A Dish Best Served Cold Ch. 03

She couldn't remember whether or not they had consummated the act but at least Steve was gentleman enough not to remind her of it but he wasn't gentleman enough not to leer at her tits, ass and legs every chance he got.

"Remind me what that says," Penelope thought the best way to deal with the uncomfortable silence was to talk about the case.

"Benjamin Roach, married white male, and Jamaal Washington, single black male, both shot multiple times in the chest and finished off with a coup de grace to the forehead. Shell casings recovered at the scene and rounds recovered from the bodies indicate the weapon was a .380 pistol. The first rounds were fired from several feet away and the coup de grace was delivered point blank," Steve read from the file.

"Both men were naked and were sitting at a table on which there were quantities of booze and illicit substances. There is evidence that they had both engaged in recent sexual activity. The bed was messed-up, forensics found several long red hairs in the bedclothes and Benjamin Roach had lipstick on his penis."

"At first Houston detectives thought it was a drug deal gone bad but now they're not so sure. A witness said he saw a red-headed hooker walking though the parking lot just after the couple in the next room heard muffled gunshots. The couple were reluctant to report the gunshots initially because they were both married but not to each other," Steve Edwards grinned.

"You think this is funny?" Penelope barked.

"I don't see how two ex-jocks getting tapped in a no-tell motel links to the Duvall murder," Steve reached for his cigarettes but put them away quickly when Penelope gave him a 'don't you fucking dare' stare.

"They were fraternity brothers and played on the same football team. They are all spoiled rich kids who grew up entitled and never had to work a day in their lives and got everything they ever wanted. And what they couldn't get by asking they took," Penelope thought she sounded like she was lecturing Steve but she couldn't help it.

"We have several women who have come forward and told us that Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington, Spencer Duvall and William Turner forced or blackmailed them into having sex, either individually or as a group," Penelope said.

"What witnesses? How come you didn't let me and my partner in on this," Steve sounded pissed.

"Because the witnesses will never testify and I promised them discretion and because you didn't need to know about it to do your job. Now you know because you need to know," Penelope couldn't help but smile at the pun.

Penelope pulled over at the motel where the murder had been committed. Room 102 was still sealed with police tape and a uniformed officer was sitting on a lawn chair keeping guard. Penelope showed her badge.

"Lieutenant Wagner said you'd be coming. Sign in please. No need for booties or gloves, the scene has been processed," the officer gave Penelope a clipboard for her to sign which she did then passed it on to Steve.

As soon as she entered the hotel room she recognised it from some of the videos that Alice Leasingham had downloaded from Spencer Duvall's devices. She took some pictures with her phone. There was fingerprint dust everywhere and the sheets had been taken off the bed. There was evidence of luminol. The two blood-stained chairs were still pulled up to the glass-top table.

There wasn't much else to see so she and Steve continued on and pulled up at 1200 Travis in Downtown Houston, the headquarters of Houston PD. They were escorted to a small office where they met Lieutenant Joe Wagner who was heading up the case.

"Hello Lieutenant Bishop, good to meet you. Your reputation precedes you," he offered his hand to Penelope who wasn't sure if Joe Wagner was having a dig at her or complementing her.

"And you, you old dog... what the fuck are you doing policing in that Podunk town?" Joe gave Steve a manly hug.

"I got sick and tired of seeing your ugly mug every day Lieutenant," Steve gave him a brotherly punch to the shoulder.

"Nothing to do with the string of complaints that finally made it to internal affairs?" Joe said bitingly and Steve blushed.

"Look Penny I'm not sure if our cases are linked but we know that Roach, Washington and Duvall were tight. The families are rattling the Chief's cage but refusing to be interviewed. Carl Huntley and William Turner have suddenly decided to go on a skiing holiday to Europe," Joe said, pointing to two seats.

Penelope didn't like being called Penny by people who didn't know her but she tolerated it for the sake of grace.

"There are some similarities between the murders. Evidence of a woman being present and a non-secretor male but that could also be either Huntley or Turner; I don't suppose they offered any DNA or even a saliva or blood sample?" Penelope posed.

"We have Huntley's DNA on file from a rape allegation last year but the victim withdrew the complaint. She suddenly seemed to have come into a sum of money and moved interstate. We're having it compared to the forensics collected from the motel," Joe leaned back and put his feet on the desk.

"If you give us your samples we can compare them to what we have," Joe offered.

"I'll have them sent down," Penelope offered.

She knew that arguing to have Houston's samples sent to Balwyn wouldn't make sense because Houston was the bigger city and had far more resources.

"You've discounted the drug deal?" Steve interjected.

"Makes no sense. Those assholes were too rich to need to get into that kind of trouble and the drugs at the scene were not of trafficable quantities. Both vics had ingested cocaine before they were murdered," Joe turned down his mouth.

"What about the woman?" Penelope asked.

"We have a witness said he saw a red-headed woman walk past him in the parking lot. Said she was wearing a short skirt, heels and heavy makeup, that's why he thought she was a hooker. The motel is a notorious hangout for hookers and callgirls. They even rent rooms by the hour," Joe replied.

"The witness watched the woman cross the highway then he lost her. There is a diner across the road from the motel and hookers are known work the truck stop there so she could well be a pro," Joe postulated.

"Or she could have parked her car there. Any CCTV?" Penelope asked.

"Nope. Neither at the motel or the diner," Joe shrugged.

"Can I interview your witness?" Penelope asked.

"Hey, mi casa es su casa. You can have access to everything we have and I'll get you the contact details for the witness. Why don't you both get settled in? I've got you both booked into the Embassy Suites. I can take you on a tour of Houston's nightlife," Joe opened his arms magnanimously.

"I think I'll pass on the tour," Penelope said standing up ready to leave.

"Come on Steve... for old time's sake?" Joe smiled at his old pal.

"I'm not missing out on a chance to visit my old stomping grounds," Steve grinned.

"I'll pick you up at eight," Joe Wagner got to his feet and ushered Penelope and Steve out of his office.

Penelope checked into her room and emailed the pictures she had taken of the motel room to Alice so she could compare them to the room in the Duvall videos before she took a shower. She called Bradley and then went to bed only to be awoken in the early hours by a hammering on her door.

Penelope took her sidearm off the nightstand and padded to the door and looked through the peephole.

"Fucking fuck!" Penelope hissed.

Standing on the other side of the door was an obviously drunk Melissa Doyle.

"Open up Penelope, I know you're in there I can see your shadow under the door," Melissa cried drunkenly.

"Go away Melissa. It's goddam one AM in the morning and I'm not putting up with your shit," Penelope barked through the door.

"I know you arranged it so Silvia couldn't come down here so we could be together," Melissa wailed.

"You're dreaming Melissa. I'm down here conducting an investigation with another member of my team," Penelope countered, instantly regretting getting into a conversation with the drunken woman on the other side of the door.

"Silvia told me. Those other two assholes got exactly what they deserved," Melissa began to sob.

"Go back to your hotel Melissa. I'm not going to discuss an ongoing investigation to a drunken woman through a hotel door," Penelope said angrily.

"I love you Penelope and I know you love me even though you won't admit it. I'm going now but you'll be seeing me soon," Melissa pushed herself away from the door and staggered down the corridor.

"Fucking loopy cunt!" Penelope said not for the first or last time.

Earlier in the evening Steve Edwards had showered and changed into casual clothes and then went down to the lobby bar to wet his whistle while he waited for Joe Wagner.

Joe took Steve to the usual cop hangouts and they relived old times. If Steve had have kept his nose clean he might still be on the Houston PD and would still hold the rank of Sergeant; he and Joe were classmates. As it was Steve had left as a Senior Police Officer, demoted after repeated complaints. He'd found greener pastures in the Balwyn PD which had gone on a recruiting spree after Penelope brought down nearly whole PD in a corruption scandal that went all the way to the top.

Steve Edwards thought it ironic that he owed Penelope the opportunity to get a second chance. He'd kept his nose clean until he made detective again but soon fell back into his old ways when he teamed up with Steve Randal

"You gotta let me take you to this one last place where we can get a feed and watch a show. It's a fuckin' hoot," Joe and Steve were well and truly drunk by the time they got to the Montrose neighbourhood.

"They got this fuckin' drag show and some of those ladyboys are fuckin' hot I tell ya," Joe was slurring his words.

When Steve saw the crowd at Hamburger Mary's he was tempted to tell Joe to fuck right off; he wasn't going to sit in a bar surrounded by faggots but he was ravenous and when he saw the trays of delicious food being delivered to the tables he decided he could put up with the eclectic clientele. As it was nearly 1am they were too late for the show anyway so they ordered craft beers and burgers.

"I gotta take a piss," Steve said getting unsteadily to his feet.

He went out to the pisser and did his business and when he came out of the bathroom he saw a flyer pinned to a noticeboard in the corridor that attracted his attention.

'Divas show all week from 10pm to midnite. Special guest host Felicity Goodnite!' The poster depicted a number of pretty drag queens and right up front was Felicity Benson from Balwyn Texas. Steve studied the poster and his booze-soaked brain registered that it was out of date. The poster was for last week. Pinned to the board beside it was the flyer advertising the current drag show.

Steve snatched the poster off the noticeboard, folded it and put it in his pocket. Even though he was drunk he thought it quite the coincidence that Felicity Benson just happened to be in Houston when Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington were murdered and that her joint 'Ride 'em Cowgirl' was one of the last places that Spencer Duvall had been seen alive.

He awoke next morning feeling a little foggy but that was more from lack of sleep than from the alcohol. Steve Edwards was a seasoned drinker and seldom woke up with a hangover. He ate scrambled eggs, bacon, chipolatas and a short stack doused in maple syrup for breakfast and he wasn't sure if Penelope was looking at his plate with disgust or envy as she ate her egg-white omelette.

Over breakfast Penelope receive a string of texts from Melissa alternating between apologies for her conduct last night, and then a series of declarations of love and threats. She resisted the temptation to respond.

"You're pretty busy on the phone there boss; updates on the case?" Steve asked shovelling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

"Just spam," Penelope lied searching for a waitress to top her coffee.

"Fuck! Get me a top-up when the waitress comes around, I gotta use the rest room," Penelope looked pained.

Steve noticed that Penelope had been crotchety all morning and she looked like she hadn't slept well. He followed her ass to the restrooms then he flipped over her phone and quickly scanned her texts.

"Very interesting, Silvia is going to be pissed if she ever sees these," Steve whistled to himself and then put Penelope's phone back on the table where she had left it.

"I'm going outside for a smoke," Steve said when Penelope returned, burping up a mixture of sweet and savoury; the Embassy Suites restaurant was non-smoking.

Penelope was grateful to see a full cup of steaming coffee in front of her. She needed it.

Out in the smoking area Steve took the flyer from his jacket pocket and studied it. He knew that he should hand it over to either Joe or Penelope. The link between Felicity Benson and the murders was tenuous to say the least but it was still a link.

Steve was still angry that Penelope had not shared with him and his partner all of the evidence that had been gathered in the Duvall case. She had treated the two Steves like imbeciles and given them the grunt work. She obviously didn't trust them and even though she was probably right in doing so it still irked him.

"Fuck that tranny bitch!" Steve hissed and dropped his cigarette butt on the asphalt and ground it out with his shoe.

"And speaking of tranny bitches... I think I'll be having another chat with Felicity Benson," Steve grinned to himself and went back into the restaurant.

He and Penelope spent the morning reviewing the evidence collected by Houston PD and comparing it to their own. There were definitely similarities between the two cases but there also were differences. The choice of murder weapons was the most obvious.

Strangulation by nylon stocking is an up close and personal way to kill someone. Whoever killed Spencer Duvall had straddled him as they had tightened the noose, killing him slowly and painfully. Roach and Washington had been killed coldly. Shot from a short distance away and then finished off with a double-tap to the head. Ruthless but impersonal.

There was sex involved in both cases and the obvious link to the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity buddies which caused Penelope to want to go back to the crime scene.

They interviewed the clerk who was on duty the night of the murders and the manager of the motel who told them that Benjamin Roach had an account with the motel and regularly used room 102 for his trysts. He had seen all five men there sometimes and sometimes just one or two. There was always at least one woman and none of them had ever complained, the manager said but his gaze was shifty.

"Maybe some of the women looked a little... you know... knocked around but if you come to a place like this what do you expect?" the shifty manager had explained to Penelope's disgust.

They entered room 102 again having signed in with the police officer guarding the crime scene.

"You have our copy of the case file?" Penelope asked Steve and he nodded.

"Let's lay the photos out so we can get a better idea what the place looked like," Penelope said taking half of the stack of crime scene photographs.

On the coffee table they laid the pictures of Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington slumped in the chairs, dead from gunshot wounds and pictures of the alcohol and cocaine. They laid the pictures of the bed on the bare mattress. In the photographs the bedding was still on the bed, rumpled but not pulled down to sleep. It looked like the bed had been used for fucking not for sleeping. They placed the rest of the pictures around the motel room and then Penelope froze.

"Fuck! Look at this!" Penelope called from the bathroom.

She was standing at the vanity looking in the mirror. The mirror was stained with luminol and fingerprint dust and a red smear stained the glass. The picture lying on the stained plastic countertop had been taken before the CSI team went to work. In the picture you could see that the mirror had something written on it in lipstick. It was the hieroglyphics Ā Ĥ П.

"What the fuck is that?" Steve asked.

"It's the evidence that proves that the murders are linked. It was the same perp," Penelope spoke barely above a whisper.

Steve cringed inwardly. More evidence that Penelope had withheld from him.

"Let's go interview our potential eye witness," Penelope said.

The found the witness at home, dirty and dishevelled and he didn't have anything to add to what he had told Houston PD. He was coming back to the motel from the diner carrying his takeout dinner and had seen a tall attractive woman who he suspected was a hooker. She was wearing a black cocktail dress, pantyhose and fuck-me heels. She had flaming-red hair and her makeup was heavy and he specifically remembered her bright red lipstick.

"She had to be a whore dressed like that. Lotsa whores work the truck stop and that motel is lousy with hookers," the rat-faced man sniffed.

His eyes were locked permanently on Penelope's breasts except when he glanced down at her legs. She was wearing a skirted business suit today and she kept self-consciously pulling down the hem.

"What were you doing at the motel?" Steve asked.

"I was having a sleepover pyjama party, what the fuck do you think I was doing there?" the man sniped.

"Anyway the other cops are going to send one of those artists to try to draw what I saw. If you ask me they're wasting their time and they ain't payin' me anything like a reward neither," the rat-faced man said bitterly.

They gave up on the man and went back to the car.

"Shit! I left my notebook in there. Give me a minute," Steve called to Penelope across the roof of the car and then bolted back to the decrepit house.

He walked inside without knocking and pulled the rat-faced man out of his easy chair and pushed him into the kitchen where the light was better.

"Hey! What the fuck man!" the man protested.

"Shut the fuck up! Is that her? Is that the woman you saw?" Steve pulled the flyer he had taken from Hamburger Mary's and put it under the man's nose.

The rat-faced man took a beat for his eyes to focus and then he looked closely at the poster and more particularly at Felicity Goodnite.

"Yeah. That could be her. If she had red hair it could be her. Lotsa makeup, big tits, killer legs, pretty if ya like 'em that way," the rat-faced man rubbed his chin.

Steve took two fifty dollar bills out of his wallet and stuffed them in the top pocket of the man's filthy shirt.

"Keep your mouth shut about this ok?" Steve stuffed the flyer back in his coat.

"Sure I can; any more where that came from?" the man grinned through stained teeth.

"Of course there is," Steve smiled.

He punched the man twice in the belly so hard that he folded over and couldn't breathe.

"And if you open your mouth I'll be back to give you more. You make sure that sketch artist gets a good picture but it doesn't need to be too good ok?" Steve grabbed the man by his greasy hair and lifted his face.

The man just nodded still unable to breathe properly.

"Remember what I said," Steve gave the man a slap across the ear as a farewell gesture.

"Now I'm definitely having another chat to our girl Felicity Goodnite," Steve grinned as he left the shit-hole clapboard house waving his notebook at Penelope as if he'd found it left inside.

To be continued