It was time for me to interject some novelty into his life. “What are you working on?”
“Pardon?” His eyes jumped to my face, his cheeks still pink. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yes, sir, I am. You seem to be working on something very important.”
“Not important, just vast.” His eyes went back to his desktop. “All this paperwork: rules, regulations, statutes, ordinances. Whoever the government doesn’t tax to death, it drowns in paperwork. Either way, it’s going to kill us all. You, me, my dog, your cat-”
“I don’t own a cat.”
“I wasn’t talking literally!” he replied, bristling. “Forget it!”
“You seem stressed,” I remarked.
“Oh please! If I hear that word one more time, I really will upchuck! Anyone who works with bureaucracy is stressed! Obviously, you don’t.”
“I work for LAPD. They don’t come any more bureaucratic than that institution.”
“Or any more corrupt, if you don’t mind my impudence. What are you working on?”
“Talk about impudence.”
“Top secret?” he asked in a bored voice.
“Nothing important. I’m Cindy Decker, by the way.” Silence. “I suppose your mother christened you with a name?”
“She did.”
More silence. The guy was a first-class tool. His desk was set against a window, and abruptly a female face pressed itself against the glass. She had short dark hair, hooded eyes, and a gaping mouth with triangular-shaped teeth. She seemed short and was holding a hoe, almost a takeoff onAmerican Gothic.She bore a worrisome expression. With deliberation, she raised her fist and tapped on the windowpane. The beanpole looked up and gave her a half smile that almost humanized him.
“Back to work, young ’un!” he shouted through the glass. “Rest is for old folk.”
The lines on her forehead deepened. She started to complain about something. I could tell by her tone of voice, although I couldn’t understand her. Her speech wasn’t clear and she spoke through a glass barrier. “Skinny Man” rolled his eyes, then got up and opened the door. They talked for a moment and then she left. He sat down and resumed his paperwork.
“Is she okay?” I asked.
He stared at me. “Of course, she’sokay.Why wouldn’t she beokay?”
“She just seemed… I don’t know… a little lost.”
“I hope you’re a better cop than you are a psychologist.” A derisive sneer. “She wants to know how long until lunch. Then after lunch, they want to know how long before dinner. Their lives revolve around meals. Life would be simpler if we had bells, like in school. You’ll have to excuse me. Some of us have deadlines to meet.”
As in:Shut up.But it didn’t matter because “Nervous Girl” had reappeared with whom I assumed was Mr. Klinghoffner-a man who looked to be in his mid-fifties. He had a shock of thick gray hair, was fat across the middle, and had chubby cheeks to match. All he needed was the suit and the white beard and I was looking at Santa Claus. I got up and extended my hand. He took it politely with a limp-fish shake.
“Jamie tells me you’re from the police?”
Jamie must be the nervous girl. “That’s right, Mr. Klinghoffner. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment. Privacy would be preferred.”
“Don’t bother, I’m not listening, I couldn’t care less,” Skinny Man chimed out.
Klinghoffner laughed. “Don’t mind Buck.”
Buck?I had the good sense to keep my smile in check.
“It’s evaluation time for the Center for funds.” Klinghoffner kneaded doughy hands. “Lots of paperwork. He’s a bit tense. Let’s go into my office. This way.”
He led me through a kitchen that still had its original cabinets and fixtures. The counters were tiled in sunny yellow, and a diamond pattern of midnight blue and yellow made up the back-splash. Klinghoffner’s office was off to the right-a tiny room that was probably once a pantry. When he closed the door, it was pretty tight inside, but it did have a nice-size picture window and a skylight giving a blue clue to a world beyond.
“How can I help you, Officer?”
“If you read the papers on Tuesday morning, you’ll know that LAPD found an abandoned baby in Hollywood.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Terrible.”
“The baby is doing well. We have reason to believe that the mother is Caucasian and possibly developmentally disabled.”
“I see.”
“Any ideas?”
Klinghoffner appeared to be thinking about it. “I’m not… aware of any of our women being pregnant.”
“Was pregnant.”
“Or was pregnant. But I don’t know everything.”
Covering his rather commodious butt. “Okay. Maybe we could talk in theoretical terms.”
“I’m not being cagey, Officer Decker, I just don’t know. We try to teach our students about the birds and the bees, but most of their guardians-the parents, the siblings, the aunts-they don’t like to leave things to chance. Many of our women are sterilized coming in. The last thing anyone needs is another special child to deal with.”
I thought about my poor little baby. Maybe she’d be okay. Maybe Koby was wrong. “You said many of your women are sterilized.”
“Yes. But it’snota back-alley thing. There is full consent-from the families, from the women themselves. They request it, Officer. They know that they are in no position to raise a child, should they have sex.”
“You allow them to have sex?”
“No, not here. But drives are drives. We are realistic. And the women who aren’t sterilized, we give them the pill every day along with their vitamins. We make sure they take it.”
“Are the women aware that by doing this, they can’t get pregnant?”
“We explain it to them. Some comprehend more than others.”
“But you don’t require them to take birth control, do you?”
He heaved a great sigh. “We don’t strap them down, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“I’m sorry. I know you have a difficult task. I’m not passing judgment.”
“That’s good,” the director said. “It’s hard enough teaching our students about hygiene, let alone sex. We just try to make sure that if sex happens, the women are not left coping with something they’re not equipped to cope with.”
“Do the women know what they’re doing when they have sex?”
Klinghoffner pursed his lips. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Is it consensual as opposed to forced on them?”
“Good Lord, I hope it’s consensual, although I suspect I know what you’re saying. The young women here… They’re not used to having control over their bodies. They’ve been told what to do all their lives. We have counselors here to help them integrate sex and health education.”
He looked away.
“We do not allow sex within these walls. But the few times I’ve actually caught a pair in the act, I’ve looked the other way in terms of punishment. I did take the parties involved aside and insist they get some couples counseling. For precisely the reason you stated. To make sure that nothing was forced.”
“And?”
“The parties were all right with the sexual relationship. But their guardians were not. A few times, I’ve had students pulled out of the programs because of it.”
I tried being charming. “And might you know any woman pulled out of the program because of having sex, say… within the last nine months? Maybe one with Down’s?”