Chapters List | Stories List | Front Page
Sex, Lies, and Videotape
"This is Greg," the voice at the other end of the phoneline said. Lorna had gotten Greg Lee's number from the hospital's main desk, hoping he was the right person to talk to and that she wouldn't have to go through too much of a run around. Finding David's name on the list of photographers made her realize that she knew almost nothing about her assistant, and she was hoping to learn without ruffling too many feathers.
"My name is Lorna Perry," Lorna said into the phone. She had already made sure her door was locked and that David was gone, but still cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and hid under her desk. "I'm with the SFPD. I'm calling to verify employment of a former employee."
"Well, I'm kind of limited by union rules," Greg said. "Did you say SFPD?"
"Yes," Lorna said. "I'm calling about David Brule."
"I see," Greg replied. "What is it you need to know?"
"First of all, did you know him?"
"Yes. Yes, I did." Lorna could tell that Greg was hesitant.
"Can you tell me what kind of employee he was?" Lorna asked.
"Officer," Greg said, "is this part of an investigation?"
"Possibly," Lorna replied, wincing. She knew that identifying herself as an investigating officer could wind her up in a world of crap.
"Possibly?" Greg asked. "Because if it's not all I can verify are dates of employment."
"Yes," Lorna said. "This is part of an investigation."
"In that case," Greg replied, "I'll fax over his employment history."
"Thanks. I'd appreciate that," Lorna said, then gave him the Body Shop's fax number.
"Is there anything else you need?" Greg asked.
"Actually," Lorna said, "I was hoping you might tell me a little about him personally."
"Look, Officer, David is a great guy," Greg said. "He had some personal problems after his wife was killed, but so what? Anyone would. I'm not sure why you're investigating him, but if you're looking for a damaging character testimony you won't get it from me."
"Thank you," Lorna said, with a sudden desire to hang up. Greg was getting angry, and Lorna didn't want him asking questions about her. The less he knew, and the less he wanted to verify her "investigation," the safer she was. "I'll call you if I need anything else."
She hung up the phone with more questions than she had gotten answers to. She knew what she wanted to do, but it was several minutes of pacing her office before she worked up the courage to pick up the phone and do it.
"Danny Huerta please," she said to the woman who answered the phone at San Fran Systems. "Danny? Hi, this is Lorna. Listen, I need to ask you a favor. I know Chris gets you to help him out in investigations; if I gave you a name, could you take a look for me and Email me whatever you find?"
Ten minutes later, Lorna was still sitting at her desk, staring at the phone, when there was a knock at the door. When she pulled back the Venetian blinds, she was somewhat relieved to find Holly smiling at her through the glass.
"Hey, Holly," she said, opening the door.
"So what's the good word?" Holly asked.
"About what?"
"The fur, dopey," Holly said. Lorna was finding her bubbly childishness annoying again, despite having spent almost two straight days in the woman's company.
"Right," Lorna said. She turned and picked up a folder from her desk. "95% chance that it came from the same manufacturer as the fibers we found on Theresa. The dye lots match, and the hair is rabbit."
"Well," Holly shrugged. "Not enough for an arrest, but it's enough to bring him in for questioning. Feel up to it?"
"Sure," Lorna said. "As long as you promise to try and tick him off so I can hit him. I feel like hitting someone."
"We'd like to talk to Mr. Locke," Holly said to the eye peering out of the barely open door.
"He doesn't want to see you," came the curt reply.
"In that case we'll go get a warrant and..." was as far as Holly got before the door was shut on her. "Do you believe that?" she asked Lorna.
"Unfortunately I do," Lorna replied with a shrug.
They turned and silently walked back down the hallway, pondering their next move. As they were waiting for the elevator, however, the door to Locke's apartment opened and then quickly closed. When Holly and Lorna looked, there was a videotape sitting just outside the door.
"You like her, don't you, Carol?" Des asked. He was looking directly into the camera.
"Yes, Master," Carol replied, from behind the camera. "She's very pretty."
Des stepped aside to give the camera a view of Theresa. She was on lying, stomach-down, on an ottoman; her elbows and knees were touching the floor. She was naked, and her wrists and ankles were tied to metal bars, forcing her arms and legs to spread and taking away her ability to get up. A red ball was stuffed into her mouth, held in place by a leather strap, and a black blindfold covered her eyes.
"She's helpless," Des smiled, evilly.
"Yes, Master," Carol said.
"You want her?" Des asked.
"Yes, Master."
"What would you do with her?"
"I would pleasure her, Master."
"Pleasure her," Des repeated, mockingly. He took a drag from his cigarette, then blew the smoke at the camera and laughed. Turning around, he scanned the assortment of weapons hanging on the wall before picking up a cat-o-nine-tails. He turned around and looked at the camera again, studying Carol's face.
"Please," Carol said, after a moment. "Don't hurt her."
"You would hate to see her hurt, would you?" Des asked. Before Carol could answer, he brought the lash down across Theresa's backside. Carol sobbed as Theresa thrashed against the restraints. Three more times Des brought it down with a crack. "She likes it," he grinned.
"No, Master," Carol said.
Des knelt down and studied the welts for a moment. He looked back up at the camera, then tilted his head sideways, studying Carol again. Then a look of pure malice came across his face and he stubbed his cigarette out on Theresa's flesh. The girl screamed against the gag.
Des stood up and walked in front of Theresa.
"Shut up," he said to her. Theresa did her best to stop crying, but was apparently not quiet enough for Des' tastes. He brought the lash down across her back with brutal force and she screamed again. "I said shut up," he hissed, and whipped her again.
When she continued to scream, Des became enraged, and stomped on her hand with the heel of his boot, eliciting more screams. He struck her across the face with the back of his hand, then ripped the gag from her face and threw it at the camera. As Theresa cried, Des stood up disappeared from view.
"I'm done," Theresa sobbed, in between tears. "I think my wrist is broken." She tilted her head sideways, as if trying to locate Carol by sound. "Please, Carol. Please let me up. My wrist is broken. Oh god, it hurts."
"I thought I told you to shut up!" Des shouted, returning to the room. He was carrying a wad of plastic bags and a roll of duct tape. He knelt down in front of Theresa and squeezed her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. With his free hand, he tried to shoving the bags into her mouth, but didn't have much success. Theresa fought him as much as she could, thrashing her head back and forth.
"Ah!" He screamed, smacking her again. "You bitch! How dare you bite me?"
Des stood up, but didn't walk away. Instead, he stood for a moment, thinking, before he roared in anger and kicked at Theresa's side. He walked over to the table and returned a thin vibrator. Kneeling in front of Theresa again, he wrapped his right arm around her neck in a headlock, holding her still. Then he used the vibrator as a plunger, ramming the bags into her mouth between her clenched teeth. When he'd satisfied himself that a sufficient number of bags had been used, he sealed them in with a piece of duct tape.
As Des stood up again, grinning at the camera, Theresa closed her eyes and dropped her head.
The camera followed him as Des walked around behind Theresa and opened the fly of his pants. Before he pulled them down, the camera panned away from him to show Theresa from the waist up. Although Des couldn't be seen, the way his hands grabbed at her hips and the sound of his heavy breathing gave testimony to his actions.
Theresa wasn't moving. The camera watched her for a few moments before Carol zoomed in a little and walked around in front of her. As the camera got a full view of Theresa's face, a smudge of blood could be seen coming from under the tape and down her chin. Carol zoomed in on it and gasped.
"Oh my god," she said. "She's bleeding."
"What?" Des asked. He leaned over Theresa and pulled her face up. After looking at the blood for a moment, he placed two fingers on her throat. "Shit," he muttered before slowly peeling the duct tape from her face. Theresa made no attempt to spit the bags back out.
"You killed her!" Carol screamed hysterically. "You fucking killed her! Do something!"
"What?" Des yelled back, helplessly. "What do you want me to do?"
"You could get your dick out of her!" Carol screamed, then dropped the camera.
The screen went static.
Holly stood still, her hand over her mouth. The small crowd of detectives around her was just as silent. Perhaps, she thought, using the television in the squad's break room to watch the video wasn't such a good idea.
Lorna ran out of the room, gagging.
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter