Chapters List | Stories List | Front Page
Unleash the Hounds of Porn
Lorna leaned back and let her body slide down; she couldn't suppress a giggle when the mud made a loud fart-noise. She managed to stay still for almost a full minute before reaching up and pulling the cucumber slices from her eyes. She looked at them for a moment, frowned, and then took a bite of one.
"You're not supposed to eat them," Holly said.
"They were making me feel like a salad," Lorna replied. "How long are we supposed to sit here?"
"Until you relax," Holly replied.
"I can't relax. Hey, did you bring a beach ball? We could bounce it back and forth."
"You really need to consider decaf," Holly said, shifting deeper in the mud.
"Sorry," Lorna said. "This has been such a week. It's been so bad I even got into Chris' Carffee stash."
"Ick," Holly said. "I don't know how you can drink that stuff. Now shut up and relax."
"I told you, it's been too rough of a week to relax," Lorna said, making fountains by squirting the mud through her hands.
"You wanna talk?" Holly asked.
"I dunno," Lorna said.
"Well," Holly said, "tell me about this Chris guy. Are you guys serious?"
"Not yet," Lorna said. "Soon, I hope."
"Sweetheart, if I had a nickel for every one of my girlfriends that said that about a guy," Holly smiled.
"Well, he got the ring," Lorna said. "That's a start, anyway."
"And when did he tell you he was going to ask?"
"Well," Lorna said, sheepishly. "Technically, he didn't."
"Well what did he say when he took you to get the ring?" Holly asked.
"Er... he didn't take me."
"Then how do you know he got it?"
"Because he hid it where he hides all my Christmas presents."
"Top of the closet, pushed all the way back?"
"Yup."
"Typical guy," Holly laughed. "So is he rich? Handsome?"
"Secure," Lorna said. Holly chuckled again. "Well really, I've had handsome, and Lord knows I've had rich, this is San Francisco after all. I dunno, it just didn't interest me."
"Handsome and rich doesn't interest you?" Holly repeated.
"Don't get me wrong, it's just that sometimes I feel like a golden ball. I'd like a prince, but I'd settle for a frog courteous enough to swim down and pull me out of the well."
"And that's why you're into him? He's courteous?"
"Sometimes," Lorna laughed. "There was that trip he took to Canada without telling me."
"See," Holly said, sitting up. "I couldn't do that. I couldn't fall for a guy like that. If I fall for a guy, he's gotta be the whole package. Looks, money, and he's gotta treat me like a queen."
"Good luck," Lorna said. "Hey, what are you doing tonight? You should come to our Halloween party and you can meet him."
"Sorry," Holly said. "I have a few hours to go talk to photographers and then I'm having dinner with my parents. They're up from Orange County."
"Ah," Lorna said. "Maybe some other time then."
"Can I help you ladies?" The old man at the door asked.
Lorna looked up at the frosted glass window and read the name, "Flavorus Maximus" again, just to make sure they were at the right place. The man who answered the door, however, looked nothing like a purveyor of pornography. Instead, he looked like a bingo barker at a senior home. He was dressed in a cream-colored shirt with small, maroon V's all over it, powder blue slacks, and white, patent leather shoes. He was short, balding, and wore thick glasses. All told, he reminded Lorna of an old-time Vaudeville comedian, like George Burns or Jack Benny.
"Excuse me," Holly said. "Are you Maxwell Kratsch?"
"Max," he said. "And you still haven't answered my question."
"We need to ask you about some of the photographers who work for you," Holly said.
"They don't work for me," Max replied. "I pay them strictly contract. So if you're looking to do a spread you need to contact them. I don't broker."
"Hold it," Holly said, shoving her foot into the doorframe as Max tried to shut them out. "You misunderstand me. I'm Detective Bayre, and this is Detective Perry. We're investigating the murder of one of your models."
"Not my models," Max snapped. "I ain't had nothing to do with no murder."
"Not you," Holly agreed. "Like I said, one the photographers who contracts with you."
"You're sure of this?" Max asked.
"Positive," Holly replied.
"All right," Max said, opening the door. "I buy from about 80 photographers. If you can find a picture of the girl, that'll narrow it down."
The Flavorus Maximus offices were sparsely decorated, to say the least. There was a massive oak desk, centered along the far wall. There was a rack of metal shelves that held a dozen or so computer towers, and on the far way was a folding table on which sat two monitors and two scanners. Max wheeled a chair over to the table and sat down at it. With a flick of the mouse, he had a series of pictures on the screen. They were small, but clear. Lorna recalled the term "thumbnail."
"Any of these?" Max asked.
"No," Holly said. Then, with a tilt of her head, added, "she's very limber."
"Any of these?" Max said, producing another screen of images.
"No," Holly said.
"Ouch," Lorna said, "how can she do that? It's gotta hurt."
"How about these?" Max said.
"No," Holly said. "Ew, she's gonna get a yeast infection from that."
"Tell you what," Max said, standing up. "Why don't you go through the pictures until you find what you're looking for."
Holly nodded and Max wheeled his chair back over to his desk and sat down. Lorna considered asking for something to sit on, then thought better of it. They flipped, winced, and gagged their way through several dozen pictures before they found one of Terri. The girl was sitting on a thin white sheet, with what looked like a countertop underneath of it. She was pale, lying on her back with her right hand across her stomach. Her left hand dangled off the edge of the counter.
"That's her," Holly said, pointing.
"That's Platinum," Max said. "I've bought pictures of her from five photographers. She likes to do 'goth' shots and 'gang' shots.
"I didn't need to know that," Holly replied.
"I'll get you a list of her photographers," Max said with an evil grin.
"Can you zoom in on that picture?" Lorna whispered to Holly, as soon as she thought Max was out of earshot.
"I guess," Holly said. She clicked on the image several times before a larger version popped up.
"Look at her wrist," Lorna said. "It's been straightened, but see that white triangle? That wrist is broken."
"You think she was abused?" Holly asked.
"Maybe," Lorna said. "Maybe not. But this picture was taken not long before she was killed. That wrist was still broken when I saw her."
"Here you go, ladies," Max said, returning from the printer. He handed a sheet of paper to Holly, who looked over it and then stuffed it into her purse. "And if you need anything else," Max said, "don't hesitate to ask someone else."
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter