A Spill of Blood Ch. 07

The high gate was closed just as it had been the last time.

Nonchalantly bluffing my way in as if I knew nothing was the wrong move. Yeah, using the intercom would tell me if that gatekeeper who'd fobbed me off last time was there. But that wasn't worth losing surprise.

I gave it sixty–forty that the owner of that snooty voice wasn't in on who the Bertrams really were. Rachel Bertram had said that she gave the help time off when Richard came home. I had to gamble that was meant to keep them oblivious. And if they were oblivious, they probably weren't accomplices in whatever kept Sydney from answering her phone.

I drove past and parked down the street. I slid through a neighbor's property and down a path into the woods that backed the Bertrams' place. Daylight was fading and I glanced around to see if anyone was out for an inconvenient walk. Then I shimmied over the fence.

The metal palings were slick with the day's rain, and I cursed as I slipped. Only a quick grab saved me from inconveniently impaling myself on the sharp tips. My jacket wasn't so lucky, and I carefully worked it free before dropping down. I pushed through the thick, wet rhododendrons and azaleas that bordered the fence, getting more uncomfortable in the cold air as the moisture wicked through my clothes.

There was a Corvette in the driveway. Corvettes aren't cheap, and it could have been one of the Bertrams' cars. But it wasn't garaged, and it was an older model. Not old like a classic '55 V8 that would turn heads at a car show, but several years and a model or two back. It didn't seem the kind of thing the Bertrams would drive, but maybe it was something that a snooty voice would.

I shimmied through the bushes next to the house, getting close to the window that showed bright light behind a closed curtain. I pressed my ear to the glass.

"Okay, I'm heading out. I'll see you tomorrow." The voice was a lot less superciliousness when talking to, presumably, the mistress of the house. Lapdog indeed.

I considered my options quickly. I could let him go, unaware of my presence, and then figure out the next step. Or I could intercept him and take the keys I was sure he possessed. That would solve how to gain entry to the house. Rachel—aka Coco—wasn't going to open the door to me. She'd call the cops about an intruder and let them deal with it. So take the keys it was.

Lights flickered on one room farther toward the back of the house. I slid along through the bushes until I was right by the door closest to the driveway. With a little crouching, the ornamental yews that stood four feet tall shielded me from the sight of anyone emerging. He'd get down the steps and then I'd take him from behind.

The door opened and the man stepped out. He paused and that smooth, irritating tone was back. "Mr. Morgan." Then it dropped a half octave and roughened to become something else, something familiar. "I told you to walk away. You should have listened."

I heard a noise behind me. I whirled, but too late. Far too late. I had one glimpse of a face framed in long, dark hair, a face twisted in satisfaction.

"Gotcha," Rachel said.

My entire body erupted in agony as 50,000 volts from her taser coursed through it.

Tasers don't knock you out. So, something else must have been done to me during that first bit when I wasn't in control of my body. When things swam into focus, the first thing that impinged was that my body hurt ... a lot. The second was that I was in a room, not standing out in the shrubbery.

Those two pretty much consumed one hundred percent of my processing power for a few moments. Gradually, however, more brain cells came online. I realized I was slumped up against a wall. The floor under me was hard tile. The lack of windows suggested I was in a basement. My hands were fastened. I tried to look down, but couldn't as a collar around my throat jerked the movement short.

The sound of the chain jangling alerted the other occupant of the room.

"Back with us?" Rachel asked.

She moved into my field of view and looked down. "Good. I was getting impatient. Well ... not impatient, exactly, because I so love the anticipation. Maybe patiently impatient." Her giggle wasn't a pretty sound.

This was a different woman. The polished exterior was still there, but something else lurked behind it. Something brittle and febrile that showed through her glistening eyes and hungry smile. Something most of us only saw in psychological thriller movies.

"Coco," I said.

She nodded. "Yes, my alter ego. I do enjoy being her sometimes."

Her voice changed, dropped a quarter octave. "Hello, Mr. Morgan. Can I call you Harry? I'm so glad you came to the party. Is there anything I can do to help you ... relax?" The tone oozed husky promise. It was accompanied by a subtle change in posture, an almost imperceptible inhale that drew attention to her chest and a cock of her hips that suggested how she might help you relax.

Then the sultriness disappeared along with the pose. "That's all it takes to rope in some men, men like Charlie Everett. I make them feel special and give them a tiny bit of fun before passing them on to someone else. Coco's good at getting possible clients to take that last step and join us."

She settled onto a desk chair by a table and fiddled with a beach bag sitting on it.

"But mostly I leave clients to the others. What I'm really good at as Coco is the girls. The ones who are already whores... Only the best ones, you know, like Nikki or your girlfriend. I let them know how good Eroticos can be as an agency. They make us some money while they rake it in themselves. But what they really do for us is provide a good front as just another escort service.

"It's the ones who aren't in the business that I'm really good with, the pretty ones hungry for more than what they have. I can be their best friend or a mentor. I let them in on the secret of how wonderful it can be in America, working for Excelus Imports. I tell them they can start as interns and work their way up to a job that pays far more than what they're used to in those sweatshops.

"And they buy it, Harry. They buy every bit of it, and falling on their backs for a weekend of fun with us seems like the least they can do to repay us for the chance."

She shook her head at the world's gullibility.

"Of course, I don't mention to them that the job they'll work themselves up to once they're broken in is being a whore. Then we put them into Eroticos on the side that has fewer limits for those who can pay." Her gaze had gone distant as she described recruiting women. Now it came back to me. "That's the knack Coco has. I get them to show us what they really are underneath. Whores. For some reason, they always trust me."

"What an asset to the company," I said. I wasn't in full control of my voice, but I did manage the sarcasm. "Your husband was so lucky to bring you on board."

It was the wrong thing to say. Her face suffused with irritation. "He didn't bring me into this! It was both of us." Her hand closed over something else on the table that I couldn't see. I figured I wouldn't enjoy it, whatever it was, but she stopped herself. As quickly as the testiness had come, it fled. The word mercurial didn't even come close.

"But I suppose that's a natural assumption. Men run so much of this world, or at least, they think they do. And you've only met Anders so far."

I noted she didn't mention Regan; I guess the help was beneath notice. She looked at me earnestly.

"Richard and I started this together. We were in Kuala Lumpur on business, and there was this girl I took a fancy to. She wasn't very amenable to leaving with us, but Richard took care of that. He invited her along to enjoy the Perhentian beaches with us. Then he just had the plane fly to a small airstrip outside Manila instead of Kota Bahru. Problem solved."

My knowledge of Southeast Asian geography was sketchy, but I got the gist.

"And so you got your first employee for Eroticos."

"Oh, no," she said absently. "Aeni's no longer with us. That wasn't the point." A little chill went through me at the casual tone with which she dismissed that long-ago woman. "I gueeess"—she dragged it out—"you could say Richard started it because of that, but it wasn't business that time. It was just because he wanted to make me happy. The real business was my idea.

"When I saw how easy it was with private transportation, I suggested we make some money doing it. And then I definitely was the one who pointed out it wasn't just whores we could provide. A friend of ours was having labor troubles, and I got the idea we could solve them for him. So, we expanded.

"And then Richard realized that we couldn't handle the volume ourselves and brought in Anders. So, you see, it was really a joint idea between the two of us."

Yeah, you fucking bitch, I do see. I see that you're just as much a piece of shit as your husband.

"And then you came along and started causing problems. All because that idiot Jordan was careless and stupid. Over and over he ruined things."

There was real venom when she said his name. I remembered the image of his final moments and wasn't happy.

I felt the emptiness at my kidney where the P220 should have resided. I pushed with my feet and squirmed until I was leaning up against the wall. She didn't stop me. From that position, I couldn't see my pistol on the table. She'd probably stashed it somewhere else in the house where I couldn't get at it even if I lunged. As for lunging ... I reached my manacled hands up to the collar and chain. I fumbled with where the two connected.

"Oh, no," she said, laughing. "That end of the chain is permanently fastened to the collar, and the collar has a lock. The other end is hooked to that ring high on the wall with one of those screw-lock carabiners that climbers use. It'll take you a while to get your muscles to the point where you can stand, and even more time to open it, and by then, I'll have used this on you." She picked up the taser from the table. "When it's time to unhook you, Richard will come help me."

"Where is your psychopath husband?"

Her eyes tightened in anger again. She took a deep breath. "Please don't say impolite things about him. He's my husband, and you will be respectful. If you don't, I'll be forced to correct you, and you won't like that much. But to answer your question, he's busy right now. He's taken Gia into the bedroom." She gestured toward a door to the side. "He'll be a while, but he'll come back once he's finished."

The off-kilter grew more apparent. "That time at Jordan's party, we had fun with her, Richard and I. But it was just normal fun, if you know what I mean. But she didn't know her place in life, which is doing what she's told at parties like that. She meddled and came to you. And so, she brought all this on herself. So now we get to have better fun.

"She wasn't hard to get, you know. If it had been you, you'd have been suspicious about a sudden change of heart by me. That's why we had some papers that looked real in the mailbox, and Richard had some men who would follow you once you left to take care of things.

"But when I saw who was at the gate, I buzzed down. I told her I was afraid to be outside too long and she should come in quickly. She did it just like a lamb. She struggled a little when Richard came into the room, but he's quite strong, more than a match for a whore.

"As for you, I'm afraid we had you on the surveillance cameras from the moment you jumped our fence. You see, she had already told us where you were. When we heard your message, we realized where you must really be headed. So we watched."

I cursed myself for that. I should have stuck to the truth. It was just that Icaria was farther away than New Jersey, so I thought I was buying myself more time.

She tittered. "You've been looking for Richard, and yet you've talked to him more than once without realizing. He's quite good at voices, much like I am when I want to deceive the boys." The last was said with the Coco smoke to it. And then it disappeared as smoke did and was replaced by a warm friendliness that contrasted with her normal patrician reserve just as much. "Or the girls."

She enjoyed their thespian triumphs a moment longer. Then she grew serious again and leaned closer to study my face.

"He's already had her once by now, you know. She's probably worn out from the struggle, and that makes the rest easier. We've got some time because he doesn't just like their little whore pussies. I gave him a spider gag years ago for a present. He's not rough when he does it as long as they do what they're supposed to, but we can't have any biting. Just enough to get him ready again. After that, he'll save the last way until I get there. We share them, you see, both of us together for that third time, him behind, me in front. It's our little special something."

This nutjob was talking like they shared a favorite song.

"I'll need my toy for that. Do you want to see? I call it Jordie. After Jordan Regan, you know. That man was certainly blessed and the whores say his stamina was amazing. I'll tell you a secret since you won't tell anyone."

She leaned toward me like she was delivering some tender confidence instead of discussing brutality.

"Jordan was the only man who has ever made me even a little curious about someone other than Richard." She shook her head. "But no, I never did. I would never. It would upset Richard too much, and he is so accepting of my quirks. He doesn't mind me doing a little foreplay at a party to make the customers happy, but I'd never hang horns on him."

She giggled. "But it made me think Jordie was a good name."

She grabbed a handful of black nylon straps and lifted her toy out of the beach bag. The name must have been ironic. I'd seen Jordan Regan in all his glory months back when I'd interrupted his tête-à-tête with Natasha Sullivan. Yeah, he may have been blessed, but no, not like this. It wasn't only that Rachel's Jordie could cover a ruler and still give out change. She should have named it Louisville after the business end of a Slugger. I must have made some noise of disbelief.

"Oh, women can take it. We're not fragile like men. We're built for delivering babies, you know. We stretch." The glitter of madness was unmistakable. "She'll cry, of course. She'll cry and beg me to change my mind when she sees it. 'Please, I'll do anything,' she'll say. They do, you know, whores. You have no idea how frantically they'll work their little tongues to stave it off, hoping I lose interest in my toy. I like that, but Jordie is inevitable.

"Do you think you would still want her after, Harry? We're going to have you there, of course. After seeing her do all the things she'll do to appease me, do you think you'd still want her if you could have her?"

"It doesn't matter what I think. You're just going to kill her after, and then me."

"Oh!" She sounded disappointed. "You ... Oh dear. You're wrong. So so wrong." She leaned in again conspiratorially.

"You know, there's nothing in the world like the feeling ... the excitement ... of having someone sobbing and writhing under you, and knowing that they'd rather die than take one more second of it. It's god-like."

She met my eyes and her smile was beatific.

"And like a goddess, I'm going to grant her wish. I'm not going to kill her after. I'm going to kill her during. As soon as Richard is done and it's just me. Just like Aeni that first time and then one or two here and there. Like that whore, Sasha, who was with Jordan when we finally had had enough of his stupidity."

A fucking serial killer.

"And Kimi, I suppose?" I said defiantly.

"Oh no, not her. She was too valuable an asset, already trained and everything. She's down in a little place near Managua where she'll spend the rest of her life doing exactly what they tell her with whomever they bring to her bed. Though they use drugs to keep the whores in line down there, so maybe her life won't be that long." She shook her head. "She should have considered that Eroticos was not the worst place in the world.

"Besides, too many might draw attention somehow. And it might make it very ordinary, don't you think? No, usually it's a rare thing. Gia will be something unusual coming so soon after Sasha, a little extra treat forced on me by your actions."

Not only a serial killer, a serial killer with impulse control.

"And then it's going to be your turn, Harry." She smiled gently. "It'll only be me that time. Richard doesn't like it. He's a bit of a homophobe, my husband. But that's okay. He's perfectly happy to let me have my fun just like I let him have his fun with all the whores he wants. And Jordie is not homophobic."

She went still and stared fixedly at my face, as if searching for a reaction she could savor. The unblinking eyes reminded me of the reptile house in a zoo. "Have you ever had anal sex?" she asked unexpectedly. "On the receiving end, I mean."

When I didn't answer, anger passed over her face. She stooped down and grabbed my crotch and squeezed. "Answer me!"

"Unhh, no."

The soft smile came back immediately and the pressure eased. "Good. I like it when it's someone's first time. I promise I'll make you feel good. There are toys you'll love. Jordie's not for you. You have no idea how good it can be with something just the right size, a little vibration, some mild electrical current. It's one reason we have tile floors down here. Men tend to leave a mess if they're not inside a woman." She laughed. "They can't help it."

She read the denial.

"You can doubt, but you'll see. Coco's pretty talented. I told you that Richard doesn't mind me fooling around a little with another guy as long as I don't go all the way with them. Especially with some guy who'll pay for it later one way or another. Larry, Charlie, some others once or twice at parties, they paid by giving us so much of their money. Others, like Jordan, paid another way." The look was pure promise. "The same way you will. More than with the girls, I like it when it's a boy."

I remembered the figure slumped against a door, held upright only by the rope securing his wrists to the top. Jordan Regan would never again have been able to make a woman curious. I had avoided looking at the blood-soaked thighs with a nauseous feeling in my gut. Jordan's life hadn't flowed out through a slit in his carotid like Sasha's had.

"And even if I'm not up to the task ... do you know what I did before I met Richard? Of course you don't. Well, I was a nurse at a urologist's office." She picked up a small vial from beside the bag. "Papaverine, phentolamine, and a prostaglandin. That combination injected directly into the corpus spongiosum of your penis makes an erection almost inevitable. And this ..." She held up a small plastic bag. "This is a mixture that you definitely won't find in a doctor's office. It's somewhat like an H-bomb— Oh, do you know what that an H-bomb is?"

I stared at the bag silently. Seeing the look of anger reappear, I replied hastily before she grabbed me again, "Heroin-ecstasy mixture."

The creamy smile came back. "Very good. This is the best. We get it from our people over in Asia. I won't overdose you, I promise. Just a tinge to have you warm and fuzzy while I make you feel good but not enough to interfere.

"I can be so patient. If it takes me an hour to get you there, I'm okay with that. It'll feel like heaven for you, and then, in the blink of an eye, I'm going to take you from one end of sensation to the other. The power to do that, to have so much control over what someone feels ... it's ... it's ... like I said, it's god-like."