THE COED MURDER CLUB. Ken Salter

Los Angeles; she’s not good at hiding her emotions. Her fingers played an angry tune on her keyboard; she was ready to boil over.

      I whispered in her ear, “Think you can get the girl in to see me without the parents?”

      “I dunno, R.C. Maybe. I’ll give it a try. I can’t stand that guy! Si no, you let me strangle him, yes?”

      “Just give it a try. If you can’t do it, just cancel the appointment and reschedule the girl and her mother when he’s at work. The girl’s not going to open up to me with daddy haranguing her. Try to get them to take a walk and get some coffee and a snack at the deli across the way. It may take some time to get the girl’s story.”

      “I’ll do my best.”

      Juanita saved her work on her word processor, adjusted her colorful Mexican smock she wore over tan slacks and marched over to the family still engaged in their domestic dispute. “Miz Rohnert, Meester Bean can see you now. He says he wanna speak with you in private first, then he wanna speak with your parents. So, you go back to Meester Bean’s office and he talk with you now.” She shooed the young woman forward and blocked the path of the parents.

      “Meester Bean say it’s very important to see your daughter alone, Meester Rohnert. She’s not gonna talk about her big problems with you all fighting,” Juanita said, staring down Mr. Rohnert. “So, why don’t you just get a cup of coffee across the street and wait until he can see you,” Juanita said forcefully. She had her hands on her hips and her lustrous big, brown eyes and tone of voice sparked a clear message, “Don’t try to cross me, buster.”

      Mr. Rohnert flapped his arms in frustration. Juanita’s frontal attack on his authority was unexpected. As Juanita stared him down, he sank back into his chair not sure what to do. His wife, seeing him checkmated, quickly reinforced Juanita’s gambit. “Thank you, Miss. We’re all still under the shock at what happened to Mindy. A strong cup of coffee and some sweet rolls sounds like a good idea. How long will it be before Detective Bean will want to see us, do you think?”

      “It’s probably gonna be an hour or more. So, you just take your time and try to relax. I can call Rose at the deli if you’re still there when he finishes with your daughter.”

      Mr. Rohnert’s face was still flushed. He opened his mouth to protest and object to his wife’s betrayal, but the two woman were now joined in a united front. Juanita pointed to the door and Mrs. Rohnert headed for the street. Her husband hesitated, but conceded his defeat and sullenly followed his wife.

      I had left the door to my office open so I could see how the scene played out. Miss Rohnert entered my office and I motioned her to shut the door behind her. She spoke first.

      “God, I’m sorry for all this shit my parents are causing. I told him I had to speak with you alone, but he’s freaking out. We can’t talk to him and he can’t leave it alone.”

      “Hey, it’s no big deal. My secretary has handled tougher nuts than your dad. Why don’t you sit down and try to relax for a moment. I hate to take you back through unpleasant memories, but if I’m to find those guys who hurt you, I need to know the whole story from the beginning.”

      She glanced at me nervously through puffy eyelids which betrayed her concerns about telling her story to a stranger. “Will you tell my father everything I tell you?” She looked scared and suspicious. Her pretty face was lined with worry wrinkles.

      I looked directly into her steely-blue eyes before replying. “No, let me set you straight about my arrangements with your father. As you know, he called to ask if I would find the men who raped you. He said the police were no longer actively pursuing the rapists. He sounded real pissed off. He said he wanted me to find those guys so he could ‘sue their asses off.’ Those were his exact words. I made no commitment. I told him I could only promise to listen to your story, check my contacts in the police department and find out why they are no longer pursuing the matter. I didn’t promise to take the case and that made him mad. If I do take the case, you’ll be my client, not your dad, even though he’ll pay my expenses.”

      She gave me a funny look and flipped a lock of honey-blond hair off her face with a practiced effect. “Does that mean you’ll tell him only what I want him to know?”

      “Not necessarily. I’ll tell him the minimum, only what he needs to know. But I’m the final judge of that. I can handle your parents. It’s you I’m worried about. You’re going to have to level with me about what really happened for me to help you. I know it’s not going to be easy.”

      I looked her straight in the eyes and she didn’t flinch. That was a good sign. She knew she would have to confide some very ugly business. Her mother had engineered the referral to me because she knew I had handled a very sensitive matter involving another white college student who’d been the victim of sexual harassment by professors at the university.

      “I guess I don’t have much choice, do I?” she said with resignation.

      “Hey, remember, I’m on your side. May I call you Mindy?”

      “Yeah, sure, that’s fine.” She actually forced a little smile out of the corner of her mouth while she played with her long hair.

      “Good, I’d like you to call me R.C.” She nodded her assent. I wanted to go slow and build some rapport to cut through the residual ice left over from her father’s ranting and raving.

      “You know, picking a detective’s a lot like selecting a doctor or a lawyer. You have to confide intimate and often embarrassing information before they can help you. You have to develop trust.”

      She continued to twist a strand of hair. I watched her wrestle with a decision. “I want you to find the bastards that did this to me!” she said in a raspy but determined voice.

      “Good, that’s exactly what l’m going to do.”

      Her fiery look told me she’d shifted whatever concerns she had about my brown skin to those who had hurt her. We were over our first big hump.

      “I’ve been so scared since I found out. It’s like somebody just decides to slam all the doors shut and you’re left locked out in the cold. You feel so lonely and desperate. They give you a death sentence and all of a sudden everyone knows and blames you. They whisper and watch you and consider you to be like a leper. I hate it! It’s not fair. I’m only twenty-two years old and my life is over.”

      “Is that the way your parents have taken it?”

      “Mother tries to be supportive in spite of her own anger about what happened. She was sympathetic about how the rape affected me and that helped. Father never really cared about what it did to me. He’s angry because of what the situation does to his reputation. It’s like it’s my fault that he has to deal with something he’d rather sweep under the rug.”

      “Why does he blame you for what happened?”

      “When the cops stopped trying to locate the fuckers, I think he figured it was my fault that I got raped.”

      “Did the police say why they couldn’t find the men who raped you?”

      “Not really. The women officers who had me tested for the rape were sympathetic at first. Later after I was grilled by the detectives, I could tell they were just going through the motions. We’d ask how the investigation was going and they’d just hem and haw. They wouldn’t look you in the eye or give me a straight answer.”

      “Who was the detective assigned to your case?”

      “His name was Sawyer. I think his first name was Dean.”

      “Yeah, I know the dude. Big red-headed guy with a lot of freckles and a pot belly?”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “I got contacts at the police department. I’ll look into what derailed the investigation. When did the rape occur?”

      “Just over seven months ago.”

      “Did