by Nikki Sex
Detective Martin said, "Mr. Taylor can you tell me where you were about a week ago, between midnight and five a.m. on Sunday morning, April 7th?"
John was experiencing a momentary mental fog. Maria Christina Lopez, had been a friend, and a confidant, and she had helped him, and now she was dead.
Maria, he thought. I'm so sorry. Was your death my fault?
"Mr. Taylor?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I asked where you were about a week ago, between midnight and five a.m. on Sunday morning, April 7th?"
"In my home."
Martin's dark eyes were bright with interest as he leaned slightly forward and asked. "Can anyone substantiate that?"
John's first thought was for Kelly. Maria was dead, he would put that aside and deal with that later. Kelly had been with him all that night. But did he really want to get Kelly involved in this? Out of his depth, John decided he needed professional advice. There was no question in his mind that these detectives considered him a suspect in Maria's murder.
"I believe, Detective Martin, that I should seek the advice of counsel at this point," John said. "Do you have any objection if I call my lawyer?"
Detective Martin rolled his shoulder's, in a loosening manner, leaned back in his chair, and inhaled deeply. "Fine," he said. "You do that."
John told the two detectives to make themselves at home. Then he went into his bedroom, shut the door, and called his lawyer.
The firm who represented him didn't manage criminal cases, but knew a reputable firm that did. John instructed his lawyer, Marion Segal, to arrange everything. He explained that he had an alibi for the time of the murder, but as Kelly Flynn would be considered a hostile witness, John wanted a professional to help her through the statement giving process.
The next consideration was Kelly's safety. John instructed his lawyer to get a 24 hour guard arranged for Kelly – the best there was, at any cost. If someone started by spray painting his home, then moved to vandalizing his car, and ended up killing his psychologist, they were clearly escalating and Kelly could be in danger.
The final priority was that he didn’t intend to drag his BDSM Club into this, so he didn’t want Kelly to mention where they had met up Saturday night. John knew that Kelly wanted her sexual kinks to remain confidential so it was important that she tell only what was required and did not offer more information. His lawyer would help her there.
Ever since John began the BDSM enterprise, he had kept his own life separate from the Basement – not for his safety, but for the club's protection. John didn’t want his father to know that he owned it - particularly as they had already rejected his father's membership application twice.
With a long term uneasy truce with his powerful and dangerous father, John was naturally paranoid and security conscious, so he never kept anything related to the Club in his house. The money trail showed that he owned the building, but that was an investment. John had bought the building in order to create a safe place for the Club, but no one knew that.
John instructed his lawyer to call the Club Manager, Colin Wilkins, to apprise him of the circumstances. If Colin wanted to contact him, then he would have to go through his law firm. From now on, until this crime was solved, John would be on lock down and nowhere near the Basement. Colin could easily manage without him.
With the phone to his ear, John opened the door to the kitchen area, and despite his grief and tension he almost laughed out loud. The two detectives had clearly been arguing. Lucille Irwin looked as though she had been eating lemons. Lorenzo Martin was worked up enough to jump into a boxing ring and utterly destroy the crowd favorite.
"My lawyer is asking if I am going down to the station with you?" he asked.
"Yes," Lorenzo growled.
John relayed this information to his lawyer. And then, to his complete surprise, a number of cops arrived on his doorstep.
With a search warrant.
14. Lucille's Crusade
Lucille drove into the driveway of the elegant Flynn home in her own car and while off the clock from work.
Why is everyone so blind? She wondered. Why can't they see what kind of man John Taylor is?
It was early Wednesday morning, two days after executing the search warrant on John Taylor's lair. That evil man! Who reads books like, "Screw the Roses, Send Me The Thorns?" Not to mention the numerous quotes he had from the infamous sadist, the Marquis de Sade? His lawyer explained that Taylor was studying an ethics and religion course, and questions like that were not relevant in any case.
Not relevant? The man was a wicked sadistic murderer, and he had been let off - all because of an impressionable young woman.
All the evidence from searching Taylor's home proved that John Taylor had killed Professor Maria Christina Lopez. There had been so much proof, all carefully hidden in the garage. Items from the victim's home, the woman's purse, the gasoline cans. Sure there were no fingerprints, but the man had obviously used gloves. Then there was his psychological profile and his violent and utterly disgusting history. Yet the evil bastard had an alibi from Kelly Flynn, a twenty-four year old woman who was no doubt guilty of perjury. That was no surprise.
What woman hadn't been brainless and stupid when in they were in love?
Lucille got out of the car, carrying the file on John Taylor. That asshole was impossibly attractive - there was no question about that. Kelly Flynn wouldn't have a chance against a handsome, inhuman, manipulative sociopathic monster like him.
As she mounted the steps and knocked on the door, Lucille reflected that she was breaking a number of privacy laws by doing what she planned. Yet her conscience was clear.
The door opened and Lucille met Kelly's parents. The mother was a graceful stunner with her black hair, deep blue eyes and pale skin. Elegantly dressed in a peach silk sheath dress, with pearls and an open toe high heel, she looked like she was about to dine at the White House. The father gave a genial impression with his stocky build, orange hair and pale blue eyes. He was wearing equally expensive, yet more casual clothes.
"Detective Irwin?" Kelly's mother held out one slim hand. "How do you do?"
Mr. Flynn also shook her hand and then added, "You said you wanted to see us on a matter of some importance?"
"Yes."
"Come with us into the study," he said. "We can be comfortable there."
Lucille Irwin followed them into a gracious and welcoming room, filled with books, leather chairs, expensive paintings and Oriental rugs. They all sat down, and Lucille told them about the recent murder, and how the police felt that they were certain of the perpetrator. However, there had been the issue of an unbreakable alibi.
"I'm sorry," Mr. Flynn said. "I can't see how this has anything to do with us. How can we help you?
Lucille then showed the Flynn's John Taylor's file. They, of course, knew nothing about how their daughter had been acting as an alibi for the man, and they were shocked to hear it. Kelly had given a statement saying that she was alone at John Taylor's home with him from midnight and five a.m. on Sunday morning, April 7th and this was also deeply disturbing, of course.
Lucille explained that all the evidence pointed to John Taylor as the murderer, and how she felt certain that Kelly was lying to the police to protect him.
The file was shocking enough. John Taylor had an extensive psychiatric history. Right from a child he had been difficult: Breaking another child's arm at school, torturing hundreds of animals, being unmanageable and violent at home. Taylor's parent's, frightened for their life, had thrown him out of the house at age thirteen.
Three childhood psychiatrists had diagnosed John Taylor with "Conduct disorder." This was a disorder of childhood and adolescence that involves long-term behavior problems such as defiant or impulsive behavior, drug use and criminal activity. In Taylor's case, he had been using and selling hard drugs. Statements written included the fact that John Taylor was an "anti-social personality" and was "manipulative and capable of violence and per
haps even murder."
Taylor's early offenses had been locked away and could not be used in evidence. Yet Lucille had felt that if she were Kelly's parents, she would have wanted to know what was going on.
Mrs. Flynn, alarmed and indignant, confided to Lucille that she "had always known there was something wrong with John Taylor." She made numerous statements such as "I knew it from the first, didn't I, Rodney? I told you!"
Wearing jeans and a T shirt, with her hair back in a pony tail, Kelly arrived about an hour after Lucille had, walking into the study with a broad smile and a cheerful, "Hey, what's up? Is everything okay? From the message I got I was worried that the house was on fire." When she saw Lucille, she visibly paled.
"Kelly," her mother said. "We have to talk to you about John Taylor."
"Marguerite," her father said. "Let me handle this. Come here, Kelly honey."
Lucille watched as Kelly's father showed her the file, and explained how Taylor was a charming, handsome man, but it seemed that they had all been fooled as he was actually dangerous and manipulative. Kelly, Lucille was glad to see, listened carefully to everything that her father said. She asked to read the file on her own for a bit. With her back to them all, while sitting on the large brown leather davenport, she read through the folder.
"Thank you," Kelly said as she gave the file back to the detective. Lucille could see that Kelly was extremely shaken. God knows Lucille herself, an older and more experienced woman, had wanted to throw up.
"Now, darling," her father began. "Detective Irwin has come here wanting to know the truth. Were you really with Mr. Taylor between midnight and five a.m. on Sunday morning, April 7th?"
The young woman blushed. "Yes I was, Daddy."
There was an incredibly awkward silence, and then Mr. Flynn cleared his throat and said, "But were you asleep? Could he have slipped out at any time?"
Lucille had to hand it to the young woman. Even flushed with embarrassment, Kelly Flynn still met her father's eyes.
"Daddy," Kelly said. "John Taylor and I didn't sleep between the hours of midnight and five a.m. I was with him every single minute of that time."
Kelly's mother moaned, and her father, clenching his jaw, remained stoic.
"Silly, girl," Lucille burst out. "Why would you protect him? Can't you see what he is? Love is blind. He'll ruin you, Kelly. Don’t waste your life with an evil sadistic bastard like him!"
Kelly jumped to her feet. "I am not lying for John," she said with her light blue eyes flashing. "I don’t believe any of this stuff in this file. It's all lies! I was there when he broke that kids arm – there were three of them and he was attacked by older, bigger bullies. I don’t know why that falsehood is in this file, but I know John Taylor. He is a wonderful man and I am going to marry him!'
Lucille was shocked by the fury in Kelly's vehement reply, but before she could speak Kelly's mother cried out, "You will not marry him! I don’t care how much money he has. I forbid you to see him anymore. He is an evil man."
The arguments went back and forth with so many nasty things said on both sides. Lucille began to feel that she had made a serious mistake in coming to the Flynn's house.
One could not get someone to see unless they agreed to open their eyes. Kelly Flynn, like so many vulnerable young women everywhere, was choosing to be blind.
As Lucille let herself out of the house, she overheard Kelly screaming, "I won’t give him up! John is estranged from his parents. Well, now I am, too! I don't want to see either of you again until you accept that John is the one I love, and the man I'm going to marry."
God, Lucille thought, feeling a little guilty. I hope I didn’t make things worse. But what could be worse than being under the thumb of a manipulative, psychopathic killer?
15. Kelly Confronts John
Wednesday afternoon Kelly sat alone in her apartment in a weird and detached state of numb.
Kelly had a favorite chair. It was upholstered in corduroy fabric predominantly in various shades of green, with finer lines of red, white and yellow stripes, and a matching foot stool. She had bought it on impulse, and its ridiculous colors matched nothing else in her apartment, but something about that silly chair always cheered her up.
Not that it was able to cheer her up now.
Chamomile tea with honey was what she was drinking. It was supposed to be calming, but also hadn't worked yet. A knot had formed in her belly, a hard tangle of emotions and anxiety. The words from the police detective repeated in her mind. Can't you see what he is? Love is blind. He'll ruin you, Kelly. Don’t waste your life with an evil sadistic bastard like him!
How had that detective done it? How had she put so many grains of truth in those few hateful sentences? Because John was a sadist and love was blind, at least Kelly certainly had found it to be so.
There was too much that was going through her mind, and so she had called work and begged to be allowed the night off due to a 'personal crisis.' The Speed Dating coordinator job wasn't easy to replace, and Kelly hadn't given them much time, but her boss, Tammy, said she would fill in for her. Thank God.
Kelly took another sip, trying to 'be in the moment' and enjoy her tea. At least she had caught up on her sleep last night. John had told her that he rarely slept well. Was that because his conscience bothered him?
Her phone buzzed, letting her know that a text had arrived, and she put her favorite yellow primrose flower cup down on the teak side table to answer it. It was from John and it said: "R u going to tell me what's wrong?"
She instantly texted back: "Jesus are you psychic?"
"When it comes to you, yes," came the reply. And then: "I'm coming over. "
John would know that she hadn't gone to work perhaps, from speaking with her security detail, and he would have put two and two together.
Kelly spent her time while waiting for John while tidying up a few things, not that the place had been a mess. Being in love made her so happy that she didn’t need to sleep, hardly needed to eat, and she had boundless energy so her little apartment was immaculate. She was still in love, but she was confused and upset, too.
John buzzed and Kelly unlocked the apartment entry way. She unlocked her own door, too, but returned immediately back to curl her legs up under her, within the security of her favorite chair.
As John strode confidently through into her apartment, his authoritative eyes fastened on her, his gaze searching her face, noticing everything. Outside Kelly knew that she looked the same.
Inside she was different.
John shut the door and stood still with his arms at his sides.
Kelly just looked at him, aching to touch him, but the knot was still there, twisting in her gut and she felt uncertain. God, John was beautiful. Sooooo freaking beautiful with those dark intent eyes, his strong jaw, and thick wavy hair. What was it about his face? How could such pretty, almost feminine features look so masculine? Kelly was staring, once more ensnared by his dominant male energy. John simply took her breath away.
Kelly had been strong and angry and certain when with her parents, but later she had begun to distrust her own judgment. Lies! That police file was full of lies. Or was it? How had she come to doubt John?
"Come here to me, Kelly," he said, opening his arms wide.
Kelly hesitated.
John lowered his arms. "I see," he said. Then he went to the breakfast counter and leaned against it with his arms crossed.
There were long moments where neither said a thing.
John inhaled a deep, lung filling breath. "Kelly, I can see you are upset but you are going to want to think about how you're going to deal with it," he said with a dangerous edge to his voice. "No matter what has happened, you are still my sub. My respectful sub, remember?"
The recollection of living without John for a week stabbed her, and the pain of that memory snapped her out of her anxious mental fog.
"I remember, John. I'm sorry. I'm just a little freaked out right now."
John s
miled then, and his implacable, remote expression disappeared. "Good girl," he said. "Kelly, look at me." John waited until she had her eyes on him. "I am the same person I was yesterday, and the day before. I still love you. I still want to marry you. You are still the best thing that has ever happened to me. Whatever occurred this morning changes none of those things."
John stood up, straightening abruptly, and Kelly unconsciously flinched. He noticed, of course, and Kelly felt terrible, but right now he scared her. He walked to the couch a good ten feet away from the colorful chair she had curled up into, and sat down.
"Tell me what happened, Kelly."
It took a little while, but Kelly explained about the file and the detective who had come to see her parents. "So, I turned my back to them, John and I made a copy of your police record by taking pictures with the camera in my phone."
"You clever girl," John cried out and clapped his hands in admiration. "I should have known. Do you have any idea just how smart you are? Later, when you feel better, I'm going to reward your quick thinking in a more substantial way."
Kelly remained tense, still unable to uncurl from her chair. It was a sexual promise, and John's smile made her want to melt, but she simply couldn't unwind. The knot inside her was still there. The reports on him had totally freaked her out.
"Show me the pictures you took," John said. "I want to see what has you looking at me like I'm Frankenstein."
Kelly came and sat down next to John on the couch, and showed him each of the photos she had taken. The more she showed him, the happier it seemed to make him – except for the dead animals. No one could be cheerful over that. This unexpected joyful response loosened something inside that she had been holding tight.
"Why are you so happy?" she asked.
John smiled. "I had a full police record check four years ago, Kelly, when I was starting up the BDSM club. None of this stuff was in my police records back then, none of it. This is all juvenile stuff, and is supposed to be sealed. It was sealed. So who put it there? There is only one person who could have done it, my father. But why? It's a clear violation of our agreement. Isn't he afraid that I'll retaliate with the evidence of his abuse?"
