Exposed by Rage (10 page)

DeMarco was becoming a fixture at my place.  Good thing.  He could help me with the move.  I didn’t have much, my duffle and guns, but he had a nice strong back and could carry the bag for me. 

Poppy surprised us with a farewell breakfast, and left after we had eaten.  Dylan was meeting Braden for a trip up to Oklahoma to fill in the authorities about Mimi, and give them copies of the information Lilly and Geraldine had provided as well as update them on the connections between the murders..

Trixie’s computer had provided a much longer list of contacts than I had, so officers had been assigned to interview those who were local and phone those who weren’t.  All this delegation made it feel like a vacation.  I hate vacations. 

Without a specific goal for the morning other than to move my things, we took the little I had with me to my newly decorated bedroom. No longer the teenager, I had my room updated giving the decorator a free hand.  It was elegant without being fussy   

A gleam in DeMarco’s eye and a smile on his face told me he approved.  He closed the door and began to unbutton his shirt.  It appeared it was time to take the mattress for a test run.

Crap
. The bell and pounding on the door below threw cold water on us. 

I looked out the bedroom window but the angle was wrong to see who it was and the car was not one I recognized.  Whoever it was either slipped in when Poppy left or had the gate code and if that was true I definitely wanted to see who it was.

I don’t like the unexpected.  A type of paranoia maybe, but I slipped my Glock into the back of my jeans and went to the door, followed by DeMarco.  I couldn’t have been more surprised when I opened it to find George the snake. 

“What are you doing here and how did you get in the gate?”

George the sleazy cameraman shrugged and walked in uninvited.  “Jillie and I was friends.  We had a thing goin’ so she gave me a code.”

“What kind of thing?”  I was sure it wasn’t as intimate as George wanted me to believe. “And George, you won’t have an entry code the next time.  You’re uninvited, just like the vampire you are.”

“A business thing.  Since you’re the new boss lady I came to make sure we was copasetic.”

“I haven’t seen any paperwork with your name on it, so I guess we aren’t in business together.”

“Oh it weren’t nothin’ formal like.  An off the table short of hand shake thing.”

DeMarco, ever the detective, interrupted our amiable discussion.  “Ash, why don’t we sit down?  I’ll get us some coffee and George can tell us all about this business deal.  After all, if your friend Jillie was doing business with Mr.…”

“Kerland.” George answered the unasked question.

“Mr. Kerland, interesting name.  Well come on Ashley, we can’t just stand here in the hall. 

I knew DeMarco was going to make a call while he was ‘making the coffee’ to check out what Braden might have learned when he interviewed him at Trixie’s the day I found Jillie. I was going to have the chair the snake sat in, reupholstered.

Demarco led George to the sitting room, and went to get the coffee.  Since we had started a pot when we came in the house, it wasn’t going to take long, but even a minute alone with the scumbag made my skin crawl.

‘You ain’t changed much in here.  Guess Jillie had better taste than I thought or yours is just as bad as hers,” George laughed.  A horrible grating sound scraping along the ends of my nerves.  “You really gonna live here?  I couldn’t be around a place where someone was murdered.”

The bulge in the front of his pants and the excited gleam in his eye, revealed the lie.

DeMarco surprised me when he actually carried in a serving tray loaded with creamer, sugar and cookies.  Where did he find cookies and why offer them to the jackass?  I must have looked disapproving because he gave me a ‘don’t worry I’ve got your back’ stare.  As if I could ever doubt that.

“I believe we met at Ms. Dix’s house, but didn’t get an opportunity to speak,” DeMarco said in a perfectly friendly conversational way.  I realize now he’s a really good actor in his own way.  “So tell me about yourself, what you do, how you know Ashley.”

George looked pleased at the prospect of talking about himself.  He should know better but no one ever said he was smart.

“Yea, I remember you.  Trix wasn’t too happy to see Ashley-girl.  Seems they don’t get along real well.  I work some for Dix.  Do photo work at the studio.  Get to see a lot of pussy that way.  Most of it overused.  After a while you get kinda’ bored with the day to day stuffing of dicks in holes.”

I wanted to slap the creep and punch out his lights for no better reason than he breathed.  DeMarco just smiled and took a sip of coffee.

“You said you were in a business with Jillie Favor.  Was it the same type of work you did for Trixie Dix?”  DeMarco asked, extending the plate of cookies to me, then to George.  He must have known I would refuse to touch the snack if he’d given George the first choice,

I snapped a bite of the unwanted sweet the way I wanted to snap George’s neck.  I clamped my teeth shut hard enough that my jaws ached.  If I spoke at all it would be a death curse.

“Jillie and I had an understandin’.  I wanted to do my own thing and needed an investor or two.  Trix gave me a little, but Jillie was right there and willin’ to give me a helpin’ hand with more.”

“You’re freelance?”

“Nah already done that.  A production company.  We just do small stuff, nothin’ like the Trix can do, I mean right now I’m cameraman, director and producer.  Jillie never came around the set much so she was a silent partner, ya’ know.  Now she’s dead silent,” George laughed at his sick joke.

“Does you’re company have a name? Maybe I’ve seen some of your work.”

That thought made my stomach roil. 

“Yeah.  Lutee.”

I wondered what it meant, perhaps a family name or something..  I just wanted the slime to leave.

“Anyway,” George said, looking frustrated, “I really came ta’ talk to Ash.  I need another hit in the old bank account and was thinkin’ you’d been honorin’ Jillie’s agreements.  I never took you for no double-crosser.”

“I’ll have to look into it, George.  I’ll need some kind of confirmation.  Check’s Jillie wrote or something.”

George’s face hardened.

“I would be a bad business woman if I just took your word for it.  Nothing personal.  When people find they suddenly have money, they often have a lot of new friends asking for assistance.”  I had done the best I could to be civil and stood up, “I’ll let you know.”

DeMarco eased the tension offering a smile, his hand, and clapping George on the back. “I’ll help Ashley find the information and make sure she doesn’t take long.  Where can we reach you?”

George rattled off his number and we walked him to the door.  Closing it behind him, I locked it.  “I need a shower, I feel like I’ve been in the swamps of hell.  So do you think you got any useful information?”

DeMarco grinned, pulling me toward the stairs. “We can talk about this later.  I think you need someone to scrub your back.”

* * * *

Surrounded by the perfect steaminess, I closed my eyes as Michael’s hands glided over me.  His touch sent shivers of pleasure along every nerve.  Tilting my face up toward the gentle cascade of water, he took my shampoo and began to massage it into my hair.  My legs turned liquid, and I melted against him, unable to stand without his support as he rinsed it and reached for the soap.

His hand glided over my breast.  He teased my nipples between his thumb and finger with a light squeeze, before sliding the soap, down my abs.  Slowly, torturously, his hands circled over my skin.  I quivered as his hand glided lightly between my legs.

He toyed with me, but I could feel the effect of this play on him.  I leaned forward giving myself room to turn.  I took the soap from his hand, and began my own exploration of his body.  Sliding the soap over his chest.  Watching the splash of the shower as it rinsed away the suds.  I took pleasure in licking the rain fresh droplets from his nipples.  Lapping at them.  My body shaking with desire as he responded. Hardened. Grasped me closer. Slip into me.

It seemed like hours before he began to move.  His hips pumping slowly at first.  Grasping my buttocks, he held me tightly against him and turned us to place my back to the wall.  The friction of his movements intensified.  He lifted my legs, and settled them around his waist.  Driving harder.  My neck arched, my back bowed.  My muscles gripped him tightly as he exploded within me.

I started to speak, but he captured my mouth with his, carrying me from the shower to the bed.  Carefully he lowered me to rest on the cover, sliding free as he knelt on the floor in front of me.  His tongue slid across my breast.  His teeth nipping at my nipples. A glorious shock of lightening undulated through my body, 

I pulled him up, leading him to lie on the bed.  Desperate to wrap my mouth around him.  Kissing his stomach, I went to slide my lips over him and savor his flavor.  Instead he pulled me up and slipped into me again, his release triggering my own.

We lay together as the sun filtered through the leaves on the tree outside my window.  Sending shadows dancing across the room.  I had never known what it was like to feel so full.  So satisfied.  So—loved.  I could feel it wrapping around me in its warmth.

He leaned over me on his elbow, and studied my face.  “I want you to know how special you are.  I can’t tell you what it means to be part of your life.  I know I need to tell you—“

I put my finger to his lips.  “Not now.  When this is all over, “I said.  I admit there was a grin the size of Texas on my face.  “I feel the same way.”  I didn’t want the curse of the murders to taint what was growing between us.

Maybe I should have felt guilty, taking so much pleasure from Michael DeMarco when there were important things that needed to be settled.  The murders, the disappearance of Trixie and the ransom demand.  But the truth was I was lost in the maze of to many pieces of the puzzle and none of them seemed to fit. 

Why would anyone kill Jillie?  What did she know or the killer think she knew that meant she had to die?  She had the disc of the murder, but there were no clues to indicate who was involved.  Had she known?  What did Randi have to do with Jillie’s murder that got her killed?  Had she gone with the killer willingly?  Would a murderer change the pattern and kidnap Trixie or was this something new and unrelated?  Then there was George.  Did he really expect me to hand over money for some unconfirmed venture he supposedly had with Jillie—one that hadn’t turned up in Poppy’s review of the club and Jillie’s personal books?

“Stop brooding,” DeMarco said.  “I’ve intensified the search for Eve, now that you confirmed she wasn’t on the ship.  Making yourself sick over the lack of evidence won’t help us find the answers.”

“I know.  I just keep thinking I’ve missed something.  I want to go through the house one more time, see if I can find anything else Jillie left that I overlooked.

DeMarco’s phone rang.  Answering it, he listened to the caller, pulling a notebook from his pocket and taking notes. I tried not to distract him with the questions I had when it became clear he was talking about Eve.  I thought I knew her at list a little, but you never know anyone so well you can’t come up with a list of things you want to know.  Of course the first one had likely been answered by the caller already—where was she?

I thought about the times I had been dragged to a filming then stuffed in a room away from the action even after I got older.  After all Trixie wasn’t about to give the social services people or nosey gossips a reason to question her mothering techniques.  I always had someone with me, usually one of the women in their robes as they waited for their call to action.  When Eve pulled the duty, she always had her case filled with yards of gold, silver and copper she used to braid her special jewelry.  She would set up at a breakfast or dining room table and quietly transforms the individual strands of metal into intricate patterns.  During these times she was friendly enough, explaining each step in the process, what had inspired this particular piece or design and giving me samples to work with.

Not long before I got to opt out of the enforced studio attendance, she got hateful.  Snapping at me for asking questions.  Ignoring me completely. The change in her hurt me until I understood it really wasn’t about me at all, but about her.  Like so many people who choose to do something they think they will like or be good at, she was obviously resentful that there wasn’t more.  More recognition. More stardom. More fame.

My musing was interrupted when DeMarco ended his call, close his notes and stood up.  “I’ve got to go.  I’ll call you later.”

He didn’t give me so much as a peck on the cheek and was out the door before I could blink.

To antsy to just sit around, I grabbed my purse and went to the club to check on my new pool house guest, Caroline, and the others there.  But even there I was like a kid staring through the window at the party.  Caroline had everything in hand and had already begun the improvements Poppy had agreed on.  The staff was smiling and laughing while doing the set up.  Kevin was joining in and it was good to see life back in his eyes.  Even the morning regulars looked more energetic and happy to be here. 

The next stop was Trixie’s house.  A construction crew was working to clean the burned out rooms and shore up the second floor.  I hadn’t come to look at the main house, but wanted to check out the pool house, guest houses and garage apartments.  DeMarco and I hadn’t gone through them since the fire, although they had been checked by the responding officers to assure no one was hiding or injured.

As I expected the pool house was clean and empty.  Trixie’s maids would have put everything in order before locking up when the horde had left.  There were a few personal items, set on the dressers in the two guest houses.  Probably found by the maids and left for the owners to claim when they returned.  I didn’t recognize any of the forgotten items in the first guest house and made a thorough search of the rooms before moving on to the second.

I was pretty sure this was Eve’s and the collection of items left behind confirmed that.  There were scraps of the jewelry making supplies—including two small lotus charms.  Was she making these for the killer?  Jewelry to give to his victims?  Did Eve have any idea the items foretold the death of the wearer?  I couldn’t answer those or any other questions that swirled through my mind until I found Eve.

* * * *

When I got home, DeMarco swung by and picked me up.  What appeared to be a blood covered movie set had been located in one of the less populated areas north of Plano.  “The Grayson County sheriff’s office got a call that there were cattle on a highway.  When they got there it was obvious the fencing had been cut.  Investigation didn’t find a house, but a number of other buildings.  Since we’d notified everyone between here and Kansas, we got lucky.  They are holding the scene for us and trying to find the property owner.”

“So if this is our guy, do you think he’s finding and dumping his victims in Oklahoma and bringing them into Texas to do the work?”  Even as I said it, it didn’t seem very likely, but then you have to look at every possible scenario to find the one that fits.

“I doubt it.  More likely he started there and has moved down this way.  They’re going to do a search of the property to see what might turn up.  A crew is coming from the station to support the effort and keep me informed.”

I didn’t know if I should hope something was found, or not.  Most of the murders I had investigated in the military had been, for lack of a better word, simple and direct, not like this.  Here there were too many things that seemed to be linked with too little information on the direction to go, and what appeared to be too many agendas.  The snuff films were based on greed and hate.  It was difficult to pinpoint what had gotten Jillie and Randi killed.  And in the middle of all this was the kidnapping for ransom.  I was still waiting to hear back from the bastards on that one. 

“DeMarco, I keep turning all this over in my mind and the only thing that makes any sense is that all of this is about money.”

“If they’re connected,” he said.  “Then again it seems the porn community is at the center of all this and I can’t imagine that these are all done by different people.  But maybe our snuff film director has a partner or two.”

With DeMarco driving we arrived at the staging area sooner than I could have imagined possible.  We pulled in behind a travel trailer that appeared to be the center of activity, got out of the car and were met by the Sherriff.

“My guys ‘r out scouting the area, before we begin the full search.  We’ve called in volunteers to help us cover as much of the property as possible,” he said. 

I noticed a bulge in his cheek just before he cleared his throat and launched tobacco spit on the ground.  I admit I was thankful he turned away from us and wasn’t near the building that he’d indicated was the scene we’d come to search. 

“I guess you want to see the room we found first though.”

He led us to a faded wooden building a half-mile from the road.  It was a large shack, hidden from view by a stand of trees.  I don’t know what ranchers and farmers have on their property but I thought it might have housed equipment or feed at some time. “

Inside were the props we had seen on the film.  The bed, the table where the knives had been displayed, portable lights, and a tripod for a camera.  The walls had been painted a gun metal grey, and were spattered with blood.  A trunk with a lock dangling from the latch, stood across the room next to a rack of what I supposed were costumes.  Fancy thongs, cheap filmy gowns, and barely there teddies, stood next to shelves that held whips, chains, and a number of mind-numbing torture tools.

“Not exactly like the film version, but close enough.  Same type bed, different chair,” DeMarco confirmed. 

“The Ranger’s crime scene is on their way to go over everything.  My guys are good, but we don’t have the resources they do,” the sheriff said. “

As we walked back to the trailer, a pickup truck and trailer bounced across the pasture to the house.  The Texas Department of Public Safety or TXDPS logo was on the truck and there was a sign on the trailer with the same information.    I glanced back and saw something on the ground glisten in the sunlight.  Walking over I leaned down to inspect it and saw something familiar.  A ring I had given Trixie when I was eleven.  Trixie had been here.