“Come sit with us, dear,” Rita urged. She and Joe edged by the young man and took the seats nearest the chalkboard.
Catherine assumed Luke Starns would stand at the front of the room and cautiously slipped into the chair at the opposite end of the table. “There’s no need to be crowded,” she explained. “I’ll be fine here.”
As friendly as she’d been earlier, Rita introduced herself and Joe to the others and again recounted the sale of their business and recent travels. Spurred by her example, the young man gave his name as Ron Flanders. Almost painfully thin, his loose-fitting green polo shirt and Dockers would have looked equally handsome left on their hangers.
“I’m working part-time in the math department at Cal State LA. How about you?” he asked the woman s
eated opposite him.
Her hair was dyed to the blue-black sheen of patent leather and gathered at her nape in a bright red bow that matched her long, acrylic nails. Her red dress was trimmed with black piping, and before she replied, she rose up to straighten the skirt with a nervous tug.
“I’m Beverly Snodgrass, and I was a receptionist until our firm was bought out, and the new owner laid off everyone over forty. I’ve been looking for a job, but they’re impossible to find if you don’t even know how to turn on a computer; and I can’t just sit home and cry.”
“My thoughts exactly,” the woman beside her agreed. Her wavy brown hair was cut short, and her ample figure was disguised by a loose-fitting tunic and slacks. “I’m Alice Waggoner. My husband just retired, and he’s driving me nuts.
“I need an excuse to get out of the house and Lost Angel is a damn good one. This is my friend, Betty Murray. I talked her into coming here with me.” Betty looked enough like Alice for them to have been sisters, and she merely smiled and shrugged.
It was now Catherine’s turn, but Luke Starns entered as soon as she’d given her name. She hadn’t expected to be happy to see him, but his arrival excused her from having to provide any personal information, and for that unexpected favor, she was deeply grateful.
On his way toward the front of the room, Luke glanced at Catherine a moment longer than the others, and she wondered whether he was merely surprised to find her there or, perhaps, badly disappointed. Whatever his reaction, she was intent upon being cooperative and greeted him warmly.
“Good morning, Dr. Starns,” she said.
“Please, just make it Luke. Good morning, everyone.” He referred to a roll sheet on a clipboard as he greeted them by name. Then he tossed the LATEXTRA section of the Times on the table.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but we expected several others, and I didn’t want to begin without them. Apparently they’ve had second thoughts, and this story might be the reason. If any of you missed it, here’s a quick recap.
“A man named Felix Mendoza was murdered near here the other night, and it appears to have been a particularly vicious crime. He’d served time, most recently for pandering, and was carrying a bottle of Rohypnol.” When the name brought mystified stares from several in his audience, Luke offered more detail.
“It’s known as the date-rape drug, or ‘roofies’. It’s not available in the United States as a sleeping pill, but it’s sold in a great many other countries, including Mexico. The drug not only renders a person unconscious, but also causes short-term memory loss, so when they awaken, they aren’t certain what’s happened to them, unless, of course, it’s painfully obvious that they’ve been raped.
“Felix was last seen with two pretty girls, and it doesn’t take much in the way of imagination to guess he planned to take them home, slip the Rohypnol into their Cokes, and then slip them something else entirely.”
He paused to allow everyone to paint an appropriately disgusting scene in their minds. “A few days with Felix would convince any girl she’d been born to be a whore.”
That ugly prediction brought a gasp and deep blush from Alice, Betty and Rita Tubergen, while Joe gave more of a strangled gulp, but Luke had meant to shock them. “The teens who come to Lost Angel haven’t had pretty lives, folks, and the men they meet aren’t passing out milk and cookies. The Times article makes no mention of witnesses or suspects, but rather than raise the crime rate, I’d say Felix’s death has actually improved the quality of our neighborhood.”
Rita raised her hand. “But, Dr. Starns, Luke, surely you don’t condone murder.”
“You might be surprised by what I’ve learned to condone since taking over Lost Angel,” Luke replied drily, “but it’s nothing compared to what some of the kids have done to survive. Los Angeles has approximately 5,000 homeless teens, and only 200 beds available in shelters. You do the math. It wouldn’t hurt any of you to spend a few nights out on the street to gain a real appreciation of why our needs are so great.”
Joe Tubergen shifted uneasily in his chair. “I think maybe we’ve made a mistake in coming here.”
“Did you expect volunteering to be as enjoyable as coaching Little League?” Luke responded.
“Well, yeah, maybe a little bit,” Joe admitted sheepishly. “At any rate, I didn’t think we’d have to step over dead pimps to reach the door.”
“Felix died several blocks from here,” Luke corrected. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t trip over a corpse tomorrow, and it could be one of the kids. Every year we’ve lost a few to one type of violence or another.”
He gave them a moment to consider that fact, then cleared his throat and continued in a more matter-of-fact manner. “Lost Angel is supported by private grants as well as public donations, and we track every penny. It’s time-consuming but well worth the effort to maintain our donors’ trust.
“We furnish hot showers, clean clothes and nutritious meals. We also offer group and individual counseling, and provide referrals for medical and dental care. We do our damnedest to help kids find jobs and safe places to live. Until they have both, they can pick up their mail here, and that service means a lot to them. Runaways quickly discover that being on their own is no adventure, but if they’re too ashamed to call their parents and beg for money to return home, we’ll take the first step and contact their family.
“I want to make it clear right now that we never make promises we can’t keep, nor do we allow volunteers to take any of the kids home, because none of us can care for them all, and it wouldn’t be fair to the ones left behind. Most of them support themselves panhandling, but if you come here with your pockets or purse bulging with dollar bills, you’ll probably be robbed before you can pass out more than one or two.”
Catherine thought the others looked a mite green, but she was curious about a point Luke had not mentioned and raised her hand.
Luke responded with an impatient nod. “Do you have a question, Mrs. Brooks?”