Born To Be Wild

THIRTY-SIX

“I’m going to record this, Mr. Hodges,” Daniel said. “Is that all right with you?”

Puker continued to look pitiful and stare down at his clasped hands. He shuddered a sigh, and nodded.

Mary Lisa wanted to kick him out the hospital window, the drama queen.

“When did you realize this man, Jamie Ramos, was the one who was trying to kill Mary Lisa Beverly?”

“When I happened to be near Mary Lisa-not too close, of course, because of that restraining order-I noticed he was following her. I knew he wasn’t another freelance photographer-”

“Excuse me? Freelance what?”

Daniel frowned toward Mary Lisa, shook his head. “Yes, Mr. Hodges, please continue.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I am. A freelance photographer. Anyway, I thought he was acting kind of weird, so I stayed with him. I figured he might be the guy who’d tried to run her down.”

“What do you mean he was acting weird?”

“He had this notebook and every time he stopped the van for a red light, he wrote in the notebook.”

“Did you ever see him make a move toward her?”

“No, but it was obvious to me he was pissed because he couldn’t get near her. She always had people around her. I saw him bang his fists on the steering wheel, and then he wrote something really fast in his notebook.”

“So you took his picture?”

“Yes, I took three snapshots.”

“Describe the man to me again, Mr. Hodges, in more detail this time.”

“He’s about five foot ten inches, maybe thirty, a little older, hard to tell. He always wore really dark sunglasses. I think he might be Hispanic, because he was all dark skinned, or maybe he had a really good tan. I never really saw his hair because he always wore a baseball cap, backward, you know?”

“Okay, he’s got short hair since the cap covered it. When he spoke to you, did he have an accent?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t place it. It wasn’t real thick, like he came to the U.S. when he was young.”

“All right, so you snapped his picture. You said you wrote down his name and phone number off the side of the van. You said there was a motorcycle on the side of the van. Any more writing?”

“Yeah, block printing, all black. ‘Motorcycle Repair.’ There was a drawing of a Harley underneath it.”

“You took a picture of the side of the van?”

“Yes, but he destroyed it, along with everything else, the bastard.”

“Stay with me here, Mr. Hodges. What make was the van? Describe it.”

“An old Dodge van, I think, white but dirty, with windows only in the back.”

“Did you get the license plate?”

“No, I didn’t see it.”

“Okay, then you went back to your apartment, processed the film, and called Mary Lisa, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“How long after you spoke to Mary Lisa did you call Jamie Ramos?”

Puker pleated the thin hospital blanket. “Well, ah, I wouldn’t have called the guy, but I was thinking I wasn’t really sure he was the right guy-you know, the one who tried to run Mary Lisa down. I only wanted to talk to him, make sure before I got him in trouble. I didn’t call him to blackmail him, I didn’t. I wanted to do the right thing. I didn’t want to accuse the wrong guy.”

He looked up for a response from Detective Vasquez, but an arched brow was all he got. “Please continue, Mr. Hodges. You called the phone number on the side of the van?”

“Yes, I’m guessing it was a cell phone. He answered it right away.”

“Do you have that number, Mr. Hodges?”

“It was on the photograph. I’m not sure. Maybe it’ll be on my phone record?”

“What did you say to him, Mr. Hodges?”

“I told him I’d seen him following Mary Lisa Beverly and I wondered if he was the guy who’s trying to kill her. He was silent for at least ten seconds, then he offered to pay me five thousand dollars for the pictures and the film.”

“How’d he know you had pictures and film, Mr. Hodges?”

“Well, I guess I must have told him, you know, in the course of our conversation.”

Mary Lisa snarled.

“So before he went silent for ten seconds, you not only asked him if he was the guy but you told him you took photos of him and his van.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. But I didn’t mean anything by it. I was nervous. I guess I blabbed it out.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, I told him that wasn’t going to happen, that I didn’t want to see Mary Lisa hurt and I was going to take the photos to the police.”

“Weren’t you afraid of retribution?”

“I didn’t really think about it. Besides, how could the guy know who I was?”

“You think he could have known you’ve been taking pictures of Mary Lisa for the tabloids? Or maybe caller ID?”

Puker looked down at his hands. “Oh shit.”

“And what did he say?”

“He hung up on me.”

“But you didn’t call the police, Mr. Hodges.”

“No, not right away, but it isn’t why you think, Detective Vasquez. I was just taking a little time to think it over, you know? All right, I thought making a few extra prints might be useful, you know, when I took the prints to the police, so I was in the darkroom when the doorbell rang. I thought it was Mary Lisa, only it wasn’t. It was Ramos, and he hit me hard, knocked me down, then he kicked me, knocked me into the living room. I fought back, and we wrecked some of my furniture, but then he hit me with something hard in his hand-a sap, or something-and I was out.”

Jack stood beside Mary Lisa, his hand around her forearm. She sucked in her breath, pulsing with anger, but she managed to be still. He grinned at her and began to lightly rub her elbow.

Daniel sighed. “What happened then?”

“Like I said, when he hit me with that sap, I was out. When I woke up, I was in this empty room staring at a blank wall, tied to a chair.”

“Where did he take you, Mr. Hodges?”

“I didn’t know then and I still don’t know. Like I said, when I woke up I was there, tied up.”

“What color are his eyes, Mr. Hodges?”

“I told you, Detective Vasquez, he always wore sunglasses, never took them off, but like I said, maybe he was Hispanic, on the dark side, you know? He didn’t look all that strong-kind of skinny, loose clothes, and his white T-shirt wasn’t clean.”

It sounded like the description the California girl had given Jack on the beach yesterday afternoon.

“Was he there when you woke up?”

“No. I was alone, facing that wall. I don’t know for how long, but it seemed like a long time before I heard him come in behind me. He hit me first thing, in the stomach, then in my face-see, I still have bruises on my cheek. He told me I shouldn’t have gotten in the way, that he was going to make me pay for that. That’s when I knew he was going to kill me.”

Puker began to cry.