Death Grip

by Elaine Viets

  ‘Another girl told me to always take a selfie first thing and send it to myself when I’m with a client – to prove I’m at his house and OK. So I usually go into the bathroom and check out the prescriptions and pick some with the john’s name on it. This Randy dude had two prescriptions: one was bright red pills and the other was some kinda nose spray.’

  We saw a photo of LeeAnn smiling and holding the two prescriptions. She wore heavy make-up on her smooth, pale skin, though I didn’t think she needed it, and a silky pink tank top the same color as her hair.

  Katie enlarged the photo for a closer look at the prescriptions. ‘The red pills are desloratadine and the nasal spray is azelastine, a prescription nasal antihistamine spray,’ she said. ‘You can see his name here: Briggs Bellerive.’

  ‘I thought that was some kinda nickname,’ LeeAnn said.

  LeeAnn showed us the photos she took right after the beating, and they were worse than her description. Her neck was painful to look at. It was streaked with fresh blood and the new bruises ranged from a pale pink to bright red. In two days, they’d changed colors ranging from a fearsome magenta to violet to lilac. The string had left a raw, bloody gash.

  She’d taken a selfie that showed the beating she’d survived – bruised breasts with big red marks, an ugly shoe-shaped new bruise on her right hip and another on her ribs. She was naked, except for black panties, but there was nothing erotic about this photo. It was a portrait of pain.

  ‘I’m surprised you didn’t have any broken bones,’ Katie said.

  ‘Me, too, but I sure hurt a lot.’

  LeeAnn had also photographed the bed, with its elaborately carved and gilded headboard. The gold sheets were rumpled and streaked with blood. She also photographed a length of green string, stained with blood, coiled in a wastebasket by the bed.

  ‘No wonder Briggs never let his housekeeper clean his room after one of his evenings on the prowl,’ I said. ‘He couldn’t let her see the blood.’

  LeeAnn also showed us the photos she took of Briggs’s bedroom.

  Katie thumbed through them. ‘You’re right, LeeAnn,’ she said. ‘This room does look like a museum exhibit. It’s all for show. There’s not a single personal item in here – not a book or a photograph of his girlfriend or his mother.’

  ‘Oh, that photo is in his walk-in closet,’ LeeAnn said, and showed us that area. ‘He’s got a whole room just for his suits and shoes. Have you ever seen so many clothes for a man? It looks like a department store. There, on that chest, is a photograph of him in a tux with a real pretty blonde lady in a long black dress.’ I suspected she was the international model, Desiree Gale.

  ‘I took this photo,’ she said.

  LeeAnn’s face was tear-stained and her pink hair looked like straw. LeeAnn held the photo of Briggs and his lady-friend close to her bloody face and neck, and snapped the picture.

  ‘That’s definitely proof,’ I said.

  ‘What happened after you got dressed?’ Katie asked.

  ‘I took a bunch of photos and then he came out of the bathroom wearing a robe. He had a bandage on his hand and a mean look on his face. “I’ve called the Uber for you,” he said. “Take the stairs, turn left and keep going until you reach the kitchen. Tony will pick you up back there. He drives a white Cadillac Escalade.”

  ‘I nodded and tried to get past him. Randy grabbed my arm, squeezed it until I cried out from the pain and said, “And if you have any sense, you won’t tell anybody anything.” Then he laughed and said, “Not that they’d believe a worthless hayseed hooker like you.”

  ‘I made it downstairs. There were enough lights on, so I took more pictures.’ LeeAnn stopped to show us slightly out of focus photos of the massive foyer, dining room, hallway, and finally the kitchen, all on her phone.

  ‘They’re kinda blurry because I was crying and my hands were shaking,’ she said. ‘I stopped crying before Tony the Uber driver showed up. He picked me up in a brand-new Escalade. Here’s that photo.’

  ‘You can see part of the license plate,’ I said.

  ‘That’s good,’ Katie said. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘I didn’t talk much on the way home. I slept most of the next day. I’ve never ridden in so many fancy cars in one day, but I didn’t care. And I’m really sorry I went with that man for the money. I’ve lost a lot of work, thanks to him.’

  ‘Did you go to the hospital for your injuries?’ Katie asked.

  LeeAnn laughed. ‘This is the sticks. The closest hospital is fifty miles away and I ain’t got any insurance.’

  ‘Did you file a complaint with the police?’ Katie asked.

  LeeAnn stared at her, dumbfounded. ‘Didn’t I tell you what he said? He threatened me. He said I was a hayseed hooker. He’s obviously rich and important. If I went to the police, they’d want a freebie – at the very least a BJ.’

  ‘Not all of them,’ Katie said.

  ‘Maybe not in your world, but you’ve got money and you’ve been to college and you can get lawyers. Somebody like me can’t go up against a big shot in the Forest. You know what the last big city cop called me? A sidewalk stewardess! That’s a slightly nicer way of saying I’m a worthless hooker.’

  ‘Look, LeeAnn, you’ve obviously met some bad apples—’

  LeeAnn gave a snort that sounded like Hero. ‘Yeah, tell me about it. A whole barrel of them. Look, Katie, I’m a graduate of the school of hard knocks. Phi Beta Kappa, baby.’

  ‘I know a good lawyer,’ Katie said. ‘One who’s not afraid to go up against people like Briggs. And he lives in the Forest.’

  Uh, oh. Did Katie know what she was getting Monty into?

  Katie raced on ahead. ‘You can still file a complaint. Even if you’re a sex worker—’

  ‘I’m a hooker,’ LeeAnn said. ‘Doesn’t make what I do any different because you dress it up in pretty words.’

  ‘I don’t care what you call yourself,’ Katie said. ‘You should file a complaint against this Briggs. Even if you agreed to rough sex – and you say you didn’t – you still have the right to say “Enough! No More!” and he has to stop.

  ‘And you have the photos to document what happened. You could go to the cops and show them your photos and swear out a complaint. You’re a victim of assault and you’ve got information. Then they could arrest him.’

  ‘So? He’ll get his lawyers to get him out of trouble and he’ll come looking for me,’ LeeAnn said. ‘And if he kills me, nobody cares about a dead hooker. I know. One of my friends disappeared two years ago after she got into a car with a john. I reported her missing and nobody did anything.’

  ‘What was her name?’ Katie asked.

  ‘Paisley,’ she said. ‘Paisley Parker. She was eighteen.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Katie said.

  ‘Yeah. That’s life. You’re a nice lady, Katie, but what I’m trying to tell you is you’re high up and I’m down low and there’s no way you can raise someone like me to your level.’

  ‘OK, I get what you’re saying,’ Katie said. ‘But I want to make you a deal. Will you sell me your photos?’

  ‘You can have them for free,’ LeeAnn said. ‘You’ve been so nice to me.’

  Katie put a hundred dollars in tens on the table. ‘You’ve got to do a couple of things before you can have that money,’ she said. ‘First, I want you to send me those photos. All of them.’

  Katie gave LeeAnn the number to text. She waited a few minutes until the photos came in on her phone. ‘OK, got them. Now what’s your name? Your real name, not your trick name.’

  ‘LeeAnn’s my name,’ the young woman said. ‘Last name is Higgs. LeeAnn Sadie Higgs.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Katie said. ‘Last thing. Text me your address. Your real address. I’ll know if you make one up.’

  Katie waited for the ping on her cell phone, checked the text message, then handed LeeAnn the hundred dollars. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘This will help big-time.’

  Sandie came back with a warm smile
to clear away the remaining dishes. ‘Anything else I can get you ladies?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Katie said. ‘My friend would like to order lunch to go. What kind of sandwich do you want, LeeAnn?’

  ‘I’d like ham and cheese on white bread,’ she said. ‘And chips and a pickle.’

  ‘Throw in a piece of that lemon meringue pie while you’re at it,’ Katie said. ‘Then bring me the check, please.’

  ‘I do appreciate your help,’ LeeAnn said, ‘and the extra food.’

  ‘You deserve it,’ Katie said. ‘Hang onto your phone, will you? I may need it for my court case.’

  ‘Anything you want,’ LeeAnn said.

  Sandie was back with the to-go order and the check.

  ‘Thank you, ladies,’ LeeAnn said. ‘Now I need to go home and get some sleep.’

  From our window, we watched LeeAnn make her way across the brightly lit parking lot to her old beater of a car. Her long pink hair blew in the wind like the banner of a defeated army.

  ‘She doesn’t know it yet,’ Katie said, ‘but she’s going to help us nail that SOB.’

  THIRTY-FOUR

  I gathered up my purse and stood up, abandoning that comfy diner booth. Before I could leave, Katie said, ‘Sit back down, Angela. I’m going to call Jace.’

  ‘Now? It’s three in the morning.’

  ‘Right. And we’re both hopped up on high-octane black coffee. With all that caffeine, we won’t be able to sleep for hours. I bet you Jace is still working. We might as well meet here. It’s a safe place. I guarantee nobody from the Forest will be in a truck stop diner in Harland, Missouri at three a.m.’

  Katie dialed the detective’s cell phone and put her phone on speaker so I could listen.

  Jace answered on the second ring. ‘Katie?’ he said. ‘What’s happening?’ I could hear Waylon Jennings singing ‘Honkytonk Angels’ in the background.

  ‘We caught a break,’ she said. ‘With photos.’

  ‘Hot damn!’ he said, raising his voice. ‘I’ve been getting nowhere fast.’

  ‘Where are you?’ Katie asked.

  ‘An after-hours joint in Jefferson County. I’m the only sober one in here.’

  ‘We’re sitting in the diner at the turn-off to Harland. Come join us for a meeting.’

  ‘Does the diner have country music?’ he asked.

  ‘No, just Muzak. I’m listening to a blanderized “Strawberry Fields Forever.”’

  ‘Just so the songs don’t mention Mama, the Bible and cheating hearts,’ he said.

  ‘No chance. And I promise the pie and pancakes are good and the coffee is outstanding.’

  ‘I’ll be there in thirty minutes,’ he said. ‘I’m starved. Have the coffee ready.’

  Katie waved over our server Sandie, and told her we’d be expecting someone else. She wiped down the table in our booth, reset it with clean napkins and utensils, and brought us fresh water glasses and coffee cups.

  ‘You ladies enjoy your coffee,’ she said. ‘I’m waitressing until six a.m.’

  Jace made it to the diner in twenty minutes, and he looked like the walking dead: dark circles under his eyes, beard stubble and an oily sheen to his pale skin. Sandie bustled over with a new insulated pot of hot coffee and took Jace’s order for the Long Haul Special: three eggs, three pancakes, hash browns, a T-bone steak and toast, all for $6.99.

  ‘You’re a brave man to order steak in here,’ I said.

  ‘I’m so hungry I could eat an old boot,’ he said, and poured himself more coffee.

  Jace’s food arrived shortly. The fried T-bone covered the whole platter, and the eggs and hash browns were piled on top. The stack of pancakes got a separate plate. Katie and I moved our water glasses to make room for all his food.

  Jace dug in, first breaking the yolks on his sunny-side-up eggs so they coated the hash browns, then eating his way through the greasy, glorious mess, until he got to the steak. He wrestled with it on the plate like he was trying to cuff an unruly suspect, but finally managed to subdue it and eat it.

  ‘How was your steak?’ I asked.

  ‘It was a good boot,’ he said, and grinned at me. ‘It fought back, but it had real flavor.’ He took a long drink of coffee, then started covering his pancakes with syrup. I gathered they were dessert.

  Katie and I waited until he’d finished the pancakes and downed at least two more cups of coffee. His color was better and he seemed a bit less tired. He crunched toast drenched in butter while Katie told him who we’d found at Earl’s Alibi Room.

  Katie vividly described LeeAnn’s terrifying encounter with ‘Randy,’ aka Briggs Bellerive, and how he strangled her with his hands and with garden string. Then she showed him the photos of the badly beaten woman.

  He winced when he went through the gallery, spotlighting LeeAnn’s wounds, the blood-streaked bed, and the bright purple bruises on her body.

  ‘That poor woman,’ he said. ‘It hurts to look at her. She sure was smart to photograph herself inside his house before and after he beat her up.’

  ‘She says a lot of working girls are using their cell phones for protection – and sometimes blackmail,’ Katie said.

  ‘Is there a name for what that slimewad did to LeeAnn? It’s not auto-erotic strangulation, is it?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Katie said. ‘That’s when people get off by strangling themselves. Mostly young men – teenagers – go in for that. “Auto-erotic” is a fancy word for jacking off alone. Some of those kids wind up accidentally killing themselves. We’ve had a case or two in the Forest. Most parents do everything they can to cover up why young Chumley was found hanging in his closet with a porn site on his iPhone, his pants undone, and his pecker out.’

  Jace and I were both embarrassed by Katie’s frank language. Jace stared down at his picked-clean steak bone as if studying it for secret messages. I looked around to make sure that Sandie, our server in the sweet pink frock, couldn’t hear this conversation. Fortunately, she was ringing up a trucker’s bill at the cash register near the door.

  Katie didn’t notice our unease. She was in full lecture mode.

  ‘Auto-erotic strangulation is one version of EA, or erotic asphyxiation,’ she said. ‘It’s also called breath play. Briggs is engaging in a warped version of it. Breath play is a kink that’s getting popular. During sex, a person cuts off their partner’s air by choking or suffocating them, even putting a bag over their head. It’s damn risky.’

  ‘Why would someone do that?’ I asked.

  ‘The people who do it say it heightens sexual arousal and makes their orgasms more intense.’

  I must have blushed, and this time Katie noticed. ‘Don’t look so shocked, Angela,’ she said. ‘I saw a study – a legit one – that said one in five Americans were into some kind of kinky sex – spanking, tying each other up, breath play – to name a few. You’d be surprised how many people have tried something kinky and liked it. Fifty Shades of Grey has livened up a lot of suburban bedrooms. You can find all kinds of sex play tutorials and advice online, including a “Beginner’s Guide to Kinky Sex, Health Benefits and Rules.”’

  ‘What health benefits?’ I said.

  ‘I’m not kidding,’ Katie said. ‘There are serious studies that say if your average Joe and Jane do some consensual kink, their psychological health is above average.’

  ‘Yeah, LeeAnn can tell you all about those health benefits,’ Jace said. He made a sour face and poured himself more coffee. If he kept drinking caffeine at that rate, he’d soon be buzzing like the neon beer sign at Earl’s Alibi.

  ‘You’re missing the point, Jace. The key word is “consensual,”’ Katie said. ‘Briggs never asked LeeAnn for permission to strangle her, and he sure didn’t care about her enjoyment. You’re supposed to discuss each stage of breath play. Partners need a “safe word” or signal, if the action gets too scary. It’s about trusting your partner.

  ‘That douchebag Briggs got off on his power and LeeAnn’s pain,’ she said. ‘What he did
was damn dangerous, and he nearly killed her. She could have had brain damage, a heart attack and other complications.’

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ Jace said. ‘I’ll bet my next paycheck that Briggs never strangled his girlfriend, that big deal model.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘LeeAnn told us her bruises “really cut into my business.” Desiree wouldn’t stand for that.’

  ‘Briggs uses poor country hookers like LeeAnn because they’re disposable,’ Jace said. ‘If LeeAnn disappeared tomorrow, how many people would care? Would anyone go looking for her?’

  We all knew the answer to that question.

  Jace gave a quick report. ‘My night was a total waste of time. I went to all three bars. In the first one, they spotted me as a cop and I didn’t learn a thing. In the second, they said they’d never seen Briggs or anyone like him and I thought they were telling the truth. At the third, a bartender said that a hooker who hung around there might have been with Briggs. She came in at two-thirty and told me, “I never seen hide nor hair of anyone like that here,” but she’d heard about some girls getting hurt bad by a freak. She gave me the name of a couple of bars, but it was three o’clock and you called.’

  I poured more coffee and said, ‘Back to LeeAnn. Can she file assault charges against Briggs?’

  ‘The delay goes against her,’ Jace said, ‘but that can be easily explained. If it hadn’t happened in the Forest, LeeAnn could go to the cops, and they would jump on it and turn her into a victim of assault so that we could arrest the bastard. Except I have orders to stay away from Briggs.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ Katie asked.

  ‘I need a timeline, Katie. When are we supposed to get word on the bodies in the woods? I’m thinking those women might have been Briggs’s failures. He strangled them for kicks and killed them.’

  ‘We should know something by the end of this week,’ Katie said.

  ‘Then that’s it. If there’s no evidence that nails Briggs, I’ll use LeeAnn to go after him.’

  ‘That’s very noble, but what about your job?’ Katie said. ‘Defy a direct order by the chief and you’ll be fired. You have a family: a wife and a little boy.’