FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 64

Chapter 64


Wednesday night I booked a room in a motel near Petaluma city limits.

The manager scanned the information on the card. She was a stern looking Indian who wore a sari and bracelets on both wrists and held herself like royalty.

“How long will you be staying?” she asked, looking down her nose at us. 

Terry and I exchanged a quick look.

“We don’t know,” I said.

Her dark eyes narrowed.

“Tell me by eleven o’clock tomorrow,” she said as she turned a map upside down. She pointed to our room on the map and gave us our key and promptly left.

“She thinks we’re a couple of queers,” said Terry.

“You think?”

“Hell yeah. She kept peeking at my tits.”

Francis’ phone beeped.

A text from Colin: Jake Potter might be your guy. He’s cooling his heels downtown.

Potter had a motive, all right, but I couldn’t picture him doing a ritualistic killing in the forest, then driving into the city to leave a body at the wrong address. 

 “What’s up?” Terry asked.

“Colin’s got Potter,” I said. 

“For what? What did he do?”

“Essentially nothing.”

That night I dreamed that I was walking in a park and saw Charles Manson sitting beneath a big oak tree. He was preaching to his followers in a soft voice. The small group around him, mostly women, sat spellbound. 

He saw me standing there and grinned. As if my presence had just made his day. One look from him and I felt important and loved.

“Come join us,” he called.

I hesitated.
I woke up thinking, He’s a charmer. Like a hooded cobra.

Over a cup of bad coffee in the motel’s tiny breakfast area, I decided to give some credence to my dream. Manson was a charmer, all right. He was also nuts. His apocalyptic vision of black people rising up and killing all the “Pigs” and then seizing power from the wealthy, beggared one’s imagination. I had read that many of his most devoted supporters did not buy it.

As far as I knew, none of the authorities who were hunting down Jason Powers ever spoke of his world view or philosophy. Did he even have one? I figured the feds would be the ones to know.

I looked up and saw Terry slowly shuffling through the buffet. He was bleary-eyed and downcast. Probably still pissed that I had wakened him at seven. He picked up a couple of scones to go with his fruit, eggs and bacon and came over to sit with me.

“Do you think Jason Powers has a world view?” I asked.

“I think he’s a con man.”