by Amore, Dani
“Yes, another sad chapter in the Cooper history,” Mary said.
The doctor sighed. “Thank you for staying so I could talk to you about this issue. I’m sure you’re ready to have this morning come to an end.”
“No problem at all,” Mary said. “Anything I can do to help the mental health industry in Los Angeles is important. After all, you’ve got your hands full in this town.”
Dr. Blevins smiled at Mary. She was in her fifties, with short, stylish gray hair. A silver fox, Mary thought.
“It’s about a former patient of mine,” Blevins said.
“Isn’t all of that confidential?”
“It is if they’re still alive.”
Mary waited.
“His name is Craig Locher. He was stabbed to death two nights ago. It was a sad, tragic end to a very fine man. A man not without problems, certainly. But with a lot of good qualities, too. He didn’t deserve to die that way; in fact, he shouldn’t have died at all. He had a lot going for him.”
“Okay, I assume the police are looking into the case? It was a murder, correct?”
“Yes, I believe they are looking into it. But their initial feedback seemed to indicate they were considering it a drug deal gone bad. Or a robbery involving drugs. And they are not correct in that assumption. Craig Locher was no drug dealer.”
“Was he taking drugs of any kind?” Mary said.
“I believe he was. But, again, they were not street drugs, I’m sure of that.”
“How can you be so sure?” Mary said.
“First, I have nothing against the police. They may turn out to do a very fine job of investigating this case. It just seemed that, initially, they were not interested in pursuing it very far. And I think there was more to it than drugs and robbery. Locher was a very interesting man, you see. A very talented, creative, intelligent man. Like I said, not without his flaws. But still, not the kind of man to be stabbed over a drug deal.”
Mary weighed her response. “Can you tell me what you were treating him for?”
The doctor sighed again. “Unfortunately, I can’t. However, I can tell you that he was a peaceful man for whom I had great respect. And frankly, I’ve led a very successful practice over the years. I’m single, with no children, and I can afford to hire a private investigator to make sure one of my former patients receives the proper investigation into his death.”
“Can you tell me the general nature of his treatment?” Mary said. “It might help me focus my investigation.”
“Here’s what I will tell you,” Blevins said. “Craig Locher was very, very fond of the opposite sex. Sometimes so much so that it was a detriment to his personal life. Sometimes, enough to qualify as a probable addiction.”
Mary nodded, understanding the doctor’s point.
“I see,” she said.
“You should also know, and I assume you would have found this out anyway, that according to the police Mr. Locher’s body was found in some very unusual circumstances. I’d rather not go into those details now, especially as I have no way to verify anything. But the story I heard is that Mr. Locher was found wearing nothing but a diaper.”
Mary had a million comments, but much to her surprise, kept them all to herself.
“I’d like to hire you,” the psychologist said. “Now, are you interested in the case? Can you fit me into your schedule?”
Mary’s active case list was currently comprised of only three other jobs, all of them fairly small and mundane.
“I believe I can,” Mary said. She outlined her prices to Dr. Blevins.
“How about I give you three weeks to nose around and see what you can come up with?” Blevins said. She scribbled out a check for fifty percent of the amount and handed it to Mary along with a folder.
“When Jason arranged this, he told me you were a private investigator, so I came prepared,” Blevins said.
Mary shook her head. “Let’s just hope Jason can get the help that he so needs and occasionally schedules for himself.”
“When can you get started?” the psychologist said.
“As soon as you tell me this intervention was a success and I’m free to go,” Mary said.
Blevins nodded. “See you next time.”
Mary walked out, happy to have a new case and a check in hand.
Maybe she could get used to therapy after all.
Four
Mary drove straight to her office. It was in Venice on Main Street, in a building that shared a variety of other businesses including a recording studio, a toy reseller, and a doctor from South America with a mysterious specialty. Mary had no idea if he was a real doctor or if it was some sort of medical dodge, and it didn’t help that he spoke no English at all.
In any event, she went into her office, a tidy three-room affair with a waiting area, a small bathroom, and her main office. There was also a storage closet that had been big enough to turn into a supply room. Her supplies consisted of several boxes of paper for her printer, and a shitload of beer.
Her desk was a simple affair with one drawer, her desktop computer, and a laptop off to the side. The windows were big and looked out over the tops of the restaurants and shops that made up most of Venice’s main street.
There was also a small refrigerator stocked with Point beer, her favorite from a small brewery in northern Wisconsin.
Since she had wasted most of the morning already, Mary was determined to get something done. She fired up the desktop Mac and checked her calendar. One appointment in the afternoon to review a surveillance report on a male stripper who claimed he was being stalked by a five hundred pound beautician named Princess. Mary had subcontracted the job to an ex-cop she knew, only initially telling him that the job involved around-the-clock surveillance on a stripper.
So, that meant Mary had time to look into the psychologist’s dead-man-wearing-a-diaper case. Mary opened the folder Blevins had given her and scanned it quickly. There was very little information. His name, address, and insurance information. But no case notes, no list of medications. Mary assumed all of that was confidential and Blevins had not included it in the folder.
She set that information aside and Googled ‘dead man in a diaper’ and the result was a flurry of pictures of grown men doing things no grown man ought to do. Role playing was apparently alive and well. She especially liked one where the guy put beer in his baby bottle. A method actor, apparently.
Eventually, she found a small article in the online version of the Los Angeles Times.
The article simply confirmed that a Craig Locher, aged 46, was found dead by police in what appeared to be a random killing. No one had been arrested. And the police would welcome any information on the case.
Mary used one of her databases to look up Craig Locher’s address. She quickly found it on the map, a place out in Northeast Los Angeles. Mary jotted the address down on a small note, then checked the clock.
She had enough time to call Homicide Detective Jacob Cornell and ask him out to dinner.
While it was true that she could get most of the information she needed from other sources within the Los Angeles Police Department, she preferred Jake. One, because technically he was her boyfriend, even though she despised the word. They had some ups and downs over the past couple of years, but now the relationship seemed on solid ground. In other words, Mary thought, Jake was becoming better trained.
And two, he was quite possibly the world’s sweetest man and rarely turned down a request for a favor.
Mary would simply slip in a small request to bring what he knew about the murder of Craig Locher to dinner tonight and she would make it up to him.
Even though Jacob Cornell was a solid detective, a vivid imagination wasn’t one of his qualities. But even Jake could picture what she might have in mind.
Five
“I ordered you a beer,” Jake said. He was a big guy, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He had sandy brown hair that was never perfect, but rarely messy. Jake stood
when Mary approached the table and kissed her on the lips. She glanced at the table where two margaritas the size of punch bowls awaited them.
“Margaritas?” Mary licked her lips. “I thought you tasted a tad saltier than normal.”
“Hey, when in Juarez,” Jake said, sitting down and hoisting his enormous margarita. Mary sat opposite him and hoisted her own glass monstrosity.
“Cheers,” she said.
They had decided to meet at Mi Pueblo, a funky little Mexican restaurant halfway between Beverly Hills and Santa Monica. The food was fresh, cheap, and close enough to authentic for Mary.
She looked across the small table at Jake. He had on a light blue shirt with a new red tie. He looked so All-American.
“So what have you got for me?” Mary said. “Besides a wistfulness located in your pants.”
“Let’s order first,” he said. Jake loved food and worked out like a madman to stay trim. Mary waited patiently while the waitress took their orders. A big burrito for Jake, soup for Mary. With a chicken al fresco taco on the side.
“So here’s what I know,” Jake said. He took out his notebook and read to Mary. “Craig Locher. 46 years old. Worked at a marketing firm called IdeaGen, some kind of ad agency or something like that. Single, no kids, only thing on his record is a DUI about three years ago.”
Mary took a drink from her margarita, watched a waiter clear the table behind them.
“Get to the good stuff, Sugar Shorts,” she said.
“Died from blood loss. One stab wound accounted for most of the damage, a few other superficial cuts, including a pacifier stapled to his chest.”
“A pacifier? Like the things babies suck on?” Mary said.
“Some people call them binkys.”
“How the hell would you know that?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Who’s handling the case?” Mary said. “Where was he found?”
“A new team, but I know them well enough to get the information I need.”
Mary thought about that.
“Also, the vic had on a diaper,” Jake said.
“A real one? Like a Depends?”
“Don’t know,” Jake answered. “But his butt cheeks looked like someone had smacked the hell out of them, too. Maybe with a belt or a riding crop.”
“Maybe a little fetish play gone too far?” Mary said.
Jake looked at her.
“Maybe,” he finally said. “But to go from dressing up and spanking to stabbing with a knife is pretty rare. Plus, it looked like he was the one receiving the abuse. A lot of times in that kinky stuff it’s the submissive who blows a gasket and kills the person dominating them.”
The server appeared with their food and placed it on the table. She took away their empty margarita glasses, and Mary nodded for another one.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into that weird sex stuff,” Mary said to Jake. “Who knew you were so kinky?”
Jake blushed, and Mary loved him all the more for it.
“You’re so cute when your face turns red,” she said. “I can’t wait to get you home, take out my cattle whip, and do the same thing to your ass.”
Six
“You know, if we lived together, this would never have to happen,” Jake said, strolling into the kitchen in Mary’s condo wearing Mary’s pink bathrobe and a pair of gym shorts that were much too small and much too tight.
The outfit looked kind of hot, until he pulled the robe closed and cinched it tight, making the bulging shorts impossible to see.
“Not again,” Mary said and rolled her eyes. Jake brought up cohabitating every few weeks or so, but she wasn’t ready. She liked her own space too much. However, she was slowly warming to the idea but had no intention of sharing that sentiment with Jake just yet.
“Besides, wearing my clothes teaches you fashion flexibility,” she said. “It’s good for you. Breaks you out of your khakis-dress shirt-sportcoat rut.”
Jake poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table next to Mary. When his ass hit the chair, he grimaced.
“Was I too rough with you last night, big boy?” Mary said, a small smirk on her face.
“That’ll be the day.”
Mary loved it when Jake tried to be tough. The man was an overgrown kitten.
She stood, went to the sink, and rinsed out her cup, the one that read “Everglades State Park” on the side.
“I’m off to find out more about our big baby,” she said.
Jake furrowed his brow for a moment, and then got the reference.
“Oh,” he said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to the address that my client gave me. It’s supposedly where Locher lived.”
“You’re not going to break in, are you?”
“What makes you think no one will be home?”
“The guy wasn’t married, was he?”
“No, but I’m not married, and I’ve got some freak in my home wearing a pink bathrobe and girl shorts.”
Jake sighed and drank from his coffee.
“Look, I’ve got to run; clearly you aren’t ready to start the day yet, Precious.”
“No, I have to shower.”
“Okay, remember to lock up, okay?” she said. Mary was already dressed and ready to go. She went back to the kitchen table and gave Jake a kiss.
“By the way, thanks for the information on my case last night,” she said. “Even if I had to spank it out of you.”
“Very funny.”
“Momma’s gotta go, baby,” she said.
“That sounds creepy, Mary.”
She shut the door.
Seven
Craig Locher’s address was an apartment building in a neighborhood on the bubble, as the newscasters liked to say. Not quite safe, not quite lethally dangerous.
Mary studied the building, a post Cold War structure that looked like it had been funkified in an attempt to attract the hip and cool.
She found a parking spot a block away, then walked back and rang the doorbell. Locher’s unit was on the first floor, facing the street.
Mary caught the flicker of light from the peephole as someone checked her out. Always a bad idea. Mary knew of a few cases where a bad guy had put his gun to the peephole and fired as soon as he sensed someone behind the door.
Finally, the door opened a crack behind a security chain. A woman’s face looked out.
“Can I help you?” she said.
“My name is Mary Cooper, I’m a private investigator looking into the murder of Craig Locher. I’d like to talk to you if you have time.”
The door remained partially opened.
“I’m getting ready for work.”
“It will only be a minute or two.”
“Do you have some identification?”
Mary whipped out her private investigator license and photo, stored in a handmade leather flip-out wallet.
The door shut, the chain slid, and the door opened again.
Mary stepped inside where the scent of fresh perfume was strong. The woman who faced her was short, powerful-looking with a thick neck and a chiseled jawline and thick brown hair. Maybe a bodybuilder.
Mary stuck out her hand.
“Mary Cooper,” she said.
“Jenni Mulderink,” the woman responded. She gestured toward a sitting area that included a couch, two chairs, a coffee table, and a small flat-screen television sitting on a black lacquered table. “I hope you were serious about this only taking a minute or two, because that’s all I’ve got.”
The apartment was bigger than Mary expected. Beyond the sitting area was a dining area separated from the kitchen by a half-wall. Mary could make out gourmet-looking appliances, white cupboards, and a bank of windows that filled the kitchen with natural light.
“I’ll do my best to make this quick,” Mary said.
“Thank you, my job is more important than ever,” Jenni Mulderink said. “Now that Craig is…gone.”
S
he had dark eyes that looked like they’d seen plenty of good times and bad.
“First, how long had you been in a relationship with Mr. Locher?” Mary asked.
“Three years.”
“Had his behavior changed at all recently? Anything unusual?”
The woman shook her head, and her long brown hair swung with the motion.
“No,” she said.
“Do you have any theories on what happened to him?”
For the first time, the woman paused. Seemed to consider the question. “Let me answer this as quickly and thoroughly as I can. Craig was a brilliant, but troubled man. He had created and sold several companies, was acting as a consultant for his latest venture, an Internet marketing and ideation firm. Over the years, he’d been in and out of rehab several times. He traveled everywhere, kept an insane, unusual schedule. So what I’m trying to say is that he did not lead a normal life by most of our usual standards. He was a charismatic guy.”
Her lip quivered and she wiped away a tear.
“Was his death a surprise?” Mary asked.
“The fact that he died an unusual death is not as big a surprise for someone like me,” Mulderink said. “Someone who knew how unique his life was.”
“So you don’t know what happened?”
Again, the head shake. “No. He’d had a couple of busy days, late meetings, hadn’t come home a couple times that week, which, again, wasn’t unusual. He would crash at the office, a hotel, even a friend’s house if there was a party and he didn’t feel like driving. So I hadn’t seen him for several days. But like I said, I wasn’t worried. Turns out, I should have been.”
Mary caught the note of self-blame.
“There was nothing you could have done,” Mary said, without any clue if that was true or not.
Mulderink shrugged her shoulders and checked her watch, prompting Mary to be quick with the next question.
“I know that in the past he was in therapy,” Mary asked. “Did you know if that was still the case?”
“I think he was, but he preferred not to talk about it. He always liked to keep the mood light, and I always got the sense that talking about his mental health was a big downer to him, so he would just change the subject as fast as he could.”