Ginny Read online

  “Reid!” Ginny said, casting a stern look, “You promised to behave.”

  “Now, now, let’s not quarrel on such a happy occasion,” the smiling Herman said.

  “So, tell me, how long have you been a happy couple?” Ginny smiled.

  “Allow me to answer that,” Susan began. “Just last week, while we were doing the dishes,” Susan paused.

  “After one of Susan’s magnificent meals, I might add,” Herman interrupted.

  “You’re too gracious,” Susan said with an admiring smile. “We looked at each other, and then it happened … it was as if a bolt of lightning struck us.” Her face reddened.

  “True. There she was, this charming little lady, right under my nose. I don’t know how to explain it … but we knew immediately that we were meant for each other.”

  Herman reached for her hand.

  The waiter arrived to take their order.

  “Please give us a few minutes,” Herman said, smiling at Susan.

  “Wait!” Ginny exclaimed, “Let’s order wine to celebrate.”

  Herman asked, “Red wine OK for you?”

  “Sure,” Frank said.

  “Bring us a chilled bottle of your best red.”

  “Of course, sir. Coming right up,” the waiter said.

  Susan smiled, looked at Ginny and asked, “When did you know of your love for Mr. Reid?”

  “Call me Frank.”

  “Well, I fear …” Ginny began, ignoring Frank.

  “There was a big knockout!” Reid exclaimed.

  “Yeah, Reid pinched my butt, and then I punched him, breaking his nose. See, not very romantic.”

  “I’m sure you exaggerate, Ginny, but …” Herman hesitated. “The reason we invited you for lunch was to ask if you’ll stand up for us.”

  Ginny smiled, gave Reid her look of approval, and said, “Sure, we’d love to. When is the happy occasion?”

  “Next Sunday at our house,” Herman said, “noon.”

  “We’ll be there,” Ginny said.

  The waiter returned and served the wine.

  Ginny said, lifting her wineglass, “To the happy couple.”

  After the toast and two glasses of wine, Ginny asked for more.

  Reid protested, but was overruled. They sat in silence for a few brief, awkward moments when Ginny spoke. “Herman, I have an apology of sorts.”

  “Not now, Ginny,” Reid protested.

  Ginny waved him off. “Herman, I haven’t always been one-hundred percent truthful with you.”

  Herman gave a nod. “It’s OK …”

  The waiter returned with a second bottle, placing it on the table.

  Frank poured another glass before her. She drained it in one big swallow.

  “Susan, some of what I have to say may seem unladylike, but that’s me, what can I say?”

  The waiter arrived with their lunch.

  “Let’s eat first,” Reid suggested.

  Ginny consumed an ample amount of wine during the meal and was quite tipsy when she began her spiel about the dangerous Monika. She sobered up with her first sentence.

  “This is important, so listen up,” she said, cleared her throat, leaned forward and continued. “Monika turned state’s evidence to the Grand Jury about the Pressman gang of thugs.”

  “With immunity, of course,” Herman interjected.

  “True,” Ginny smiled and took Reid’s hand across the table. “She was … is, a sly one for sure.”

  “A big bad mama would be truer, ha,” Reid chuckled, as the waiter served coffee and brandy.

  “Reid!” Ginny exclaimed. “Oh, let me take a sip of …”

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Reid asked.

  “No!” Ginny exclaimed.

  “OK,” Reid sighed.

  Herman and Susan were content just gazing into one another’s eyes.

  “Thank you,” Ginny said when Reid placed a well-fortified steaming cup of coffee mixed with brandy in front of her. She sipped the brew, smiled with delight and continued.

  “I inquired as to the investigation of Pressman’s sudden demise at Frank’s Bar in Hollywood, several weeks after the horrific incident …”

  “Horrific, ha,” Reid said. “Those drunken bozos, members of L.A.’s finest, gave you nothin’ but crap, Ginny.”

  “Do you want this cup of coffee on your head?” Ginny steamed.

  “Now, now, let’s be civil,” Herman suggested.

  “I obtained other information too, so sit back and listen.”

  “We’re all ears, Sweetie,” Reid said.

  “Monika was singing the yellow bird’s song, cryin’ away with her secret testimony, implicating the whole gang in front of the jurors. A sad tale, I’m told. She wanted sympathy and got it. Ha, she was a murdering cold-blooded bitch. She led them to that mineshaft in the desert; moreover, guess what? That is where they found over one hundred bodies—unfortunate members of Pressman’s enterprises—those who crossed him in one way or another. She turned over confidential files about Pressman’s organization. Files she had copied right under Pressman’s nose and stored within a locker in Union Station. She showed the scars from many whippings she’d received while in the custody of the Russian slave dealers.”

  Susan exclaimed, “That poor soul!”

  “Susan?” Herman said.

  “Oh, sorry, I got carried away by her brutal treatment while she was captive …” Susan stopped in mid-sentence.

  “She’s a wonderful actress, Susan. Do not feel sorry for her. I have this information from the horse’s mouth, one of the arresting officers. The Ventura County Sheriff’s office was the first agency on the scene and gave me a confidential take on the initial arrest. Monika barricaded herself in the bathroom in their upper suite at the Pressman mansion, AK-47 in her big hands.

  “The officer confronted her through the closed door and told her to come out with her hands clasped behind her neck. She stepped out into the bedroom, stark naked, a serene smile on her reddened face.”

  “You never told me that, Ginny!” Reid exclaimed.

  “I was sworn to secrecy, Reid,” she said with a wink. “Saw the explicit photos too.”

  “Those perverts,” Susan said.

  “Hey, the guys sometimes get their rocks off and—”

  “Can it, Reid!” Ginny exclaimed, looked at Susan, snickered and said, “You can’t blame men; just think, Monika is a big six-foot blonde. She’s a beauty, big busted, voluptuous and oh so beguiling—you know how guys are, ha?”

  “The arrest warrants went out in force, I remember, and the trials are ongoing as we speak,” Herman interjected.

  “Yeah, the big Russian bitch testifies on closed-circuit T.V., to keep her identity a secret … what a farce!” Ginny exclaimed. “They have her stashed in an unknown location. The D.A.’s having a field day with all the publicity. The lucky stiff; he’s sure to get reelected. Without my vote, of course.”

  “Tell me about the nude photos,” Reid smiled.

  Susan grumbled, “Men!”

  “I agree,” Ginny said, as she gave Reid a gentle tap on the arm.

  “It’ll take years to settle all those cases,” Herman interjected.

  “And then what?” Susan asked.

  “They should send the murdering bitch back to Russia!” Ginny exclaimed.

  “But she’s doing a great service to the people of Los Angeles, ha …” Reid began with a chuckle.

  “Bullshit—she’s just playing nice till she can skip town. I know that for a fact,” Ginny added.

  “You have an inside track on the goings on? I find that hard to believe,” Susan quipped.

  “Ha, that’s why I’m known as an ace detective. I have many sources, sister,” Ginny chuckled.

  “So that’s it?” Herman asked.

  “There’s one tidbit. When they IDed the bodies from the mineshaft, no match came back for Izzy Gufman. Hi
s remains were not found. I wonder what happened to him?” Reid asked.

  “Interesting, one of Epstein’s men disappears without a trace,” Herman said as a puzzled expression drifted across his face.

  The Warner Hotel in downtown Los Angeles.

  Uniformed Officers Gilman and “Sonny” Burns shared the couch in the two-room top-floor suite with Monika, separated by several feet, watching the eleven o’clock news on TV.

  The hotel served as a refuge for Monika during the trials. It was a long, drawn-out process. It tried her patience and endurance.

  Plainclothes Officer Nancy Reilly stood by the window. She moved the curtain aside and looked down at the light street traffic. The rain intensified, striking the window with force. Gloomy weather to go with a gloomy job, she thought.

  She let out a sigh and turned to the couple on the couch as Monika slid over to Officer Burns, hips touching, her hand on his knee. Monika crossed her long legs, her flimsy nightie opening to reveal creamy white thighs, an impish smile on her lips.

  Reilly exclaimed, “For Chrissake, Monika!”

  Reilly left the window, moved over to the couch and with hands on hips asked, “Must you be so obvious?”

  “I ez cold.”

  “Move over, Sonny,” Reilly ordered, waving her hands for them to separate. She flopped down between them after Burns slid to her left. “That’s better.”

  Monika huffed and asked, “I ez need more wodka, yes?”

  “You’ve had your quota,” Reilly barked.

  Monika asked, “I vas slave to Pressman—now I ez slave to jou?”

  “Come on, Reilly,” Burns said, “give her a little more. What harm could it do?”

  “Officer Burns, must I remind you? We have our orders. No more vodka till next Sunday.”

  “Jeez, lighten up, Reilly. It’s gonna be a long night,” Burns begged.

  “You get a glimpse of long sexy legs and you turn into a lovesick softy,” Reilly sighed. “Oh, OK, let her have a sip.”

  Monika stood; a wide smile adorned her radiant face as she strode to the mini-fridge and retrieved a chilled quart-bottle of vodka. She uncapped it, took a large swallow, sighed and said, “Ah, ez goote.”

  Then she swirled around, pulling the ribbon that held her ponytail as waves of thick blonde mane cascaded down over her shoulders. With her left hand she pulled the nightgown open, exposing all. She then capped the bottle and sashayed over to Burns. His wide eyes began to roam freely over her voluptuous body, from her sparkling blue eyes to her ample breasts, and then settled on the golden triangle below her belly button.

  She swayed from side to side, tantalizing the young officer, took the bottle by the neck, and slammed it against his temple. She dropped it on the floor as Burns slumped against the cushions. Officer Reilly sprang to a standing position. Monika moved faster, using a two-fisted vice-grip around the officer’s throat. Reilly flailed her arms, knocking the lamp to the floor with a loud crash. Reilly fought back, trying to push Monika away, but the choke hold rendered her unconscious and she sank to the floor, passed out.

  “Open up!” the outside officer called as he pounded on the door.

  Monika went to the door and stood to the side, waiting.

  “I said, open up!”

  Monika released the night lock and moved behind the opening door as the officer entered the room, gun drawn. He tripped over Reilly, falling facedown on the floor. With quick thinking, Monika with her full weight dropped down on him with force, both knees landing on his back, knocking the wind out of him. She reached for the vodka bottle and broke it over his head.

  The agile Monika frisked the incapacitated officer, got his wallet and gun and then headed to the bedroom. She put on two-inch pumps, donned a trench coat. She pocketed the gun and wallet and then made a hasty exit, stepping over the bodies. She entered the hallway, rushing down the stairs and out onto the rain-swept street. The rain cooled her hot, flushed face.

  Agility and dumb luck found Monika westward-bound on a city bus. She opened the wallet, paid the fare and moved down the aisle.

  She took a seat in the sparsely occupied vehicle across from the center exit. The flushed beauty sighed as she gathered her thoughts and began mapping out her getaway plans.

  Her first thought was to call Raul. She rode, lost in thought, for twenty minutes, then exited the bus near Western and Wilshire, finding an Irish Pub. She sat at the bar and ordered vodka on the rocks. She inquired about a pay phone, and the bartender directed her to the hallway next to the restrooms. She retrieved a couple of bills from the newfound wallet to make change for the phone. The bartender exchanged the bills for coins, and she made her way to the phone booth. She dropped a coin in the slot, looked around as she pulled the door shut and dialed.

  “Raul, I ez out,” Monika whispered.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Irish pub, Vilshire and Veston … hurry!”

  “Fifteen minutes, tops, sweetheart,” Raul said. “I’m driving a black sedan and I will bring your suitcase.”

  “Goote,” Monika answered, hung up and returned to the bar.

  Twenty minutes passed when Raul strolled into the bar, spotted Monika and was at her side in a flash. He took her arm and they made a hasty exit. Once within the confines of his sedan, they headed west.

  “I vant kissink jou,” Monika whispered as she slid across the bench seat, engulfing him in a strong embrace, while pressing her lips on his neck.

  “Hold on, let’s wait till we get to the apartment,” he said.

  “No apartment—need safe place,” she cooed and nibbled on his ear.

  They found an out-of-the-way West Hollywood motel and took a first-floor room in the back of the building away from the street.

  “I ez need clothes,” Monika stated.

  “Let’s get you into the shower first,” Raul suggested, locked the door and set the suitcase next to the bed.

  “Den ve make luv, OK?”

  “Yes,” he said, taking her into his arms. “I’ll do some shopping for you in the morning.”

  After their shower, Monika put Raul through an extreme torturous love session. Her pent-up sexual frustration during captivity sent Monika to a solicitous hell-bent trip into nymphomaniac lust with unresolved results. They fell apart from one another, perspiring profusely. Raul was spent and exhausted, with Monika yearning for more.

  “More!” she screamed, grabbed his shoulders and shook him like a rag doll. “More! More!”

  “Sorry, I can’t,” he gasped.

  “Ve try again soon,” she said.

  “Yes,” he agreed with much reluctance.

  Monika then fell into deep slumber. Her heavy breathing brought relief to the exhausted Raul.

  Morning came as the eastern sun glared through the window blinds, awakening them.

  Raul stretched, rolled over and kissed Monika on the lips.

  “Jou ez ready for more?” she whispered.

  “We better catch the morning news on TV, OK?” he asked, picking up the remote. He pointed at the TV and clicked to the local news. After a minute of boring advertisements, the news came on.

  Monika shot up to a sitting position as she stared at her reflection on the small screen.

  “Breaking news,” the announcer said, “Wanted, armed and extremely dangerous, Monika Galitiz, thirty-two, six-one, one-hundred thirty-five pounds, with long blonde hair. She speaks with a strong Russian accent. Do not approach her. Call the Los Angeles Police Department at the phone number on the bottom of your screen.

  “Vhat!” Monika exclaimed.

  “We better get out of town now,” Raul said.

  “I need clothes … vant killink, that Ginny girl first, no?”

  “Don’t be crazy. Let’s go now to Venice. An associate has a boat. We’ll head for Tijuana, get clothes and disappear in Mexico. I have friends that can put us up until the heat’s off.

  “No!”
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  “If you won’t take my advice, then you’re on your own,” Raul demanded.

  “Ve get Ginny girl first, den go!”

  “She’s probably surrounded by cops; you wouldn’t stand a chance. For God’s sake, Monika, listen to reason. Let’s go, before it’s too late.”

  “No!”

  “I’ll have her bumped off. I know how. Just one phone call and it’s done as soon as things cool down. Trust me, please?” he asked, taking her hand and pulling her to stand. Monika opened her suitcase, slipped into her underwear, donned jeans, a pullover knit top and tennis shoes. She had covered her hair with a kerchief. With her coat over her arm, she was ready. Meanwhile, Raul dressed; they slipped out of the room, and got into the car. Monika lay prone on the floor in the back seat, as Raul drove with caution on their way west.

  Raul rolled through the Miracle Mile on Wilshire Boulevard to Santa Monica and then on to Venice. Their tedious journey on surface streets with the mumbling Monika displaying her displeasure was unpleasant. At trip’s end, he pulled into a darkened alley behind an apartment building on the seedy side of town.

  Monika questioned, “Ve ez here?”

  “Yes … stay down while I make a call,” Raul said. He got Carlos on his cell and whispered. “I need a favor.”

  “What do you want?” Carlos asked.

  “A quick boat trip to Tijuana with a friend,” the whispering continued.

  “Friend?”

  “I’m in the alley behind your building …”

  “What friend, Raul?” Carlos pressed.

  “Let us in, we’ll take one of the parking spots, OK?”

  “Park next to my Jeep …”

  Raul, with Monika at his side, tapped on the first-floor apartment door. The door opened a crack, the safety chain still in place; Carlos peeked out. “Who’s with you?”

  “Open up, for Chrissake, you’ll know soon enough,” Raul ordered.

  “No––go away, I don’t need trouble!”

  Raul stepped back and with a bang, kicked the door open.

  Carlos moved away as they entered and closed the door.

  “What the fuck?” Carlos asked looking at Monika.

  “Calm down … we need the boat trip tonight, you’ll be paid well,” Raul assured him.