“Looks like Wentworth was definitely a sick puppy,” Ben announced as he emptied the envelope of autopsy photos he had brought from the coroner’s office. As they spilled onto the table, he began systematically shuffling through them. After extracting several he felt would support his conclusion, he offered them to us. “Have a look at these.”
The three of us were gathered around the breakfast nook in the kitchen. I had started a fresh pot of coffee several minutes ago, and the maker was presently sputtering and steaming as it neared the end of the brew cycle. The strong aroma was filling the room, and it reminded me that I could really use a jolt of caffeine right about now.
“Maybe not sick,” Felicity countered, taking the 8-by-10’s from his hand as she slipped her reading glasses onto her face. “Just different.”
“Yeah, well, you say different, I say sicko.”
I glanced over at my wife and watched her furrow her brow as she began carefully scanning the images. That countenance was a drastic contrast to the one that had been staring back at me earlier, but it was welcome nonetheless.
As it turned out, she had been on her way out of the bedroom at almost the same instant I had started down the hall to check on her. She was already dressed and to my great relief, very much herself once again, albeit wearing a somewhat chagrined frown. Of course, such an expression was something you didn’t see very often where she was concerned, and in keeping with par, this one didn’t hang around for very long either.
The fact that she had brought herself under control so quickly had quelled some of my unease over what had happened earlier. I knew all too well that emotions pretty much always cloud judgment, and in the heat of lovemaking, passionate feelings run very high. In the final analysis, it appeared that this was exactly the case with Felicity. She had allowed herself to open up to the ethereal energy simply because it had been heightening her physical pleasure. Unfortunately, as that pleasure increased, so did her lack of control over the stimulus. In essence, it had become like an addictive drug, and she rapidly gave herself over to it.
While opening herself to an unknown energy certainly hadn’t been a wise choice on her part, given the circumstances, it was completely understandable. Besides, I was the last person with any right to pass judgment in that department.
In any case, what was most important was that the actual circumstances turned out to be far less heinous than the alternative I had originally feared, which was that something had forced its way past her defenses and taken over.
“Are these the marks we saw at the scene,” I asked, looking at the photo I had just been handed.
“No,” Ben replied. “That picture is of his back. But there’s a picture of his chest in here too. I want ya’ ta’ look at that one for sure.”
A group of lacerations were the focus of the particular shot I was currently perusing. A plastic photoevidence scale similar to Felicity’s was pictured along the rightmost side, showing the marks to be anywhere from three to five inches in length. The incisions were straight and somewhat evenly spaced. While they were thin, they were also deep enough to have drawn what must have been more than just a trickle of blood.
“Doc says they were prob’ly made with a straight razor,” he replied, reaching over and pulling down the corner of the photo with his finger so he could see it. Then he indicated an area above the wounds. “Look here though.”
I followed his fingertip to the edge of the picture. I could just barely make out three thin lines intersecting the corner of the image.
“What’s that?”
“Scars,” he replied. “There’s actually a better picture here somewhere.”
“Here,” Felicity interjected, sliding one toward me without looking up, as she was already engrossed in a different image.
“Yeah,” Ben said with a nod. “That’s it.”
Even though they were still faint, the lighting on this particular photograph was more conducive to showing the marks. There were, in fact, far more than just three of the lines creasing Wentworth’s pallid skin. I stopped counting at seventeen. Some were starker in appearance than others, a telltale sign that they were more recent.
“Most of ‘em are on his back,” Ben explained. “But he’s got ‘em on his buttocks and thighs, and what ya’ saw on his chest too. Basically he’s been down this road before, which is why I’m sayin’ he was a sicko.”
“He got off on being cut,” I mused.
“Yeah, that’s how it looks. Doc Sanders called it zero-phobia, or somethin’ like that.” My friend pulled a small notebook from his hip pocket and began thumbing through the pages. “Got it here somewhere…”
“Xyrophilia,” Felicity said aloud, still studying the images.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he agreed.
“A love or obsession with razors and knives,” my wife continued. “Combined with some kind of self or reverse piquerism apparently.”
My friend looked over at me with a puzzled expression. “Peekawho? Sounds like that friggin’ cartoon character.”
I simply shrugged and nodded toward my wife as I tossed the photo onto the pile and pushed away from the table. “You’ll have to ask her. I’m going to get a cup of coffee, you want some?”
He nodded. “Yeah, why not.”
“Felicity?”
“With lots of sugar this time” was her response.
“Okay,” Ben started in on my wife as I retrieved a trio of mugs from the cabinet. “So what’s with the ‘ism’?”
After a short pause, Felicity set aside the photo she’d been inspecting then looked up at Ben. “Piquerism is a condition whereby you become aroused by stabbing or cutting another person. In his case, it appears that Judge Wentworth became aroused by being cut or stabbed. I don’t know if there is an actual word for that, other than masochist.”
“Ya’know, Firehair, it fuckin’ scares the shit outta me that you know that stuff.”
“Aye, I bet I know some other things that would scare you even more.”
“Yeah, well between the two of ya’ I’m not takin’ that bet. Let’s just not go there.”
“Well, if this was his kink,” I offered, sliding a steaming mug in front of Ben. “Then you’re right, Felicity. He was definitely a masochist.”
“Like I said. Sick fuckin’ puppy.” Ben gave a quick nod then nudged my arm with the back of his hand. “By the way, I meant ta’ ask ya’ earlier. What happened to your hands?”
I looked quickly at the welted scratches that raked across my flesh then started to offer an excuse. Felicity, however, was faster with the explanation, and what she gave him was the unadulterated truth.
“A sudden attack of piquerism on my part,” she interjected.
“Come again?”
“You don’t want to…” I started, but again I was too late, as my wife was already serving up the gory details.
“I sexually dominated and physically abused my husband for several hours this morning,” she announced with calm poise. Displaying her hands, she wriggled her fingers in an animated fashion while adding, “And I got just a bit overzealous with the fingernails.”
“Awwww, Jeez…” Ben mumbled in an embarrassed tone. “I knew I shouldn’t’ve fuckin’ asked. Just forget it.”
As if she hadn’t even heard him, my wife continued her unabashed disclosure of how we’d spent our morning. “Of course, since I was sitting on top of him, holding him down, and…”
“Jeez, Row, I said I didn’t wanna know this stuff,” Ben appealed to me, cutting her off.
“I tried to stop you,” I told him.
“Well, ya’ didn’t try to stop her.”
“Aye, like he could,” Felicity replied. “Now, can I finish the story?”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” my friend said.
“It’s just sex, Ben,” she stated.
He shook his head. “Apparently not, if you were… If it was…”
“Kinky?” she asked.
“Jeezus fuckin’ Christ, yeah… ‘Zactly… Besides, with you two… It’s like… Like… I dunno, like hearin’ your parents talk about doin’ it.”
“Come on. We aren’t that old, Ben,” she admonished. “At least, I’m not. You’re both older than me, then.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it… Shit. Can we just move on ta’ somethin’ else, please?”
“You’re embarrassed,” Felicity stated with a grin as she took her glasses off and cocked her head to the side. She was thoroughly enjoying the fact that she had him squirming. Maybe even a little too much.
“So what if I am?” he replied.
“It’s funny.”
“No it ain’t.”
She nodded vigorously. “Aye, but it is.”
“Listen, does this even have anything at all to do with what I came here ta’ show you?”
“Actually, I think it does.”
“How?”
“Well, when I think about it, it all makes perfect sense.”
He looked over at me as if seeking help. I just shook my head as I set a full coffee mug and the sugar bowl in front of my wife then said, “Leave me out of it.”
I was pretty sure I knew where she was headed, and she was correct, it did make perfect sense. Still, I wasn’t about to get in the middle the conversation. Not yet, anyway.
“Jeezzzz… I know I’m gonna regret this…” he began as he looked back at her. “Damn… Okay, what makes sense?”
“Why I connected so easily with the sexual energy in that room,” she replied.
“Well yeah, it’s ‘cause you’re a Twilight Zone freakazoid just like Rowan,” he told her.
“Not funny.”
“It wasn’t a joke,” he said. “Besides, it’s just about as funny as me bein’ embarrassed. Anyway, what’s the big deal? I thought Row felt it too.”
“I did,” I offered. “But, that’s just it. I felt it. Felicity, on the other hand, really connected. Up to and including channeling it.”
“You felt it yourself,” Felicity told him flatly.
“I dunno about that,” he replied. “Like I said, it’s pretty obvious what goes on in a place like that.”
“That’s beside the point,” she returned. “You felt it whether you realized it or not.”
“Okay, I give. How do ya’ know that?”
“You were flirting with me when we arrived,” she returned.
“I’ve flirted with ya’ before,” he huffed. “It’s just, ya’know, friendly… Well, you know what I mean.”
“Aye, but you were flirting with me at a crime scene, Ben. Heavily.”
“Jeez,” he mumbled. She had him more flustered than I’d ever seen. “Listen, I’m not doin’ the hocus-pocus, that’s you two, so give it a rest. Now let’s get back ta’ what you were originally sayin’… If I’m understandin’ the deal here, you mean because you’re female and the killer is prob’ly a whor… hook… Fuckit… a prostitute, you tapped into this shit?” His words were half-statement, half-question.
“That aspect of her profession has nothing to do with it,” she replied. “But yes, I think the killer was a woman.”
“Lemme ask ya’ this, how’d’ya know it wasn’t some kinda gay thing?” He waggled his fingers before her to represent something mystical. “Wouldn’t that make for some girly Twilight Zone shit too?”
“Ben,” she snipped. “That’s simply rude.”
“I’m just askin’,” he replied.
“Did Wentworth have a history of bisexual activity?” I asked.
“Not that we’re aware of.” He shrugged. “Just coverin’ the angles.”
“Your killer is a woman,” Felicity stated with unshakeable determination.
“So she’s prob’ly a hooker then.” Ben wasn’t asking, he was telling.
“Actually, she may be a professional dominatrix,” she replied.
“Yeah, okay, and the difference is?”
“Professional domination is just that, Ben. Domination. It’s not prostitution.”
“Tell that to a judge.”
She reached out and tapped the photos. “It looks as if someone already did.”
“Yeah, right,” he returned. “So what makes ya’ think she’s a pro dominatrix?”
“Because I’m no stranger to the scene.”
“The scene?”
“Yes,” she said with a nod again. “Fem Dom.”
Ben began shaking his head and waving his hands vigorously as he spoke, “Awwww, Jeez, I already told ya’ I don’t wanna know what you two do when…”
“Whoa… Hold up.” I cut him off then added, “This isn’t a ‘you two’ thing.”
My stint of neutrality had been immediately ended by her comment as my curiosity piqued. Now I was going to get into the middle of things. I looked over at my wife. “So, do you think you might want to expand on that a bit?”
“Not much to tell really,” she said with a shrug. “Quite awhile before I met you, I dated a guy for a couple of years who was heavily into submissive role play. I used to dominate him all the time.”
“Really,” I replied, surprised but not really shocked. “You never mentioned that before.”
“It never came up,” she said, shaking her head. “Does it bother you?”
“No. Just a little surprised, that’s all… Of course, given your personality I guess I shouldn’t be.”
“Aye. I do have a dominant personality. And I must admit, I thoroughly enjoyed playing the role.”
Ben groaned as if he had just been struck square between the eyes and reached up to massage the bridge of his nose. He started to speak, hesitated, then shook his head and groaned again. It was obvious that a question was rattling inside his head, and a large part of him wanted it to remain unspoken.
“What is it, Ben?” Felicity asked.
Her prompting fueled his curiosity, and the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “So you’re actually sayin’ you’re into like whips ‘n chains and all that?”
“Whips, every now and then,” she replied. “Actually, it was a leather flogger and a belt. Chains, not so much. Quite a bit of bondage, superior attitude, some verbal humiliation… But, his real turn on was trampling.”
“What’s a trampoline got ta’ do with it?” he asked with a puzzled shake of his head.
“Not a trampoline,” she replied. “Trample- ing. He got off from me walking on him in high heels.”
“Awww, Jeezus…” My friend held up his hands again. “Stop. I don’t wanna hear any more.”
“Why?” Felicity pressed. “Are you getting turned on?”
“Do what?” he spat, staring back at her with an incredulous gaze.
“Well, you put on a good front, Ben, but deep down I think you would probably enjoy submitting to a woman.” She stated the observation without apology.
“Excuse me?” he almost yelped.
“And, you do have a thing for women’s legs,” she continued. “You’ve said so yourself. Bob did too, so it stands to reason that you might very well have the same kind of kink that he had.”
Felicity was obviously taking more than just a bit of pleasure from his discomfort. In fact, there was a recognizable glint in her eye that told me she might even be getting turned on again. However, I wasn’t entirely sure if it was sexual arousal or merely giddiness over antagonizing Ben. Considering what had happened earlier, if it weren’t for the fact that I’d seen them interact this way before, I would have been worried. However, they had a tendency to pick at one another on a regular basis. It was just how they were. Still, I kept an eye on her just in case.
“That’s different,” Ben said, shaking his head.
“Different how?”
“You’re supposed ta’ be lookin’ at these autopsy photos,” he said in an attempt to divert the conversation. “Not psychoanalyzin’ me.”
“Tell me how it’s different then,” she pushed.
“Well, ya’know… It’s just different.”
She was unrelenting. “It’s still a fetish. And it’s called crurophilia, by the way. You know, Ben, the first step here is just admitting it. I can help. I’d be more than happy to walk on you.”
“What?!”
“Sure, I’d love to do it. It would be fun. I can go put on some heels for you, and I’m certain Rowan won’t…”
“Felicity!” he objected.
“Really, Ben. You just lay down on the floor, and I’ll go change shoes. I’ve got this really sexy pair of blue pumps, and I could…”
“Dammit, Felicity!” he barked.
“Oh. Would you prefer black or red? I have those too.”
“Stop it! Just stop!”
“It’s okay. I understand,” she replied with a wicked grin.
“Jeezus…” my friend muttered, letting his forehead fall into his hand.
My wife still wasn’t finished. “It’s okay. Really. I do understand. Constance and I wear the same size. I’ll just loan them to her.”
“Felicity, goddammit!” Ben snapped. “Will ya’ just knock it off?!”
She shrugged. “Okay, if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Thank you,” he spat.
“No. That should be, ‘Thank you, Mistress’.”
My friend sighed and looked over at me. “Jeeezus… Row… I dunno how you do it.”
I leaned back against the counter and took a sip from my own cup of coffee. I couldn’t help but be somewhat amused by their exchange, especially since it didn’t take the turn I had feared.
“Actually, she’s not usually as mean to me as she is to you,” I replied.
“I can be if you’d like,” she offered.
“We’ll discuss that later.”
“Fuckin’ wunnerful,” Ben spat then started shuffling through the pile of photos once again until he found the shot he was looking for and pulled it out with a quick jerk. Holding it up, he continued, “So, you two clowns wanna get serious for a minute and have a look at this one? Believe it or not, the reason I came here is ‘cause I’ve got some police work to do.”