Fatal Encounter, Chapter 17
by Irv Pliskin
They bundled up the clothes again in a large bag, making sure that the white plastic bag was included and took it with them into the rest stop.
Hallen saw BB walking across the parking lot, and they waited for him before they went into the restaurant.
“The tech guys took the bike,” he said. “They’ll call us on the cell as soon as they know anything. Okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” Hallen said. “Okay, here’s where we are. We are pretty sure Rogers was here, washed up and changed his clothes and probably bummed a ride out of here. We might assume that he went towards Philly; that would be the logical choice. Easy to get lost in a big city.”
“You may be right,” Godowsky said, “and I suspect you are, but would it matter to him which way he went? He just needed to get away from here, and I bet he would have gone anyway that made it easy.”
“Hmm,” Hallen said. “You’re probably right. Have we any idea what this guy looks like now? Do you think he shaved while he was down there?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Godowsky said. “If he wore that shit all the time he was there,” he said, pointing to the trash bag, “he sure didn’t pay any attention to what he looked like. I didn’t see any signs of shaving in the bunker, either. Did you?”
They both shook their heads.
“Okay,” Hallen said. “Let’s assume he’s bearded. We can certainly get some pictures of him with and without a beard, and I bet we can get them run on the local TV, both in Wilkes-Barre/Scranton and Allentown/ Bethlehem. Let’s get out of here and start doing something about finding that son of a bitch.”
The media was cooperative. They still considered Rogers a good news story, and so that afternoon, on the five o'clock news, all of the local TV stations carried a story about the manhunt, with pictures. They ran them in sets, Rogers beardless and then touched up pictures of how Hallen thought he might look with a beard, and actual shots taken from the videos of how he looked clean shaven.
Having worked all night at the escort parlor, Regina was just sitting down to her first cup of coffee since she had awakened from her day long sleep. She felt pretty good about the night before. ‘Marty’ had been very generous and it had been a good night. More money to put aside for her tuition when she went back to college. She took a cup of coffee, lit a cigarette and flipped on the TV just in time to catch the five o'clock news on NBC.
“State Police,” the announcer said, “are asking people to be on the alert for the man they call Carl Rogers. He is a prime suspect in the deaths of several women, and was last seen in the North Eastern Pennsylvania and Pocono area. Here are some photoss of the man. He may be bearded or clean shaven. He is assumed to be armed and very, very dangerous. If you have any idea of where this man might be, if you have seen him in the last 24 hours, please call this number.”
The number flashed on the screen. Regina wrote it down on the tablecloth with a ball point pen.
Without a doubt, the bearded man in the picture had been her most generous and horny client of the night before. She had spent hours with him, and recognized him, instantly. But she had a problem, as she saw it.
She had never been ‘made’ as a hooker. Never been arrested and had a clean and enviable record. If she called the cops, would that make her vulnerable and put them on the lookout for her.? Would she end up in jail as a whore? She certainly didn’t want that. All she was doing was earning enough money to go to college, and complete her work in criminal justice and criminology. She had another year to go, and then she could get a job working for the police in solving crimes. In those quiet moments of self reflection, she even felt that her current work would give her an insight into a part of the criminal mind. And, of course, it was certainly much more lucrative than waiting on tables or working taking drive-in orders from Micky D’s. She wondered sometimes about the morality of it. She rationalized that everybody liked to screw, as she did, and why not get paid for it? So far as she was concerned, intimacy had always been painful, and a real disappointment. But that was not this afternoon’s dilemma. Her dilemma was what should she do, did she dare take a chance on calling the cops?
Her citizenship took over and she dialed the number on the tablecloth. She got the State Police barracks and when she asked to speak to the man in charge of the investigation, she was surprised when she was switched directly to someone who sounded as if he knew what was going on. The voice said, “Hallen, may I help you?”
“I think maybe I will be able to help you,” Regina said.
“Yes ma’am,” Hallen said, “that would be wonderful.”
‘“But first, I have to know something.”
“Sure, what?”
“Well, I don’t want to get in trouble by telling you something. If I’ve been doing something not quite legal, will you arrest me?”
Hallen caught on right away. “Listen young lady, what you do is your business. I don’t care so long as you haven’t killed anyone. And if you give us information, I guess it is about this Rogers guy, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but he called himself Martin.”
“If you can help,” Hallen went on, “I guarantee you complete anonymity. Just you and me and my associates will know what you tell us. Will that be okay?”
“Er, yes.” Regina said. She gave him her name and address and phone number, and he told her he was on his way. He would see her in 45 minutes. Godowsky was in the outer office, so Hallen took him with him. BB was off checking the fingerprints on the bike and the material they had found in the dumpster.
They arrived in their unmarked car, at the Garden Apartment address they had been given and rang the bell. Regina, wearing a neat button down shirt and blue jeans, answered the door and showed them in. Hallen had his identification out as they walked into the simply furnished apartment.
“I'm Detective Hallen of the State Police” he said to her, “and this young man is Officer Godowsky. He is working with me on the Rogers case.”
“Please sit down,” she said. “Can I get you something cold to drink or some coffee?”
“No, No. We're fine, thank you. What have you got for us?”
“Well, detective, you promised that I won't get in trouble over this, didn't you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, I saw that man last night. Actually we spent several hours together.”
“Ok, tell me about it, please.”
“You see I work as an entertainer at the Dream Gals Massage Parlor just off route 22, and he came in last night and stayed for three hours.”
“You're sure it was him?”
“Yes, I'm sure. He said his name was Martin, and he came from Dallas.
He said he was just passing through, and that he sold heavy equipment.”
Hallen took a picture from his attaché case and put it on the table It was the retouched picture of Rogers. showing him with a beard. “Is this the man you saw?” he asked her.
“Yes, it is. His beard is a little different from the way it is shown there.
He wears it in two points, one on either side, but it is the same man, I am sure of it.”
“And he was here last night?”
“Well not here in my apartment, but here in town at the massage parlor. I am sure of it. He was with me and the other girls for at least three hours, from about ten o'clock or so until one in the morning at least. He was very generous.”
She described the way he was dressed and the conversations. She did not get into how she entertained him, and Hallen did not ask.
Just before he left, though, Hallen thanked her and said, “We won't need to come back to see you, Miss Dawson, but we suspect this man has a very virulent sexually transmitted disease. “
She gasped. “AIDS?”
“No, we think it is gonorrhea, but if you had any personal contact with him...”
“Oh, I didn't,” she said. “But thanks, thanks very much.”
They left. She closed and locked the door, leaned against it and began to sob. She cried because she had been with such a killer, and because there was always the chance that she could have been infected. She knew that it was right to insist on the condom, although at one point she almost let him make love to her bare back. but fortunately, her cautions took over and she had put a fresh rubber on him. She would have to go to the doctor immediately. And then she thought that perhaps, just perhaps, she should find some better way to earn her college tuition.
Godowsky had spent his time during the interview with Regina taking notes. He carefully recorded all of the information she gave them, and made sure he had her phone number in several places. He thought she was a knockout, and although he knew what she had been doing for a living, that did not completely turn him off. He thought she was beautiful, and he was torn by mixed emotions. He knew that he should stay away, and yet he also knew about many, many instances where working girls had married well and become outstanding members of society. When he got back to the office, he checked for a police record. She had none. Nobody had anybody by her name on the books, not even for a traffic violation. He decided to give it a shot, and he let his personal emotions take over.
He went into a private office closed the door and dialed her number.
The phone rang three time and she picked it up, sounding breathless and busy.
“Miss Dawson? is this Miss Dawson?”
“Yes,“ she said “it is.”
“Miss Dawson, Regina, this is Frank Godowsky, I was there with Detective Hallen this afternoon."
He could hear the hesitancy in her voice. “Yes,” she said, “I remember.”
He heard her take in her breath. “Is there a problem? Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said. “Nothing is wrong.” And then in a burst of bravado, “I called because I wonder if you would like to have dinner with me, perhaps tonight?”
“Dinner, with you? “ She sounded incredulous. “You want to have dinner with me? Why?”
“Well,” he said, “I think you're something special, that's why, and I'd like to get to know you better.”
She drew in her breath. He waited.
“You were there when I told Detective Hallen what I do for a living, weren't you?”
“Yes.”
“You know what an entertainer does, don't you? You know that was an euphemism”
“Yes.”
“What are you after, a free piece of ass? Going to put the police arm on me so I'll put out?”
“No Regina, No, no. First of all, nobody but us, me and Hallen know what you do. Nobody else does, and I really don't care. I think you are something else, and I want to get to know you. Have dinner with me, and let's talk about it.”
“I should be at work by 9, and it is almost 8 now. How can we have dinner so I can get to work on time?”
”What happens if you're late for work? Somebody gonna come after you and beat you up?”
“No, if I don't show up, I don't get paid, that's all.”
“How about it? Will you have dinner with me then?”
“Your name is Frank, right?”
“That's right?”
“Are you married, Frank? Stepping out on the old lady?”
“No, Goddamnit. I'm not married, And there is no old lady. No girl friend and no kids, either. Listen, I'm sorry I guess this is a bad idea. Please forgive me, I didn't mean to bother you.”
“Wait, wait a minute. It's not a bad idea. I'll have dinner with you tonight, but I hope you know that nothing is going to happen.”
“Like I told you, that's not why I called.”
They set a time and hung up. Regina put the phone down, slumped into a chair and began to cry. 'Is it possible,' she thought, 'that the man is interested in me for myself, despite what he knows about me. or is he just blowing smoke and is interested in a free piece of ass?' She had heard, often, about policeman who found working girls and took advantage of them, because of what they did for a living. And those bastards never paid them either. Treated them really badly. The stories went, and there was always the threat they would bust them, if they did not comply. Was that what this was all about? And then she thought again, Jesus, I hope not. He was a nice, good looking young man and besides, Hallen said he didn't care what I did. I hope he was right. I didn't have to call the cops when I saw the picture. I'm trying to be a good citizen, in this instance.
Godowsky breathed a sigh of relief. He was certainly not a reformer, he was not about to try to reform her, but he liked her, thought she was very good looking and wanted to get to know her better. And having dinner with her would be a good way to find out more about her.
Carl got back to his hotel room after his session with the girls and although he felt relaxed, he also felt enervated. He had always seen himself as a sexual acrobat with unlimited sexual energy. As a matter of fact the only time he had ever been turned off by sex was when that bitch Clarissa kept coming on to him on the airplane and in the car on the way to the Poconos. That was just too much. And then he recalled that it was she who had given him the clap, and he cussed her loudly. He thought about his lassitude, and decided that it might be that the gonorrhea virus was draining him, and he better do something about it and his general condition.
He rummaged through his documents, and found an identity he thought would be okay to use.
He looked up a 24 hour medical clinic, one of those walk in places that are still around in some areas and decided to visit it. He was sure he could come up with a logical excuse for not having come in earlier and he could con the doc out of an antibiotic shot and some pills.
He drove to the clinic, registered and had to wait only a short time. The nurse showed hin into an examination room.
The doctor came in, introduced himself as Doctor Sirkin.
“Look, Doc,” Carl who came in with identity of Edward Courtney said, “I had some trouble with a dick discharge a while ago, and then it went away and now I have real trouble peeing. I don't know what it is, but it hurts like hell. Can you check it for me, can you do anything for me?”
“Why didn't you come in when this started, Mr. Courtney?”
“I would have, Doc, but I drive a gypsy rig, and I've been right busy tryin'' to make a friggin’ living, you know, Doc? I just thought I'd have to put up with it. I have a layover here, can't get a load 'til next week, and I have a few days to wait, so I thought I could do it now. I stick close to the rig, sleep in it and live in it, too. Borrowed a car to get here to your office.”
“Can you help me, Doc, Please? I don't know if I got anything serious, but I sure don't wanna bring nothin' home to my wife in Oklahoma. Ya know what I mean, Doc?”
The doctor examined Carl's penis, took a swab from it and took it into his laboratory. He came back a little while later and said. “You've got a really advanced case of Gonorrhea. You're going to need a couple of shots and some pills. I'll give you a shot now, and a prescription so you can get some more of the stuff. Can you give yourself a shot?”
“Shit, doc. I don't know. I guess I could figure out how. Where do I do it?”
“Oh, you can put it in your belly, or in your thigh. I'm going to give you a shot in your behind, but that's harder for a guy to do by himself.
The shots will be in pre measured syringes, and all you will have to do is stick it into yourself and push the handle down. Pretty easy.”
“I guess I can manage,” Carl said.
The doctor gave him a shot, wrote a couple of prescriptions and told him to come back in a week if he was still in the area.
Carl thanked him, and paid him and went back to the hotel. He looked at the scripts very carefully, and altered the amounts of material on both of them, tripling the quantities. Then he went to the business area and made Xerox copies of the scripts at a Staples. He was pretty sure he could use them, later, if he had to.
He went to a local drug store, waited until they filled the scripts and went back to the hotel.
He walked into his hotel room, just as the six o'clock news came on.
He flicked on the TV just in time to see his picture on the screen, and hear the announcement by the police that he was a suspected serial killer, on the loose and could be considered armed and dangerous.
He was so startled to see his picture on the screen and to hear the announcement, that he sank on to the bed, stunned.
“How the fuck did they know he was out of the hole? How did the bastards find that out? Holy Christ, how did they know?”
After he recovered from the shock, he started to think more clearly. They knew, somehow they knew and he had to act accordingly.
There was no hidey hole now. He had to get out of the area, change his appearance and mix in with other people. He had been in the Allentown/Bethlehem area for a few days, and it was entirely likely someone might remember him. Regardless, it might be a while before they could trace him to the hotel, but he wasn't sure of that either. He felt vulnerable in the hotel. He was on an upper floor, and generally had to go through the lobby to get out. He had to leave town, and he had to do it now before someone made the connection and called the cops.
He packed his bag, putting everything he had into the luggage he had bought at Kohl's. He went through the bathroom and the room to make sure there was no sign of him there, and then he looked outside the window. It was not yet completely dark. He thought it would be best to wait for total darkness and then leave.
He had paid for the hotel room, through the morning, so they would not miss him if he just took off. He didn't need a complaint from the hotel, certainly. He watched the rest of the news and as soon as he was sure it was dark, he turned off all the lights and checked the corridor.
Empty.
He took his bag, took his keys with him and walked to the fire stairs. He walked down the three flights to the street floor, carrying his bag, and then out into the parking lot. He found his car, got into it, and drove out on the highway.
The best place for him to go, he figured, would be Philadelphia. He hoped they hadn't gotten the media to run his picture there, but even so he felt more secure about going there than to New York, which wasn’t much further away. He knew Philadelphia and the vicinity, he did not know New York. He had a wild thought. He didn't have to put up with being pursued, he could leave the country and disappear somewhere. But, then he had another thought. Where the hell was the challenge in that?
In a big city like that, he would have a much better chance of changing his appearance and of fading into the background until he figured out what to do.
Regina, tense with anticipation and concern, was standing at her window when she saw Godowsky drive up in his Mustang convertible. It was a car she approved of for a young man, and she wondered if it had four on the floor or an automatic. 'Dumb thought,' she said, 'What does it matter?'
But it did. Four on the floor was a serious car with bucket seats and a deep and working console that left very little opportunity to smooch while a person was driving.
She was out of the door and walking down the path before he got to park the car. Better to meet him outside, than to give him a chance to make a move on her, once he was inside the apartment. She was still afraid that he would demand favors and that that was what this was all about. Regina did not trust men much; her experiences were not very favorable.
Most men she thought were sons of bitches, 'including her step father who had come to her bed, uninvited, when she was a college freshman and demanded she put out for him.
She could remember the words as if they were a nightmare mantra: “Listen, you dumb blond bitch, I support you, I put food on the table for you, I buy those dumb clothes you wear and those text books, and now I want something back for my investment. Go ahead, tell your mom, she won't believe you. She's dumber than you are; she only believes what I tell her.”
Regina knew this was true. She had seen him manipulate her mom and tell her things that were patently untrue. She tried to get out of the bed, tried to resist, but he took advantage of her anyway, raped her and left.
It wasn't as if she was a virgin. She had had a boy that was very important to her but that hadn't worked out after they had shared some intimacy.
She did the only thing she thought she could do. There was no one to complain to, so she left the family home moved, into a scrubby furnished room and began to work at McDonalds while she went to school. Her father had left her some money in a trust fund to be used for college and her support until she was thirty, and that plus the job she got at McDonalds was enough to keep her going. It had been tough, tough to even survive, but she was far from being trusting of any man, especially this cop who knew about her.
She met Frank on the sidewalk, and said to him, “I saw you drive up, and came out to meet you. I didn't want to keep you waiting. I hope that's okay.”
“Why not. I'd have come to the door, but this is fine. What would you like to eat? Anything special you'd like?”
“Anything but Wendy's or McDonalds.” she said, smiling.
“Well, then, I had planned to go to Denny's, will that do?”
She looked just a little stricken, not knowing if he was kidding or not. Actually, he said, “That's not what I had in mind, either. How about Italian or a steak house?”
“Steak would be fine. There's a nice little family restaurant , quiet and friendly where you can get great steaks. It's in town, just a little bit away from here. Will that do?”
”Great, let's go.” he said. He opened the car door for her, waited until she was in the bucket seats next to the four on the floor console, (it was, she decided, a really serous car) and then closed it gently and walked around to the driver's side. He got in the car, fastened his seat belt and checked to make sure she had put hers on too.
Following her directions, he drove sedately to the restaurant, and approved of it when he saw it. It was small, with red checkered table cloths and it smelled of olive oil and fresh bread baking. The tables were set with heavy white china, and he was pleased to see that they had the good sense not to have a wine bottle with a dripping candle on the tables.
The place was not very busy, and they sat in a secluded booth, perfect for conversation. He looked around and realized that it was a Bring Your Own Bottle establishment.
“Hey,” he said. “You didn't tell me we can't get booze here. Do you want me to go out to the state store and buy a bottle of wine?”
“No,” she said. “No, I don't need anything strong to drink. Coffee will be fine for me. How about you, do you need wine with your meals?”
“Me? Heck no. Lots of the guys on the force drink to excess. I hate the stuff. Once in a while I'll have a little nip with friends, just to be sociable, but it is not a driving obsession by any means.”
“Oh,” she said, “that's interesting.”
“Why?”
“Well most men seem to focus on drink. At least most of the men I know.”
“Well, I don't. How about you, will you be okay without any?”
“Of course. I don 't like the stuff much, and I don't like what it does to me. Being tiddly is no fun for me.”
The waitress came and they ordered coffee and some appetizers and then sat and looked at each other for a few minutes.
“Finally,” Regina looked at him and said. “Okay, what is this all about? I don't want to be crass, but let's clear the air here. Why did you ask me out to dinner.?”
Frank looked at the table, moved his fork and knife around, cleared his throat and then said. “You may find this had to accept, but I'm pretty shy around girls, women. When we came to your apartment this afternoon I was really impressed. You're a beautiful woman and when I heard you tell Jerry--Jerry, that's detective Hallen-about the guy we are looking for, I thought 'that's a bright smart girl I'd like to get to know better, that's all. No ulterior motives, I promise you.”
“That sounds too good to be true. Can I believe that?”
“I hope so. You'll have to try me and see. Hey, that doesn't mean that I don't find you attractive, Christ, I think you're the cat's meow, but that's not what I had in mind. I really would like to get to know you. Really know you. ”
“How about the fact that I'm an entertainer, actually a whore?”
“Well, I wish that wasn't the case, I think. But you can't have been doing this for long, No record, no record anywhere and I checked thoroughly. You know, Regina, in this world guys like me don't look for virgins anymore. That would be a waste of time. There don't seem to be any. So, you've had some experience, most women have. That doesn't make you any less desirable, or any less attractive. I think you're beautiful.”
He picked up his coffee and took a sip. He looked at her over the coffee cup. There were tears in her eyes.
“Hey,” he said, “Hey. Don't cry. I didn't mean to upset you. Please, don't cry.”
She sniffled. “I can't help it. Nobody has ever talked to me like that . Nobody has ever suggested I might be worthwhile. I just can't help it.”
She began to sob. He got up from his seat, and slid in next to her, put his arm around her and held her as she wept. When the heavy sobbing stopped, he gave her a clean handkerchief and then, when she was in control again, slipped out of her seat and into his own across the booth.
