Exposed by Rage (7 page)

“Ashley, I’ve been thinking about this brand.  You said it’s a lotus?” Poppy closed the computer and turned toward me.

“It sure looks like one.    I keep thinking it means something to me but I can’t remember.”

“Well, it’s s symbol in some cultures meaning rebirth.  A water plant, it closes up at night and sinks below the surface, sunlight brings it back and it reopens.  I looked it up on the web.  You think this might be what they guy is saying?”

“Maybe.  I guess this guy could think by killing Jillie and Randi he’s going to cause them to be re-incarnated as something or someone else.  Killers are loony in that way, but it doesn’t feel right.” 

I rubbed my temples.  My head hurt and I wasn’t getting anywhere.  Poppy got up and went to the fridge, started taking out meat and fruit, fixing lunch.  She’d decided, years ago on the street, to be my official caretaker.  I loved her for it, but wished sometimes she’d just leave me the hell alone. 

“Pop, I’m not hungry.”

“You never are, but you have to eat and I’m starving.”

The sandwich tasted like cardboard and stuck to the roof of my mouth.  After the first bite I picked at the crust but couldn’t bring myself to try another.  I pushed away from the table and went to change for a swim.

As I was getting out of the pool, Poppy brought my cell phone out and handed it to me.  DeMarco was on the line.  Not really surprised, but concerned he was calling so soon, I took a deep breath before placing the speaker to my ear. 

“Your friend Dylan…”

“Is he alright?” Felt a tsunami of fear.

“No.  He’s fine.  He came to see me.”

Instead of feeling relieved I felt irritated.  “Why?  He came here to help me, not you.”  I was in bitch mode and didn’t know what put me there.  DeMarco is a smart cop and I wanted him to get along with Dylan.  The fact is I wanted him more than anything I’d ever experienced.  I didn’t want to need him—but I was hooked.

“Whoa.  I offered to show him the murder books.  He asked me a couple of questions that made me think maybe we hadn’t completed our search of the house.” 

“So you’re calling to tell me you’re sending the crime scene investigators back out?  Fine, you have the house under wraps.  They won’t bother me.”

“You could be the most irritating woman I’ve had the pleasure to talk to, but remembering last night and hoping more are to come—well just let me tell you why I called.”

I smiled.  He was insulting me and all I could do was smile about it.  “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.  Dylan told me your friend Jillie was paranoid about some things.  It made me wonder if that meant she might have another safe we didn’t find.  I want to come out and go through the house with you.  See what turns up.  There could be something there to help us ID the killer if he’s right.”

I felt like a fool.  Of course Jillie had another safe, why hadn’t I looked for it?  I remembered her saying something about safes a long time ago, but couldn’t remember exactly what it was.  Maybe she even had a safe deposit box.  I hadn’t gone through everything in the envelope Severenson had given me.  “Let me check something and I’ll meet you at the front door.”

“Perfect.  Dylan is already on his way, I’ll be there in twenty.”

I ran into the bedroom I was using in the pool house and retrieved the envelope with the keys and other things Severenson had given me.  I dumped the manila envelope on the bed and began to sort through the smaller envelopes and various keys. 

A safe deposit key with the box number on it was wrapped in a letter from the attorney giving me authorization signed by Jillie to be used in the case of her death.  There was nothing else that might lead them to another safe in the house.  I got to the front of the house just as Dylan came up through the gate, followed minutes later by DeMarco.

“I found a safe deposit key for Artemis-Collins Bank and Trust here in Plano.  We’ll have to check that tomorrow.  Let’s take a look and see if we find anything here.”

We entered the house, dividing the rooms between us, knocking on walls, tapping on tiles and floor boards.  I have a good memory, but the conversation with Jillie about the safe was a moving target.  Until I went to the kitchen, that is.  I remembered she had kidded me about how secure a safe would be if you had one put in behind the refrigerator.  Not something I would think of easily and I didn’t remember any evidence that the CSI’s had moved the one in the kitchen or in the utility room.  It was worth a look.

We found two.  One behind each of the Sub-Zeros.  There was no way Jillie could have moved them without help, and eventually we discovered the refrigerators were mounted on hidden rollers that could be activated remotely from the pantry. 

Unlocking the safes had been the easiest part of the endeavor.  She had used my birthday as the code on both of them.  Once the safes were open, DeMarco called in the technicians to document the items we had found.  A lot of cash. A copy of the will.  Gold coins and savings bonds.  Receipts for the cars, along with the titles.  None of them would help us take down a killer.  Nothing shocking.  Nothing revealing.

  Disappointed, and leaving everything in its place, DeMarco told me I could come back and live in the house if I wanted to.  “We have documented everything we can.  Will you be able to do that?  I know it has to be hard.”

“I don’t know.”  I was surprised he seemed to care about how I felt.  It was a side of him that had flared up when I’d broken down, but I thought that was because I was being girlie.

“Let me know if I can do anything to help.  I can recommend some companies that are good at restoral.”

“Thanks, but I have a designer and can get the work done.  Maybe I’ll turn her bedroom into an upstairs office.  I don’t really need it and already have my own room for when I stayed here, plus there are plenty of others.”  Yeah, way too many for me.  I had two friends and a maybe a lover.  They wouldn’t fill a teacup in a place like this. 

We stayed in the house while the crime techs went through the safes. Checking the rooms we hadn’t been in.  When they were done, Dylan drifted back to the pool house, where Poppy was playing her
magnificent chef
role but I wasn’t in the mood for anything fancy.  DeMarco seemed to notice, and asked if I wanted to get away for a while.  He meant take a break.  I meant take a tumble in bed.

Maybe I misjudged his intentions.  We went to his place.  He softened me up with a glass of wine and didn’t take his time removing my clothes.  I was liking this guy more and more every day.  I knew I was falling, something I believed I could never do. 

I had a healthy sex life.  After all, I’d been around sex all my life.  I mean my darling mother was a porn queen and had always had her friends scattered throughout the house.  Nudity was something you ignored. The sound of sexual ecstasy was usually faked and didn’t always require a partner or even a helping hand. 

There were areas of the house that had been strictly out of bounds except for me.  But living in that palace had all kinds of challenges.    You had to be careful where you chose to sit in some of the rooms.  What closed door might be sheltering a rehearsal?  A tryout.  An affair.  I had grown up disgusted.  Overexposed.  Thinking sex was a tool more than something that had a meaning.  It was disturbing that this thing with DeMarco felt like something more.  Something I couldn’t readily identify. 

But I had to put all that aside.  We made a visit to the bank and it was just as unrevealing as the safes had been.  Mostly deeds, partnership agreements, contracts, and other stuff related to business.  The only thing surprising and out of place was a photograph of Jillie’s office at the house.  Neither DeMarco nor I could come up with any reason for it to be there, or any clue what it was telling us. 

The rest of the day was torment.  I had contacted a service to remove the carpet and blood from Jillie’s room.   A cleaning crew was coming to the house.  Knowing nothing about decorating a place like this, I also called Jillie’s decorator and told her I wanted to change the use of the bedroom.  She would drop by later with some drawn up suggestions I wouldn’t care about.  So while stuck in the main house waiting on others to finish their jobs or arrive for discussions, I went to Jillie’s office and closed myself in. 

The room looked exactly like it had in the photograph.  It was a cheerful room, filled with bookcases and books, custom made filing equipment that blended in to the décor.  Comfortable seating areas, and a kitchenette located just off the main room.  The techs, DeMarco, Dylan and I had all searched the room, tapped on walls.  Looked for hidden compartments.  Nothing.

I sat down behind the desk for a different perspective.  Jillie’s computer had been taken so there was nothing there I could explore.  A couple of remotes sat in a customer holder, that allowed Jillie to  close the blinds, turn on various lights in the room, and move a part of the wall across from the desk, to reveal a television.  Disappointed again and feeling a bit sentimental, I went to the television cabinet and looked for the movie Jillie and I had always watched together when I was a kid.  Pollyanna.  The one film that had nothing to do with reality.

  I put the disc into the player, punched the button to start the show.  Although the opening credits for the movie were there, they ended and the story changed.  There was no sound as the show began.  A dirty bed filled the screen, metal frame, rumpled sheets, and a chain padlocked around one of the posts.  As I watched, the chain moved.  A moment later a naked Asian female walked over, gingerly sat down.  Her small breasts quivered, her arms and legs began to quake.  Her wide, terrified eyes, tracked someone out of camera frame.  This wasn’t some actress playing a part.  The bruises, cuts and burns were real.  A pop exploded though the room as the television speaker came to life. 

“Lie down, Miko.  Now.  I don’t want ya’ messin’ with me.”  The off screen voice was distorted.  Maybe a mini-voice changer had been placed over the microphone on the camera.  It wasn’t doing a great job, some words were clear, but it was messing it up enough I couldn’t ID the speaker.

Miko did as the voice instructed, spreading her legs, putting her hands up when directed.  A figure in a hooded robe, walked into view, handcuffed her to the headboard, then sat down and began to play with her.

The fear never left her face.

A man walked into view, face covered, armband around what appeared to be a tattoo peeking out from under it.  The hooded figure laid out tools and instruments on a table the man pulled into frame.  He lit candles, set out a pack of cigarettes, lined up a collection of knives, and then walked off screen.  I realized what I was watching and felt sick at my stomach.  This wasn’t just porn... 

There is a segment of this genre for the exceptionally sick perverts.  I had to be sure.  I had to watch to see what was going to happen.  But I knew.  I knew the girl wasn’t going to come out of this one to make another movie.

There was no script, no play at making it anything other than what it was.  The blood welled where the robed figure cut her.  Close-ups of the skin as it bubbled and blistered when the cigarette pressed into the flesh.  Screams vibrated through the speakers. 

The bastard stopped.  Cocking his head to the side like a curious dog, he stood watching. 

Piteous whimpers escaped the girl’s lips.

The man, off camera talked to her, describing what was planned next, as the figure lifted another instrument from the table. 

When she fainted, he revived her.  The same routine, again and again, until...The finale. 

At last, the fear on her face, replaced by the blankness of death.

The bastard continued to work on her, even after she was gone.  Slicing her open, removing organs, laying them out in the bleak dim room.  The man walked back into frame, stood close to the camera and covered his hands in the girl’s blood.  He exposed his engorged penis taking it in hand, stoking until he spilled his seed on the trophy that lay before him. 

I hit the reverse button on the player.  The images on the screen flew back until the girl sat, once again on the edge of the bed, afraid but alive. I searched for identifying marks. Tried to determine if I could visualize the full tattoo on the man’s arm, identify anything about the robed figure.  

I don’t know how many times I watched.  Each time she died, I brought her back to television life.  Tears streaked down my face.  My hand cramped around the control.  I continuously tightened my grip as the perversions repeated.  I didn’t notice when DeMarco came in until I found my face buried in his chest. 

“Ashley,” he said softly.  “You can’t do anything for her right now.  You need to turn this off.”  DeMarco slid his arms around me tightening his grip as I struggled against him. 

“Damn it, DeMarco.  Let.  Me.  Go.”

“Step away.  Work off your anger. Watching this trash is not going to find out who those freaks are.” 

He was wrong.  Instead of reversing the images on the screen, as I had done each time before, the disc continued to play through some idiot’s idea of the credits.  Words rolled up, dying just as the girl had--sudden oblivion as they rose toward the film world’s heaven.  And, there it was.  The logo of the obscene.  The thing I had known and refused to see.  The lotus flower.

DeMarco took the disc.  “I’ll have the computer techs see if they can find anything helpful. There’s a slim chance they can pull out something that will tell us where this was taken, but I don’t see how. “

“You might try to find out who the girl was.”  I knew it was a very big world.  There was probably no chance this had occurred in Plano or even the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex.

“I’ll check a couple of sources. Missing persons, vice, maybe even crimes against persons.  Maybe something will turn up.  If not, we’ll expand the search.  It might take some time, but maybe we’ll get lucky.

I knew he didn’t really believe it.  Finding one tortured girl was next to impossible.  There wasn’t even any evidence that suggested her body may have ever been found.

When DeMarco departed, I rolled through the possibilities open to me.  I had connections in the world of porn and a lot of people out there might know someone depraved enough to think a snuff film was a
legitimate
, source of income.  The world has some real sickos in it, and I’d met a few in my days with the military police.  Some people didn’t understand or care that their needs weren’t always something to be pursued, especially when it involved the death of others.

So it was time to start with the one person most accessible.  Trixie had answers.  I knew it.  I also knew she would never be involved in anything so disgusting and perverse.  Yea, even porn queens have the lines they won’t cross.  Trixie ran a clean shop.  No abuse, no rape scenes.  No drug use.  She only hired actors who weren’t forced to perform.  She even helped people get out of the business if they found it wasn’t for them.  Find new paths to pursue.  She had a lot of powerful contacts, people she never named, but who had come to her aid when she needed them.  Porn might not be considered legitimate by most, but it was amazing how many people chose to ignore that and buddy up with the powers in the industry.

I hadn’t gotten the list of people I asked for.  I hadn’t heard back from her at all.  Not unusual, but in this case I had hoped what had happened to Jillie and Randi would have made a difference to her.    And through the miracle of technology, I had something to show her.  A printout of the lotus logo.  I had a feeling she would know who it belonged to.

As usual, I didn’t call.  I wasn’t going to be dismissed easily this time.  She would give me what I needed.  But all my determination, all my decisiveness didn’t mean a thing.  I got to the house, through the gate, and in the door.  No one was there.  Trixie and all her minions had gone.

I left angry messages on her phones.  I called every place she owned, every location she was associated with.  No responses.  No text telling me to go fuck myself.  Nothing.  Was I wrong?  Had Trixie been involved in that horrifying aberration?  No matter how much I wanted to hate her, I just couldn’t believe she could do such a thing.  Her own career had started with similar violence, and she’s escaped.  Become a guardian of sorts. Lived. 

I called DeMarco and didn’t take the time to give him a polite hello.  “Trixie’s gone.  The house is shut down.  I can’t reach her.”

“That’s a lot of people to just disappear.  I’ll put the guys on it and see what we can find.”

“I’m still at the house and am going to go through her papers, see if I can come up with something to tell us where she went.  I know she has a couple of wall safes, but I don’t know the combinations.  Maybe a miracle will occur and I’ll find those as well.”

“We didn’t specifically tell your mother to stay put.  Didn’t think we had any reason to do so.”

“Neither did I.  I can’t imagine what would have made her disappear like this.  I’ll call you back if I find anything.”

I started with the desktop.  It held a few photos, some file trays that held letters, bills, and phone messages one of the assistants had passed on.  I took apart the photo frames, people often hide combinations or other information behind the picture of a loved one.  Nothing.

Next I began to open each drawer and search through the contents.  Exploring for hidden compartments as I did so.  Trixie was very meticulous.  Clearly labeled file folders were orderly and the paperwork indicated was filed neatly.  Still I had to go through each of them to assure there wasn’t something hidden or misfiled that would be of help. 

I had been at it for over an hour and was getting a headache.  Rubbing my temples I got up and went to the nearest bathroom to look for aspirin.  Turning off the light and opening the door I smelled gasoline. 

Fire is the one thing I fear above all.  I have seen too many crispy bodies and knew too well how many ways you could die.  None of them pretty or painless.  I didn’t have any desire to be someone’s cherries flambé.  I peeked out into the hallway and made a charge to the kitchen.  Not the best choice since the intruder was splashing the deadly liquid across the floor. 

With no desire for a confrontation, I changed directions and bound up the stairs to my room.  There was a nifty tree right outside the window that I had used as an escape hatch in my younger days.  I didn’t wait to see if I had been noticed or followed.  I threw the window open and climbed out on a limb. 

* * * *

A tree, even one in full spring leaf, isn't a shield from flames.  Only seconds after I escaped the house, the gas ignited on the first floor and from my vantage point I could see theflames rapidly climbing toward the stairs.  I descended, limb from limb until I was close enough to the ground to drop without breaking my neck, and punched 911 to call the fire department. Trixie would not be happy if I let her place burn down without making an effort to save it. 

I placed a call to DeMarco and could hear the change in background noise as he rushed out of the office to his car after telling someone to get units to the house.  I moved my car and opened the gate to let the responders in.  I thought about checking out back to see if the firebug was standing around watching, but I wasn’t armed—something I would change as soon as I got home, and fire starters are crazy enough to try to set anyone who challenges them, on fire.   Nothing more I could do but wait. 

It felt like days, but couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before the cops and fire fighters rolled into the yard, sirens screaming.  DeMarco arrived five minutes later along with Braden.  Braden went to talk to the fire chief, DeMarco came to get the details from me.

“You told me you were going to go through her desk, but you should have called me back when you saw how long it might take.”  DeMarco didn’t look like he was very proud of my initiative.  I have as much invested in this investigation as you do, and can ease some of the burden if you let me.

“I lost track of time,” I heard the defensiveness in my voice.  “The logo kept nagging at me so I thought I’d ask Trix about it, when she wasn’t here I decided to do some research in her office as I told you.  See if I could learn anything.  If it has to do with the academy of smut, she would be one who would recognize it, or find out who used it.”

“And you were in there unarmed.”  He literally growled the words at me.

“Even if I had a gun, I’m not stupid enough to fire a bullet into a house filled with gas fumes.  Besides, who goes armed to see their mother?  Even if we can’t stand the sight of one another.”  That got him to choke back a laugh.

“Did you see who it was?”

I thought about the figure in the kitchen. “Not really--smallish, jeans, work boots, hoodie over his head, and had his back to me.  Nothing that stood out.”

“Ashley, I know you’re trained to investigate but you’re so close to all this, maybe you need to take a step back.  I don’t want you taking chances that could get you killed.”

Well that was 
peachy-keen.  G
o to bed with a man and suddenly he thinks he’s in charge.  I must have forgotten my poker face, because he hitched back an inch or so, opening his mouth to say more.  “Detective, I think you should go talk with your partner.  See if he’s had any luck finding out anything while we’ve been dallying.”

He didn’t challenge me, just went to join Braden. 

I tried to call Trixie again, then the boy toys, and Eve.  No one answered.  Queenie must have them all on lock down.  She did that when they were starting a shoot, and I didn’t have the numbers for Mimzi or any of the other players.

The flames were almost subdued, and the Chief walked over to give me information I would need to give the insurance company.  At least I knew who Trixie’s insurance agent was.  He also gave me an estimate of the time it would take to get some of the reports done.  Nothing is fast when a fire is started as this one had been.  There was a lot to investigate.  Compare to other crimes, look for signatures.  Talk to the usual suspects.  I didn’t believe that was going to result in finding the one who had done this.  Even if they were starting other fires, they probably had only been practicing for the grand finale.

DeMarco and Braden had disappeared from sight, probably circling the perimeter to see if they could find any trace of the 
perp
.  Their word-not mine. 

Nothing else I could do and I had some personal things I needed to take care of, like clean and re-load my Glock.  Other items on my list included a rousing bout with Dylan, to work out the anger---and the worry.  A visit to VixSin to check on Kevin and the rest of the staff.

Dylan doesn’t give me a break and that is exactly what I needed, but I gave as good as he got.  After an hour of pounding each other into the mat in the gym, the only part of the house I had opened, we went our separate ways.  I hadn’t told him, or Poppy about the events at Trixie’s.  I hoped it wasn’t a mistake.  The perv could come here next unless it was a personal vendetta against the Queen, but I couldn’t see that happening on the same day so I had time to think about what I wanted to do.

I hadn’t worn my shoulder holster since I had been home.  I was licensed to carry, but generally I wasn’t looking for trouble when I came to Plano and even looking for Jillie’s and Randi’s killer, hadn’t gotten far enough that I thought I needed heavy protection.  But with the fire, and not knowing if the person slopping the gas around had known I was there, it was time to make sure I could protect myself should the need arise.  Ready, I got the keys to the Lexus.  It had been returned while I was at Trixie’s, and drove out to give the graffiti artist another shot at messing up the car.  I was daring anyone interested to mark up the car again, but I had a little surprise for them if they were dumb enough to do that.  I had some cameras installed that were triggered by motion if anyone touched the shiny paint job or hardware.

As usual, the club was almost empty.  The same regulars that spent their days drinking and sleeping were tucked in their usual spots.  Kitty was behind the bar setting up the glasses and booze.  Kevin walked out of the office, looking more like a zombie than the man I knew.  I gave him a hug and some words of encouragement.  I wanted to tell him to go home.  Take time to grieve.  Forget about work, but I knew better—he needed something that felt normal, even if it didn’t.  Instead I went to talk to Poppy.

“Have you decided if you are going to stay, or do we need to start looking for a new manager?

Poppy stopped entering data in the computer and looked up.  “I was afraid you were going to ask me that.  I’m going to have to pass.  Bridgette is coming back from tour and I want to be there for her.  She’ll be getting out soon and we’ve been talking about kids.  This isn’t the place for us.”

“No surprise.  I still don’t know if I want to keep the place, but until all this other stuff is settled I’m not going to make any major decisions.  Do you know someone who can temp for a while, wouldn’t be offended by the place, and is honest?”

Poppy handed me a note, with the name, address and phone number of a friend she had already talked to.  “Caroline is perfect.  She’s a genius at getting things straight, loves number crunching, and was a military brat.  Nothing offends her.”

“Thanks.  I’ll give her a call,” I said, stuffing the note in my pocket.

“So…”  Poppy just sat and waited, raising an eyebrow on her what-aren’t-you-telling-me face.

Damn I hated that she could read me so well.  I confessed about the events of the morning.  Even told her how pissed I was that DeMarco was acting protective male.  That one left her speechless.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I told her.  She had a big smile on her face and was making hand movements.  Fingertips to fingertips.  Plotting against me.

“You’re falling for him.  Really falling.  I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  I’m just working the case with him. Trying to find a killer.”

“If that was true, you’d have blackened his eye and walked away.  You wouldn’t be sitting here pouting over his attempt to show he cares.”

“No.  I’m not…” This was worse than I could have imagined.  She was right.  I was totally his—but I didn’t know if that’s what he wanted.