Sugar & Spice (US edition)

by Saffina Desforges

  “No, a fetish is something different, Matt.”

  “Don't you know anything?” Danny grinned at his senior. Matt glowered back. He was way out of his league.

  “The funniest one I ever came across was the Panty Bandit,” said Danny, slipping into the conversation as if he always discussed such subjects with his guests. “Bruce Lyons, back in, what, eighty-eight? Eighty-nine?”

  “Eighty-eight,” Ceri said.

  “He held up lingerie shops at gun-point, ordered the female staff and customers to take their panties off, then he'd give himself the shuffle in front of them!”

  Matt couldn't hide a smile.

  “Trophy hunting is different,” Ceri said. “It fulfills a basic instinct of man, going back to the days of hunter-gatherers. The need to hunt for food and sexual conquest.”

  “Like Robert Hanson in Alaska,” Danny added. “He was a big game hunter who kidnapped women, stripped them and sent them out into the wilderness, just so he could hunt them down and kill them.”

  “Oh, come on, Danny,” Matt protested. Danny reached for his folders.

  “Okay, I believe you!”

  Ceri said, “As I see it, Uncle Tom's retention of some of his victim's clothing meets two needs. It serves as a physical trophy of the assault, and it will act as a sexual stimulus for re-enacting the event in fantasy, possibly to psyche himself up for the next attack.”

  As Matt furiously scribbled short-hand notes the conversation slowly became a duel between Ceri and Danny, both determined to outdo each other with some obscure true-crime revelation. It was obvious he's learned all he was going to about Uncle Tom.

  “I'm off to Starbucks,” Matt stated. “Anyone care to join me?”

  Danny and Ceri were too engrossed even to answer.

  Matt left them to it.

  125

  The traffic to Manhattan was heavy, the conversation with the taxi driver a chore. The imperfect Texan accent wavered occasionally but the Queens born driver would never have noticed anyway. Stopping deliberately short of his desBriannation, he paid the driver with a respectable, but not overly generous tip. Too little or too much might cause him to remember more than he needed to.

  Minutes later Jacob's wiry frame confronted him with a gold-toothed smile. “No trouble today, my friend. We understand each other?”

  “You've got the goods?”

  “She's upstairs.”

  “How old?”

  “Eleven.”

  “You're sure about that?”

  “On my mother's grave.”

  “Fuck your mother, Jacob. What's the girl like?”

  “How should I know? You think I try out the merchandise myself first? She's pure as the driven snow. Untouched by human hands.”

  “You'd better hope so, Jacob. For both your sakes.”

  “Jacob stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “Another hundred today, my friend. This girl is special.”

  “What?”

  “Another hundred. Have you any idea how hard it is to find a virgin her age in this area? Kids today, they're at it before they're out of diapers. I tell you, it's a national disgrace. It would never have happened in my day.”

  126

  The girl sat on the bed, nervously twisting her waist-length black hair around her fingers. She backed away, intimidated by the huge figure in the doorway.

  A smile spread across his face as he saw her. For once Jacob hadn't let him down.

  The girl said her name was Rhoda. He believed her. She said she's just turned eleven, three weeks ago. He could tell that too. The long hair fell across rounded shoulders and a loose fitting blouse that hid a body yet to succumb to puberty. The pleated skirt and white ankle socks completed the picture of innocence. He allowed paternal instincts to take over, a comforting, friendly voice and gentle gestures to put her at ease.

  “This is your first time?” He sat on the bed beside her, gently putting an arm around her shoulder. “Don't worry. I won't hurt you. Just hold my hand a while. Let's talk first.”

  She reluctantly slipped her tiny hand into his and felt his thick, heavy fingers gently wrap around hers. He reached his other hand to her knee.

  “Nervous?” His tone was quiet. Reassuring. “Just relax. You'll enjoy it more that way.” He stroked her arm. “So what's it like being eleven, Rhoda?”

  She answered in whispers. “Okay.”

  “Better than ten?”

  She shrugged nervously. Casual conversation wasn't on her mind just now. She just wanted to get it over and done with. To go back home, to play with her dolls.

  “Do you enjoy school?”

  She nodded cautiously.

  “Is this your school skirt?” He put his hand on the hem, letting his thumb rub against her thigh, getting her used to his touch. “You've got lovely hair.” He ran his fingers through it, savoring the silky texture. “Have you got any sisters?”

  “One”

  “Younger than you?

  She shook her head.

  “Shame. We could have had a threesome next time.” He tapped the billfold in his pocket.“Maybe I'll leave you something extra afterwards.” He reached over and began unbuttoning her blouse. She forced herself to keep still. Her sister had explained what would happen.

  He asked, “How much are they paying you?”

  “I don't get paid.”

  He slipped the second button. “Is that right? Who says so?”

  “My daddy.”

  “Your daddy? He knows you're here?” He shook his head in disbelief. How low can you get?

  “I’d like to meet your daddy some time. He sounds like a really nice man.”

  “He's downstairs. His name is Jacob.”

  127

  “Matt, it's Ceri. Can you call me back? I'm almost out of credit.”

  Matt fumbled with the bedside lamp. “One sec’.” Still half-asleep he hit the return-call button. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

  “At my apartment.”

  “What's happened?”

  “Happened? Nothing. I've just had an idea, that's all.”

  Matt stared at the clock in disbelief. “Well that's okay then. There was me thinking you'd woke me up at two in the morning because it was something urgent.”

  “Two? Matt, I'm so sorry. Lost all track of time. I didn't realize.”

  He swore beneath his breath. “It's okay. What's on your mind?”

  “It's about Rebecca.”

  He swung his legs out of bed, reaching for his jotter. “I'm listening.”

  “Was Rebecca a Type-1 diabetic?”

  Matt shrugged. “Something like that. Claire could tell you for sure.”

  “I don't want to worry her. It may be nothing.”

  “You woke me up in the middle of the night just to ask that?”

  “Matt, I'm sorry. It's just that... Never mind. I'll call Claire tomorrow. Good night.”

  The line went dead. Matt nearly pressed redial, then looked again at the clock.

  Whatever it was, it could wait.

  128

  Randall reached out across Elizabeth's stirring body to extinguish the alarm, gently brushing her hair with his hand, soothing her back to sleep.

  An IT course in Buffalo, he'd told her.

  Out early, back late.

  He showered and dressed quietly, with no appetite for breakfast.

  He stole into the children's bedroom. The Dynamite Twins were asleep together in the one bed. They had separate beds they were tucked into each night, but without fail they would be found in just the one by morning.

  It had been a tiring evening for the Twins. Their grandmother had made their Halloween costumes and the Twins were adamant Daddy had to take them. Elizabeth was on late shift anyway.

  As the evening drew on exhaustion took its toll. Arriving home late the girls had foregone their customary bath night and been put straight to bed with a hot chocolate each, as much for their father's sake as theirs. He hoped they hadn't caught his cold.<
br />
  He kissed the Twins each on the forehead as he left the room.

  “Love you both,” he said softly. “Always. No matter what.”

  His hands were trembling as he closed the front door behind him.

  129

  Matt awoke to a knock at the door and wandered through in his robe to be met by Danny. He scowled at his young visitor but opened the door wider in reluctant invitation.

  “I thought we agreed you didn't come here.”

  “You were supposed to have been at Starbucks an hour ago.”

  Matt glanced at the clock. “Shit! Sorry. I overslept. Put some coffee on while I get dressed”

  Danny was happy to oblige. Getting invited into Matt's apartment was no mean feat. By the time his host had washed, shaved and dressed the coffee was steaming in the mugs.

  “You need an espresso machine,” Danny said.

  “Instant is fine at home. If you want proper coffee, go to Starbucks.”

  “I did. You weren’t there.”

  “I said I'm sorry.”

  “Did the cops tell you what they were planning?”

  “Danny, the last person the police will tell anything to is me. I'm a journalist. We have a special relationship where the exchange of information is concerned. All one way.”

  “They gave you the FBI profile.”

  “That was a very special favor. My contact put his job on the line. I can't ask him to do that again.”

  “But they're following through on our theory, right?”

  “Strictly off the record, yes. The police and FBI are targeting the locations on the list. But that's all I know, Danny. Honestly.”

  Danny looked doubtful. “So how come you were still in bed?”

  “A disturbed night. Ceri rang me up at two o'clock this morning.”

  “You lucky dog! What did she want?”

  “Nothing important, I promise you.”

  “Like?”

  “Well actually she asked what type of diabetic Rebecca had been.”

  “And then what?”

  Matt shrugged. “That was it.”

  “She rang you up in the middle of the night just to ask that?”

  “The female mind is a mystery to us all, Danny. You’ll realize that as you get older.”

  “She's cool, ain't she?”

  “Who?”

  “Ceri.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I bet you've had your eye on her.”

  “Danny, she's twenty years my junior. Just a kid.”

  “She's nineteen. Nearly twenty. That's ancient! Mind you, I'd give her one.”

  “One what?”

  Danny grinned sheepishly.

  “You're fourteen. You should be chasing girls your own age, not grown women.”

  “She was just a kid five seconds ago.”

  “She is. To me.”

  “You sound like my gramps.”

  “How's the world of cyber-crime?”

  “Promising.”

  “Glad to hear it. Any juicy gossip from the underworld for me?”

  “You wish.”

  “Well you'd better get your ear to the ground, partner, else once they've put Uncle Tom away I'm not going to have much use for your services.”

  “You’re gonna fire me?”

  “Think of it as redundancy.”

  “They might not catch him.”

  Matt sipped his coffee. “They will.”

  “You don't sound very convinced.”

  “Think positive, Danny. It's half the battle.”

  “You realize most killers are caught by accident, not fancy detective work.”

  “Danny, can't you talk about anything else?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don't know. Anything.”

  “Let's talk about Ceri.”

  Matt grinned. “You really like her, don't you?”

  Danny blushed. “I think I'm in love.”

  130

  Molly led him through to the lounge where, to his ill-disguised dismay, Ruth Reynolds greeted him with her usual fixed smile. Dr. Quinlan, she explained, had been called away on urgent business.

  “You may actually find it easier with a woman, Greg,” she finished lamely. “Some people do, you know.”

  Randall's stony silence made it clear he was not one of them.

  “Would you like something before we start? Coffee? Something stronger?”

  “Please, Dr Reynolds, can we just get this over with?

  “As you wish, Greg. If you'd like to come through. Did Dr. Quinlan tell you the procedure? Never mind, I'll explain as you get changed.”

  “Changed?”

  He was led down several anonymous corridors. Reynolds stopped at a door distinguished from the others only by its number and swiped a card, gesturing for him to enter. One wall was lined with screens and monitors, a reclining chair before them.

  “The bathroom's there, Greg. Toilet and changing facilities, and a shower for afterwards. You'll find a clinical gown on the peg. If you'd change into that, with the opening to the front, please. I'll get things ready here.”

  “Take off everything?”

  “You can keep your socks on if you wish. Men tend to. It's not your feet we're interested in now, is it? I need access to your chest and genitals.” She looked him up and down. “Well come on, Greg. You said you wanted to get it over and done with. Or have you changed your mind about that drink?”

  He pulled the door shut and began tentatively removing his clothes.

  “If you need the toilet, I suggest you go now. We don't want to interrupt the session if we can avoid it. I presume Dr Quinlan explained to you the need to refrain from any form of sexual activity prior to the therapy?

  Feebly, “Yes.”

  “So when did you last have sex?”

  He hated these questions. “A few days ago.”

  “Masturbation?”

  He wished he was anywhere but here. He fumbled with his shirt buttons, his hands shaking. “Not recently.”

  “When did you last have an erection, Greg?”

  He was thankful for the door between them. “This morning, I guess. When I woke up.”

  “Nervous?”

  “Very.”

  “No need to be. Just relax. I know this is embarrassing for you, Greg, but it can't be avoided if we're to resolve your little problem. So like you said, the sooner we start, the better. Ready?”

  “Almost.”

  “Come through as soon as you're changed.”

  131

  He tugged his pants over his ankles and reluctantly pulled off his boxers.

  He slipped his arms through the gown, and his feet into the slippers provided. A perfect fit.

  Hesitantly he pushed open the door. It occurred to him it was the only door he'd seen at the Foundation without a security lock.

  Reynolds was waiting for him by the monitors, the fixed smile beaming.

  “That's lovely, Greg. What's that you're carrying?”

  “A handkerchief.”

  Her eyes danced with amusement. “You won't need that.”

  “I have a cold.”

  “Oh. I thought... Never mind. Now sit here and make yourself comfortable. Adjust the seat as necessary. You'll be watching these screens, so select the most relaxing position with that in mind.”

  He lowered himself into the chair, a smooth, black leather recliner with high arms, making the necessary adjustments. “This feels fine.”

  “Excellent. Now if you'll just stand up again and undo the ties on your gown.”

  “Undo them?”

  “Greg, this is not the time for modesty. In a moment I'm going to show you various images and I need to measure your response.”

  “My response?” He wished Dr Quinlan were here instead of this woman.

  “It's nothing to worry about, Greg. Just a plethysmograph.”

  He stared blankly at her.

  “A penile plethysmograph. It measures sexual arousal. Don
't worry, it won't hurt. It's just an expandable copper ring that slips over the penis. It registers even the slightest stimulation. Along with the measurements of your heart-rate, pulse and brain waves we can get an accurate measure of what sexually excites you.”

  “But you know that already. That's why I'm here.”

  “It's a standard clinical assessment tool, Greg. You see, it may be that you don't even realize that you're being aroused by a given stimulus. The brain is very subjective in sexual matters. The plethysmograph will give us a more accurate picture.” She leaned across and picked up the device.

  “This is all it is. It's wired to register any and every change in penile response during the treatment. Now hold still while I slip it on.”

  Randall edged back nervously. “Couldn't I do that?”

  “Greg, just relax, please. Believe me you've got nothing I haven't seen before.”

  He thought, You've not see mine before.

  He clenched his fists and stared at the ceiling as she pulled the gown apart. He felt her hands. His face reddened. It seemed to take forever.

  Suddenly she was standing again, attaching electrodes to his chest with plasters.

  “These are to measure your heart rate. And this measures brain activity.” She slipped a light wire helmet over his head. In a few seconds she had finished.

  He self-consciously pulled the gown closed.

  “Don't tie it, Greg. There needs to be room to move. Now, sit down again as you were. Make yourself comfortable.”

  He did as he was told, meekly following instructions, thinking of the Dynamite Twins, reminding himself it was for their sake he was doing this..

  She placed a board across the arm of the chair, reaching beneath it and connecting the dangling leads to a socket.

  The gown was pulled open again and he felt her hands. He held his breath.

  A final adjustment and she stood again, smiling.

  “That wasn't so bad, was it? Now just relax, Greg. I want you to forget I'm here. In a moment I'm going to turn down the lights and I want you to watch the screen. I'll be showing you some images and I just want you to watch and relax. Don't try to control your responses in any way. Just relax and let yourself respond naturally.”