by Bob Mayer
"Her going back to school was part of it. I had been coming here for a year or so and other places like this before that. Rachel was intrigued and she was smart enough to handle this. She was extremely discreet. She would have never let this interfere with her life.
"This place was safe; that's why I didn't tell you about it. It was a part of her life that I believed should remain her secret. I didn't think her husband needed to go through that sort of disclosure either.”
She leaned forward. "I do know one thing and that is that she was very much alive when she left here last Wednesday. She usually left right around the time I got here. If I thought there was anything to be gained by telling you about this place, I would have. But most people don't understand. I don't think you do. When I said she wasn't like other women at the tennis courts you didn't seem to understand. She, or should I say I; we need more."
Chase interrupted her. "Yeah, I know. You're like people in a gourmet club. You want to talk to people who know how to make gravy."
She stared at Chase for a moment. "What does that mean?"
"Forget it. You talk and let me decide what makes sense."
Chase was getting a little tired of people who needed more out of life. It looked to him like it was just another way to end up dead. It pissed Chase off that Linda Watkins had taken it upon her shoulders to decide what was important in his murder case and what wasn't. To save time going around in circles about the higher plane of sexuality that she was obviously trying to explain to Chase, the lug headed cop, he told her about the theory of being really into sex as a woman. He asked if that was what she was getting at.
"That is putting it in somewhat simplistic terms, but I can tell you have the general idea."
Chase looked her straight in the eye. "So basically Rachel liked to fuck, and I don't really know or really care what you yourself like to do."
In the second it took for those words to wound, Chase thought he saw the person that Linda hid behind a mask of bravado. She appeared to be a lonely, scared woman trying to survive in a society that had no place for her. He truly saw for the first time why women came here. So they would never have to listen to a man say what he had just said to Linda Watkins.
Linda put a pretty effective end to Chase’s deep ruminations. "You are a piece of shit, detective. Why don't you go ahead and drag my good name through the mud. What do you think? That you're going to ruin my life? That my marriage is going to go up in a blaze of innuendoes and incriminations?"
She pointed. "I notice you keep looking at that lovely thing in the corner that you came in with. Is she your girlfriend? I personally think it's kind of interesting that she's having such a deep conversation with my husband."
Chase looked and when the man turned, he recognized the guy from the country club. "What's he doing here?"
Linda gave Chase a very smug look. "I'll put it in words you can understand. He likes to make gravy."
It was time to readjust, Chase thought. Right now his priority was to get Linda to tell him what had happened the previous Wednesday. "You may not believe this, but I'm sorry. I had no right to talk to you that way. You have to understand that all this is very new to me, and I guess I'm letting some old prejudices die hard."
Some of the anger appeared to go out of her and she sat back. "I like a man who will even contemplate the fact that he doesn't know everything. You're seeing something you don't understand and you're at least fighting that very normal human compulsion to slam something that frightens you."
"This doesn't frighten me."
She leaned forward. "Oh, but it does. It frightens you very much. And that's the reason you don't understand it. Not the other way around. If you were 'into sex' as you call it, this house and everyone in it would appeal to you because of the honesty and acceptance that prevails here. But you're not. Sex is love for you. It’s filling an emotional need, not a physical one. It’s a need you have, not a want.”
“I’d disagree,” Chase said, thinking about what he had with Sylvie, “but this isn’t about me.”
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You find all of this threatening, and you should. You have society on your side, Detective Chase. But suppose society is wrong? What would happen to your world if women grew tired of their perpetual unequal status?"
They both turned at a new voice. "That's a very interesting question, Chase. What do you have to say?" Chase hadn't noticed Sylvie come to the booth. She was getting good at sneaking up on him.
Chase didn't know how much she had heard. "Would someone please tell me about Rachel Stevens? I'm not interesting in solving the world's male-female problems. I'm tired of trying to figure out Rachel's psyche, or anyone else's for that matter." Chase jabbed a finger across the table. "We can save the philosophy for later. I need to know what happened the night Rachel died."
Linda tapped a long fingernail on the tabletop. "Just the facts, right?” Chase nodded. “The night Rachel was killed, I got here earlier than I usually do. My husband was on a business trip and I hate being alone in that big house. Rachel was already upstairs. She usually went there right away. I guess she thought she only had three hours every few weeks and she was going to make the best of it.
"There were four men around her, along with their wives standing in the shadows. Rachel preferred sex with men in long-standing marriages. It makes sense in today's world wouldn't you say? They were acting out one of her fantasies. When it was over, they all said good-bye to her. I only spoke to her briefly, but she seemed very happy. She did say she was almost done with the semester and anticipated getting A's again.
"None of the men she had sex with left for several more hours. At least not before one in the morning, so I guess that's why I decided that whatever happened to Rachel, it had nothing to do with this place. People do get killed, detective; people who aren't swingers."
Chase tried to understand how someone as obviously intelligent as she was could be so stupid. "How did you know none of those men left?"
"Because I had sex with them. Sort of act two after Rachel." She gave Chase a wicked smile. "Your first sight of me in this booth made you think something about me didn't it? See how easily you make suppositions?"
Chase had walked into both those comments. But she seemed to get off on it so he let it slide. "I think I understand why you chose to hide this from me, but do you see how wrong it was? I've spent a week trying to find out where Rachel was the night she died. That may be the week that cost me the chance to find out who killed her."
Chase leaned across the table. "And something you don't seem to be very concerned about. What if she were killed by someone who knows about this place? How safe does that leave you?"
Linda was obstinate. "It wasn't someone from here. Rachel had been coming here for just under a year. No one who knew her on the outside, except my husband and I, was aware she came here. No one in the club, except us again, knew who she was on the outside. That cab ride was her insulation."
"Almost a year?" Chase repeated. "She was coming here even before she went to school?"
Linda nodded. "Old Jeffrey was too caught up in his work and that pretty little secretary of his to have noticed. Oh," she said, seeing the look on Chase’s face, "Rachel knew about Miss Plunkett. It was just another reason for her to be here."
"Another justification, you mean," Sylvie said.
Linda shrugged.
Sylvie threw some logic in. "Rachel had to use her name on the AIDS test. Andrew and Lauren knew who she was."
Linda shook her head. "We're not stupid. We got our tests through the same doctor in Denver. We took the tests and whited-out our real names and inserted false ones and Xeroxed them. Everyone here knows me as Lori. Rachel was known as Nora."
“Nice literary references,” Chase said. Seeing her surprise, he amplified. “My mother was into the classics. What about Rachel's husband? Could he have found out about this?"
"He could have, but, as I said, I don't think it's likely. Ev
en if he did, he loved Rachel very much in his own way despite what he was doing himself. He wouldn't have killed her over this. She didn't hide this from Jeffrey because she was afraid of what he would do. She hid it because she was afraid of what he would think."
Not very good logic in Chase’s opinion. Some men he knew might kill their wives for doing what Rachel did. Or at least contemplate killing them. But Doctor Stevens had a solid alibi and if he had known about this club and Rachel, Chase would have picked something up when he had questioned him. Of course there was also the factor of Lisa Plunkett. While Rachel was here, Jeffrey was with her. Which was worse? Chase wondered.
Linda wasn't done. "If you're going to think that way, then I suppose my husband might be a suspect also. But he can prove he was at his business meeting out of town the night in question.
"For that matter, I suppose I might be a suspect except for the fact that at the time Rachel died I was rolling around on the floor with four men upstairs. Two of them are here right now. Would you like to confirm my story?"
Chase knew Rachel a whole lot better, but he was still at ground zero as far as the case went.
"What was in the bag?"
Linda seemed startled. "What bag?"
"The gym bag Rachel had."
Linda shook her head. "I don't know. I didn't see any bag."
Chase had had enough of Linda/Lori for one sitting. He nudged Sylvie so he could get out of the booth.
"I'll be back in touch."
"Have a good time, Detective Chase."
He and Sylvie went back to their table. The lights were even dimmer and it looked like some woman was giving a man a blowjob in the booth adjacent to them. Two naked women were slow-dancing out on the center of the floor. Chase looked at Sylvie. "All right. I've found out where she was for those three hours. But that doesn't seem to help too much.”
Sylvie had apparently been doing her own thinking. "I disagree with what Linda said. I think this place had something to do with Rachel's death. For Linda it cuts too close to home to even think that Rachel could have died because she came here. Both because she was the one who introduced Rachel to this place and also because she's still here. Maybe someone was blackmailing Rachel. Or maybe Rachel was blackmailing someone she recognized here. Who knows?"
Great. That did Chase a lot of good. At the moment he would have given anything to have Joseph Hatcher walk in the door. He'd have drawn down on him and arrested him on the spot.
"What now, Chase?" Sylvie asked.
Chase had all the pieces. He just couldn't figure out a way to put them together. He'd listened to many differing philosophies and he wasn't sure he agreed with any of them.
"Let's go," he said, taking Sylvie's hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY
They were both quiet as they drove back from the club. Chase was lost in thought about the case, trying to see what he had missed. Aside from the fact that he still had no idea who killed Rachel and why, he felt good that he'd at least solved part of the mystery.
Sylvie's voice, when it came out of the darkness of the Jeep, startled Chase. "What did you think about the club?"
That was a good question. Chase didn't know how to explain what he felt, but he could tell she wanted to hear something. "It was very interesting. I'm glad I went. It satisfied some curiosity. I don't know."
"Try."
So much for squirming out of that one with a shotgun blast of vague answers. "I guess it made me feel excited and nervous at the same time."
Sylvie started popping the questions fast. "Which did you feel more: excited or nervous?" She was beginning to tap her fingernails on the hard surface of her purse. It was very irritating.
They were getting close to his place and his speed was picking up. He had a feeling that if they didn't get out of the confines of the Jeep soon, she was going to be at his throat. He might be emotionally obtuse, but he could sense seething in a woman. He wondered if she was remembering the ‘picnic’.
"I don't know what you want me to say Sylvie. You seem to be upset and I don't know why."
"What makes you think I'm upset?"
Boy, Chase thought, was she upset. He pulled into the alley that ran behind the house and told her they could continue this over a cold brew in his lovely abode. Sylvie didn't say anything, which was another portent of a coming storm. She got out of the Jeep and led the way to his back door. Astral was in the yard as usual and gave a quick yap to let them know they’d been spotted, then she went back to sleep.
Chase went to the fridge. He grabbed two brews. He even got Sylvie a chilled mug from the freezer. He knew she liked to have one and he always kept one in there special for her even though she’d rarely come over. He hoped that would give him a nickel or two in the bank and maybe cool her off.
They went into the bedroom as it was the only place where both of them could sit. Sylvie tossed Merck magazine off the mattress and sat down. She moved the empty cans from the footlocker and put her beer down.
"Chase, you live like a college kid. Got an ash tray?"
"Use the empty beer can there. It's the newest wave in ash trays." Chase felt they were even so far. It could still go either way. He was hoping that Sylvie would call a truce as she normally did. Maybe they could end up at her place. They’d never spent the night here; the lack of a decent bed or pretty much any other decent furniture precluded that.
Sylvie lit a cigarette. "All right. We're here. We've got our beers. Why did you say you were nervous in the club?"
"I don't know. I just felt funny." Chase sat on the edge of the footlocker. It was old and the black was liberally sprinkled with dings and dents. He’d been issued it as a plebe at West Point and his name, (CHASE, H.) and social security number was stenciled on the top, the letters and numbers almost faded out with time. It had traveled a lot of places.
"You need to talk to me, Chase. I want to know how you felt."
Sylvie was staring at him hard. He knew something had changed between them today, but he'd spent too much time thinking about Rachel and the damn case and being threatened by the CIA and two thugs that it had passed relatively unnoticed until now. He needed to get his act together real fast or something was going to go bad between them. Before he could figure it out, it went bad.
"What do you think of Rachel, now that you know where she spent those Wednesday evenings?"
"I don't feel like talking about Rachel right now. She's dead. She's my work."
Sylvie cut in. "What am I, Chase? You had me earlier today and took me for a picnic that was really about your work. You’re the one who mixed things up."
He sensed he was on the edge of a razor, getting ready to lose a ball whichever way he went. "What do you want to be, Sylvie? You sit there and ask me questions all the time. How about you talk and give some answers to your own questions? I'm tired of having to guess."
"You've got a good point there, Chase, because you're not a very good guesser." Sylvie sighed. "Just a little while ago, I asked you what you thought of Rachel now that you knew the truth about her. I would say that you think less of her now."
"Well, yeah."
"I guess then that my stripping doesn't thrill you either."
A dim light went on in Chase’s brain. It was time to lay some cards on the table. "To be honest, no, it doesn't."
"It's been three months. You could have said something sooner."
"What could I have said? It's your business."
"I would have at least known your true feelings. It doesn't mean I would have quit my job, but at least I would know then that I could trust you. That you would tell me what you feel. You think by not telling me what you felt you were protecting me. It's not your job to protect me in that way, Chase. I can take care of myself. What I want from the people in my life is honesty and trust and I can't trust you.
"I'm just like that club to you, aren't I, Chase? I make you excited and nervous at the same time. Ultimately you don't think much of me. You thought a lot of Rach
el because you only saw her on the outside. Pine Brook Hills and the Boulder Country Club. It's the same thing with your mother.”
“Don’t talk about my mother.”
“I might as well since you don’t, but it hangs over your head like a black cloud everywhere you go. You carry that letter in your pocket everywhere you go. So it’s got to be important to you in some way. But it’s also a secret. What you and I do together, that’s a secret too. For you. I don’t care if people know. I get on stage and take my clothes off, and you pin on a badge and act so righteous.”
Sylvie leaned forward. "Don't you see, Chase? This doesn't have anything to do with sex or stripping or swingers clubs. It has to do with perception and reality and tolerance. Since you never tried to see who I really was, you treated me as you saw me on the surface and that wasn't that great other than my body and the sex. I've been trying for the last month to open up to you, but you can't open up to someone who doesn't want to come in and who won’t open himself up in turn.
"You didn't start to think less of Rachel until she started to become more like me on the surface. That hurts, Chase.”
Chase simply stood there. Sylvie kept going, which was good because Chase knew whatever he said, it was going to make things worse.
"The real problem with Rachel is that she wanted more. That's what all those people in that club wanted tonight. More." Sylvie shook her head. "They're full of shit with their AIDS test. That's no guarantee someone didn't pick it up this morning and hasn't developed the antibodies yet. You have to wait at least six months to be sure. Plus there are other nasty bugs other there besides AIDS that can screw you up.
“You know, Chase, even though I made you get an AIDS test, I took a chance with you having unprotected sex as early as I did. I trusted you. You didn’t even ask me what protection I was using. Didn’t even occur to you, did it?
"Those people at the club are looking for something more and that makes them unhappy with their own lives. And that's exactly the way you've been the last couple of months. You want more and that makes me feel pretty crappy because I'm sitting here in front of you and I can't give you any more than what you already have from me. If that's not good enough, then I have to start thinking of me."