“There a problem here?” the man asked.
We hadn’t even made it through the front door of the establishment before we were stopped. In fact, by the time we hit the bottom of the stairs, the bald meatloaf, clad in a faded military jacket, was waiting for us on the landing. He had positioned himself between the door and us, and it was obvious that we were going to need to run his gauntlet before gaining entry.
Under different circumstances I’m sure Ben would have simply used his size and badge to bully his way past a bouncer, but it was clear that this guy wouldn’t be easy to intimidate. He looked to be only a few inches shorter than my friend, and that put him well over six feet himself. But, more importantly, what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle mass; at least, that is how he appeared; and I wasn’t interested in trying to disprove it. I got the feeling that Ben wasn’t either.
I had to say that security here was better than some airports I’d been in.
“No problem,” my friend returned.
“Really.”
“Yeah, really.”
The human barricade nodded in the direction of the van then looked back to Ben. “Then what was the show all about?”
“Minor disagreement,” he returned. “Mind if we go in now? It’s kinda cold out here.”
“What are you two doing here?”
“Whaddaya mean?”
“Did I stutter?” The man followed his question with a cold stare, sizing us both up with his eyes.
“It’s the east side. What does anyone do here?”
“I think you gentlemen should leave now,” he stated simply.
“We’d like to have a drink first,” Ben offered up as an objection.
“This is a private club,” the man returned. “And, I don’t recognize either of you as members.”
“Okay, so where do we sign up?”
“I already told you nicely, I think you need to leave. I don’t want to have to tell you again.”
“Listen, buddy, I really didn’t wanna get into it with ya’,” Ben said as he played the cop card, pulling open his jacket to reveal the gold shield clipped to his belt.
The bouncer glanced at the badge then back to my friend’s face without ever changing his expression. “Uh-huh, I’ve got one of those too. Gotta love the internet.”
“Yeah, asshole?” Ben snipped, finally losing his patience as he pulled out his formal ID and displayed it. “Thing is, mine’s real.”
The man took the identification and inspected it closely before handing it back to him then said with a shake of his head. “Okay, so? You think being a cop automatically gets you in the door?”
I had been keeping my mouth shut just like I had been told, but the pissing match between the two of them was becoming too much for me. The wave of calm that had overtaken me earlier had now faded into the background, and I was getting edgier by the second. At the rate these two were going, we could be standing here all night, and I simply wasn’t interested in waiting.
“We’re here looking for my wife,” I blurted.
“Keep outta this, Row,” Ben snapped.
The man turned his attention to me. “So, you think your wife is in there?”
“I know she is.”
“Yeah, well listen, buddy, you aren’t the first guy to have second thoughts about the cuckold husband game. Just go on home like a good little subby and wait. She’ll be there when she’s done.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” I replied.
“Uh-huh,” he grunted with a heavy note of sarcasm. “You think I haven’t heard that before? Look, I’m sorry you got cold feet, but this isn’t the place to work out your marital issues, and we sure as hell don’t need a domestic disturbance.”
“Look,” Ben interjected. “I don’t know what you’re rattlin’ about, but here’s the deal. You see that Jeep over there?”
My friend twisted and pointed back toward Felicity’s vehicle.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“It belongs to this guy’s wife,” my friend continued as he turned back to the bouncer. “And, as it happens, his wife is currently wanted for questioning in a murder investigation. Since I have a reason to believe she’s in there…” He pointed toward the door. “…I intend to go in and have a look. Now, I wanted to do this nice and quiet like, but apparently, you’re wantin’ to make it into a big production.”
“You have a warrant?”
“I don’t need one.”
“Yes, you do.”
“You ever heard the terms reasonable suspicion and probable cause? No, I don’t need a fuckin’ warrant.”
“You’re a Saint Louis cop.” The man tried a fresh objection. “You’re out of your jurisdiction.”
“I’m currently assigned to Major Case. Jurisdiction ain’t an issue. Now, you gonna let us in, or do I hafta arrest you for interfering with an ongoing police investigation?”
The man stared back at Ben. He didn’t seem like he was particularly shaken, but he also didn’t appear anywhere near as cocky or confident as he had earlier. After a moment, he gave my friend a shallow nod and said, “Wait here. I’ll get the owner.”
He turned and disappeared through the door, leaving us out on the wide landing by ourselves.
“Who’s been watching TV now?” I asked.
“Hey,” he returned defensively. “Everything I said was the real deal.”
“Still sounded like a cop show.”
“Yeah, well sometimes they get lucky and get it right,” he huffed. “I thought I told you ta’ keep your mouth shut.”
“I did. For a while anyway.”
“Yeah, about two minutes.”
“I got tired of waiting.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shouldn’t we go on ahead in?”
“You heard ‘im. He’s gettin’ the owner.”
“Yeah, so,” I said as I started toward the door.
“Yeah, so I’d like ta’ do this peaceably,” he replied as he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “Look, if she’s in there, she ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
“I just want this over with, Ben,” I complained.
“Yeah, me too,” he replied as he reached up to rub his neck. After a good thirty seconds of silence, he glanced over at me and asked, “Hey, so what’s a cuckold?”
“It’s a word.”
“No shit. What’s it s’posed to mean?”
“It’s a word used to describe a man married to an unfaithful wife.”
“Then why’d that meatlump call it a game?”
“It is, to some extent. In the arena of female domination, the woman will sometimes humiliate her husband by being blatantly unfaithful to him. Often, right in front of him or by telling him about it in great detail. It’s a fetish that some submissive men are into.”
“Jeezus, I don’t even wanna know how you know that.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “The word was an answer in a crossword puzzle, and I had to look it up. I found the stuff about the fetish by following a couple of internet links out of curiosity.”
“Okay, at least I know you’re not that kinda weird then. Cuckold, huh? Sounds like a friggin’ old clock.”
“Actually, you aren’t far off. The word is derived from cuckoo because with some varieties of the bird, the female lays her eggs in other birds’ nests and leaves them to be taken care of by those birds. Thereby, she gains a reputation for unfaithfulness. Cuckoo. Cuckold.”
“Jeez… You ’n Constance oughta go on a game show together,” he told me. “Between the two of ya’, you’d clean up, and we could all retire.”
“Yeah, I doubt it,” I returned. “By the way, thanks.”
“For what?”
“For trying to keep my mind off this mess.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“No, but I know you pretty well.”
“So, is it workin’?”
“Not really.”
“Well, stop worryin’ on it anyway,” he offered. “We’re gonna work it out… I don’t know how, but somehow.”
“I hope you’re right.”
He didn’t get a chance to respond. The door swung open and a far less than petite woman strode out. At least, she appeared to be a woman. Her blonde hair was a short bob that framed an angular face that could easily have gone either direction as far as gender. Her shoulders were broad, and with the platform shoes she was wearing, she actually stood taller than Ben. Trailing along behind her was a shorter individual who was more easily identifiable as male.
“Excuse you,” she barked at us, and her husky falsetto voice did little to solve the gender mystery.
We both stepped out of the way, and she continued past us, tugging hard on a leash that was attached to a collar around the man’s neck. While she was wrapped in a leather coat, he was bare from the waist up. Since the temperature had dipped into the low forties, I could only imagine that he was freezing. But then, I suppose that was part of their game. We both automatically turned, watching them as they went down the stairs then out across the parking lot.
“Tim tells me you’re a cop,” a more distinctly female voice came from behind us.
We turned back to find a somewhat shorter individual staring at us. She was roughly my height, so she was looking upward toward Ben as most people ended up doing. Her face was wide with large eyes and pronounced lips, all surrounded by a shoulder-length flip of dark hair. She was wrapped in a full-length fur coat that hid her figure, but unlike the person preceding her, by all outward appearances she was actually a real female. Even so, she did carry herself with a typically male posture which I could only assume was intended to intimidate.
“Yeah, Detective Ben Storm, Major Case Squad,” my friend replied. “You are?”
“Vee Ostuni,” she replied coolly. “I’m the owner. You may call me Lady Vee.”
“Miz Ostuni…” Ben started.
“Lady Vee,” she corrected.
“Yeah. Okay. So listen, Miz Ostuni,” he began again, a little more forcefully.
She held out her hand in an abrupt flourish. “May I see some ID?”
Ben displayed his impatience with a loud huff but produced the wallet and badge once again, standing by as she inspected the credentials. She made a great show of holding up the ID to the light and glancing back and forth between the picture and my friend’s face. After what seemed like a solid trio of minutes, she closed the wallet and handed it back over to him.
“Satisfied?” my friend asked.
“Satisfied? No, you quite rudely interrupted that,” she quipped. “Oh, but I’m sure you meant the ID. Well, I suppose I don’t doubt you are who you say you are. Now, what is it that you want?”
“We’d like to come in and look around.”
“For what?”
“My wife,” I piped up.
She glanced past Ben at me. “And she would be the murder suspect, correct.”
“Incorrect,” I spat. “She’s…”
“She’s a person of interest,” Ben interjected.
“That is just another way of saying suspect,” she retorted.
“Or witness,” he stressed.
“Which is she then?” She blinked and raised her eyebrows in a mocking expression. “Suspect or witness?”
“Like I said,” my friend spoke with forced clarity. “She is a person of interest.”
“Yes, I figured as much. If you’re going to lie, pick one and stick to it,” she replied haughtily then turned on her heel and started toward the door. “Good evening, gentlemen, now go away.”
Ben reached out quickly and took hold of her arm, spinning her back around to face us but not releasing his grip.
“Listen, I’ve had about enough of this crap outta you wingnuts!” he barked. “Now either we come in with your blessing, or I slap cuffs on you, make a couple of calls, and shut you down for a while.”
“Ooohh, Detective,” she purred. “So forceful. I am sorry, but I’m a top, not a switch. I can, however, introduce you to some submissive women if you’d like. Or would you prefer a male slave?”
“Jeezus!” he spat, quickly releasing her arm as if he thought he was touching something repugnant.
“Lady Vee,” I appealed, trying to defuse the situation. “I understand your reluctance, but all we want to do is go inside and get my wife.”
I was usually the one being reined in by Ben, so this was a bit of a change for me. Given the way I was feeling at the moment, I was surprising myself with my own calm.
“I really don’t need a domestic disturbance in my club,” she replied.
“There won’t be.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she remarked flatly. “If she is inside and you have had to come looking for her, obviously there is an issue.”
“There is,” I agreed. “She’s not answering her cell phone.”
“And perhaps she has a good reason.”
“She does, but not one you would understand.”
“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” she announced. “But, I don’t want you in my club. If you think you need to make calls, Detective, feel free. I’ll make one myself, to my attorney.”
She turned and started toward the door once again, and Ben immediately reached beneath the folds of his coat. A second later I heard the clink of his handcuffs as he extracted them from his belt.
“Hold on,” I said, laying my hand on his arm then I directed myself toward the club owner. “Lady Vee, wait…”
She stopped and turned back toward me as she impatiently snipped, “What is it?”
“If the issue is that you don’t want an incident in your club, how about if you send her out here?”
“And what reason should I give her for sending her out?” she asked.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never kicked anyone out before,” Ben said. “I’m sure you can think of somethin’.”
She stood there with her hand on the door handle, staring back at us. After a brief moment, she released the door and stepped back over to us. “All right. Do you have a picture, so I know who I am looking for?”
I quickly dug in my pocket and extracted my wallet, peeling open the Velcro tab and flipping through the pictures. Landing on the most recent photo of my wife, I turned the billfold around and handed it to her.
She glanced at the image of Felicity for a second then handed the wallet back to me.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t send her out.”
“Why not?” I couldn’t keep the pleading tone out of my voice.
“Because she isn’t here.”
“Bullshit,” Ben snapped as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Her fuckin’ Jeep is parked right over there.”
“Be that as it may,” she replied. “She is not inside my club. She left about thirty or forty minutes ago.”
“Left?”
“Yes, left,” she said, waving her hand out in a sweeping gesture. “As in went away, said goodbye, took her leave…”
“Was anyone with her?” I asked.
“Yes. Mat.”
“Matt who?” Ben asked, reaching for his notebook.
“Not Matt who,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Door Mat. He’s a regular here.”
“Door Mat? Jeezus… So, what’s his real name?”
“I have no idea.”
“You don’t know his real name?”
“No, Detective, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“You gotta be kiddin’ me? He’s a regular and you don’t know his real name?”
“I’ve already told you no twice. This makes three.”
“What about someone else inside? One of your staff? One of the other ‘nameless regulars’ then?”
“I wouldn’t know. We respect our clientele here.”
“Oh yeah? Ya’ coulda fooled me.”
“Privacy, Detective. Their privacy.”
“Yeah. Whatever.”