by Amy Vansant
Catriona glanced toward the officer and whispered in Timmy’s ear. “Tell me where. I’ll see what I can do.”
“In my underwear drawer. Oh, you’re an angel.”
She straightened. “Uh huh. You should have mentioned this earlier.”
Timmy wailed. “I can’t stand this. Why would anyone do this to me?”
“I can’t imagine.”
He grabbed her hand. “Hurry. There’s a key to my place under the potted cactus on the back porch.”
She nodded and motioned to Broch to go.
“Sorry aboot yer tooth,” he said, shuffling towards the door.
Timmy reached toward him with his free hand as they left. “I forgive you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Catriona and Broch drove to Timmy’s mid-century modern masterpiece and parked on the circular drive curving in front of the low, square building. Large glass windows lined the front wall of the home, but for the spot in the center where a perky salmon-colored door screamed for attention.
Catriona jogged around the back of the house and spotted a cactus in an oversized pot. She tilted it back to find the key and a tiny folded piece of pink paper, no larger than a dime.
Why do I think that’s not supposed to be there?
Gingerly pinching the edges, she unfolded the paper.
“Anither wee note?” asked Broch, appearing at her elbow.
She nodded.
“It’s torn at the top and the left side. I’m sure this fits at the bottom of the page we found earlier.”
On one side of the otherwise blank paper, printed in small capitals, someone had written IT HAPPENED HERE.
“I think this confirms the note was planted by someone involved.”
Catriona stared at the key. She hated to mess with anything when it seemed likely the person who dosed Timmy had touched it, but if the police found a cache of drugs in Timmy’s bedroom, no one would ever believe he was innocent. As suspect as his private life appeared, she didn’t think he’d taken these drugs. Not only did the diary entry appear to be proof someone was angry with him, the distain with which he’d referenced the drugs convinced her he truly felt they were beneath him.
She pulled two pairs of latex gloves from her pocket and handed one pair to Broch.
“Put these on so we don’t leave fingerprints everywhere.”
Broch took them and wrestled to wrap his enormous paws with them.
She gathered the key and unlocked the door to Timmy’s home to enter the kitchen. Moving to the Quartz-topped counter, she opened a few drawers until she found sandwich bags, into which she dropped the key and the tiny missive.
She scanned the room. It seemed like a normal kitchen in the usual state of mess, and not one the police had already tossed.
“Doesn’t look like the cops are in a hurry to prove Timmy was drugged. They haven’t even been here yet.”
She heard a clicking noise and turned to find Broch turning on and off the gas stove burners.
“Ah lik’ this muckle better than the flat heat we hae back at the apartment.”
“We have electric.”
“Ah lik’ the fire.”
“Yeah well...I like mansions but I live in the apartment next to yours.”
Catriona headed into the living room and then down a hallway featuring the front-of-house glass on the left and a large mural of a dancing couple on the right. She skipped past a bathroom and two spare rooms to arrive in Timmy’s bedroom.
The walls of Timmy’s personal love shack were adorned with highly erotic photos of beautiful women, their naked bodies wet and bound to various black geometric shapes. She was still trying to calculate the seemingly impossible angle to which one woman had her leg raised when Broch wandered into the room. He gaped and looked at Catriona with an expression she could only describe as panic. It was as if he wanted to scoop her up and run her out of the room.
“It’s art,” she offered.
He looked at the floor and rubbed at his forehead. “Och, ‘tis something.”
Catriona smiled. “Are you blushing?”
He shot her a look without raising his face.
She chuckled. “Big scary man with such delicate sensibilities.”
The wall behind the bed boasted what looked like a series of padded black leather boxes, the bed itself draped by a plush, leather-trimmed blanket. Pillows wrapped in black sheets piled high at the head and a small doll wearing a tiny cowboy hat sat in the center of them staring forward with big brown eyes.
Catriona shuddered to think what that doll had seen.
Dark purple cloth covered the remaining walls, and the master bath spilled into the room with only a glass wall separating the shower from the bedroom. Feasibly, someone could lie in bed and watch someone—or someones—shower.
Catriona’s lip reflexively curled. “This place makes me want to take a shower. But not here.”
She jerked open a few drawers from the bureau, wincing with each pull for fear what she might discover. After a mass of socks and undershirts, she unveiled a drawer stuffed with boxer briefs and briefer briefs. Bracing herself, she pushed a hand through the neatly folded piles until her fingers felt what turned out to be a gallon zip lock bag filled with drugs.
She held it up for Broch to see. “Got it.”
“Guid. Let’s gae.”
She took a moment to scan the room. “It happened here,” she mumbled. If the person who left the pink note had more room to be specific, she felt confident they would have singled out Timmy’s bedroom as the exact place ‘it’ happened. From her angle beside the bed she saw leather straps hanging from an eyebolt screwed into the wall between the puffy leather squares. She tugged on one strap to find handcuffs dangling from the end.
“Yikes. I guess Timmy’s more at home being cuffed than I imagined.”
Broch grunted his disapproval. “Tis lik’ a dungeon. Did he haud someone captive ’ere?’
“I dunno. I hope it’s all just a sex thing.”
“A sex thing?”
“People tie each other up and have sex.”
Broch scowled. “Tae keep them in the kip?”
“Not against their will, hopefully.”
They made their way back down the hall and into the kitchen. Broch stopped her as she reached to open the back door, leaning close to whisper in her ear.
“Ah’d ne’er hae tae bind ye tae mah kip. Ye’d never want tae leave.” He slid his hand down her arm, the trill of his finger on her skin quickening her breath.
Catriona’s body felt like a piano wire stretched tight, begging to be played, but she resisted surrendering to his seduction. His uncharacteristically saucy comment was clearly another ploy to inch her toward accepting his proposal. The game was afoot.
“I can resist all day,” she said.
He smiled. “Me tae. Ah kin dae loads of things all day.”
She arched an eyebrow and stared into his eyes. “Can you not touch me all day?”
“Aye. If ye willnae say yes to my proposal.”
“Even if I do this?” She reached up and slid her fingers an inch into the top of his jeans.
“Och,” he jumped away, clapping his arms across his chest several times as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Ye might hae tae tie me in they chains after all.”
She chuckled and, felt for her phone in her pocket with one hand while opening the backdoor with the other. She needed fresh air and something to distract her.
“You’re going to lose this one, Kilty,” she said, stepping out on to the porch.
“We’ll see.”
Catriona dialed Timmy’s sister.
“Tell your brother we took care of his little problem. He’ll know what I mean.”
“I’m here with him now.” Catriona heard Talia relaying her message to Timmy. A moment later she heard his voice.
“Thank you so much, Cat. Feel free to keep it for yourself.”
“No thanks. Unless they’re for tr
eating venereal diseases because I feel like I caught four just walking into your bedroom.”
“Girl, you’re too funny.”
“Listen, we found another note under the cactus with your key.”
“What did it say?”
“It was just a sliver of paper. It said it happened here. Any chance this all has something to do with your little sex dungeon?”
Timmy huffed. “It shouldn’t. Everyone who walks in there knows what they’re doing. We’re all adults.” He paused. “Though, it happens.”
“What happens?”
“The occasional misunderstanding. There’s drinking, there’s drugs, sometimes there are masks… The cast is ever changing. That’s what makes it exciting.”
Catriona frowned. “Let me ask you this. Do you know if you’ve ever dated any of the same women as Colin Layne?”
“It isn’t out of the realm of possibility. But I don’t recall anyone ever mentioning it. People don’t tend to talk about other lovers when they’re with me.”
Catriona stuck out her tongue, disgusted Timmy could be so glib about his situation.
“Did you eat anything at the house before you came into work today?”
“Just my coffee. I can’t function without it.”
“Made it yourself? Poured in the water, the whole deal?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because the note was with your key. Whoever wrote it had access to your house. They could have put the bath salts in your coffee maker.”
“Oooh...”
Catriona sighed. “Timmy, if you get out of this mess without prison time, you’re going to have to slow your roll. No more parties.”
“Catriona, if you get me out of this I’ll never sleep with anyone again.”
“Right. I won’t hold my breath on that one.”
Timmy giggled.
“I wouldn’t.”
Chapter Eighteen
Catriona drove back to Parasol at exactly the speed limit. The last thing she wanted was to be pulled over with Timmy’s Bag o’ Fun in her trunk.
They returned to Sean’s office to find him on the phone. She plopped the giant bag of drugs on his desk.
Sean scowled. “...Great. Hey, can I call you back? Something just came up.” He hung up. “Why does that look like a bag of drugs?”
“Pulled it out of Timmy’s underwear drawer. Have you been to his house?”
Sean shook his head.
“It’s pretty much a non-stop sex party over there at Casa Timmy. My guess is someone didn’t like the experience and they’re setting him up.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The explicit artwork, the leather straps bolted to the wall behind the bed, the peek-a-boo shower... It’s fifty shades of Timmy Grey over there. If a woman is doing this to him—and we have reason to believe so—no one who sees his bedroom is ever going to believe he’s innocent of whatever she says he did.”
“You think a woman dosed him?”
Catriona produced the baggies with the pink notes in them. “Big one fell out from behind a frame in his dressing room. Little one was under his cactus pot with his house key.”
“They’re pink. I was just talking to a contact at the coroner’s office. They found a pink piece of paper under the spray foam in Cari’s skull.”
Catriona gasped. “Oh my god, that’s grisly. What did it say?”
“It wasn’t readable. You can imagine...”
“I’d rather not.”
Sean pulled at his chin. “So the papers tie the two cases together. You didn’t happen to see a doll at Timmy’s?
Catriona perked. “We did. What kind?”
“Cowgirl? Small. Marks near the mouth?”
“Och,” said Broch.
Catriona nodded. “There was a doll like that in Timmy’s bedroom, but I’d chalked it up as more of his weird sex paraphernalia. Damn. I knew something felt out of place with that thing.”
Sean grimaced. “So we have pink paper and a cowgirl to connect Timmy with Colin.” He took a moment to read the notes. “So she had access to both places? Timmy’s dressing room and his house?”
“Yep. I asked and he only had coffee this morning so I’d start by testing the coffee pot for drugs. Cops haven’t been there yet.”
“Good job. I’ll get the police on it and make sure someone knows to bag the doll. Oh, and I’ve gathered a list of people who’ve dated or been in contact with Colin or Timmy.”
“Timmy mentioned you’d reached out to him.”
Sean slid a piece of paper across the desk and turned it so Catriona and Broch could read it. “There was a match on the lists.”
The sheet had two columns on it, each with a list of names. One name was circled on each.
“Jessie Walker?”
Sean nodded. Makeup artist. She worked on Colin, Timmy and Teena—though I don’t know if her threat is related yet.”
“Do you have an address? We’ll go check it out.”
He handed her a printed photo of a petite, dark-haired young woman and another slip of paper with an address scrawled on it in Luther’s handwriting.
Catriona took it, her head shaking. “He could have texted it to you.”
“Why would he do that when he had a perfectly good pen?” Sean turned to Broch. “How are you doing? How’s the pain?”
Broch lifted his arm. “’Tis fine. Wee stiff.”
“That’s what Pete said,” mumbled Catriona.
Brochan snatched the address from Catriona’s fingers. “We’ll gae check on the lassie for ye.”
He strode out the door.
Catriona shrugged at Sean. “Sensitive.”
Smirking, Sean shook his head. “You two, play nice.”
Catriona chuckled and jogged after Broch.
“Hey, you driving now?” she called after his retreating form.
~~~
“Pretend to be my husband,” said Catriona as she knocked on Jessie Walker’s second-floor apartment door.
Broch opened his mouth as if to protest when a petite blonde answered the door.
Catriona smiled. “Oh, hi, we were looking for Jessie?”
“She’s not here. I’m her roommate, Sandy.” Smiling, her eyes locked on Broch. “Are you an actor? Are you here for makeup?”
Broch grinned back. “Na.”
Sandy tilted her head down, peering at him like a coy courtesan. “You look like an actor.”
Catriona cleared her throat to break the spell. “So...Jessie isn’t here?”
The girl snapped from her trance. “Huh? Oh. No. I haven’t seen her in weeks.”
“Really? You don’t know where she went?”
“No. It’s been pretty nice to be honest.” The girl giggled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that mean...I just meant, like, having the place to myself. Did you have an appointment with her or something?”
“No, I’m her sister. This is my husband, Bob Johnson.”
Sandy flashed Broch a smile.
“Ah’m Bob,” he muttered.
Sandy put her hand on her hip. “I didn’t know Jessie had a sister. Nice to meet you. Do you want to come in?”
Catriona nodded. “Maybe for a second. Come on, Bob.”
Scowling, Broch followed her inside.
Sandy shut the door and leaned her back against it, looking around the apartment as if she were lost as to what to do next. “You want something to drink?”
Catriona waved away her inquiry. “Oh, no, we’re good. Would you mind terribly if we looked in Jessie’s room? We haven’t heard from her and I’m worried.”
“You can’t. I mean, you could, except she locks her room with a key.”
“She has a key lock on her bedroom door?”
“She’s kind of...”
As Sandy twisted, searching for the words, Catriona realized the two girls didn’t have the most idyllic roommate relationship. Sandy was afraid of offending Jessie’s ‘sister’ with too much honesty.
Ca
triona raised a hand. “Don’t be afraid of offending me. Jessie has always been...odd.” She pulled her unflattering description of Jessie from the air, hoping her guess would hit the mark.
Sandy nodded enthusiastically, eyes squinting. “She is a little, right?”
“Yes. Always has been. So please, tell me anything you know that might help us find her.”
Sandy nodded. “Well, when she first moved in I thought she was shy, but over the last few months she’s been getting...weird.”
“Weird, how?”
“She started locking her door, staying out late. Sometimes not coming home at all.”
“Sounds like she has a boyfriend?”
“That’s what I thought at first, but the makeup thing—is that something she did at home?”
“She always wanted to be a makeup artist.”
“No, I know that was her job, but the last few weeks she was going to work with...you know.” Sandy drew a circle in the air around her own face with her index finger.
Catriona shook her head. “I don’t understand?”
Sandy grimaced. “Sorry. I thought maybe it was something she always did. She did her face up like...like a doll, but like, a creepy doll. Maybe it was for work?”
“She went to work like a doll?”
“I only caught her on her way out like that twice but...I dunno. She was definitely acting different the last three weeks.”
“She was fired from Parasol studios three weeks ago.”
Sandy’s jaw fell. “Oh. Wow. Where was she going then? She left about the same time she usually left for work but...” The girl opened her mouth and tilted it back to stare at the ceiling. “Duh. She must have got another job.”
“Where?”
“She works on movies, right? I’m just saying the doll stuff was probably make up for whatever she was working on. She probably tried it on herself?”
“Like maybe it was her version of a resume?”
Sandy pointed. “Yeah, like that.”
Catriona nodded, but she couldn’t think of anything they’d filmed at Parasol in the last month featuring creepy dolls. It was possible Jessie was auditioning for other jobs.
“Ah’m guan tae hae a keek in her room,” said Broch.
The girl’s expression scrunched like a balled piece of paper and she stared at Broch as if he’d spoken in another language. Which, Catriona had to admit, he sort of had.
