Dead Girls

by Russ Trautwig

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around? I mean unless you know what she’s here for.”

  “No clue, but she’s got my attention in more ways than one,” Jimmy said with a grin and a wink.

  “You got it boss, good luck, thanks for the day off.”

  Peter did exactly what he was told to do and then headed for the side of the house where he jumped in his yellow Charger and spun gravel on his way up the hundred-yard driveway to the gate and out of there, the gate closed and locked behind him. Jimmy watched from an upstairs window.

  * * * * *

  Kimberly stood from her seat in the entryway, put on the blazer she had been carrying and followed his directions, through the game room and out of the French doors to the back of the house. Standing beneath the lintel, she looked out on the City of Angels. The view was spectacular. Thin smog was suspended at her eye level, but it did not impede the view below. Lush perennial gardens surrounded a central, infinity pool, that looked as though the water ran off the far end and down into the city. The house had to be worth twenty million dollars, maybe more. Could someone who achieved that level of success and fame and notoriety…routinely kill.

  She was so taken by the view that it took her two or three minutes before she realized someone was in the pool, it was him. It caused her a moment of alarm, a sensation which tightened her skin and flushed a rush of adrenaline through her. He was doing laps. His strokes were smooth, and his body sleekly glided noiselessly through the water. She took a deep breath and walked forward.

  Kim was still ten or fifteen feet from the pool when she realized that the body expertly carving through the water like a torpedo was naked. That caused a different sensation, a tingling in her labia, her nipples became taut, pressing through the thin lace bra and against her shirt. She found the stirring of her own body curious and more than a little concerning. Perhaps it said something about how her subconscious was considering this man; a rock star not a serial killer. She was suddenly warm under the blazer, even though the sun was beginning to settle down on the city. It made the buildings glow beneath the smog and the sky was on fire. Kimberly struggled to put her business face on, but then she found it and it fit, for now.

  “Special Agent Kimberly Watson, Mr. Vale, I’d like to ask you a few questions about a friend of yours, Mr. Christopher Carter. Have you got a moment?” She glanced around the area searching for a robe, a towel, or even a bathing suit that might be laying on a chair or chaise, there was none.

  “Special? I’ll say,” Jimmy said, and he swam forward so that he was at the edge of the pool closest to her. He pulled his head and shoulders above the water as he crossed his arms on the outside of the pool and rested his chin on them. “As pleasurable as it is to have you visit me, I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time, I haven’t spoken to Chris in twenty years. I hope you didn’t travel very far. What’s he done this time?”

  “I am not at liberty to say, exactly, but it has to do with something he may have been involved with back in 1989, a missing person case.” She couldn’t help but notice the casual throwing under the bus Jimmy had done with the words ‘this time,’ as though Chris’s record was reflective of a career criminal.

  The year must have struck Jimmy like a slap and he dove beneath the water quickly, to cover his shock. When he surfaced, he had composed his face. “That’s a long time ago, Miss…”

  “Watson,” she helped.

  “Yes, Miss Watson, like the Holmes sidekick, how appropriate. Aren’t you sweltering out there? Why don’t you join me in the pool and we can continue our little talk?” He appeared to be stalling, perhaps running through all the possible reasons this FBI Agent was here, and his only conclusion, if he was guilty, would be that none of them had to do with Chris, alone.

  Kimberly motioned to her clothes with both hands, “I’m afraid I haven’t brought my swimsuit, Mr. Vale.”

  “Call me Jimmy, please, and when in Rome…” he motioned down to his own lack of a swimsuit.

  “As tempting as that is, I’d prefer to keep things as they are,” she countered, although her smile was an alluring tease.

  “You mean, me naked and you clothed? That’s a thing, isn’t it? You into that?” he teased right back. “Well, I think I’m going to stick by my request: Questions in the pool only.” He put a pretend pout on and then allowed himself to slip back beneath the water before pulling himself back up and shaking his head from side-to-side to throw the water off his curls. He really was very attractive and damn if he didn’t look twenty years younger than Chris.

  “You do realize I’m a Federal Agent, Mr. Vale, right?” she countered, continuing to keep her business side in control.

  “I told you, call me Jimmy. Yes, a very hot Federal Agent, without a warrant, here to ask me for a favor of some sort. I’m just being hospitable. Can I get you a drink? I’m parched, myself,” he said. He grabbed the top of the pool and swung his body up and out in one smooth show of athleticism.

  Kimberly struggled to hold his eyes, and the smirk on his face told her he knew it. “Water would be great, thank you,” she said as he walked directly to her. Eyes, eyes, eyes, she willed herself, but the curiosity of his reputation was more than she could stand, and she allowed her own eyes a brief stray down. A huge flaccid penis, the largest she had ever seen, swung back and forth between his thighs. Her heart began beating harder and a flush of red colored her face. Damn it!! She cursed inside, disappointed at her own weakness. He was a foot away, standing there now, not moving. He took one more step closer and they were almost touching. Fuck, why was it so hard to keep from looking down at him. This time she was able to focus on his blue eyes. They were clear and such a pretty shade of blue. He really did look about half his age. If he took one more step…

  “Gas or no gas?” he said.

  The smirk on his face annoyed the hell out of her. It strengthened her resolve. “No gas, Jimmy,” two can play at this game. She removed her jacket and dropped it on the chaise lounge. Her nipples pushed against the thin lace bra and were clearly visible through the shirt. “Now, about Mr. Carter…” she said, and this time she let him see her look down. He was beginning to swell.

  “I told you, only in the pool? I’m dead serious.”

  She allowed herself to touch that thought, and then went far away from it. No clothes, no gun, not happening. “Okay, I’ll play your game, Jimmy.” She watched his ass unabashedly as he walked to the wet bar. As he returned with their drinks, her coy, shy glances at his body were replaced by a lustful stare, there was no mistaking where she was looking. Her obvious attention had the desired effect and she watched him come to life. He had a partial erection now, and she was beginning to wrest back control. His drink was not water. “Your game, but, my rules,” she said, continuing her bold and brazen examination of his body. She lifted her eyes to meet his, “Ever play strip poker?”

  “Not that I can remember,” he said, taking a sip of his whiskey, “but I know the game, of course. I’m a fan of it. Okay, I’m interested.”

  “Good,” she started, “I ask you a question, if I like your answer then I’ll remove an article of clothing.”

  He whistled. “Sweet,” he said. “The FBI was always my favorite branch of our government. And as far as interrogation techniques go…you know, waterboarding, the rack, bamboo under the fingernails, well, strip agent is def my fav.”

  There was that smirk again. Let me see if I can wipe it off his face, she thought. With all the information she had gotten from Chris, she had preplanned her questions very carefully. The first two were calculated to shock him. “Did you know Jenny Walker?” She had learned from Chris that Jenny was the one with Jimmy before all hell broke loose. The smirk was gone, in its place, a nervous smile had moved in. The erection was leaving as well. She didn’t think she’d have to remove any clothes.

  “Who,” he said, squinting his eyes as though that would help him understand better.

  “1989, Wisconsin Dells, you were c
amping with Chris Carter. Did you pick up a hitchhiker named Jenny Walker and her friend Amy Reed?”

  He looked in her eyes, clearly trying to figure out what she knew, how she knew, and what her end game was. He just smiled back at her and said nothing.

  “Come now Jimmy, the game won’t be any good if you don’t answer any questions.” She batted her eyes at him in a mock flirtation. Kimberly watched him with fascination. He was a beautiful man with a beautiful body but right now he resembled the tiger in the zoo, pacing back and forth in its cage.

  * * * * *

  Jimmy wondered how he had let this bitch get the upper hand. His house, his rules, just because she was a looker he had melted like a little boy, and not the all-powerful man that he was. Time to turn the tide, think, think, think.

  Certainly, her people knew she was coming here. Could he kill her and have the Cleaner make it all go away quick enough? Surely, he would be forgiven this murder, but could he have some fun first? Did she have a gun? An FBI agent without a gun? Ridiculous, but where was it? He looked her up and down and decided she must have it strapped to her ankle. Everywhere else her clothes were skin tight, showcasing that body. Fuck!

  Jimmy realized he had two paths, deny everything, and hope she goes away, or play along and, if necessary, kill her. Plan B was definitely the one with more potential for fun. He stood up and began to walk, first away and then back, a pace almost. Jimmy went with the second option. “Yes, I knew Jenny… and Amy. They were pretty cool girls back in the day. We had a lot of fun. But I haven’t seen them either, not since that day in the Dells.”

  A dog barked, it barked, and the sound came from inside the house. The agent glanced back at the house. She looked surprised, her research undoubtedly would not have come up with that, would it? When she looked back at Jimmy he had a confident, triumphant smile on his face that said Something has just happened, the rules just changed, and the color began to drain from Miss Kimberly Watson.

  Chapter XXXII

  The Cleaner was sitting alone, taking in all the stimuli that were flooding his brain. It was a perilous, radical time and changes were imminent. For the first time, he found himself second-guessing The One, he had never ever been wrong about anything, ever. How could he be, he was The One. And yet, there was a problem with a chosen servant, his successor to be precise.

  The boy (he still thought of him that way, although Jimmy was no longer a boy at all, despite how he looked) was thinking all wrong, he was not recognizing the omnipotence and the singularly unique position he had been granted. Jimmy was thinking that he had some control, that there were choices he could make without the sanction of The One. He had had to clean up after him before, in a way that drained and damaged him and left The One vulnerable. He had almost done it again and now he was about to take a risk that threatened to expose everything and send them underground.

  The One had also let the traitor live, destroyed him, but allowed him a presence on the planet. He had never understood that decision but neither did he question it. The traitor was making some noise now, he had somehow recovered and was no longer Chris the wasted vagrant. The decision to let him live would require rectification. As the Cleaner, his function was simple, protect the interest of The One at all cost. He had spent a hundred and fifty years doing just that; securing followers, providing feedings, protecting the security and secrecy. The singer had been his choice and apart from that one slip years ago, he had shined as an apprentice. There were many Cleaners, but he always knew he was the best. Now, as his days were waning, he wanted to be the one to supply his own handpicked successor, that was looking unlikely now. Perhaps it wasn’t The One who had erred, perhaps it was himself.

  The storm clouds were thickening, they were within striking distance of the singer if that was the choice The One made. He would counsel that now, despite the years of work he had put into the grooming. Sometimes, circumstances change, and it becomes necessary to cut your losses and move on. There was a woman in there with the singer now and that was always dangerous, the boy was not rational around them sometimes. This woman, however, she knew things, she had a deep inner sense that almost scared him. She knew things that should end her life, but her elimination would be tricky, suspect. People would look long and hard for this one. What to do? He enjoyed weighing the options in all these situations, they helped his counsel, but in the end, he would just follow and do what he was told to do and return to his cave.

  Chapter XXXIII

  He had not had feelings like this for a woman since his wife died, that was a long time ago, another life, it seemed. It was so long in fact, that he had trouble identifying exactly what was going on inside him, the butterflies when she was near and the longing when she was gone. Since she had left, there was a sadness in him that he was not comfortable with, a void, an emptiness. On the surface, it was a distraction. Thoughts of her invaded his mind without warning, and with greater and greater frequency. He mistook them at first as a kinship or camaraderie, perhaps even a feeling of comfort for a potential protector or partner. She was the first person whom he shared his story with that was truly able to help him do something about it, something more than sympathize or placate like José had done. Although truth-be-told, José had gotten him in to see Jimmy and even though the meeting had gone badly, it gave him confirmation and closure; he had confirmed his worst fears of Jimmy’s place in this dance.

  It was not until the dream he had last night that he began to recognize just what it was he was feeling. In the dream, they had kissed, nothing more, just some soft, sweet, tender kisses. He had awakened with an erection, but it was not that urge which was the important one, it was his urge to see her again, to just be near her. She was not Butch Cassidy to his Sundance, it wasn’t a colleague thing, it was a romantic thing. He was attracted to her romantically. Now, sitting on a bench in Central Park, he was wondering what that meant. He did not know if she had any feelings for him, she might even think he was crazy, so the fact that he wanted her might mean absolutely nothing.

  He stood and began pacing back and forth in front of the bench, six feet one way then a military pivot, and six feet the other way. For all he knew, she was married with three kids, but he hadn’t seen a ring. He was certain of that somehow, although he had not consciously even realized that he checked. It was something he had filed away. All the questions running through his mind, all those distractions, were opening him up to deeper questions and greater self-examination. They were like the nesting Christmas Angels his mother used to have, every one you opened revealed another, hiding inside. If indeed she was the one who was going to help him end the nightmare, would these new feelings impede how they performed together? What if Butch had been in love with Sundance, what then? In the end, they’d go to Bolivia anyway, wouldn’t they, he thought, was that the final nesting angel?

  For the first time, he noticed the beautiful azure blue sky overhead and the thick fluffy clouds floating there like cotton balls suspended from picture wire in a shoebox diorama. It was a glorious day. He stopped his pacing and stood with hands on his hips gazing up. How long it had been since he took the time to notice the weather. He thought that was a weakness that would eventually dampen his resolve, what did the weather matter. Father Flynn, and the girl in the park, the ten-year-old with her blood spraying out from her slit throat, that’s what mattered. That could still be his son, it could, in fact, be Kimberly, or it could be him. No, this had to end. He was convincing himself, but the argument was an easy one to make, there was no counterpoint. Blue skies be damned.

  Yet, he could not stay on point. He found himself suddenly thinking that he missed the ocean, how he would love to take a walk on the beach and a swim in the ocean. God, he was amazed that feelings for one woman, even unrequited, would restore his will to live and his appreciation for life so suddenly and totally. He realized then, that he had not had a drink in two days. That was soon followed by a pang of guilt, it jolted him like an adrenaline surge. He sat down b
ut the energy flowing through him popped him right back up again and he started walking toward the zoo.

  What about his boy? What about the product of his first and truest love, what about him, and what about her? He paused in the middle of the walkway, finding himself immobile, and was almost hit by a rollerblading man in gym shorts and an electric yellow tank top. He froze as the man maneuvered around him.

  He needed to see his boy before he went to Wisconsin, needed to see him without anyone knowing, especially without It knowing. That was a luxury, an indulgence he had not allowed himself to even think about until today, until he dreamed of kissing Kimberly. No, it had to be totally clandestine or it couldn’t be. Part of him thought that perhaps, that was something in his life that would never be again, that’s what he’d always thought, but he’d also thought he would never love again, hadn’t he?

  Chapter XXXIV

  “Are you a serial killer Jimmy?” Kimberly asked without ever changing the expression on her face. It was a contrived look: a half-smile paired with twinkling eyes and it was beginning to feel awkward on her face. She hoped that fact was not being telegraphed. In the most surreal setting of her life, she was sitting awkwardly on the front portion of a chaise, balancing herself and feeling off center. He was on the chaise next to her, still naked, lounging back and glancing sideways to take her in. The sun had pretty much set, and the automatic lights on the patio had come on, along with the millions of lights in the city below. They seemed to outnumber the stars.