I got close to the cage and put my fingers through to pet him. His eyes opened and he saw me. When his eyes could focus, he tried to get up but couldn’t. His tail started to wag, but then he started to whimper from the pain.
Seeing that hurt more than anything I’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours. Right there, I decided someone was going to pay dearly for this.
“When can I take him home?” I asked.
“You can take him now if you can keep him quiet, give him his medication, and watch him all day. If you want, I can get him ready.”
“Please,” I said.
I waited while they changed the dressings on Al and gave me his medications and directions for what I was supposed to do. The assistant up front, a cute blonde woman who couldn’t have been twenty-five, asked me if I’d be paying cash, check, or charge.
“I hadn’t even thought of that. How much is it?”
She slid the invoice in front of me and started to explain the bill item for item. I didn’t hear any of it. I was transfixed by the number on the bottom of the computer printout. It said $3,892.
“Um… what happens if I can’t pay this?” I said.
“Then we can’t release the animal,” she said.
“You keep the dog?”
“Sir, we will hold him until you pay and charge you for boarding.”
“Give me a second,” I said.
I went out to see Rudy. He was reading The New York Post and sitting behind the wheel.
“Hey Rude, I need a favor,” I said.
“What else is new?” he said.
“You got a credit card, don’t you?”
“How much is it?”
“Around four thousand dollars.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.”
Rudy walked me into the vet’s and handed them his Visa Platinum. They handed me Al in a carrier.
25
I stayed home with Al, spending most of the day in bed with him next to me. I iced the egg on my forehead and my bruised ribs and tried to do the same for Al. He slept most of the day, probably from his medication, and periodically let out whimpers when he breathed heavily. One time when I dozed off and rolled over, I bumped him and he yelped.
I ran the series of events through my mind. This is what I knew: The women on Walanda’s block suspected that Tyrone, her ex, the perverted pimp, was up to no good and that he had made overtures toward Shony in the past. I knew that there were three women linked by a tattoo in the jail and that they were all from around Forrest Point. I knew that the same design as that tattoo was featured on a website that also had photos of one of the women from the jail, probably Tyrone, and definitely Shony. I knew that the term “Webster” was used by Walanda and was the user name for the perverted pay site that featured a mother/daughter prostitution ring. I knew that some big bald-headed biker type gave me and Al an awful beating shortly after I put this all together. I also remember Laila, the woman from Walanda’s neighborhood, mentioning that Walanda took rides with a big, bald- headed biker guy. Then there was the fact that the guys in the park got beat up by a guy with the same description. Sure, the percentage of guys who commit hate crimes who are shaved-headed biker types might be skewed in such a way as to suggest that there may be more than one of them, but I didn’t like coincidences. Then, of course, there was the Crown Vic.
I didn’t know where they housed the women in the porn ring or who ran it. I didn’t know for sure how they got women to be part of it, but that was probably the easiest thing to figure out. People who get addicted to crack will do just about anything to keep using the shit. If it’s made available to them, they will keep doing whatever it is that makes it available to them. Most crack addicts don’t even try to stop until the supply runs out. If whoever was running this operation could keep the women who were tricking for them supplied, then they could keep the operation going endlessly. Add in the usual pimp mind games and abuse, and you got yourself a very captive audience.
I called Jerry to make sure he was okay. He told me that he had not been visited by the biker guy and assured me that he hadn’t mentioned anything to anyone about my Internet explorations. He also gave me an impromptu tutorial on Internet security or, better put, insecurity. Though it wasn’t easy, someone who cared enough could track who was visiting their sites and from what server. It meant being pretty vigilant, but if you’re running a kiddie porn site and facing years in prison with people who take a dim view on the mistreatment of children, you might go the extra mile with security measures.
So maybe they tracked my computer and sent the bald bastard to give me a calling card. That told me a little about how, but it didn’t address who or why. The women from jail were from Forrest Point, so I guess I could drive around Forrest Point looking for a child pornography/crack ring. There probably wasn’t a sign over wherever they were doing business that said “Child Porn ‘R’ Us,” and Forrest Point was mostly rural, so I could drive past a lot of forest and farmland and not see anything. I guess I could start knocking on farmhouse doors and if I turned anything up, it would put a particularly perverted spin on the old “farmer’s daughter” jokes.
I could look for Tyrone. Perverted pimps usually weren’t masters of disguise. There probably weren’t a ton of black people in Forrest Point, and I think he might have a tendency to stand out. I could also drive around looking for a bald biker-type guy driving a white pickup truck. That guy might stand out, but there were more than a few white pickup trucks in Crawford and even more out in the country.
I could also try to talk to the people at the Eagle Heights Jewish Unified Services. There was a high probability that someone involved in this horror show was mandated into treatment at some point for addiction, child abuse, neglect, or some other less-than-socially-redeeming lifestyle characteristic. Of course, I was on a five- day disability pass, so showing up at our sister clinic wouldn’t be cool. I thought about my irritable bowel syndrome diagnosis, and thought that maybe if I went there and shit my pants in the waiting room I could get away with it. I decided against that.
I needed a computer to use and my office was out. I figured if I checked out some of what Jerry had to say, it might jog my mind into doing something. Jerry had said that the password for the webcast site changed frequently, but I had to be sure. I couldn’t deal with one of those college “cyber cafes,” so I headed to Crawford Medical Center. They had a medical library on the third floor, and I had gotten a little friendly with the librarian there from my visits with Rudy.
Deborah Speakwell was a little bit of a strange bird. Don’t get me wrong-she was helpful in that librarian way. I always felt like librarians acted like all the books belonged to them and they were constantly wary about your intentions. Debbie had this weird compulsive disorder that had her perpetually grooming herself. She was either behind one of the shelves brushing her thick red hair or she was forever applying moisturizer to her hands from this gigantic container. She must have gotten the moisturizer at some sort of warehouse club because the thing was like an industrial drum. Whenever you entered the library, you’d here these fart noises coming from behind the shelves. I found it disturbing until I realized it was Speakwell depressing the moisturizing container top.
I said hello to Debbie, who was behind the shelves making fart noises, and asked her if I could use the computer. She yelled “okay” from behind the shelves just like a woman who was in the shower would. It was a bit risky checking out porn sites in the hospital library, but I figured I couldn’t get fired from a place where I wasn’t employed. Speakwell would be moisturizing and brushing the whole time so she wouldn’t be on my back.
I went to Yahoo! Briefcase and tried the password Jerry had given me. Unfortunately, Jerry was right about their security measures and the password had expired. I surfed around a bit, went to www.Xcracksterweb.com, didn’t see anything new, checked my e-mail and Fightnews. com, and signed off. I thanked Debbie and started to head out when something dawned on me. I wanted to check out the links Jerry mentioned that were on the site to
