Whew! It would have been much more difficult to keep her cool around him if he were fondling underage girls. “But you’re married. Does your wife know what you’re doing?”
“Sure she does, but we have an understanding.”
“I’ve never heard of that. How long have you been married?”
“Look, this isn’t about her. It’s about you and me.”
Damn. Delores was hoping she could lead the conversation to his other marriages and divorces, which might shed some light on the wacky papers he’d given Yolanda Vigil. “Could I talk to those women, just to see how it worked out for them?”
“That wouldn’t be a good idea. But, I can tell you about Victoria. We meet every other Wednesday. After we have a little fun, she gets help with her rent. That’s all there is to it. She likes our deal. You could do the same thing, only on Mondays.”
“So all I’d have to do is be with you twice a month, no cleaning toilets?”
“You have to be available every Monday, but that’s the basic idea.”
“Does that cleaning lady do things like that too?”
“No way. I don’t mess with married women.” He turned off his sound system. “Look, I’ve leveled with you. I’m offering you something you need and you just might enjoy yourself. I think you ought to go along with it.”
Delores sensed that she’d pumped Dixon enough for the time being. Among other things, she had learned he was confining his activities to single, adult-aged women who appeared to be fairly loyal to him. That meant the best way to gather more info in the near future was to focus her investigation off-site.
Another key point was, if Dixon’s relationships were really as he defined them, there wasn’t any rape by deception because the women pretty much got what they bargained for. Furthermore, none of this had anything to do with bogus marriages and divorces. As husbands went, Dixon was no prize, so there had to be a decent explanation for why those women would agree to marry him and then move on down the road so quickly.
For now it was probably best to back off, act like Lorraine would. Avoid raising suspicions. In the meantime, she’d best touch base with Myles. “Can we pull over?” she asked. “I have to find another bathroom.”
Chapter Twenty
Several hours later Delores had been to the beach, walked the pier and made several stops at the ladies restroom. After lunch, she and Dixon drove a few miles north and rode the nine-story Ferris wheel at Pacific Park. Overall, he was mostly a gentleman. If he had been anybody else she might have actually enjoyed herself.
Afterwards, while headed back to Palmdale, she had activated her recorder and they were jammed into the never-ending crowd of bumper-to-bumper traffic where she wanted to get him talking again. “Did you have a family before you worked at the apartment building?” she asked, knowing that most people like talking about themselves.
Dixon turned off the music. “That’s an odd question. Yeah, I was married once. Had a couple kids.”
“Do you still see them?”
“Not often. Speaking of living arrangements, it’s time you and I have our talk about your rent and security.”
Perfect. She’d like to talk about that too.
“I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell you this,” Dixon said while glancing her way, “but I have another option besides that Monday Girl idea we talked about. I think it might suit you better. You could even quit your restaurant job if you want to. What do you know about anchor babies?”
Anchor babies! Now Delores was getting somewhere. “You mean if you have a baby, they don’t deport you?” She discreetly adjusted her purse on her lap so the microphone was better positioned.
“That’s part of it. New babies are automatically citizens and INS won’t split the family up, so the mom and dad can stay too. But there’s something even better. If you marry an American, you automatically become a citizen, which is much better because you can get a good job and social security. You’d like those things, wouldn’t you?”
What a crock. Delores knew quite a bit about the naturalization process and there was nothing automatic about it. Regardless, this conversation was promising. “That sounds real good, but I don’t know anybody like that.”
“Sure you do. Me. I’ve married several women like you and it worked out real well.”
Several women? “Isn’t that illegal?” she asked, anxious to hear more.
“Not really. You just have to do it the right way. Then, after enough time has passed, we’d get a divorce. After that, you could meet other people and get married again, for real next time, and have a real family or a real job. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
Delores avoided smiling. “What would I have to do?”
“There are two ways we can do it. The first way is easiest. All you have to do is move in, pay $2,500 and sign some papers. Then you live like a real wife for six months. After that we finalize the papers and it’s done.”
So, that filled in the blanks. Dixon was essentially selling a phony fast track to citizenship. The cost was $2,500 plus a bunch of housework and all the bed action he wanted. In the meantime his wives were fundamentally confined to his apartment where he could brainwash them. Once he was confident they’d keep it all a secret, he could dump them and go get somebody else. But there had to be more because Dixon only preyed on poor women. “But I don’t have any money.”
“That’s why there’s a second option. Instead of paying the fee, you just live with me six additional months. I figure all the housework and everything is just as valuable. Either way you won’t have to pay any rent and you end up better off.”
It sounded more like a jail sentence than a pathway to a better life. “What would I have to do?”
“It’s easy,” he said. “You just live like a real wife. Cook and clean house and consummate the marriage.”
“Consummate? What’s that?”
“You know. Adult relations.”
She said nothing.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he went on, “but married people do things for each other all the time. It isn’t always about love. Other things are important too. Security. Convenience. Sex. Everybody is trading something they have for something they want. That’s all.”
“Then do I get papers?”
“Not quite. We have to wait a little while, so it looks like we lived together for a longer period, then we go to a final interview and it’s over. So what do you say? Should we give it a try?”
If Delores weren’t in character she may have laughed in his face. That was the most pathetic marriage proposal she’d ever heard of. Still, it seemed to have worked on several women. “Is that what Francisca is doing?”
He nodded. “Yep. She’s smart. Just like you.”
“How many other wives have you had?”
“That’s not important.”
“It is to me. I’d feel better if I knew other people had been through the same thing.”
“Let’s just say Francisca is not the only one.”
“What do you do if Francisca doesn’t want to make love when you want to?”
“She doesn’t do that. It’s the deal.”
“But that doesn’t seem right.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I can cut her loose any time. She won’t care. She’s already got what she wants.”
They reached Cal-Vista, pulled in and parked. “How often?” Delores asked as they walked toward her building.
“How often what?”
“You know. Making love. How often do I have to do that?”
Dixon opened her door with his master key. “Whenever I want.” He closed the door behind them and lifted her chin. “Either of the things I’m offering you are a lot better than what you’re doing now.”
Her eyes narrowed. She walked over to the window, then back. “How long before I have to decide?”
Dixon put his hands on her waist and pulled her to him. He was obviously ready for that end-of-the-day kiss they had disc
ussed earlier. She still had a lot more to do to strengthen her case and had to string him along. As awful as it was on a couple of levels, she had to allow it.
Almost instantly he pushed his tongue towards hers. She would have preferred to bite the damn thing off but she did the best she could before he lowered his hands onto her buttocks. She pulled back. “Just a kiss. You promised.”
“Hugs and kisses go together. Everybody knows that. It’s part of the deal.” He kissed her again then forced his hips to hers. “I want you right now.”
She had visions of Tio and Dixon’s other women. So many victims. She damn near kneed him, but instead shrank back and away, barely keeping her wits. She had to calm him down and maintain her role. “I’m sorry, but there’s something I should have told you. I can’t right now. I have cramps and er...lady problems. That’s why I’ve been going to the restroom so much.”
He took a step back, dropped his arms and then exhaled. “Okay. We’ll put it off.” He put his open hand on her cheek. “But I want you to listen to me. I’m tired of our little one-way street. If you can’t pay your bills on your own you gotta move out or let me help you, but that means you gotta be nice to me too. Understand?”
She sure did. Much better than he realized.
Chapter Twenty-One
If Lorraine Martinez wasn’t going to smooth Dixon’s ruffled feathers somebody else sure as hell was. He checked his watch. Midafternoon. Maria’s mother, Inez Quintana, or Friday Girl as Dixon thought of her, should be home, alone, and she’d gotten away with way too much for way too long.
Inez was Dixon’s earliest Cal-Vista conquest. Some sixteen years earlier she came to the country with her husband via the southern border. They basically wanted to lie low, start a new life and avoid the wrath of the INS. But her husband went home and never came back.
That left Inez alone and in need of help. Dixon said he could get her some work if she was willing to show her gratitude and almost instantly Inez was with child.
After she gave birth to Maria, Inez needed Dixon more than before, but Dixon, who was legitimately pleased with the idea of watching his daughter grow up, already had a family and his ex would ridicule him endlessly in front of his other two kids if she learned of his carelessness. All of this led to a mutual understanding. Dixon and Inez agreed to keep their fling a secret. She’d stay in the complex where he could watch Maria grow up and he’d provide Inez with enough of the ongoing work to pay her bills. As it played out, Inez liked most of the arrangement. She could raise Maria on her own terms and all she had to do was attend to some routine chores and accommodate Dixon’s physical needs from time to time.
As far as Dixon was concerned, he didn’t have to be involved with a crying kid or diapers, and just as importantly, he was free to dip his noodle in other pots. Over time he reduced Inez’s responsibilities to Fridays only and he pretty much got his physical pleasures elsewhere. No doubt about it, Inez owed him more than anybody else on the planet and it was time for her to pay some of her debt.
Still frustrated from the abrupt conclusion to his day with Lorraine, Dixon let himself into Inez’s apartment. Thanks to him, the décor was nicer than most around there. She even had a few colorful pictures of the old country and a crucifix on the walls. On the dining table, dancing flames of two coconut-scented candles swayed innocently.
Inez came from the kitchen. Not much more than five-one and in her late thirties, she had gotten a little chubby. “It’s not Friday,” she said.
“Don’t matter,” Dixon replied in a no-nonsense tone. He shifted his teeth and observed her dark red toenails on bare feet and a faded dark-blue T-shirt that was incapable of hiding her braless, full-sized breasts.
He tapped her breast. “Turn around.”
Her eyes shot to his. He returned an intimidating glare, pressed the same breast. “Do it,” he insisted.
Inez pursed her lips and slowly did as she was told. When half-way around, Dixon put both hands on her shoulders and stopped her. Sixteen years and thirty pounds had replaced her hourglass figure.
He dropped his hand to her butt and then slid it inside her shorts and undies. “Kinda let yourself go, haven’t you?” She said nothing.
He squeezed her butt until she yelped, causing an unauthorized cat to scurry from behind the couch into one of the bedrooms. “When I ask you a question,” he said, “I expect an answer. Got it?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she said quickly, obviously in pain.
“That’s better,” he said, letting go. He reached around her with both hands. Her breasts were soft, much fuller and droopier than those of the other women he was accustomed to. From outside her flimsy cotton T-shirt, his fingers explored her now-firm nipples. “You know you’re not supposed to have pets in here, don’t you?”
“Maria found it. I’m sorry.”
He clucked his tongue, palming her breasts tightly. “You women are all a bunch of selfish, rule-breaking bitches, aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” she said sheepishly.
Dixon shook his head. “What kind of answer is that?” He pinched her nipples and her shoulders instantly curled forward. “I want you to admit that you’re all a bunch of selfish bitches.”
“We’re selfish bitches. We’re selfish bitches,” she said, quickly and emphatically.
Dixon nodded, softening his grip, but not enough that she might relax. “I expect you to get rid of the cat by tomorrow, got it?”
“Yes. I’ll do what you say. Just don’t hurt me anymore.”
“Okay, then,” he whispered into her ear. “Now that we have an understanding, I’m going to talk to you about a few things that are on my mind, and you’re going to let me know if you agree with me. Got it?”
Her head jackhammered up and down. “Okay.”
He gently tugged on her tee. “For starters, take this off.“
Without hesitation Inez did as she was told. Topless, she dropped the shirt to her feet and stood rigid. He spun her around, grabbed her shoulders, glared down her torso and then back to her face. “How do you suppose a fellow feels when he does nice things for a woman but she takes advantage of his kindness and doesn’t give him much in return?”
“He must feel bad.”
He pursed his lower lip and then lifted her head. “It’s even worse when they never even say thank you.”
She looked him in the eyes and nodded, “I’m sorry—”
“Too late,” he said as he removed his leather belt and tongued his uppers. “All you women are the same. You’ll take advantage of good ol’ Dixon if you can get away with it. He shoved her toward her bedroom. “I’d say you deserve a damn good spanking. Wouldn’t you?”
There was no need for her to reply.
Chapter Twenty-Two
While Stump pedaled Ol’ Ug’ to work a call came in from Danielle Delgado, the attorney who had agreed to help with the upcoming City Hall meeting. “I need you and your dad to drop by tomorrow,” she said. “We’ve only got two weeks and we have a lot to do.”
We? “But I thought that’s what you do?”
“I’ll do the paperwork, but I need you to do the rest of it—to complete the package.”
“But I have a job. I have to earn money.”
“Money? It must be nice. Maybe you forgot I’m working on your case for free. I’m happy to help you but you have to help me help you.”
Stump sighed. “Okay, I’ll try.”
“Good. Be here no later than four.”
Damn. Nothing was ever easy. After he reached Cal-Vista, he handcuffed Ol’ Ug’ to the bike rack and hustled toward Mr. Kraft’s office where he heard Mr. Kraft arguing with Dixon. He poked his head in the office. “I’m here, Mr. Kraft.”
“Ah, Stump. Great.” Kraft said before he coughed and spit into a tissue. “You’re good with math; you can settle an argument for us. We want to install a flower garden in the courtyard. Do you know how many cubic feet of mulch we need to fill a landscaping circle that
’s about sixteen feet across?”
Stump plopped his backpack on the floor. “How deep do you want the mulch?”
Kraft looked to Dixon, then back. “About two inches.”
“You’ll need thirty-four cubic feet,” Stump said without hesitation.
“Told you,” Kraft said to Dixon. Back to Stump, “How’d you figure that?”
“Simple. Pi times the radius squared, divided by the depth as a decimal.”
“Dixon thought it was close to a hundred feet.”
Stump would have liked to make a smug comment but guarded his tone. “You’d have to take some back.” Tone or no tone, Stump enjoyed one-upping the dude again. Dixon merely shrugged.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Stump said to Mr. Kraft, “but I have to have tomorrow off to meet my attorney.”
“Legal problems, huh?” Dixon said sarcastically.
“No. I have to get ready for the next City Council meeting.”
Kraft wiped the corner of his mouth with his tissue. “No problem. I hope it works out.”
“Unless you have something else you want me to do, I’m going to get after the weeds by the dumpster now.”
“Good enough. I’ll catch up with you before I leave.”
A little while later Stump discovered that pulling sticker weeds was a lot easier if he trampled them over first so he could get to the bottom of the stems. “Can you talk?” A familiar voice, softer than usual, came from behind him. He turned to see Maria rubbing puffy eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked touching her hand.
She looked back toward the buildings. “When I got home from school Mama had been crying. I tried to get her to sit down and talk to me, but she just kept saying she felt so dirty.” Maria took Stump’s hand and pulled him toward a red mini-van. “We need someplace where we can talk,” she said while sliding the door back. “Get in. It’s Juanita’s.”
Stump shrugged and followed Maria into the back seat where he observed the lock assembly on the door had been removed.
“I promised Mama I wouldn’t say anything,” Maria said, wiping a tear from her cheek, “but I have to talk to somebody. I think somebody beat her, maybe worse.”
Stump’s brows clamped down. “No shit? That sucks. He grabbed for his cell. “Want me to call the cops?”