“I’ll just go stand by the fountain.”
As soon as Cyrus was out of earshot, Kingsley said, “Gay stuff?”
“Okay, bi stuff. Whatever. You gave Søren engraved handcuffs. Where did you get them engraved?”
“What? Why do you ask?”
“Long story. Do you remember?”
“Of course I remember. I bought them two weeks ago.”
“I need a name, number, address, whatever you have.”
Kingsley turned his phone on, waited for it to power up. “I’ll be glad when you’re done playing Watson and Sherlock. You interrupt me in the pool, at dinner with Jules—”
“I babysit for free. All the time.”
“Ah,” he said with a pained smile. “A little interruption never hurt anyone. Here we go.” He was scrolling through the contacts in his phone. “His name is Philip Danton but everyone calls him—”
“Shit.”
“You know him?” Kingsley raised his eyebrow at her.
“Yeah, I know him. And I’m going to fucking kill him.”
She kissed Kingsley on the cheek, grabbed Cyrus by the arm, and marched him toward the door.
“Bad news,” Nora said. “We have to commit a murder.”
“Save it for the car,” he said, glancing around. “Too many witnesses.”
They walked quickly to the parking lot.
“Pierre Capretz? Really?” she asked when they reached his car.
Cyrus opened the car door. “Only French guy I could think of. Now who we killing?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
God damn motherfucking Doc.
Cyrus should have known. He should have. Nobody was that squirrelly just ’cuz. Doc had been putting on a show for them, a song and dance routine, but Cyrus had fallen prey to his prejudices against the man and ignored his gut that warned him Doc was something other than a nut.
Never play cards with a man called Doc.
And Cyrus had done just that.
“We could be jumping to conclusions here,” Nora said. “It’s possible—maybe—that Doc wasn’t the man who engraved Father Ike’s cage.”
“I know it’s him,” he said. “I knew then he wasn’t telling us everything.”
“You did?”
“You know your own face when you see it in a mirror, even when you don’t like what you see,” Cyrus said. “The way he was all over you, that’s how I used to be with women. I mean, not that crazy, but, you know, I’d play like that, go over the top like that. Make them think I was playing a game with them when the whole time I was just playing a game on them.”
“He played us. Both of us.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Why would he lie to me? If Father Ike bought something from him, got it engraved even, why wouldn’t he just tell us? I mean, he told us about seeing him in a class.”
“I don’t know,” Cyrus said. “But he better have a damn good, excuse or I’m gonna be the one tying him up and working him over with a whip.”
“He’ll probably still like it.”
“Yeah, but so will I and that’s all I care about.”
Doc worked from home, according to Kingsley Edge. Big garage out back of his house. His made custom kink pieces, did engraving, repairs, that sort of thing, but it was a cash-only business, completely unlicensed and unregulated. Nora wondered out loud if that was why Doc had kept his trap shut when they asked him about Father Ike or if he had a more sinister reason for lying.
His house was exactly what Cyrus expected. A Victorian, of course. One of those sorts called “painted ladies”—blue, pink, and white with gingerbread trim and a wraparound porch, rocking chair included. Perfect for a retired art professor. Nora rang the bell and knocked on the door. The porch light was on, but there was no answer.
Cyrus nodded toward the driveway. “Light’s on out back,” he said.
The backyard was hidden behind an eight-foot high privacy fence at the end of the drive. The gate was half-opened, and they went through.
Everywhere they looked, they saw metal sculptures. Naked women cavorting, naked men cowering. A high-pitched whine was coming from a free-standing shed. The Doc’s shop.
Nora stared at one sculpture of a woman in a robe holding an arrow and ramming it into the balls of a male angel who was either really into it or really, really not into it. Hard to tell if the face was moaning or screaming.
“A reverse St. Theresa and the Angel,” Nora explained. “I think I want it.”
“Nora.”
“Sorry.”
They went to the shop doop. Cyrus was half-worried they’d scare Doc into setting himself on fire if he pounded on the door.
He did it anyway.
BAM BAM BAM.
He had to do it a few more times, but eventually it got the man’s attention. The machine sound ceased and a clattering came from within, then a muffled swearing sound. Finally, the door opened.
Doc stood before them in stained canvas trousers and a t-shirt that appeared to have burn holes in it.
“Oh, Doc,” Nora said. “You are in so much trouble.”
“Mistress Nora,” he said with a grin. “I was hoping we’d meet again.”
“You better let us in,” Cyrus said.
“With pleasure.” Doc stepped back from the door and held out his arm to usher them in. “Watch your step.”
There was shit everywhere. Boxes and buckets full of sand and water, equipment, tools, the whole insane nine yards. As the smoke cleared, Cyrus saw various workstations in the shop. One for welding, one for polishing, one for engraving.
“I’d ask you to sit,” Doc said, “but—”
“We’ll stand.” Nora crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t seem very surprised to see us.”
“Surprised? No. Pleased, most definitely.” He reached for her hand, and Nora swatted it away, rather viciously Cyrus thought, pleased.
“Give it up,” Cyrus said. “I’m done watching your stupid act. You lied to us.”
“I didn’t lie.” Doc held up both hands. “I would never lie to the Queen.”
“Doc, seriously,” Nora said. “It’s getting old.”
He lowered his hands. “You’re really not as much fun as they say you are, you know.”
“Ah, you’re one of those,” Nora said, nodding. “You only like the idea of women. You don’t like actual women.”
“You wound me.”
“You wish,” Nora said.
“The man whose picture we showed you—that’s Isaac Murran,” Cyrus said. “You know him. You either made or engraved a chastity device for him. Or both.”
“I don’t reveal the names of my customers,” Doc said.
“You already ratted him out as being in one of your classes,” Cyrus said.
“That was before he was a customer. After trading a few emails with the man, then he became a customer. After that, you get nothing else from me.”
“He’s dead, Doc. He killed himself. Shot himself in the head. Right before he did that, he called me.” Nora pointed at herself. “He had my business card. You gave it to him, right?”
“The seal of the confessional doesn’t break simply because the sinner dies,” Doc reminded her. “You, of all dommes, should know that. Yes?” He grinned a mean, nasty grin.
Nora narrowed her eyes at him. So Doc knew she was sleeping with a priest. And he didn’t mind taunting her about it.
Cyrus minded, however.
“That’s it. I’m going to punch him. You don’t mind?” Cyrus was speaking to Nora while looking at Doc.
“Go for it,” Nora said.
Cyrus reached for Doc’s shirt, but the old man stepped back and into a table. A small butane torch rolled off the table and onto the floor.
“Fine. Fine. But this can’t get out,” Doc said. “Not a word of it. I do private commissions and those private commissions pay my mortgage. The business isn’t licensed. It’s all cash. I don’t want to spend the rest of my golden year
s in jail for tax fraud, all right?”
“Come on,” Nora said. “You really think I report my tips to the IRS. We’re on the same page. We’re supposed to be on the same side.”
“Can we go into the house, at least?” Doc asked as he picked up the torch. “Before we burn the place down?”
“Lead the way,” Cyrus said. “You do anything squirrelly though, and I’m calling Uncle Sam on you today.”
They let Doc turn off all his equipment. He seemed to be working on some sort of human-sized cage. An ornate iron locking mechanism was in the middle of being assembled on his worktable. The man had talent, that was for sure. Not that Cyrus was going to tell Doc that.
They followed him from his shop and into his house through the backdoor. He led them into the living room, books on every surface. He offered them seats. Nora took the large leather armchair. Cyrus declined to sit, instead standing behind her, the power behind the throne.
“So…” Nora began as Doc took a seat opposite her in a club chair. “What’s up, Doc?”
“Did you really have to go there?” Cyrus muttered.
“I really had to,” she said. Doc laughed but he didn’t seem very happy, not as happy as he’d been the last time they spoke.
“It’s not flattery, you know,” Doc began as he eased back in his seat. “You really are a legend, Mistress. A friend of mine had a session with you in New York at your old club, the 8th Circle. Said it was the best kink he’d ever had in his life. Told me I had to get my old ass up to New York and beg for an hour with you.”
“Did this friend of yours give you one of my cards?” Nora asked.
Slowly, Doc nodded.
Fucking finally. Cyrus wanted to pump his fist, but he refrained. For now.
“When a man asks you for the name of a dominatrix who would do anything for the right price, there’s only one name—Mistress Nora.”
“Fair,” Nora said. “What did he want me for?”
“I’m getting to that.”
Cyrus could tell the man didn’t really want to be having this conversation. He could respect that. A little.
“So you had one of Nora’s New York cards and you gave that card to Isaac Murran?” Cyrus asked.
“Yes. Yes, I did. I had mentioned in that class on medical play, that I made custom chastity devices. He ordered one from me, and I made it for him.”
“When was this?” Cyrus had left his notebook in his pocket, afraid the presence of it would scare Doc into silence. But Cyrus made a mental note of everything Doc said.
“Two months ago,” Doc said. “Late July.”
“What did he ask for?” Nora said. “When he made the order, what did he say?”
“He wanted something that would punish erections. A trainer of sorts so that every time he got hard, it would be agony. Then a month ago he was back, and said it wasn’t enough.”
“Wasn’t enough?” Cyrus repeated. “What the hell did he want? A dude standing over him kicking him in the balls 24/7?”
“As he said, he wanted a more ‘permanent solution,’” Doc said.
“Permanent?” Nora narrowed her eyes at the man.
Doc said nothing for a moment, a long moment, and then an even longer moment. Cyrus was about ready to choke the answer out when he finally spoke.
“He wanted someone to castrate him.”
“Shit,” Cyrus said while Nora let loose a long whistle. Even she was impressed by that request.
“Castrate?” Cyrus said. “Like…literally castrate him. Cut his balls off.”
“Cut them right off,” Doc said. “And he was willing to pay through the nose for it.”
“How much we talking?” Nora said.
“Nora.”
“What?” she asked. “It’s a fair question.”
“He said price was no object. I threw out 50K as a number, and he didn’t blink.”
“Fuck,” Nora said. “That would be tempting.”
“Forget the money,” Cyrus said. “Why? Why would any man want that?”
“He didn’t say explicitly,” Doc said. “But I got the distinct impression he was having trouble controlling himself.”
“Excessive masturbation?” Nora asked. “Spontaneous erections? Flashing?”
“I don’t believe so. I think…” Doc said, pausing again. “I think he…”
“Doc, spit it out,” Cyrus ordered. “He’s dead. I saw the body.”
“Yes, he’s dead,” Doc said, “so it shouldn’t matter. Let him rest in peace.”
“It does matter. It matters a lot to me.” Nora pointed at herself. “Answer me right now. Why did Ike Murran want to be castrated?”
“Like I said, he didn’t come right out and say it,” Doc said at last. “But when I said that castration seemed a bit extreme, even for a masochist, he agreed. He said it was a ‘last resort’ solution but that it was…” Doc swallowed. “He said something to the effect of, ‘Better than spending the rest of my life in prison.’”
“Prison?” Nora said.
Doc nodded.
Nora and Cyrus exchanged worried looks. “He was afraid he was going to rape someone,” she said.
Assume the worst, Søren had told Cyrus. What was the worst?
Cyrus felt his jaw tighten. “He was afraid he was going to…or he already did and thought he’d do it again.”
Chapter Forty
Doc refused to talk to them anymore. He looked old when they were done with him, old and tired and rung out. Cyrus knew how he felt.
“Guess Doc didn’t want to face that maybe he was helping out a rapist,” Cyrus said when he and Nora were back in his car. “One thing to not ask questions when someone comes knocking on your door. Another thing to know the answers and not tell anyone.”
Nora said nothing. She seemed lost in her own thoughts.
Cyrus hated to leave her there, lost and alone. “Nora? You okay?”
“Just wondering,” she said. “What I would have done?”
“If he’d gotten through to you?”
She nodded.
“You wouldn’t have really castrated the man, would you?” Cyrus asked. “Please say ‘no.’”
“No,” she said. “I don’t know how. I could find out how. I know someone who did it—don’t ask.”
She must have seen his mouth starting to open to ask that very question.
“I’ve left permanent scars on male clients. I’ve done branding, scarification. I once nailed a guy’s testicles—”
“Stop right there.”
“Sorry,” she said. “But actual castration? That’s major surgery. I could have killed him. But if he’d called me, I would have talked to him,” Nora said. “Tried to get him to talk to me. But it wouldn’t have worked, would it?”
“Why not?”
“This whole time, I thought he was one of us,” she said. “Kinky. But he wasn’t calling me for kink. He wanted surgery no doctor would perform—without a good reason anyway. What surgeon would castrate a healthy man for no medical reason whatsoever?”
“None in this country,” Cyrus said. “Not if they want to keep their license. Doctors are mandatory reporters, too. If a patient says, ‘Cut my balls off or I’m going to rape my neighbor tomorrow,’ somebody’s gonna make a phone call about that.”
“Right,” Nora said. She took a long deep breath, a long slow exhale. “Right.”
The car was silent except for Christian Scott playing through the speakers, low and sad and slow.
“Wait,” Nora said, turning to look at him. “You said rape his neighbor. Do you think that’s what he was planning?”
“Just a guess,” Cyrus said. “He was at that house on Annunciation, right? And the car was parked a few blocks away, like, I don’t know, like he was planning a getaway? And remember what was in the bag?”
“Rope,” Nora said. “Handcuffs and lube.”
“Rape supplies,” Cyrus said. “Kidnapping supplies. Somebody was supposed to get into his car. That’s
why they had his keys. That’s why it was parked a few blocks away.”
“The Butterfly?” Nora asked.
“Gotta be her, whoever she is.”
The Butterfly. Not his mistress…his victim.
Father Ike had given her his keys. She must have thought they were going on a trip somewhere. Then he doesn’t show up at the car when he was supposed to…”
She pressed her hands to her face, breathed hard. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
He knew what she was thinking. “I’m trying not to think it. He and Paulina were friends.” It was unbearable to imagine his Paulina alone with a man who would—
No. Cyrus wouldn’t go there until he had to.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she said.
Cyrus didn’t know what to do. He wanted to take her hand, squeeze it, tell her he was sorry. But he didn’t know quite how to do that yet, with any woman who wasn’t Paulina.
“I did what you dared me to do,” Cyrus said. Nora turned her head, looked at him, eyes wide.
“You did?”
He nodded. “Worked, too. I shouldn’t tell you that.”
“You should always tell me things like that. Did she enjoy herself?”
“Yeah. Loudly.”
“Good woman. Good man.” She held out her fist. He bumped it if only to make her smile again.
“Back before Paulina, when I was with a girl and we’d had a good date and we were back at her place…if we were fooling around and she said ‘no’ to going any further, I’d say that was fine and then I’d immediately get up to leave. I wasn’t mean about it. I played it cool like, ‘I get it. You’re tired. I’ll let you sleep.’ She’d be upset I was leaving so she’d give in so I’d stay. I thought I had game,” Cyrus said. “Now I know I was manipulating them. I’ve never told anyone that.”
He went on. “With Paulina, it was nothing like that. It was good. Good for her. I was just honest, and if she’d said ‘no’ I would have stayed and held her all night and been happy to do it. I just wish I knew it could be like that twenty years ago.”
“If I told you all the shitty things I’ve done to people,” Nora said, “we’d be here all night.”
“You’ve been putting it on the line all week to help me figure this case out,” he said. “Maybe you’ve done some shitty stuff in your life, but you’ve done some good stuff, too.”
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