“You’re very astute, we don’t normally advertise that fact,” Leslie answered.
“Oh, but we all have a way of knowing, don’t we?”
“The name takes people by surprise,” Robin said, as if she owed the redhead further explanation. “Since neither one of us is into conventional thinking, we kind of like the idea. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions about Felicia Roman’s murder?”
The woman shrank back in her chair for an instant at the mention of Felicia’s name. “God it was horrible, wasn’t it?”
“Most certainly,” Robin replied.
“Are you Remy or Martha?” Leslie asked.
“Neither. Zelda Wing,” she answered. She tucked one foot up under her and continued to rock in the chair. When she leaned forward to put her empty glass on the floor, the two investigators could see down the front of her cotton blouse to a pair of smooth alabaster white breasts. The gesture seemed very deliberate.
Robin noted the pink ribbon at her neck that matched her pink shorts.
“You were here the night of the murder?”
“Sleeping like a baby in the room next to Remy and Martha. I do sleep very soundly. I take a little sleeping pill most nights because I sometimes have trouble drifting off, but when I finally do, it takes six alarm clocks and lots of sun to wake me. Of course, I told the police all that. So why are you asking questions?” She blew smoke from her nostrils and mouth.
“We represent Betsy Longcore.”
“Too bad. She’s guilty as sin. Any one here for a minute could see it coming. Ole Felicia changes her affections like her underwear, and she was about to dump Betsy for Martha. Not that Martha was going to jump at the chance. But that’s how Felicia works. She gets her hooks into you and you can’t get away.” Zelda sounded very sure of her facts. “I mean I feel a little sorry for Betsy, she should have known how the woman operates, after two years together, but to kill her? Little extreme, don’t you think?”
“You seem to know a lot about Felicia. You are just a guest here, Felicia’s guest? Did you know her personally?” Robin asked.
“Know her personally? No. But I’ve been here long enough. You see things being an observer. But then, I shouldn’t have to tell you that in your line of work. I sized up the situation the moment I arrived and met those two. It was a relationship on the rocks. You should have seen the daggers in Betsy’s eyes, nasty darts they were. Of course, with Felicia wandering all over hell and back trying to keep her cunt satisfied, if you know what I mean. I wouldn’t blame Betsy for being pissed.”
“Betsy says she spent the night on the back porch. Can you confirm that?” Leslie interrupted what appeared to be an endless monologue.
“Yeah, I suppose so. She’d slept on the back porch half the time I was here. I’m not sure why. Probably because Felicia was entertaining god knows who in her room and didn’t want her there. Then again, I couldn’t tell you for sure, because as I said, once I’m sleeping I don’t wake up. But you know, that’s no alibi. She could have drifted upstairs anytime and run that knife into her heart. And besides, who else would want to kill Felicia?” Zelda asked innocently.
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Robin said. “Felicia knew lots of people; it’s not unlikely that she made a few enemies.”
“I really wouldn’t know,” Zelda replied.
“So, if you don’t mind my asking,” Robin went on curiously, “what brought you to Roman Hill?”
“I’ve been visiting Remy and Martha. Martha and I are old friends from college.”
“And where was that?” Leslie asked.
“State U., up north,” Zelda said, while she nodded in the appropriate direction.
“Are Martha and Remy inside?” Robin asked.
“Yeah, go on in,” Zelda told them. Her cigarette, which had burned down to the filter, was dropped to the floor and crushed with her foot. She reached down to pick up her flip top pack, showing her breasts again. The two detectives opened the screen and let themselves inside, as Zelda lit another cigarette and restored the cloud of smoke around her.
“She’s a bit too glib,” Robin murmured.
“But that succulent flesh,” Leslie whispered.
“You need sex that bad?”
“Only the right kind,” Leslie said, letting the thought drop. Yeah, it would be good to have Robin in her arms again, but now was hardly the time to seduce her.
Making their way through the house, there was an old smell Leslie noticed right off, the way most old houses smell of dust too deep to find and furniture polish and the scent of flowers that linger long in the air. Leslie was immediately transported back in time to her childhood, a rather odd feeling, especially since she was investigating a murder. Her grandmother’s house smelled this way, although it was neither as grand or mysterious.
This place could give me the spooks,” she said.
“Isn’t it terrific? I’m just glad I don’t live here anymore. Walking through these rooms, I keep thinking I’ll see Felicia swooning around some corner.
With Robin knowing exactly where to go, they quickly found Martha and Remy in the kitchen, the two women immediately looking up at them with surprised faces.
“We’re Robin and Leslie, Patrick Penny Investigations. We’re looking into Felicia’s death, on behalf of Betsy Longcore’s brother.”
Remy’s eyes were puffy from crying.
“Do you mind if we ask a few questions?” Leslie continued.
“Not at all, I’m Martha,” a bustling plump woman replied, as she stood at the kitchen counter, efficiently making three sandwiches while Remy sat on a stool and watched. “We thought a picnic later today might get us out of this place for a while,” she explained her plans. “This is a miserable, miserable affair. The shock. Well, you can never tell, you live with people for a while and not realize the things they will do.” The industrious Martha was a voluptuous woman with a heavy chest and a broad bottom, which she moved with surprisingly sensuous grace.
Remy was younger than Martha, with a pretty face and a trim body. Her feet dangled over the edge of the stool, not reaching the floor. Her round face, dimples and curly brown hair made her look heavier than she really was, and a little childish. Although at the moment, her eyes glowered in a particularly womanly way. As she leaned against the counter, she ran a hand through her mop of hair, and found a lock to twist around her finger. “It was horrible,” Remy said, biting her lip like a little child. “I hate blood.” She shuddered, raising her shoulders, frightened as if she’d just seen a ghost. Tears welled in her already reddened eyes.
“Please understand, this is quite stressful for us all,” Martha explained. “Felicia was a very prominent woman, highly thought of. Her death is quite a shock, particularly under the circumstances. We’ve all been thoroughly wounded by this messy business.” She shook her head and sighed deeply.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Leslie agreed thoughtfully.
“And Betsy, well that almost seemed impossible to believe, poor woman must have had some mental problem I’d say,” Martha went on.
“Did you hear anything suspicious in the house that night?” Leslie asked.
“Well let’s see,” Martha thought back. “Remy and I were in bed together. We are lovers you understand. We went to bed at the normal hour, I guess it was nearly eleven. We were playing music. We like to fall asleep with gently soothing melodies. It’s very restorative. I’m afraid that made it difficult to hear anything beyond our own room.” She had a habit of smiling quickly between sentences as if to punctuate them.
“I see,” Robin replied. “And Zelda? You can account for her whereabouts?”
“We said goodnight to her before we closed the door. She seemed quite tired. I think she uses drugs to sleep. But then, at the time of the murder, we were asleep with the music still on,” she reminded them.
“Zelda just told us that Felicia had her eyes on you Martha. That she was changing her affections?” Robin said, go
ing to the heart of the matter to witness the woman’s reaction. The question didn’t faze the woman, as she methodically spread mayonnaise on six slices of brown bread. She smiled again, that brief reflex. “Felicia sets her sights on a new woman all the time. We’d had a few brief moments at one point, but I’m in love with Remy. Felicia knew that and so did Betsy. And so did Remy know that,” she hastened to add, smiling affectionately at her lover across the counter. Remy shrugged, and nervously grabbed a piece of cheese, which immediately went to her mouth.
“How did you come to be living her?” Leslie asked.
“We’ve lived with Felicia for three years, off and on at first. Before Betsy came. Felicia brought her home one night from some party, and she stayed ever since. Until now of course. Let me tell you, that girl came here with Felicia showing her off as some little submissive, you know with collar and all, but she certainly hasn’t acted very submissive lately.”
“How’s that?” Robin asked.
“Oh, I’m not into this much, all the S&M stuff that Felicia and these other women get so excited about. But Betsy certainly had a mind of her own. Oh, she deferred to Felicia at first, but then she got wise, I suppose. Realized that the woman was a little crazy.” Martha lowered her voice to a hush, as if the dead woman might hear her from her grave. “Betsy acted like Felicia’s odd habits didn’t bother her, but I’m not so sure. How can you love someone and have your eyes on so many other women all the time? It’s not really natural now, is it?”
“You think that Betsy killed Felicia?” Robin asked.
“That very well may be; that girl’s got a nasty dark side to be sure. She and Felicia were having some very fiery confrontations recently, and every one knew that. Betsy seemed determined to change the woman. Everyone should know that a woman like Felicia will never change, never. Crazy and wild from the word go, she went to her death that way. I don’t imagine there’s a soul who knew Felicia who believed her demise would be any but unusual. I can’t tell you that Betsy killed her, but I’d say she’s a pretty good bet. But then, you might also want to talk to Jane Hugh,” she went on before anyone else could speak. “She had one ass kicker of a fight with Felicia a few days ago. And the two of them were constantly bitching; neither one of them liked the other and they made no bones about it. For the life of me, I don’t know why Felicia put up with the woman. She’s so, so …” she couldn’t find the right word.
“So, tell me, where are you from, originally?” Leslie turned the monologue back to an interview.
“Maine, but I’ve lived in the area for years. I’m the librarian at the university. You can check that out.”
“And Remy?” Robin turned to the quiet woman on the stool. She had popped a cherry tomato in her mouth.
“She’s from Maine, too,” Martha answered for her. “Has been working in the lab at the university.”
Remy smiled and cocked her head as if to confirm what Martha said. She still looked like she might cry any minute.
“By the way,” Leslie asked, “who gets this estate with Felicia gone?”
Martha’s brows knit. “Why, I don’t know,” she said. “Felicia had all kinds of crazy business deals, like everything else. I suppose Betsy stands to inherit some of this, but I’m sure there are other hands waiting to open.”
“What will the two of you do?” Robin said.
“I’m not sure,” Martha replied. “But Felicia always assured me that we’d have a home here. I suppose we’ll have to wait until the will is read and we know for sure who owns this place. Then, well, we all get on with our lives eventually, won’t we?”
Robin nodded.
“Thank you both for your help. We may need to ask a few more questions at another time. I hope that it won’t pose any problem, but I think this should be good for now,” Leslie said.
“We’re happy to help,” Martha smiled. “Having nothing to hide, we don’t have anything to worry about. If you want to talk to Jane Hugh, I think she’s at her cottage. I haven’t seen that old jalopy she drives leave today.”
“I don’t believe her,” Robin said, as the two slipped out the back door and down the stairs.
“You don’t believe Martha? About what? She seems awfully straight forward to me,” Leslie replied.
“I’m going to do some checking on her. She was too pat, and the way she answered for Remy, not letting the woman get a word in edgewise. She acted as if she had a story to tell, and wanted to be sure we got it all so we’d leave them alone. I think they know a whole lot more than they are admitting to. You notice she didn’t really tell us why she was living here in the first place. Of course, it’s pretty typical of Felicia, picking up people like stray cats. She never liked living here without a bunch of other people around. You know, that’s what I hate about cases like this. No really clear cut evidence. Any of the three of them could have done it, as well as Betsy.”
“You’re right there,” Leslie agreed. Although while Robin said she hated complicated cases like this one, Leslie knew that she thrived on puzzling enigmas. Too many suspects made the joy of unraveling the solution that much more interesting for her partner.
A brick path through the garden led to the back of the property and the small caretaker’s cottage. Well hidden from the house, it was small, likely just one room, made of brick, with huge windows facing the front.
“Quaint place,” Leslie observed.
“Yeah, those windows are new. They kind of modernize the place, I suppose,” Robin suggested looking at it carefully. She stared intently for a while, trying to recall what it had looked like ten years before. The biggest difference she noticed was that the gardens surrounding the small place were more manicured than the rest of Felicia’s gardens. The well-cared for beds of flowers and the neatly trimmed hedges made this part of the estate stand out from the rest, almost like a small corner of civilization stands out boldly next to the savage wilds. “You should know what Felicia used this for when I lived here,” Robin said.
“Do I want to?”
“She had a dungeon years ago, before there were any big clubs, when lesbians and lesbian S&M was inside the closet so far it was hard to find it.”
“Is that why you were with her?” Leslie wondered. The personal question stuck out from the rest of Leslie’s informational questions, making Robin instantly bristle.
“I told you a long time ago that I don’t want to discuss my life with Felicia with you,” Robin said, reminding her of an old edict.
“I know that, and I’m not trying to pry. But we were together then and we’re not now. And this is a case. The more I understand about this woman, a woman I might add you knew better than you know most victims … the more I know, the more likely we’ll get to the bottom of things.”
“Okay, sure, but let’s just keep the questions to general things,” Robin retorted.
The wall she raised around herself was not likely to be penetrated; Leslie knew that from many previous tries. “Damn, when you want to be closed lipped you sure are,” she said. “So Felicia? She was a Domme?”
“She was whatever suited her fancy,” Robin replied.
The two detectives reached the cottage; and as they rounded the end of a massive hedge, they turned to see a woman pruning the dense foliage that ran along the pathway. The broad shouldered, slim hipped woman wore a man’s sleeveless undershirt, so that when she leaned over or even raised her arm, her breasts were exposed. Her hair was shaved on the back and sides of her head and spiked on the top. Her large hands looked manly, her posture stern, although there was a surprisingly pleasant look in her eye, which suggested a softer woman underneath the obviously dykish appearance.
“Hello there. We’re Robin and Leslie of Patrick Penny Investigations,” Leslie announced. “We’re investigating Felicia Roman’s murder, working for the Longcore family. You’re Jane Hugh?”
“I am.” The three women shook hands.
“We have a few questions to ask, if you don’t mind?” Leslie co
ntinued.
“So ask away,” Jane said, returning to her hedge.
“We heard about some altercation between you and Felicia on the day of her death. Suppose you tell us about your relationship with your employer.”
“I wasn’t her employee. I work around the place because it’s half mine, and if I didn’t take care of it, it would go to pot. Felicia wasn’t very good at taking care of anything.”
“Half the place?” Robin asked. “That’s not common knowledge, is it?”
“It wouldn’t be. Felicia would never tell anyone that, but I have a fifty percent share of this estate. She owed me money and was only willing to deed half the place to me. She was paying off the rest from her trust fund. I’ve stayed around here to make sure I get my money back. She could have given me the whole house to pay me off, but she had to live here. One of those family things,” Jane said sarcastically. “She was a “Roman” and would live at Roman Hill until the day of her death. Of course now that’s happened.”
“And now the entire house is yours.”
“I suppose,” she shrugged. A curious faraway look appeared in her eyes, as she deftly used the hefty pair of garden trimmers to shape the hedge.
Even as Jane was privately musing, Leslie noted how the woman stared at her chest, where her blouse opened to show the deep cleavage. Rosalie would be proud, though this was hardly the woman she expected to attract. “You have a reputation,” Leslie prodded gently.
“As a Domme? Is that what you’re referring to? I don’t hide that. Part of my life, but I play my games in a local club, not here.”
“Felicia was tied to her bed when she was murdered. Signs of a ‘scene’, that’s what you call it, whip marks on her body. The ropes, the knots, it all looked very professional.”
“Like I did it?” Jane said smirking. “Hell, I could have killed her in a second, but I didn’t. You know, I’ll likely lose in this deal with her dead. Probate lawyers will eat up half my money. So, why would I kill her?”
“You fought with her all the time,” Leslie said.
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