Chapter 77
"WHAT DID SHE MEAN BY THAT?" ChessyJenks asked her husband, confused, after the police inspectors left the house. Jenks brushed her away. He paced over to the large French doors leading out to the Pacific. "Idiots," he muttered. "Amateurs. Who the hell do they think they're dealing with?" He felt a prickly, stabbing heat racing over his shoulders and back. They were stupid, tiny-minded. Beetles. That's why they were cops. If they had any brains, they'd be doing what he was doing. Living high over the Pacific. "That's why they dig landfills," he replied distractedly. "A place for cops to feel at home." Chessy picked up the wedding photo from the coffee table and set it back in its rightful spot. "What did you do now, Nick?" Why did she always drive him to this? Why did she always need to know? She came over, looked at him with those lucid, patient eyes. As always, his anger leaped up in a flash. He didn't even realize he had hit her. It was just that suddenly his hand hurt and Chessy was sprawled on the floor- and the bamboo table on which the pictures were had toppled over- and she was holding her mouth. He shouted, "Don't you know when to keep away from me? What do you need, a road map?" "Uh-uh, Nick," Chessy said. "Not here… not now." "Not here what?" he was shouting. He knew he was shouting, losing control. That the staff might hear. "Please, Nick," Chessy said, pulling herself off the floor. "Susan will be here soon. We're going to lunch." It was the notion that Chessy thought she could just sit there and judge him that really set him off. Didn't she see who she really was? Just some blonde with freckles he had picked out of a cattle call and turned into God's gift to Martha Stewart. He grabbed her by the arm and put his face inches from her beautiful, terrified eyes. "Say it!" The arm he held was trembling. A tiny stream of mucus ran out of her nose. "Jesus, Nick…" That's what he liked, her fear of him, even though she never showed it in public. "I said say it, Chessy." He twisted her arm behind her back. She was breathing heavily now, sweat forming under her T-shirt. Her little tits poked through. When she glared back at him with her paltry defiance, he twisted harder, digging his fingers into her arm. He shoved her toward the bedroom, her bare feet stumbling along. In the bedroom he kicked the door shut. Who did the lead cop think she was? Coming in here… accusing him like that. In her cheap Gap ensemble. What a fucking insolent bitch. He dragged Chessy into the clothes closet. Hers. It was dark in there. Only the dark and her sobs and the pervasive smell of her perfume. He pushed her forward against the wall, rubbed himself against her buttocks. He pulled Chessy's gym shorts down, her panties along with them. "Please," she cried. "Nicky?" He found the familiar place where her small cheeks parted. He was very hard, and he pushed himself in deep. He was driving himself inside Chessy. "Say it," he gasped. "You know how to make it stop. Say it." "Ruff…," she finally murmured in a tiny whisper. Now she was loving it, as she always did. It wasn't bad- it was good. They all ended up wanting and loving it. He always picked them so well. "Ruff," she whimpered. "Ruff, ruff. Is that what you want, Nick?" Yes, that was part of what he needed. It was all he expected from Chessy. "You love it, Chessy," he whispered back. "That's why you're here."
Chapter 78
WE KEPT A CLOSE WATCH on Jenks's movements with a surveillance team of three cars. If he made a move to dump the gun, we'd know. If he moved to kill again, we hoped we could stop him. No matter how clever he was, I didn't see how he could execute another murder right now. I wanted to speak with someone who knew him, who might be willing to talk. Raleigh had mentioned an ex-wife, a history of violence between them. I needed to talk with her. It wasn't hard to track down Joanna Jenks, now Joanna Wade. A search through the police files had her maiden name listed as part of the domestic complaint she had filed against her husband years before. A Joanna Wade was currently residing at 1115 Filbert Street on Russian Hill. It was an attractive limestone town house on the steepest part of the hill. I buzzed, identified myself to the housekeeper who answered. She informed me that Ms. Wade was not at home. "Ehersizing," she said. "Gold's Gym. On Union." I found the gym around the corner between a Starbucks and an Alfredson's market. At reception, a buffed, ponytailed staffer informed me that Joanna was in Exercise Room C. When I asked what Joanna Wade looked like, the staffer laughed. "Think blond. And kick-ass fit." I wandered in, and through a large observation window, spotted a Tac-Bo class in Exercise Room C. About eight women sweating in Lycra and jog bras were kicking their legs out karate style to loud music. I knew that Tac-Bo was the latest exercise craze, the biggest burn. Any one of these women looked as if she could take a resisting suspect up against a wall, then beat the patrol car back to the precinct with breath to spare. The only blonde was in front. Trim, sculpted, pushing herself hard and barely breaking a sweat. It was her class. I hung around until she finished up and most of the class had rushed out. She toweled the sweat off her face. "Great workout," I said, as she headed my way. "The best in the Bay Area. Looking to sign up?" "Maybe. First I thought I could ask you a couple of questions." "Try Diane up front. She can tell you the whole deal." "I wasn't talking Tac-Bo." I flashed her my badge. "I'm talking Nicholas Jenks." Joanna stared at me, flapping her blond ponytail off her shoulders to cool her neck. She smirked. "What'd he do, get caught shoplifting one of his books out of Stacey's downtown?" "Can we talk?" I asked. She shrugged and led me over to a changing area that was unoccupied. "So what could I tell you about Nick that you couldn't find out from one of his jacket flaps?" "I know it was several years ago," I said, "but you once filed a domestic complaint against him." "Listen, in case the paperwork didn't catch up, I dropped the charge back then." I could see the terror of the moment exploding all over again for her. "Look," I said genuinely "no one's trying to dig up old wounds, Ms. Wade. I'd just like a read on your ex husband." "Up to his old tricks again?" I could see her sizing me up. Was I an ally or a foe? Then she let out a capitulating breath and looked right at me. "If you're here about Chessy I could've warned her. If he hadn't been such a creep about how he dumped me. How did he put it, I write through her, Jo. She inspires me. You ever read his books, Inspector?" she asked. "She didn't have to inspire him by holding a job down while he went off and found himself, did she? She didn't have to read his drafts, deal with his rages when he got rejected, tell him every night how much she believed in him. You know where he met her? In the makeup room at Entertainment Tonight." "What I'm asking, Ms. Wade," I said, "is how violent is Nicholas Jenks?" She paused, looked away. When she turned back, her eyes had filled up as if she were about to cry. "You know, you come in here after all this time and make me go through this again. What do you want me to say? That his mother didn't love him? That he's a screwed-up, dangerous man? Life with Nick… it's so hard. He's holding something in and God only knows when it's going to come out. I would ask myself, Why? What had I done? I was just a kid." Her eyes glistened. "I'm sorry." I truly felt for her. For both Mrs. Jenkses. I couldn't even imagine what it was like to wake up and find myself married to someone like him. "I need to ask," I said. "What are the chances things with your ex-husband have intensified? Become more serious." She looked stunned. "Is Chessy all right, Inspector?" "Chessy's all right." I nodded, making it clear I felt there were others who might not be. She waited for me to blink. When I didn't, she gave me a mirthless laugh. "So I guess we're talking a lot deeper than pilfering a book from Stacey's bookstore?" I nodded again. Woman to woman now, I said, "I need to ask you a crucial question, Ms. Wade."