Three bullwhips! I was taking a shower when it hit me that McGregor had said that three bullwhips had come from Australia. Was the killer a collector? Or was he afraid they might somehow break, or lose their effectiveness? I couldn’t shake the feeling that the bullwhips were a big piece of the puzzle. A few other things puzzled me, too. Were all of the victims tied into Norrell Prison and the drug connection? Why were some of the victims’ extremities thrown against the wall while others were not?
The post office had to keep some sort of records on whom they rented boxes to. They probably had an address. Maybe even a phone number. We were close to solving this thing. I was sure of it. That’s how it is with cases. Nothing makes sense until you find a clue that turns out to be the linchpin on which all other parts hang.
“Phoenix,” I heard Keyth yell over the splashing water. “There’s a Detective Thompson on the phone from Malibu.”
I stepped out of the shower. My husband looked at my nude body and smiled in such a way that I knew we were going to do it. I wrapped myself in a red beach towel and teasingly squeezed my husband’s erection as I sauntered past him.
“You know when you get off the phone, we gon’ have to take care of a little business.” Keyth beamed. “Brotha feelin’ like Marvin Gaye. Need a little sexual healing.”
We kissed. “You gon’ be able to handle it?” I asked him.
“Are you?” Keyth asked.
“We’ll see, won’t we?” I said, then went into the bedroom. I sat on the bed, put the phone to my ear, and rested it on my shoulder while I put lotion on my body. “Agent Perry.”
“Agent Perry, Steven Thompson here. I’m a detective with the Malibu Police Department. Your people patched me through to your home. I apologize for calling you at this hour, but I have some pertinent information for you.”
Keyth had begun to massage my hard nipples and I felt myself sliding down that slippery slope to ecstasy. His hands were the masters of my body’s sensuality. They felt so good, so erotic, yet sensitive and strong. I couldn’t help responding to them.
“Pertinent to what, detective?”
Keyth’s hand had found its way to my moist crotch, touching my sensitive spot. I let my neck fall back as I gave into my body’s beckoning.
“Pertinent to the three murders you’re working on. A few days ago, we got a 911 call, but no one was on the other end. We sent a squad car to the residence and found a bloodbath. Three women had been beaten with a bullwhip and dismembered with a chain saw.”
When Detective Thompson said that, I felt like I had just been awakened with ice cold water. I removed Keyth’s hand from my crotch and sat on the edge of the bed.
“What?” I said in horror.
“Three of them, Agent Perry. Now you’ve got three. What’s interesting is, we found three men dead at the bottom of the bluff right behind the mansion. And get this: one of the three men, Jasper Hunter, had had sex with one of the murder victims. Her name was Paula Stevens. Apparently they were having a serious fuck festival.”
“Why do you say that, detective?”
“Because the coroner found traces of Sandra Rhodes’ vaginal secretion on one of the victims’ tongues. The trace evidence shows pool chalk and green felt material on Sandra Rhodes’ clothing and on her ass. It looks like Heather Connelly was performing cunnilingus on Sandra while her live-in boyfriend Jasper Hunter was bangin’ Paula Stevens. Her vaginal liquid was on his penis. We found carpet fibers on both knees. The killer must have walked in unexpectedly and it was another Heiter Skelter. Blood was splattered on the walls from the body parts being thrown against it. Weird as hell, Agent Perry.”
“Yes, it is. Here in D.C., it’s the same and it’s different. It’s like the killer is angry with some of the victims and not angry with others. Almost as if they’re two different killers. Maybe one is a copycat,”
“Maybe. Another thing. The bullwhip that the perp used came from Australia. It’s made of…”
“Kangaroo hide,” I finished his sentence.
“Yeah. Must be an Aussie.”
“Not necessarily, Detective. The killer purchased the bullwhips on the Internet and had them shipped to a PC) box at one of our local post offices. My partner and I are going to check it out in the morning.”
“What the hell is going on?” Thompson asked.
“I don’t know, Detective. I just know that women are being beaten with a bullwhip and dismembered.”
“Yeah, But why aren’t the men being whipped and dismembered?” Thompson asked.
“Only one man killed here so far. And he was beaten with the whip,” I told him.
“I’ve got three murdered men who weren’t beaten.”
“This is getting more and more weird,” I said.
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“Detective, I sure would like to get a look at that crime scene.”
“I can fax you photos and a copy of everything we have if you like.”
“I like.”
Before hanging up, I gave Thompson the fax number and my home phone number just in case he thought of something else. I also gave him my email address so I could see colored photos of the victims.
I found myself asking more questions. Why kill Louis and Kathy Perkins in Washington, kill six more people in Malibu, then return to Washington, and kill again? Why didn’t he kill all of the D.C. victims before going to Malibu?
I was ready to pick up where Keyth and I had left off. I turned around and he was fast asleep. I kind of laughed and shook my head. He’d gotten me all steamed up. There was a bit of a blaze between my legs and now he couldn’t hose me down.