The Virgin Whore Trial: A Holly Park Legal Thriller

by Brad Chisholm

  "There were children in big cities who had never seen such stars," Wolf began.

  "Starlight, star bright, first start I see tonight, I wish I may I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight," I wish I may… the childish rhyme trailed off unfinished to the fates as the teenager dared not say aloud the wishes of her heart. The stars twinkled brightly high in the black sky above the ranch house. Naomi sighed wistfully as her eyes followed Wolf as he moved around the stables turning the horses in for the night. The horses knew and trusted him and snorted and snuffled when he came near. She wished she were one of them.

  Her young heart yearned for him and she stole a picture of her mother and Wolf and cut her mother out of it and hid it in the inner pocket of her wallet. Sometimes, when nobody was looking she would take the photo out and look at it. How she missed him. Lately, he spent less and less time with her.

  Naomi started sleeping with the night light on and her bedroom door wide open, saying it was against the heat. But really, she liked to hear when Wolf came home. But from the bedroom, Naomi always awoke at the sound of car wheels on the gravel road and the sound of the keys turning quietly in the front door. She could hear him hang his keys on the key hook near the door after he had checked the horses, which he always did, and his footsteps were quiet as he made his way to the empty master bedroom.

  Her mother was rarely home these days, either. It was in these lonely days and nights she kept company with her memories of her lost sister. How her heart ached for her.

  "Goodnight, Wolf," her girlish voice echoed faintly in the quiet night. The first time, Wolf stopped, surprised. His footsteps paused, and then he turned towards her bedroom to find Naomi wide awake.

  "Why are you awake?"

  "I can't sleep."

  "Go to sleep my beautiful princess," he said to her affectionately. "You don't have to wait up for me, baby," he added, kissing her forehead. Her face burned with embarrassment and delight. "Go to sleep now, love," his voice resonated in her heart.

  Naomi snuggled deep into the duvet with a peacefulness that warmed her body. She loved how he called her princess and love. Naomi felt her body tingle warmly. She tried to sleep. But she could never sleep. She could usually keep her mind busy during the day but it was always at night when she thought most about her twin sister, Sara and when her heart ached the most. Her mom had said she should never mention Sara to anyone, ever.

  She once had accidentally mentioned Sara to Wolf.

  "I told Sara she could ride Lightning one day," Naomi said, softly. "She's my twin sister."

  But Wolf only smiled. "I wish I had imaginary friends," he teased in his gentle way. "They don't try to borrow your truck and bring it back dirty and with no gas, or forget it is their turn to buy the beer."

  It was perfect. She could talk about Sara and Wolf thought it was make-believe and they would laugh. But at night she did not laugh. At night Sara always visited in her dreams. They talked in their own secret language that no one else understood. And often Naomi would have bet the moon and the stars that Sara was right there with her and she would wrap her arms around her sisters waist, tightly, the way they used to, with every ounce of strength in her young body to keep her there. But when she opened her eyes, Sara was never there. She always would find herself staring at her pillow in her arms. That's when the tears came because the hole in her heart was so big she felt like she would fall in.

  Then there were the other nights, when Naomi just woke up screaming.

  Chapter 40

  Holly's back hurt. She was thirsty, but if a meteor had been about to crash into the planet she would not have stopped Wolf's story. Holly silently willed Wolf the strength to keep going.

  Naomi's body was changing, too. It was developing curves and the more it changed the more she wrestled with the changes. Lately, she was always looking in the mirror and cried over nothing. Life wasn't any fun at all. She didn't like the way her breasts swelled and the way her hips were rounding out. None of her other classmates were developing so early which made Naomi even more self- conscious.

  "Go on a diet, you're getting fat," Naomi was standing with Julie, her best friend. Naomi tugged at her shirt self-consciously, her body was betraying her. Julie made fun of her and teased her endlessly so Naomi started wearing sweat shirts to hide her changing body, even when it was hot. One particular day, the summer heat was so unbearable Wolf worked outside, his shirt off, mopping the beads of sweat from his forehead with a towel. He looked over and noticed Naomi in her usual spot, watching.

  "Princess," Wolf called out. "Aren't you hot? Why don't you change into something cooler or go inside where the air conditioner is on?" he said. He walked over to her. Perspiration gleamed on his forehead. Naomi hung her head in deep shame. She couldn't even manage to speak her frustration was so deep.

  "What the matter with you?" Wolf asked. Naomi burst into tears and ran into the stables. Wolf followed. "What's wrong with you, princess? Is something the matter?" he asked again. "I just don't want you fainting in this heat," he said, helplessly. When Naomi buried her face in her hands, he picked her up and hoisted her on top of one of the corrals. Wolf cupped her face in his hand.

  "Look at me," he said. "Look at me." He repeated, this time, a little more gently.

  Naomi blushed.

  "Tell me," he said, quietly. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me," he coaxed her, murmuring as if to a colt, softly, until her emotions broke like a dam.

  "I hate... my body," she cried.

  "Why, princess?" Wolf asked, astonished by her confession. He was genuinely perplexed. "Why do you hate your body?"

  "It's getting... it's changing... I just don't like it," she whispered, her head hung low.

  "Are you wearing a tee shirt under that?" Wolf asked. Naomi nodded.

  "Take off your sweatshirt," he said. "You have a beautiful body. It's natural for girls to grow up and develop into young women," his voice was warm. "It makes you beautiful and boys will desire you and appreciate your beauty. Your mother is a great beauty and you will be too," the words stumbled out as best as he could.

  "You know what it's like? It's like our colts, awkwardly growing into their long legs, growing into their bodies. You are like that. You are my beautiful colt."

  Naomi pressed her face against Wolf's cheek.

  "Boys will desire me?" she whispered, shyly. "The way men desire my mother...?"

  "Yes..." stammered Wolf. "Like that."

  "In the same way as my mother?" she asked.

  Wolf swallowed. It was getting very warm inside the stables. "Yes," his voice was hoarse. He could see the outline of her young breasts straining against the thin tee shirt and her legs dangled against his bare chest. He turned away.

  He had promised he wouldn't leave and Naomi believed him because he had been there nearly three years. Naomi learned to ride and jump just as Wolf had promised. Everything Wolf had promised, he had done.

  "That's how it started," Wolf stammered, his voice hoarse now, the energy draining out of him. "It was like that. The two of us alone. All the time. She was nice. Her mother was different. I don't understand women. Not at all. Her mother was always angry and gone all the time. And I didn't know what to do."

  "It was always the two of us," Wolf said nervously to Holly. "We spent an awful lot of time, alone. She was a skinny little thing. Always had an upset stomach. She never finished a meal and was prone to vomiting easily. So I started cooking for her when her mother was away," Wolf said, with a thousand yard stare.

  The kitchen was busy with activity. Wolf hummed merrily as he sprinkled flour on the marble kitchen counter and placed a mound of chilled pastry. Aluminum bowls of melted butter and a brush and another of an apple mixture sat ready to one side. And they had already made a custard from scratch.

  "Come, dear, and lend a hand," he beckoned. "I'll teach you how to roll out the dough. Naomi dusted the rolling pin with flour as she had been taught and set to work.

  "Don't be
afraid of the dough!" Wolf laughed, putting his arms around her to reach the outside edges of the rolling pin handle. "Put some of those new muscles into it."

  Their fingers overlapped as he showed her just the right pressure, just the right rhythm and motion to roll out the dough. His fingers clean but rough and large, her fingers long and delicate with the palest pink polish.

  Wolf loved Naomi's company. Cheerful with drifts towards melancholy, but that matched better with Wolf's temperament. Even her teenage eccentricities and growing pains amused him. The drama with her friends, the urgency of everything. Even her make-believe twin sister amused him.

  By the end of the second glass, the intoxicating effect of the wine and the girl were the same. He rolled the bottle over in his hand. He drank deeply with the girl on the other side of the table watching him, vicariously sharing the moment. She had no idea how beautiful she was. Her mother never told her.

  Wolf stopped abruptly. Suddenly he looked very tired.

  "Please, just a little longer." Holly begged. "Then, I promise I'll go.

  Chapter 41

  "Everything changed after Seoul," Wolf began. "Alexis's father was dying, so we all went to Korea to pay our last respects," Wolf shook his head, still mystified. He pressed his hands against his face.

  "What happened in Seoul?" Holly asked, her breath sharp.

  Wolf shook his head. "I don't know. Alexis changed after Seoul. After her father died. There was something, the dark cloud over her got even darker. I could hear Alexis and her mother speaking angrily but I understood nothing.” Wolf said, shaking his head. “I don't understand you people," he added.

  "Shall we take a break?" Holly asked, exhausted herself.

  "I can do it,” Wolf sighed. “You don't stop an exorcism in the middle," Wolf grimaced, shaking his head.

  It was the month after he returned from Seoul that changed Wolf's life. Alexis had been home for a couple hours and had left again. Her bags were still unpacked upstairs in the ranch house. Wolf had given the bags nothing more than a passing glance when he had come home that evening. Right now, he was preoccupied getting ready to get to go out. It would be an exciting night. It was Naomi's 16th birthday and he was going to take his little girl out.

  Naomi chose a deep red lip liner and carefully followed the curve of her lips with precision, copying her mother, who had done the same just hours before. Her face was a canvas and her work flawless.

  "I can't go. I have a business meeting tonight," Alexis tersely told Wolf.

  "But it's Naomi's sixteenth birthday." Wolf protested.

  Alexis ignored Wolf and left.

  Naomi finished her face and sprayed her mother's Chanel perfume on her neck and sprayed the insides of her knees. She wore her mother's black camisole and a pair of her mother's thigh high hosiery with French black lace which made her look so beautiful and sexy. She wanted to look that way, too. She had waited for this night. She could tell the nights her mother would not be coming home - this was certainly one of them.

  With her heart beating rapidly, she dared look in her mother's full length mirror. In her mother's dressing room there were many shoes. Naomi knew the right ones.

  Her breath was sharp as she caught her reflection. Her breasts spilled from the thin camisole and the French lace on her thighs and the stiletto heels elongated her legs. The shoes were a little large and she wobbled, and caught her balance.

  The Penthouse magazine was under the bed. She had seen it. She reached for it and flipped through the pages. The full-length mirror was positioned in front of the king size bed. She positioned herself on the bed and copied the girls on the pages, giggling. How long she stayed in the darkened room she didn't know. She was lost in her own thoughts and strange trembling when she heard a noise from the bedroom door. Wolf was standing at the door. Naomi's heart beat wildly. How long had he been standing there?

  Naomi stared at Wolf with curiousity and trust as his eyes move over the curves of her body. Wolf could feel his blood rising. Here she was, laying on cool white sheets, curiosity and trust in her eyes. She was his daughter. She was not his daughter. She was a step-daughter. She was not a step-daughter, even. Naomi was constantly following him around giving him long looks, and it was getting harder and harder to stop his mind from wandering from mother to daughter. Naomi was like an untamed colt daring him to ride bareback. Enough was enough. At the end of the day he was just a man.

  In the early hours of the morning, Alexis came home to a dark and quiet house. As Alexis undressed and climbed into bed, had her mind not been preoccupied otherwise, she may have noticed the faint sweet smell of strawberry lip gloss coming from her snoring husband as he slept on the other side of the bed.

  "Was that the first time?" Holly whispered.

  "Yes." Wolf's voice was strained. "The first time was on Naomi’s sixteenth birthday."

  Holly exited the gates. The yard was empty. A half a dozen prison guards walked in a disconsolate circle under the setting sun, their weapons at half mast. She rooted through her purse and slipped them a few twenties.

  "God bless your heart, counsel."

  Back in Los Angeles, Holly turned on Crenshaw Blvd. and raced passed the ten story orange and white public storage unit off Pico and Crenshaw Blvd. Today, the building looked an ominous gray because it was the summer and it had not rained in months. As she pulled up to the church gate, police sirens howled and several police cars screeched up. Four cops burst out of the squad cars weapons drawn and surrounded an overexcited homeless man on the streets.

  “Please leave him alone. He just wants dinner and the church is closed tonight. It was my turn to be here and I was late,” Holly pleaded.

  Chapter 42

  The historic homes of Hancock Park were built with thick walls to withstand the hot California sun. Usually that and the beautiful tree-lined streets kept the temperatures moderate, if not cool. But not on this night. Instead, the hot air swirled, trapped and stifling, ever present and taunting. The night before had been equally unrelenting and Heather had gotten no sleep. Grabbing an overnight bag, she left.

  The instant relief of air conditioning calmed Heather as she walked into the lush flowery lobby of The Four Seasons on Doheny Drive. Comfort and respite. Gordon was having one of his episodes tonight. It was better for Heather to leave than stay and fight. Culina Restaurant offered a seductive and tantalizing slow dance of the palate of the subtle and fine flavors of Northern Italian cuisine. She started with white grapes sprinkled atop bitter greens, olive oil light to the taste and touch, then ate a simple piece of fish baked in parchment with herbs. It was served with grilled zucchini and she enjoyed two glasses of a perfectly chilled Gaja. By the end of dinner, she had completely forgotten about the heat and how stressed she had been.

  Heather slipped upstairs and walked in as housekeeping was leaving. She loved the turn-down service, especially the treats left on the pillows which she never ate but liked to see them anyway. The plushness of the pillows and fine linens seemed so inviting.

  Finally, she thought. Highly indulgent but worth the price of a good night's sleep. Undressing, she slipped between the coolness of the perfect white sheets and felt her body relaxing for the first time in 48 hours. Sleep, sleepy sleep, she thought. Tomorrow will be better. She closed her eyes allowing her body to sink deeply into the plushness of the bed. As she felt herself relaxing the phone pinged. She smiled to herself and reached for the phone without opening her eyes. A text.

  She smiled. It was Mick. "Hi -)" The text read.

  "Hi back," she texted.

  "Are you melting from the heat and turning heads?

  "Earlier, yes. But not now." Heather quickly typed. "I checked into a hotel," she wrote. "Do you have air conditioning?"

  "Yes. But I was born cool."

  “Remember tomorrow. My charity event is at 1 p.m. sharp. Park in the back, drop my name like a grenade down a hole." Heather hit send, quite pleased with herself.

  “I’ll be there.
” Her phone pinged.

  "Do you believe in magic?”

  “What kind of magic.

  The phone pinged back.

  "Magic as in between your thighs." Heather held the phone. For once, she was silent, not knowing how to respond. The phone pinged again.

  "I can create magic." Heather put down the phone and snuggled deeply in the covers and looked out the window towards the twinkling lights of Beverly Hills.

  Downstairs at the Four Seasons Hotel, Kendall Taylor wandered into the bar, drawn by the music of an acoustic guitar playing a song she remembered from happier times. A musician sat on a stool in the corner. Very young, Kendall thought, as she sat on a black leather couch close enough to hear him.

  What did he know of love and loss at that puppy age? Kendall laughed wistfully. The song had probably been written by someone much older. Nonetheless his singing was convincing. The melancholy songs were like a time machine, and she decided to order a drink. Tonight she had no plans, and though it was late she just wanted to get out of the house.

  She ordered a Grey Goose vodka. Vodka, no hidden agenda, no reticence, and straight to the point. It suited her mood. Tart, with a bitter finish. Her eyes wandered to three men leaning on the zinc bar drinking Beck's beer, with too much energy to actually occupy stools. They looked college age, tall, athletic, handsome, with their hair a little longer than was fashionable dressed in polo shirts and jeans. A thin man in a black suit discreetly took some shots with a long lens camera. They must be from a professional sport team, Kendall thought. She wondered which. Two couples occupied the other end of the room, having an after dinner cognac and coffee, and at the other end of the bar a group of dark-suited businessmen drank Scotch. In all, a quiet night. Kendall watched the musician's fingers on the strings of his guitar.