Part One - Evil Times 3 - Chapter Seven
Marianne’s Apartment – 9:21 p.m.
By the time Baker and Ed arrived, they could count six black and whites, one ambulance, and the news media already on display. All the major players in the press were there. Baker knew it would be like this until they caught this sick bastard.
The circus was going to be around for a while.
As always, Baker always has two words for the press, and she would say them again before she left the crime scene.
Stepping under the yellow-crime scene tape, they walked up six steps to an open door, and just to their left, another door opened.
“Hey guys, over here.”
Brad Jackson, eight years on the force, three citations for bravery; shot five times, and big enough to take out the front four of the Steeler’s defensive unit, and not break a sweat, was kneeling next to the body.
As both she and Ed looked down, the first thing they noticed was the tongue. Then the note.
“Odds tell me the note says, speak no evil.”
“Give the lady a Kupe-doll, Ed.”
“That isn’t all,” spoke out another officer, Tommy Banks, “look in here.”
They walked into the bedroom and Tommy pointed to the open closet doors.
Leather outfits, eight-inch spiked heels, full-bodied rubber suits, leather corsets, whips, crops, canes, masks, handcuffs, and feathers. All those features and a lot more for that intimate moment, or the quickie during lunch.
"Leisure, or rush hour," Baker murmured.
She and Ed put on their surgical gloves and started going through every drawer. Tommy pulled down two medium-sized boxes, one which contained photographs. Lots of them. Tommy whistled.
“What, Tommy,” half-spoke Ed.
“This chick was busy, and I mean biz-zee.”
“Key word, was,” responded Ed.
“No, seriously. You need to check this out.”
Baker and Ed walked to the edge of the bed where the box sat.
The first three pictures were sexually graphic, and the positions looked impossible, unless you were a contortionist.
The next few were of the now deceased, Marianne Olster, in various poses ranging from semi-nude, to full nudity to ultra-explicit sex.
It was the next batch of pictures they looked over that produced a flat sounding laugh from Ed and caused Baker to grimace and shake her head in disgust.
There, in black and white, as well as color; in all their glory, were shots of two of the city’s finest, most respected, and fearless leaders. The mayor, doing things beyond description, and the Deputy District Attorney, who just happens to be running for Governor in the next election. His slogan: ‘We will take a bite out of crime until there is nothing left to chew. We will win this war on drugs and send a clear message we will not tolerate this filth in our neighborhoods, our schools, our city!’
No one had the heart to tell him that that crap wasn’t going to fly.
There were also pictures of other state representatives, and a congressman, who enjoyed his visits in Marianne’s little whipping den.
“Think she might have been bribing them?”
“Possibly. If so, it backfired on her. From the look of things, we have a few potential suspects.
“If these pictures get out, the damage done to their careers would be devastating, but would they kill for it? And if one of them did off her, you would think he would have demanded to have the pictures in his hands.”
“I was thinking the same thing, Baker. They would get any incriminating evidence before leaving this little playground.
“You do know we are going to have to question all of them. One of these people is possibly our perp.”
“Yeah. We’ll start on Monday; and we might as well start at the top. Mayor Rydell F. Abraham and Deputy D.A. Fred Allan Mosher. I have to tell you, Ed, I hope neither man is involved beyond their fetishes.”
Freddy’s Apartment after Midnight
Alone in the quiet of his small apartment, sitting in the living room, his notebook open, he stares down at name after name after name.
Music plays a soft-flowing number by Debussy.
Next to him on a side table is a decanter of white wine, and he pours his third glass of the evening.
“So much to do. Why do I take it upon myself to get rid of the stench, the filth that parade the streets every day; that flaunts themselves into our home on our televisions? How can people believe the lies these people tell, and then go out and commit the depravities that they do?
“Yes, so much to do, and I will get as much finished as I can. That is why I am here. But, yes, butbutbutbut and but, that little bitch of a cop might have to go as well. She may catch on soon, and then what? WHAT! If she catches you, you idiot, it’s over, that’s what!”
He hurled his half-empty glass of wine and heard it shatter somewhere in the kitchen.
“That is what I will do to her. I will shatter her. Simply remove her from the equation.
“That stupid fucking priest will have to go as well. He hasn’t a clue who I am, but I know who he is. It’s just that I still need him around for backup just in case. Backup? Backup? Oh my, that’s just too funny!” And laugh heartily he did.
Outside, the night was calm, and quiet. Just as it should be.
Going to his bedroom, he removed a large suitcase from the closet and put it on the bed. Opening it, he looked at the various assortments of wigs, prosthetics, and makeup he would use to create another character unrecognizable to many. Tomorrow, he would be another member of the congregation; filled with many sinners.
No one else would be murdered, for didn’t the Lord say to rest on the Sabbath anyway.
As it was, with other nights, his sleep was always plagued with nightmares from another time, another place. They all started and ended the same way.