A Cincinnati Cold Case

by R. W. Nichols

  “Would you like to take a shower first?” Bill asked quietly. “I would if you’d join me.” He pulled a wrapped condom from his jeans pocket and held it in his hand as he waited for an answer.

  Sydney Ann glanced at him sharply. Was he implying that she wasn’t clean? Her opinion of the man did a one-eighty. Where before, in the car, he had seemed interesting and nonjudgmental, now she wondered if she had been mistaken. She studied him more closely. It was obvious that wherever he was from, he had a good job. His clothes, his bearing, and even his haircut told her that he had money. He could have afforded an expensive call girl. To be here meant he was just slumming, looking for a cheap thrill. Well, she could give him that. She hid the anger that had flared in her eyes, knowing she didn’t have to like the man she was with. Only his money.

  Which brought to mind another idea. If he had the money she thought he might, then maybe he would like a real party. She wouldn’t mind that. A little crack would help improve her mood. She hadn’t imbibed in over a week and the whole thing (men, shoes, the spring’s weather, her aggravating roommate who kept talking about how no one had ever had a cold as bad as hers) was becoming tedious. Sydney Ann needed, no deserved, a break.

  “Sure, baby. But this little girl wants some ‘candy’. How about you run out and pick some up first? Then we could really have a good time.”

  Paul stared at her. He’d known that eventually he’d run into someone that used. If he were to be honest about it, most of the girls probably did. But none had asked him to buy or to party before this. He had no intentions of ruining his body and now he found he’d lost interest in hers. His plan had been to have sex first, starting in the shower, and finishing on the bed. Then the real fun could begin. Now the game would be different.

  “I don’t do that. They test at work, you know? Wish I could, but how about if I get you a little afterwards?”

  Sydney Ann was disappointed. It could have been a real wild night. She was enough of a realist to know that if this guy, what did he say his name was? Bill? (Probably not his real name.) If Bill left to make a buy, he wouldn’t come back. Why should he? Just so he could stay in this flea-bit room? She was glad she had her own apartment, even if she did share it with a hypochondriac, because she wouldn’t have to stay here either. This room was downright gloomy. She suddenly had the urge to turn on all the lights. She reached for the switch on the wall by the bed.

  “No, leave it off,” he said. “I like the mood.”

  “Mood? Since when did any of the men she met want ‘mood’? Oh well, whatever the client wants--,” she thought.

  “Let’s shower, baby. It’s whatever you want, you know,” Sydney Ann said in a matter-of-fact manner, pulling the mohair sweater over her head. She tried to conceal the fact that all she wanted now was to get the rendezvous over with, was already looking ahead to the next dollar she could make. It had been a rainy spring and she hadn’t been able to work her corner several nights during the last week. Thankfully, the weather since Thursday had been balmy, and had made it a pleasure to be outside. After the long, cold winter it was nice to enjoy the sweetness spring flowers added to the air (she could smell them even over the cars’ exhaust) and to hear birds chirping as they settled down for the night, instead of the wind howling. It had been so bad most of the winter that it had actually caused the streetlights to sway, doing a violent rumba visible through the stinging sleet and snow. She’d been afraid the lights would detach from their moorings and crash into the street. Now though, the breeze that danced among the trees’ new leaves was gentler and seemed pleased to be have arrived. And, although still cool at night, the warmth of the last few days promised this summer would be a scorcher. Sydney Ann preferred summer to winter. She’d always loved things hot.

  She shimmied out of the miniskirt, pulling it down over her hips to drop in a pile on the floor. Like a lot of young women, she never wore garters or panty hose, meticulously keeping her legs hair free. They were smooth and baby soft from the huge quantities of lotion she applied. Her youthful skin glowed. And the amount she paid for the lotion was more than compensated by what she saved not buying hose. She knew that the men lucky enough to be blessed with more of her time appreciated it.

  ‘Bill’ unbuttoned his chambray shirt and slid it off, exposing well-toned abs and strong shoulders. His upper body was powerfully built with long legs set firmly underneath. She hadn’t realized he was such a big man. Sydney Ann felt a moment of disquiet, not sure whether to be appreciative or afraid. Here was a man she could enjoy and also one that had the potential to really hurt her. She wasn’t sure which he would turn out to be. She glanced once at the door that seemed so far away, before forcing herself to calm down. There was nothing she could do about it now. She was committed.

  He held out his hand and led her into the bathroom, before pushing his briefs down over his thighs and casually stepping out, tossing them uncaringly into a corner. She watched as he pulled the condom on. His warm hands helped her out of her thong and then gently turned her around away from him and unhooked her bra. Then he reached out and turned the water on full blast. Surprising her, he nuzzled and nibbled her neck, sending shivering waves down her body. When the water temperature suited him, he eased her into the shower, and with his head partially blocking the spray of water kissed her, gently at first and then stronger and stronger until she thought she was going to drown, if not from the water, then from the physical need.

  Stopping abruptly, he pulled away (although not far because the shower was small) and showed her a bar of soap that had magically appeared in his hand.

  “Do you mind if I do it? It’s something I enjoy.”

  “Feel free; it’s your nickel.” She watched him hesitate and was struck by the thought that she shouldn’t have worded it so coarsely.

  “I’d enjoy it, too,” she added and was relieved when he smiled. Water was streaming off his hair and dripping down onto his body. He looked like Neptune. Was that the name of the god of water? Sydney Ann had spoken the truth; she knew she was going to enjoy it. The man was good-looking and she wouldn’t be in this business if she didn’t enjoy what she did. He was experienced and certainly wasn’t bashful like some men she knew. Tonight was going to be fun, after all. She relaxed and gave herself over to the pleasure of a talented man and a shower of hot water.

  He took his time, soaping her body and hair, switching back and forth between her and himself. Occasionally he rubbed or kissed an area more than may have been necessary, but he had his own agenda and she didn’t protest. This was more fun than she’d had in months. It was as soothing as it was stimulating.

  Sydney Ann wasn’t aware when her pupils dilated with lust and her body became pliant, but ‘Bill’ knew. He’d been waiting for this for months. He shivered in anticipation, forcing himself to wait just a little longer. It was blissful agony.

  Chapter 15

  Paul concealed a shudder when the girl reached for him. Hurriedly, he grabbed her hand and brought it back up to his chest, then shook his head, smiling. She stared at him in surprise, steam coming from her bare arms and shoulders, her burgundy tinted hair extensions hanging wet and darker with water, while the rest of the carefully coifed cut curled and became frizzy, no matter how much had been paid for it not to do so. The young woman colored, her smooth creamed-coffee complexion turning rosy on her face, bright on her cheeks. It was odd, but she actually appeared chastised. He was sorry. He hadn’t meant to belittle her. He bent and kissed her gently. She kissed back timidly and then more urgently. He could feel her need begin to rise again. It would soon be as strong as his own.

  But he wouldn’t enter her. Intercourse was out of the question just as soon as he’d known she did drugs.

  There was very little room in the shower, but it would have to do. This motel was old and dated and should have been torn down. He lamented the fact that there was no t
ub. This changed things. Still there was no sense leaving the shower to use the bed, since they were already here and both he and the girl were now thoroughly clean. All loose hair and skin cells had gone down the drain with the soap he had so liberally used. He had no scratches that could leave blood evidence and if he could subdue the girl quickly enough, he expected none.

  It was time. His long wait was over. His urge was hot, his need overpowering. It would happen now.

  He could feel the water begin to cool, which aggravated him; these places never had enough hot water. He turned the handle behind him and shut off the water as he moved in again and kissed her forcefully. Then he abruptly, unexpectedly, and using the weight of his body to immobilize, jammed her body up tightly into the corner, grabbing both wrists and forcing her arms behind her back. He pushed his hips against her belly to secure that position, planting both feet encircling hers as he eagerly, yet so very carefully, positioned his hands on her graceful, beautiful neck.

  Her breathing had been coming in gasps with the pleasure of the hot water and his attentions, her supple skin glowing. Her eyes were deep, dark pools that he knew he could get lost in. He didn’t resist the compulsion now, but willingly gave in. This was his time; the most extreme bliss now his to take. He felt himself falling into her eyes, lost in their loveliness, searching for that moment, that precise instant that exists ever so briefly where life and death merge, that fleeting split-second that was his to control.

  Sydney Ann’s body bucked. She fought like a wild animal to get her arms free and her legs into a position to hurt him, but he held her rigidly. They bumped and crashed against the shower wall with neither noticing the noise. The young woman’s shock and horror were indescribable, and so very, very exciting. When, after a time, she ceased fighting and her eyes stared blankly into his he felt a shudder pass through his body with his first orgasm. He released his hands slightly to better enjoy it, allowing his forehead to rest on hers, gasping, laboring to remain standing and hold her upright against the corner. He held this position, staring amorously into her eyes for several minutes of nearly unbearable pleasure. At the instant the blood finally stopped its rushing, pounding through his head and when his legs ceased to shake, he was rewarded by a twitch of an eyelid, and then a barely perceptible groan. Sydney Ann was coming back from the dead.

  The young woman’s feet slid once, slipping feebly on the wet concrete floor as, becoming aware of her situation, she tried to regain her footing. But he held her with no mercy, tight against the wall, secure in the cement block corner of the crumbling shower. Sydney Ann gave a louder moan and her hands fluttered in a weak attempt to break free. But Paul wasn’t concerned. He knew she could never get away. Slowly, with his senses heightened so as to enjoy each millisecond, his hands tightened again on her neck. Again her breathing stopped and her lovely doe-like eyes flashed panic like the trapped wild animal she was, before widening in comprehension. She knew. Then there was nothing.

  He was allowed the discovery and unimaginable pleasure twice more before she was gone and it was truly over. He was sorry when it ended. No matter how strong or determined to live they were, it could never last long enough.

  ***

  Later, after he’d carefully bagged the condom (there would be no stupid mistakes on his part); he rested a few minutes. This one had been so intense that he felt completely drained. As he rested his body, his mind went over what he would have to do.

  After his legs had recovered from the rubbery feeling, he walked back to where he’d dropped his slacks and pulled a pair of blue hospital gloves out of one of the pockets. Everything he did in this room the rest of the night, he would do in gloves.

  First thing was to turn the water back on. Using bleach from a small bottle he had placed conveniently near the shower the night before, he wiped down the shower walls and floor, sliding the girl’s body out of the way. As a precaution, he also wiped her skin with the bleach. He didn’t believe it truly necessary, but you never knew how good they were getting with fingerprint analysis. Better safe than sorry. After that he wiped the stool down. It really needed it. He was appalled with the grime hidden under the seat and expected it was the first good cleaning that had been done in months. These trashy motels never hired good help and the lack of sanitary precautions revolted him. You could get a disease in a place like this.

  When the nightstand, chair, light switch, and doorknob (inside and out) were cleaned of prints, he went back into the bathroom to arrange the body. The shower posed a dilemma, since he was used to staging his victims in a tub. His preference was to drape his victim’s arm casually over the edge with her head and her lovely, staring face leaned back, jammed in the corner. With some careful study, he determined he could do pretty much the same thing here. He pulled and tugged until he had positioned the body in an upright-seated position against the shower’s farthest corner, her shoulders braced securely. With her hips situated slightly out from the wall and her head lolled back it provided her open, staring eyes a full view of the doorway.

  One leg flopped open in a suggestive, crude position, offending him. He didn’t want that. She had been an attractive girl. None of this was her fault; he would not have her death desecrated. He reached down and repositioned her legs, crossing them chastely, making sure that one foot was hooked behind the lip of the shower and would hold there, so she would remain demure and lovely. Then he tilted her head until her eyes met the eyes of anyone entering the room. She had to see the person that found her, just as she had to let them see through her eyes what that brief, beautiful instant of her death had been like. A shudder of supreme joy passed through him. Sharing this treasure, imagining the thrill her discoverer would feel was a pleasure that was almost as exciting as the original experience… Almost.

  When he was finished, he stepped back to inspect his efforts and realized he was shivering, this time with the cold. It was between three and four a.m., that coldest time before dawn. Now he had to hurry to get dressed and back to the motel for the last day of the conference. Although it would only be a half-day, he intended to enjoy the two classes he’d signed up for. If he hurried, he could sleep two or three hours before the continental breakfast that most of the men and women looked forward to. His belly growled, approving the plan. In fact, from the noise it was making, it was voting to eat now. But there wasn’t time; breakfast would have to wait.

  He gave one last wistful glance at the young woman’s body, the long legs, the beautiful eyes, the wiry hair, and saw something that didn’t quite fit in. Without knowing much about women’s fashion, he knew the reddish-purple locks that were hanging straight among the frizzy black curls were extensions, not her own hair. He reached out a hand almost timidly to touch one that was falling forward accenting the left side of her face. The lock was an inch wide, shiny and soft as silk. It was pretty.

  Placing one hand on her head to hold it in the desired position, he pulled the lock with the other and was pleased when it came off in his hand with only the barest disturbance to the rest of her hair, which he tenderly smoothed down. The extension had been attached to a small clip, securing it invisibly underneath the young woman’s real locks. He smiled wistfully at the corpse. Such a lovely, lovely girl. So very pretty even in death.

  The hairpiece felt light as a satin ribbon as it hung, twirling down from his hand. It was ideal. He wound the hair into a ball and stuck it in his pocket. He was pleased; it made the perfect souvenir.

  ***

  When Paul pulled out of the motel parking lot, he was unaware that he was being watched. A young couple in town visiting family but preferring not to sleep on the wife's parents’ lumpy couch had rented the room beside his. The husband, afraid of the city and rightly so of the neighborhood, had slept fitfully, and the commotion in the shower had been enough to make his hair stand up. He’d seen the man and the black girl when they’d come in and rightly guessed
what they were there for. But that was their business.

  Now there was something wrong. To Sean it had sounded like someone being killed. When he saw the man leave without the woman and then not return, he was afraid of what might have happened. It was too quiet in the other room. He tried to go back to sleep, to stay out of whatever was going on, but without any luck. As he watched the clock tick away with sleep not even hinting a return, he knew he would have to wake up the manager. The man wouldn’t appreciate it. But Sean knew he had no choice, if only for his own peace of mind.

  Chapter 16

  Flashing lights brightly lit up the dim, drab lot. The reds and golds and even the urgent way it grabbed for your attention was reminiscent of the holidays, but it was certainly no holiday for Sean. The bumper of the ambulance where he’d been told to sit was frigid through his robe and pajamas and one of the few places halfway concealed in shadow. The cop cars’ bubble lights washed the rest of the parking lot in garish, angry color, only blocked here because of the silent, hulking shape of the ambulance sitting with motor and headlights turned off. There appeared to be no need for it, with only protocol requiring its attendance.

  So far, two uniformed cops and one detective had questioned Sean. He had been told to wait for a second detective. He was chilled and exhausted and, after the last two hours, a little bit exasperated. He didn’t know what he could tell this fourth guy that he hadn’t already told the other three. Fortunately his wife Samantha had been allowed to go back to the room. Sean doubted that she was sleeping, but he hoped so. One of them needed to. They were scheduled to leave for home early Monday morning. It was a long drive back to Trenton, New Jersey, even longer if you didn’t have enough sleep. He hoped to get to bed early the upcoming night, his last night in this cursed city, but wasn’t optimistic. Samantha’s family had some big dinner thing planned.