by M. Z. Kelly
The Oz witch’s voice took on an even higher pitch as she waved her arms through the air. “If that basstarrrd hurt my daughter, I’ll cut his big fuucking dick off.”
An attractive well-dressed woman who reminded me of a young Meg Ryan came over to the BM’s side. She tried to steady her and said, “He’s already dead Mother.” She looked at me and broke into tears. “They’re both dead.”
Then the flood gates gushed opened. Both women broke down, crying. I was starting to feel sorry for the BM when she turned to me, opened up her collagen-filled lips, and barfed all over my hoop dress.
CHAPTER THREE
Natalie and I simultaneously jumped back, doing the vomit mambo, as the BM let loose. Unfortunately, the circumference of my dress made it a prime target for the witch’s pitch. I got slimed. For some reason, I imagined the BM cackling at the result and saying, “I got you, my pretty!”
“She’s shoutin’ her groceries,” Natalie yelled. “Somebody get her into the loo.”
Mags, the BM’s daughter, tried to steer her mother toward the bathroom, but Linda Warner fell and had to be carried away by another guest.
I ended up in the kitchen with Natalie, running hot water over a rag that I used to try removing the vomit from my rented satin dress.
“It’s ruined,” I said, throwing the rag onto the counter in disgust.
“Fraid the whore’s bath didn’t help it much,” Natalie agreed. “Want me to go poison the BM’s tea? She’s crazy as a bingo bat, anyway.”
“Tempting, but it’s probably not a good idea to have another murder tonight.” I tried to straighten my crumpled dress and pushed back my hair that I was sure now looked like twisted ringlets of fur. “Natalie, can you come upstairs with me while I take a preliminary look at the crime scene? I want you and Mo to tell the other investigators what you know.”
“Sure, just let me get outta these opera pumps.” She removed her high heels. “’Bout to give me a foot hickey.”
At five feet eight inches, Natalie is an inch shorter than me, blonde, and gorgeous. Men drool and step on their penises when they see her. While I have decent features, I have to admit that I’m envious of my best friend, almost to the point of having a girl-crush on Natalie.
We were headed for the stairway when a man dressed in a $5,000 suit cornered us. He introduced himself as Marvin Chauncey, the deceased bride’s agent.
“I need to know the circumstances of what happened here tonight, Ms...”
“It’s Detective, Detective Sexton,” I said. “And there’s nothing I can tell you at this time. We’re just beginning...”
“You don’t understand,” Chauncey interrupted, wiping his brow with an embroidered handkerchief.
China’s agent was about fifty with dyed black hair that was braided into cornrows. His diamond stud earrings looked to be at least a carrot each. His demeanor gave the impression of someone who practiced being earnest in the mirror, but just couldn’t quite pull it off when it counted.
“China was about to break into the big leagues,” Chauncey said. “Hollywood Daybreak is going national. There’s a lot at stake here.”
“Hollywood what?”
“That mornin’ talk show on the sidewalk,” Natalie explained before Chauncey could break in. “They got them highchairs over on the walk of fame on Sunset and chat it up with all the celebs. It’s a slap and chuckle circus and...”
“It is,” Chauncey interrupted, clearly unhappy with Natalie’s representation, “a discussion forum for the entertainment industry. It has garnered national attention and acclaim.” His voice broke slightly. “China was about to become a huge star.”
I pushed past Chauncey, telling him that if we had anything worthwhile to discuss I’d be in touch.
“Chauncey just lost his meal ticket,” Natalie said as we headed up the stairs. “The popinjay makes me wanna puke on his Ferragamos.”
“I’ve had enough puking for one day,” I said, just before I heard a man calling out to us from below.
“We demand to know what’s going on here,” the man said as we stopped on the landing and looked down at the crowd. He appeared to be the spokesman for several party goers who had gathered around him and were shouting drunken encouragement.
Another man yelled, “Some of us have important duties to attend to. We’re leaving.”
From somewhere above me I saw a large figure moving. I glanced to the upstairs hallway and saw that Mo had pushed through the line of officers and was coming downstairs to meet us.
Mo is big, black, and has a “don’t take no shit” attitude. Her former duties as a pimp involved her trying to get girls off the street and into a better life, before she and Natalie went into their private detective business.
Mo had on a tight little black dress, the operative words being tight and little. The tiny lacy outfit barely covered her considerable assets, both fore and aft. It gave the impression that another large float had joined my parade.
“You want me to take the rebel rousers outside, stuff a cupcake in their mouths?” Mo asked.
I shook my head. “I’d better make an announcement. Things are getting out of hand.”
Below us, there was more shouting and some movement toward the doors. Allowing the guests to leave the scene before names and statements could be taken was not an option.
“Everyone, please listen to me,” I said, raising my voice.
The crowd settled down for a moment, before a woman shouted, “Why should we listen to you? You look like you belong at a costume party.”
Several other guests apparently found this amusing and joined her in laughing at me.
Between the BM, the barf, the pompous agent, and the angry mob, I’d had enough. “I’m only going to say this once,” I said, my voice coming up another notch. I raised my badge. “This is a police investigation. No one leaves until the scene is secured and statements are taken from everyone. Anyone who fails to comply will be subject to arrest.”
What followed was a mini-riot as a handful of guests surged toward the front door. One of the men took a swing at a uniform and was pepper sprayed. A drunken woman fell, ripped her dress, and began screaming.
That’s when the BM came stumbling out of the bathroom, did the Jagger swagger into the living room and said, “Somebody get me a drink.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Wow, I guess those exercises really do work,” Natalie said. “The meat whistler’s schlong must be a flippin’ foot long. Can’t wait to tell Tex about this.”
“Maybe that’s why China always called him a ‘big dick,’” Mo agreed.
We were all wearing gloves and paper booties, which perfectly accessorized my now perfectly horrifying pink satin, vomit-stained hoop dress. Just the thought of my outfit sent me into a spiral of depression, so I tried to concentrate on the scene at hand. I’d purposely kept Natalie and Mo just inside the doors to the master suite, several feet away from the crime scene, where we were huddled with Charlie and Pearl.
The master suite was enormous with marble flooring, modern chrome and steel furnishings, and windows that overlooked the city. The bodies of Michael Clinton and China Warner were in a king-sized bed that was set under a large skylight. I imagined that lying in the bed at night gave one the impression of being outside under the stars—unless you were dead, of course.
The bride and groom were nude and had both been shot through the head. Natalie’s observation about the groom’s penis size was in keeping with her propensity to see almost all things as sexual in nature. I had no doubt that she’d go home and tell her boyfriend, Tex, all about it.
I didn’t have a huge repertory of experience for reference, but from where I stood I had to admit that my friend’s observation was right. The groom, who had been blonde, handsome, and muscular in life, had a member that was enormous.
His bride, China, looked nothing like her sister, Mags, who I’d briefly met downstairs. China had coal black hair, blue eyes, and porcelain skin. Even with the gunshot woun
d to her head, I could tell there had been something delicate, almost fragile, about her, like fine china. I wondered if that’s how she’d gotten her name. She also had a beautiful body that looked to be as near to perfection as one can get.
Charlie and Pearl had done a preliminary review of the murder scene. Pearl summarized their findings.
“It looks like Michael died first, then China shot herself. The gun fell out of her hand onto the floor after the fatal shot to her head.” He pointed out the gun, which I knew from experience was a 9 mm Beretta. “I found a couple of spent casings on the floor.”
“I seen a lot of Johns and a few girls that like to use guns as sex toys,” Mo said. “Maybe it was an accident, Michael got capped during the slap and tickle, and China felt guilty—blew her own brains out.”
Pearl shook his head. “Doubtful. The shot that killed Michael looks to be pretty deliberate—close range and in the temple. It’s just a guess until the coroner examines the bodies and we run some tests, but it does look like a murder-suicide.”
“Exercises?” Charlie said, his brown eyes lifting in Natalie’s direction as he referenced her earlier comment. “What kind of exercises were you talking about?”
“Michael was a jelqer,” Natalie said.
Charlie never gets very animated and tonight was no exception. His chubby face gave nothing up, but I was sure he had no idea what Natalie was talking about. I was also drawing a blank. Mo must have seen the confusion.
“Penis enlargement,” Mo said. “According to the rumors I heard, Michael practiced the exercises religiously.”
Charlie looked down at his notebook and asked, “So, how does this jelqing stuff work?” It was obvious that he was trying to make the question sound routine, but had taken a personal interest.
“You musta lived a sheltered life,” Mo said to my partner. “You mean you’ve never jelqed?”
Charlie turned red and coughed. “Well, I mean...it’s just...no, I don’t think so...I’m not really sure.”
Pearl smiled and did the only intelligent thing a man could do in the situation—he walked away. He went over and examined the bodies again.
Charlie, on the other hand, let his curiosity get the better of him. “Jelqing. Sounds like some kinda yoga to me.”
“Come on,” Mo said. “Every guy has jelqed. How long has it been exactly?” Her full red lips that matched her hair color turned up in a grin. “Maybe you need to get a grip on yourself.”
Charlie brushed a hand through his dyed hair that was taking on red highlights. He didn’t look at Mo. “I’m not gonna discuss any personal stuff. I’m just asking as part of the investigation.”
Mo smiled. It was clear that she just wanted to give my partner a bad time. I decided to save him further embarrassment. “Maybe I’m the one who’s been sheltered. What exactly is jelqing?”
Natalie eagerly jumped back into the conversation. “It’s a penis enlargement technique that requires regular exercise. It’s kinda like doing pushups with your penis.” I tried to get a visual, but was still clueless until she explained, “You massage the cow but don’t bring the milk home.”
“Oh,” I said, now getting a visual that I didn’t really want.
“I’ve heard that if you do it on a regular basis you end up like that.” Natalie motioned to the groom. “Some guys gain half a foot.”
“Oh,” I said again, wondering, probably like Charlie, why I’d never heard of the practice. My partner continued the stone faced routine, but I’d known him long enough to tell that what Natalie had said about the technique intrigued him.
While there was an awkward moment of silence, during which I tried to keep thoughts about Charlie and jelqing out of my mind, I walked away from the group. I got a glimpse of myself in a mirror over the dresser. I was mortified.
I decided that I was a human float, but I now belonged in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. The gigantic, now ruined, vomit-stained dress, idiotic paper booties, and green latex gloves made me look like some kind of freakish helium-filled monster that could lose its mooring at any moment and float away.
I walked back to the others and tried to get back on task. “Did either of you hear any shots being fired earlier tonight?” I asked Natalie and Mo.
“Nuthin,” Mo said. “But they had a band playing all night that was pretty loud. Last time I saw the lovebirds was a little after eight. I was told they’d gone upstairs to change for the honeymoon.”
Natalie confirmed this. “Marley Jenks came downstairs just before nine after she found the bodies. She was screamin’ bloody hell—really comin’ unglued.”
“The wedding planner?” I asked.
“Yeah, Marley was startin’ to wonder what was taking ‘em so long. I told her they were probably just limbering up for the honeymoon. But after a while, she thought she’d better go check on em.” She looked over at the dead couple. “I wonder if China got a ride on the big banana before she blew Michael’s brains out?”
It didn’t surprise me that the dead bodies didn’t bother my friend. I’d seldom seen Natalie, or Mo, for that matter, upset by anything, including murder.
I said, “Natalie, you told me downstairs that Michael might have been cheating on China?”
“From what I heard, Michael had two interests, sex and money. He liked ‘em both and didn’t want either one comin’ from only one source.”
“Was he cheating with anyone in particular?” Charlie asked. My partner seemed to have recovered from his earlier embarrassment.
Mo answered. “Rumor had it that he was hooking up with his marketing manager, Melanie Grace, but I seen a thousand guys like him. If Michael was stranded on a deserted island with only his grandmother and they were surrounded by sharks, grandma would have to take her chances with Jaws ‘cause baby boy would jump her bones.”
“Maybe it’s one of the side effects of jelqing,” Natalie suggested.
Charlie’s brow slightly furrowed but he remained silent.
“You said that Michael liked money,” Pearl said, walking back from the bodies and over to Natalie. “Do you know anything about his business interests?”
“I heard he had a bunch of inventions, including the G-Stim,” Natalie said. “Made him tons of wad.”
“G-Stim?” Charlie said as Pearl smiled and walked back over to the bodies. “Is that some kind of golf club?”
Natalie and Mo simultaneously broke into spasms of laughter which seemed to return my partner to his earlier state of stoic humiliation. “Don’t tell me it’s another exercise technique,” Charlie said.
“Man you gotta get out more,” Mo said after controlling her fit of laughter. “Everyone’s got a G-Stim or two. It’s like one of them George Foreman grills. They even sell ‘em on those late night commercials on cable TV.”
I knew what Mo was talking about, but it was obvious that Charlie was clueless.
“I personally own three,” Natalie said. “I wore the first one out after just a couple of months.”
“Got me the Pro-Deluxe model,” Mo said. “Extra power and a three speed.” She turned to me. “What about you, Kate? How many you got?”
Now I was the one who was turning red. “I think there’s probably one lying around somewhere,” I lied. The truth was I’d had one, but it had burned up in a recent fire at my previous apartment.
We all turned back to Charlie. It was clear that my partner had no idea what we were talking about. Finally, he said, “So, maybe I should ask Irma for one of these G-Stims for father’s day and some barbeque tools.”
“Are you outta your mind?” Mo asked. “You can’t go asking your daughter for a G-Stim.” She shook her head. “You really are as clueless as a monkey on Mars. You don’t got a hint ‘bout what we’re talking ‘bout, do you?”
Charlie lowered his gaze, didn’t answer.
It was Natalie’s cue. “A G-Stim is a BOB.”
“Huh?” Charlie gave Natalie his trademark blank stare.
Mo slapped h
er forehead and looked at me. “This one’s thicker than a steel-belted condom.”
Natalie clarified. “Battery Operated Boyfriend.”
“You mean a G-Stim or this BOB thing is a dildo?” Charlie asked, looking at me, apparently for confirmation. It was my turn to give him a blank stare. “Why’d I even ask? he finally said. “I shoulda known.”
“It’s actually a very sophisticated arousal device,” Natalie went on. “It’s specifically designed to activate a woman’s G-Spot.”
Mo looked at Charlie, then Natalie and me. “I don’t think he even knows what a G-Spot is.” She looked back at Charlie. “Do you?”
“Course I do,” Charlie said. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Right,” Mo said, obviously unconvinced.
“The G-Stim is amazing,” Natalie said, saving Charlie from further shame. “I heard a woman once had a five minute orgasm using her G-Stim. Before I met my ex-husband, Clyde, there was this one night...”
“Natalie, enough,” I said.
Charlie ran a hand through his thinning dyed hair and said to me, “I must be getting old. Jelqing and G-Stims? What the hell is this world coming to?”
I turned and saw that Pearl was hovering near the dead bodies, examining them more closely. He bent over China’s body for a few moments before removing his glasses. I saw a look on his face that I’d seen before. The silver-haired ex-chief of detectives seemed to be piecing something together.
“What is it Pearl?” I asked.
“I was just looking at the blood spray from China’s wound,” he said. “Maybe I’m crazy, but I think I was wrong. This wasn’t a murder-suicide.”
I told Natalie and Mo to stay put while Charlie and I walked over to the bodies.
Pearl continued, motioning to the deceased couple as he spoke. “It’s the blood pattern. China’s wound isn’t consistent with something you’d see with a suicide.” His gaze came over to us. “I think the bride and groom were murdered.”
Charlie took a step closer to the crime scene, bent over to examine the wounds, and did a face plant onto the bed. He landed right between the dead bodies.
