruby, Mary Lou -
"Was it one of Chance"s women?"
"h.e.l.l," he said, "how do I know who Chance"s women are? You think all I do is keep tabs on pimps?"
"Who was it?"
"Not one of anybody"s women," he said. He crushed out his cigarette, started to help himself to a fresh one, changed his mind and pushed it back into the pack. "Not a woman," he said.
"Not - "
"Not who?"
"Not Caldern. Octavio Caldern, the room clerk."
He let out a bark of laughter. "Jesus, what a mind you got," he said. "You really want things to make sense. No, not a woman, and not your boy Caldern either. This was a transs.e.xual hooker off the Long Island City stroll. Preoperative, from what Garfein said. Means the t.i.ts are there, the silicone implants, but she"s still got her male genitals. You hear me? Her male genitals. Jesus, what a world. Of course maybe she got the operation tonight. Maybe that was surgery there, with a machete."
I couldn"t react. I sat there, numb. Durkin got to his feet, put a hand on my shoulder. "I got a car downstairs. I"m gonna run out there, take a look at what they got. You want to tag along?"
TWENTY-EIGHT.
The body was still there, sprawled full-length on the king-size bed. It had bled white, leaving the skin with the translucence of old china. Only the genitalia, hacked almost beyond recognition, identified the victim as male. The face was that of a woman. So was the smooth and hairless skin, the slender but full-breasted body.
"She"d fool you," Garfein said. "See, she had the preliminary surgery. The breast implants, the Adam"s apple, the cheekbones. And of course the hormone shots all along. That keeps down the beard and the body hair, makes the skin nice and feminine. Look at the wound in the left breast there. You can see the silicone sac. See?"
Blood all over, and the smell of fresh death in the air. Not the stale reek of a late-found corpse, not the stench of decomposition, but the horrible odor of a slaughterhouse, the raw throat-catching smell of fresh blood. I felt not so much nauseated as overpowered, oppressed by the warmth and density of the air.
"What was lucky is I recognized her," Garfein was saying. "That way I knew right off she was a pross and that made the connection in my mind with that case of yours, Joe. Was the one you caught as b.l.o.o.d.y as this?"
"Same thing," Durkin said.
I said, "You recognized her?"
"Oh, right away. I did a hitch not that long ago with the p.u.s.s.y Posse over in Long Island City. They still got a stroll there, they"ve had street prost.i.tution in that same location for forty or fifty years, but now you"re getting a lot of middle-cla.s.s people moving in there, converting lofts for residential use, buying up the old brownstones and converting them back from rooming houses to nice homes. They sign the lease in the daytime and then they move in and they look at what"s around them and they aren"t happy, and the pressure comes down to clean up the street." He pointed at the figure on the bed. "I must have arrested her, oh, say three times."
"You know her name?"
"Which name do you want? They"ve all got more than one. Her street name was Cookie. That was the name that came to me when I saw her. Then I called in to the station house at Fiftieth and Vernon and had somebody pull her file. She was calling herself Sara but back when she made her bar mitzvah the name they wrote down was Mark Blaustein."
"She had a bar mitzvah?"
"Who knows? I wasn"t invited. But she"s a nice Jewish girl from Floral Park is the point I"m making. A nice Jewish girl who used to be a nice Jewish boy."
"Sara Blaustein?"
"Sara Bluestone a/k/a Sara Blue. A/k/a Cookie. Notice the hands and feet? They"re on the large side for a girl. That"s one way you can tell a transs.e.xual. Of course it"s not foolproof, you get girls with big hands and boys with small ones. She"d fool you, wouldn"t she?"
I nodded.
"She would have had the rest of the surgery soon. Probably already had herself scheduled for the operation. Law says they have to live as a woman for a year before Medicaid"ll pick up the tab. Of course they all got Medicaid, they all got welfare. They"ll turn ten or twenty tricks a night, all quickie b.l.o.w. .j.o.bs in the johns" cars for ten or twenty bucks a pop, they"ll bring in a couple of hundred dollars a night seven nights a week, all of it tax free, and they got Medicaid and welfare and the ones with kids get ADC and half the pimps are on SSI."
He and Durkin batted that ball around a little. Meanwhile the technical people were busy around us, measuring things, taking photographs, dusting for prints. We got out of their way and stood together in the motel parking lot.
Durkin said, "You know what we got, don"t you? We got us Jack the f.u.c.king Ripper."
"I know it," Garfein said.
"You get anything with the other guests? She musta made some noise."
"You kidding? Cheaters? "I didn"t see nothin", I didn"t hear nothin", I gotta go now." Even if she did some screaming, in a job like this everybody"d figure it was a new way to have fun. a.s.suming they weren"t too busy having their own fun to notice."
"First he checks into a decent midtown hotel and phones up a fancy call girl. Then he picks up a TV streetwalker and drags her to a cheater"s motel. You figure the c.o.c.k and b.a.l.l.s came as a shock to him?"
Garfein shrugged. "Maybe. You know, half your street prost.i.tutes are guys in drag. Some sections it"s more than half."
"The West Side docks it"s a lot more than half."
"I"ve heard that," Garfein said. "You talk to the johns, some of "em"ll admit they prefer if it"s a guy. They say a guy gives better head. Of course there"s nothing queer about them, see, because they"re just receiving it."
"Well, go figure a john," Durkin said.
"Whether he knew or not, I don"t think it put him off much. He went and did his number all the same."
"Figure he had s.e.x with her?"
"Hard to tell unless there"s traces on the sheets. He doesn"t figure as her first trick of the evening."