by M. Z. Kelly
“Any leads on the Wilson case?” Nelson asked, scribbling notes.
“Nothing,” Charlie said, stifling a yawn. “The shooter was wearing a helmet with a dark faceplate. He left the scene on a motorcycle. We’ve got nothing in the way of an ID and no plate information. We’re still early in the investigation, questioning Wilson’s friends and relatives so something might turn up.”
Nelson took a moment, apparently digesting the information. He patted the top of his bald head and said, “Did Rose’s autopsy show any signs of steroid use?”
“The tox screen was negative,” I said, “But according to the coroner the drug has masking agents, making it virtually impossible to detect. An elevated red blood cell count is common at death, so that can’t be used as a factor to determine if she was using steroids either.”
Nelson then mentioned Jezzie’s miscarriage. I told him we had nothing further on who the father might have been.
“Were there any rumors or other indications that Jezzie used steroids when she competed?” Muriel Shafter asked. Her voice was officious and irritating.
I shook my head. “Nothing. And the news, if and when it gets out, is going to cause a media frenzy.”
Nelson leaned over and whispered something to Shafter. She nodded. After a moment, he turned back to us and said, “What about Jezzie’s parents? Have they been questioned about the steroid issue?”
“That’s our next step,” Edna explained. “We’re going back to the parents, see where it leads.”
“How does Shane Mumford fit into all this?” the commander asked. “Any indication he was connected to Shulman or Wilson?”
I shook my head. “Other than Mumford having the murder weapon in his locker, there’s nothing to show that he had a motive to kill Jezzie. It may be that he was set up by Shulman and Wilson and we have the wrong man in custody.”
“And we don’t want the press getting ahold of that info, bro…I mean, commander sir,” Gooch said, defying Edna’s order to keep his mouth shut. He then glanced over at the lieutenant who gave him a death stare and responded by making a zipping motion across his lips.
Nelson looked at the brothers, a smile finding his lips. He then looked at Edna and me. “Okay, here’s how this goes down—for now. You go back to the Roses, find out what, if anything, they know about Jezzie using steroids or being involved with Shulman and Wilson. I want a full report on what they say ASAP. The chief will make a further decision about when and if the press gets notified.”
I made one final attempt to get my point across. “Letting the press back into this investigation before we have all the facts is a mistake that we’re all going to regret.”
Commander Nelson exhaled and took a moment before responding. It made me wonder if he might silently agree with what I’d said. “That might be your opinion, Detective. It might also be the opinion of others in this room. But the only opinion that matters is the chief’s. Let’s move on this.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I spent the rest of the day pushing paperwork because the Roses said they couldn’t meet with us until tomorrow morning. After work I drove with Bernie to Westridge University. I arrived a little early for my segment of Natalie and Mo’s class, feeling nervous about my presentation. I prayed that I wouldn’t be put in an embarrassing situation by my friends. It looked like there were over a hundred people in the audience.
I took a seat next to Mo and watched as Natalie finished up her segment.
“So that’s the low down on vagina angina,” Natalie told the audience. “Just remember when you’re tense or in need of a little relaxin’, a great way to spend a Saturday night is with the muffler.”
I turned to Mo. “What’s a muffler?”
Mo looked at me like I’d just arrived on the planet from Mars. “You gotta be kidding me?”
I shook my head. “Never heard of it.”
She shook her big head slowly, her long red wig brushing against her shoulders. “I’m gonna make you stay after class, do detention with Dr. Ludmilla. You’re about as close to sexually hopeless as anyone I ever seen.”
My shoulder’s sagged. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
My segment of the class on dating safety took about forty-five minutes and went better than I’d expected. The audience, consisting mostly of women, was responsive and asked lots of good questions. Half way through my presentation I saw Brian Hamlin come in. The handsome yoga instructor took a seat near the back of the classroom. As I was finishing up my presentation someone else walked in.
I left the stage as Mo put her hands on her wide hips and confronted Nana and three of her elderly friends. “Whatcha all doing here? I told you this class is off limits.”
“Relax,” Nana said, exposing her large teeth. “We just wanna hear Dr. Ludmilla’s segment, then we’ll go. Some of my friends are a little out of practice and thought her session might be a good refresher.” She smiled, her Leo’s gleaming in the overhead lights. “Not that I personally need any help in that department.”
Mo did a giant eye roll. “You can sit in the back row but I don’t wanna hear one word out of any of you.” She wagged a finger and lowered her voice, maybe trying to avoid a scene. “Any of you cause trouble and I’m calling security, having you escorted out.”
“We’ll be quiet as a bunch of virgins in church,” Nana said. She and her gaggle of elderly girlfriends giggled and wandered off.
I walked over to where some of the class attendees were having refreshments as Natalie made the announcement that Dr. Ludmilla’s session would begin in about ten minutes. I was pouring myself some punch when I heard a man’s voice behind me.
“The next time I go on a date I’m bringing my pepper spray and handcuffs.”
I turned and saw Brian Hamlin smiling at me. He was casually dressed in kakis and an open collared blue shirt. His sandy hair was tousled, giving him a boyish appearance.
I grinned at him and said, “It’s always good to be prepared, you never know when someone is going to try and take advantage of you.”
He chuckled. “I enjoyed your talk. I think the information you provided should be helpful to a lot of women, and maybe a few men.”
“I hope so.” I looked around the room as the audience milled about. Prissy was in a corner of the room chatting with several people about his bondage display from an earlier class segment. I found Brian’s eyes again. “You never know quite what to expect with my friends in charge of something like this.”
“They are a little unpredictable,” he said. “I understand you’re all roommates.”
I nodded. “It’s a temporary arrangement.” I thought about Nana’s new boyfriend. “I’m not sure how much longer I can take living with Elvis.” Brian gave me a questioning look and I told him about my new roommate.
His brows went up and he laughed. “I guess living with a rock star isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” He excused himself for a moment, got some punch, and then came back over to me to me. “I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me this Saturday night? We could meet at the Cat and Fiddle. They have a nice patio area.” His lips turned up. “I promise I’ll practice safe dating, follow all your advice.”
I smiled, thinking that maybe my earlier feelings of dread over the night’s events had been misplaced. “I’ve got the spray and cuffs if you’re not nice to me.”
His grin grew wider, his eyes holding on mine for a moment. I felt something flutter in my chest. “I’ll take my chances.”
We took a seat and chatted about the details of our upcoming date for a few minutes before Dr. Ludmilla was introduced to the audience by Natalie and Mo. I learned that the Russian sex expert had written several books and had studied at something called the Gorski Institute of Human Sexuality.
As my friends talked about the doctor’s background, the makeshift curtain behind them partially opened and Tex walked out. I couldn’t see what he’d been working on but he’d apparently finished his preparation
s. He took a seat near the makeshift stage. I felt anxious, contemplating what might follow.
Natalie and Mo completed their introduction and left the stage. The audience clapped and the Russian sex-expert began her presentation.
“Human sex-u-al-it-tee offers many avenues to pleasure. Tonight we are go-ink to be talk-ink about how to give oral gra-tee-fa-ka-shun to a man. Most of you are prob-a-blee suffer-ink from stupid mouth. I will fix you.”
I glanced over at Brian Hamlin and my mouth fell open. I realized that was probably not the best reaction given the circumstances and quickly closed it. Brian just shrugged at me and smiled.
Dr. Ludmilla went on. “Miss. Natalie’s boyfriend, Tex, has made invent-shun for me.” She motioned to the curtain and nodded to Mo. “Tonight we are having spec-e-all guest. His name is Mr. Johnson.”
Mo pulled a rope and the curtain swung back. There was a loud gasp from the audience. I’m not sure whether their reaction was one of horror or amusement, as Tex’s Project J was revealed.
A remarkably life-like man was sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair. He had brown hair, a solid build, and a bemused look on his face, maybe because he was enjoying the audience’s reaction. Mr. Johnson, Tex’s sex-doll, was completely nude.
The stunned audience began to stir, maybe realizing for the first time that Mr. Johnson wasn’t real. Then the anxious laughter began, rippling through the crowd until it became a roar of approval and anticipation.
I saw that the robot’s inventor, Tex, had moved his chair up to the corner of the stage. He had a remote control which he pointed at his invention. His creation suddenly stood up. There was another burst of nervous laughter as Mr. Johnson’s considerable assets were exposed to the world.
From somewhere at the back of the room I heard a voice. It sounded remarkably like Willie Nelson. “He’s got a sausage as big as the wiener-mobile, Alice. I’d like to take that out for a test drive.”
The audience roared with laughter as Mo turned, glaring at Nana, and holding a finger up to her lips.
Dr. Ludmilla went on, “Before I begin demo-stra-shun, Mr. Johnson needs to be in a state of sex-u-al arousal.” She nodded to Tex who began working the remote control again.
I turned, looking at Brian, my mouth again falling open. Before I could close it, the audience’s laughter drew my attention back to the stage.
The scene that unfolded next can best be described as a sexual riot. As Tex hit the remote and commanded Mr. Johnson’s Johnson to defy gravity, Dr. Frankenstein’s invention rebelled. The stunned audience watched in fascination, or maybe horror, as the robot’s member rose up for a moment and then began to smoke.
From the back of the room, I heard Nana’s unmistakable voice call out again. “Somebody should have told him you’re not supposed to smoke until after sex.”
There was another ripple of laughter, but the scene suddenly went from bad to worse. Tex hit the remote control several more times, but this time his invention burst into flames. Fire shot out of Mr. Johnson’s once grand member and smoke rose up from his backside.
“Fire,” I heard Nana yell from behind us. “His pecker’s like a giant flame-thrower. He’s gonna burn this place down. Run for your lives!”
As a stampede for the exits began, I ran over and found a fire extinguisher attached to the wall. I worked my way back through the panicked audience.
A moment later I was standing on the stage with Mr. Johnson. I aimed my extinguisher at his flaming penis and doused it. When I was finished, Tex’s robot’s now flaccid, smoking member looked like something that had been left on the barbeque too long.
Natalie and Mo came over as Dr. Ludmilla and Tex examined what was left of their once grand creation.
“There must have been a short circuit in the wiring,” Tex said.
“Maybe I should be change-ink name of class to erec-tile dys-fun-shun,” Dr. Ludmilla said, trying to make light of a bad situation.
“I gotta hand it to you,” Mo said to me. “You sure know how to put out a fire in a guy’s loins.”
I looked at the smoking Mr. Johnson and nodded. “I guess maybe that’s the story of my life.”
“I got it,” I heard Nana saying from behind me. “I downloaded everything right to my Facebook Page and YouTube.”
“What?” I said, coming over and examining the screen on her phone. I saw the horrifying video of me bending down in front of Mr. Johnson’s withered, smoking penis. The images of me deflating his once grand member with my fire extinguisher had been captured for the world to see.
“You’re gonna be famous, Kate,” Natalie said, patting me on the back. “Betcha this will be picked up by all the networks, maybe even be on the eleven o’clock news tonight.”
“I can hear the news anchor now,” Mo said, doing an imitation of a reporter’s deep voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight a homicide cop in Los Angeles went berserk and killed Mr. Johnson. They’re calling her the notorious cock-killer.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
When I got home from class I headed straight for the Chica Loca and a box of Fugs. I’d managed to get the video of me dousing Mr. Johnson’s Johnson removed from YouTube and Nana’s Facebook page, but I was afraid the damage had already been done.
All I needed was for one of those entertainment TV shows to get ahold of the images and I’d never be able to show my face again. I contemplated changing my name. Maybe I could move to a remote island with Bernie. We would be fine until someone recognized me and I ended up on the cover of a tabloid under the headline, Cock-killer Spotted in Borneo.
“I heard what happened,” Elvis said, sauntering into the family room. Somewhere behind him a door slammed. I heard Natalie and Mo coming down the hallway as they said something to Nana.
“It was a pretty humiliating experience,” I said to Elvis, taking a big gulp of Tex’s elixir.
“Maybe we should form a suicide pact,” he said. “We could drink the Kool-Aid together.
I imagined a scene of me and Elvis holding hands, our bodies writhing on the ground as the grape flavored poison worked its way through our veins. “If things get bad enough I just might take you up on the offer.”
“Oh, get over it,” Nana said, coming into the family room and overhearing the end of our conversation. She bent down and kissed Elvis on the cheek leaving a big red lipstick mark. She looked over at me again. “Do you know how many people would kill for the fame you could have had?” She put her hands on her skinny hips. “You coulda been somebody.”
“Kate’s already somebody,” Natalie said, coming over from the kitchen. “Besides she’s gotta live to catch her father’s killer.”
“Speaking of th…that,” I said, already slurring my words. “What have you and Mo heard around the studio?”
Mo took a seat on the sofa across from me. “Natalie and me got an appointment with that porn star tomorrow night. We’ll let you know how it goes.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “You’re really down about what happened tonight, aren’t you?”
I hissed out a long breath, probably sounding like a sex doll deflating. “It’s not just what happened at the class, I think maybe it’s everything that’s happened to me lately.”
Natalie sat down beside me and gave me a hug. “Things aren’t so bad, sweet pea.”
The Chica Loca was now really working in my system and I gave in to a full blown pity party. “Why yes, things are just great. I’m divorced. Two men dumped me in the past year. I’m broke. My hair is a disaster with its own zip code. My cases at work are circling a black hole. My mother’s dating a new age freakazoid. My father was murdered and his killer got away with it. My birthmother is brain dead. And I could be a YouTube sensation by morning for deflating a giant smoking penis.” I popped a Fug into my mouth and looked over at Elvis. “Where’s the Kool-Aid?”
“It could be worse,” Natalie said. “At least you don’t have some horrible bacteria that eats you alive.”
Tex came over from the kitchen. Dr.
Frankenstein appeared to have fully recovered from having created a man who had burned alive earlier in the evening. “Given Kate’s emotional state,” Tex said, “it is possible that her body’s resistance to infection has been compromised. Necrotizing Fasciitis is gruesome, especially when it attacks a compromised immune system. I heard of a case recently where the victim was literally eaten alive from the inside out within forty-eight hours.”
I stood up, went over, and grabbed my car keys off the counter. I tossed them to Elvis. “You drive. We’re buying all the rat poison and Kool-Aid the store has in stock.”
***
The next morning I was recovering from a headache that made me wonder if I had drank the Kool-Aid, just not enough to quite finish me off. Bernie and I were twenty minutes late for work.
I got Lieutenant Edna’s permission to take Pearl with me to talk to the Roses and tried to put last night’s disaster out of my mind. Charlie had made a play to go with us, but I told him three would be a crowd. He was irritated with me, but after his comment about me not being his type I didn’t care.
On the way to Flo’s sister’s house in Pasadena, I told Pearl my concerns about the meeting. “First they lose a daughter, then get news about her miscarriage, and now Jezzie’s legacy as an athlete could be tarnished.”
A half smile found his lips. “What’d you say before about sometimes being glad that you’re not a parent?”
We had reached the Pasadena city limits where I pulled off the freeway. “I doubt that’s ever going to happen.” I then remembered something he’d told me a couple of days earlier. “Your daughter—you said to remind you sometime to ask about her.”
“Her name is Barbara,” Pearl said, his face lighting up. “When she was born Millie and I thought we’d received the most precious gift imaginable. She was bright, intelligent, and, even as a toddler, loved books.”