A Dish Best Served Cold Ch. 04

"The new routine looks pretty good," Steve leaned against the door jamb.

"Ah, a connoisseur of the arts," Felicity took a sip of her drink but kept her back to Steve.

"I don't know anything about art but I know what I like," Steve's eyes were drawn to Felicity's tight buttocks sheathed in her dance tights.

"Last time I spoke to you, you knew nothing about drag, now you're a cognoscente," Felicity kept her back to him.

"So you're not just a pretty face; you're also articulate," Steve followed her hips up to her slim waist and then to her shoulders.

If there was any imperfection in Felicity's appearance it was that her shoulders were a little too wide for her body.

"I'm college educated," Felicity countered, turning to face him.

Her breasts were still heaving slightly from the workout on the stage and her makeup had smeared a little because she had sweated, her blonde hair was wet with perspiration, her bangs matted to her forehead. Steve noted the brunette roots. The hair samples collected at the Duvall crime scene were blonde with brunette roots. The hair samples taken at the no-tell motel in Houston were red and synthetic; a wig.

"Four years at Balwyn College majoring in theatre and performance. You changed your major in your first year; graduated in the top three. That was also the year you transitioned," Steve gave her knowing look.

Felicity remained stoic and showed no emotion. She studied the detective. He didn't seem as dishevelled today. He was clear eyed and his suit and topcoat looked expensive and fashionable. He was tall and rangy with a stylish shaggy haircut and chiselled features; he looked like Kevin Bacon when he was in his forties.

"You seem to know a lot about me detective," Felicity crossed her arms.

"If you could sew better you probably would have won your season of Drag Race. Bella Donna was a poor choice for the win but Ru was getting old and the producers had too much control by then," Steve sniffed.

"Now I know that you've just been educated by Google. Bella was by far the best contestant," Felicity countered.

"They say she was fucking one of the executive producers," Steve chuckled.

"They say a lot of things. Are you going to come in or are you going to just stand there holding up my door jamb?" Felicity drained her drink and turned her back to pour another.

She poured Steve one too and when she turned around she found him seated and the door closed.

Felicity handed Steve his drink and took a seat in the easy chair across from him. She noted that he put his drink down without taking a sip.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" Steve took his cigarettes out of his coat and offered them to Felicity.

She took one and studied his face while he lit it for her. She remembered the last time they had met when she had surreptitiously rubbed her finger on his when she handed him a drink and he had leaned in and almost touched her cheek with his lips before he left. There was undoubtedly chemistry between them but chemistry could be volatile.

Felicity shrugged her shoulders. Steve lit his cigarette and looked at her, waiting for her to talk but she remained silent.

"My boss is a transgender woman," he leaned back into the seat.

"Now that's an unexpected segue," Felicity was surprised at the shift in conversation.

"You know... for... whatever the fuck," Steve blushed.

"So what you think we all know each other? We meet up once a month to sew quilts and compare notes?" Felicity bristled.

"I'm just saying is all. Jeeze, I'm sorry, that was stupid," Steve shook his head apologetically.

Penelope smiled at him. She was surprised by his embarrassment.

"As it turns out I have heard of her. She's been in the press a few times. Helped catch the Sleeping Beauty Killer and all," Felicity made him feel a little better but she didn't know why.

This cop was dangerous and he knew a lot about her and she knew that detectives did not waste their time studying strangers unless they considered them suspects.

"So why are you here?" Felicity asked.

Steve took the flyer out of his coat pocket, unfolded it and put it on the coffee table.

Felicity knew what it was and a shiver ran down her spine but she deliberately did not stare at it.

"So what? I travel a lot. Working drag queens need to make a living and most of us travel to do so. Panti Down is my booking agent; she got me the gig. You can ask her," Felicity bristled.

It was the first real emotion Felicity had shown and Steve knew he had her.

"I can ask anybody anything I want; I'm a detective," Steve blew smoke at the ceiling.

"You got the club. Why travel?" he asked.

"Mitch Freeman oversees club business. Everything we make here goes into the business as profit to be shared by the stakeholders, to pay overheads and operating costs. The money I make freelancing is mine, except for what I pay William," Felicity regained control of her emotions.

"William?" Steve pretended to be perplexed.

"William Russell is Panti Down's legal name," Felicity explained.

Steve waited a beat and took a small sip of his drink. He looked through the office window and saw there was no one within earshot.

"You fucked up when you left the motel in Houston," he said soberly.

Felicity did her best to remain emotionless and kept silent. She just stared at Steve trying her best to look nonplussed.

"The rat-faced guy you ran into crossing the car park. He identified you from that poster," Steve pointed the toe of his shoe at the flyer on the coffee table.

"Right now he's helping a police sketch artist put together a likeness of you," Steve met her gaze.

The wheels began to spin in Felicity's head. If they had a picture of her from the flyer why was rat-face helping Houston PD make a composite?

"Ok. Enough bullshit," Steve's voice became gruff.

"Spencer Duvall was in your club right before he was murdered. Your bartender Jill Graham, a loyal friend and keeper of the faith, collaborated your story that he only spoke to you briefly. I bet if I lit a fire under her ass she will admit that you and Spencer had a longer intimate conversation. Maybe you left the club together?" Steve began.

"At Duvall's place they found hair samples that look very much like yours. I bet if they took a sample of your hair it would match the hairs found at the crime scene as would the DNA they found from the non-secretor. I bet your fingerprints would also match some of those taken at the scene."

"The symbols written in lipstick over the bed; they translate to Eta Lambda Pi, the fraternity that Benjamin Roach, Jamaal Washington and Spencer Duvall pledged when they were in college at the same time you were. I haven't figured the connection there yet but there is one."

"You were in Houston contracted to perform at Hamburger Mary's when Roach and Washington were murdered. I looked at the timeline and you had the opportunity and the means, although I'm yet to figure out where you got the gun."

"You were smarter that time. I'm guessing Duvall was an opportunist murder whereas as Roach and Washington's murders were planned. You left very little DNA and no prints and you wore the red wig but DNA will put you at the scene and rat-face will identify you."

"You couldn't help but leave your little calling card on the mirror. That was dumb because it links the crimes."

"So there you are. I have opportunity and means, the only thing I don't have is motive. If I obtained a warrant for your fingerprints, DNA and a hair sample I bet my ass they would match the samples taken at the scenes. I have enough circumstantial evidence now to arrest you and get that warrant," Steve stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back into his seat.

"So why haven't you?" Felicity extinguished her cigarette.

"Well there are a couple of reasons. I don't have motive yet but I can guess it has something to do with that fraternity, specifically Benjamin Roach, Jamaal Washington and Spencer Duvall. I also speculate that William Turner and Carl Huntley could be involved. Those five jocks are thick as thieves and still were until recently," Steve took another small sip of his drink.

Steve saw Felicity's jaw tighten when he mentioned the five names.

"There is mounting evidence that those five assholes sexually assaulted women while they were in college and have continued to do so after they left. The victims have either been paid off or are too scared to come forward because they have something they can use against their victims. I'm guessing it will be pictures, videos or even correspondence that might suggest the women were complicit," Steve searched Felicity's face for any signs of emotion but she remained passive.

"Did you say they are still doing it? Blackmailing women for sex?" Felicity whispered.

"Well they were before three of them were murdered. Huntley and Turner have taken flight," Steve offered Felicity another cigarette but she shook her head.

"But so far no one has linked you to the murders except me," Steve lit up a cigarette.

"Is that right? But you said yourself you have enough circumstantial evidence to arrest me. So once again, why haven't you?" Felicity asked.

"I told you I have no motive. Besides I owe those assholes at Police Plaza and Houston PD nothing," he said bitterly.

"Also... you intrigue me. You're beautiful, intelligent, talented and sophisticated," Steve gave her a boyish grin.

"But I'm also a murderer... at least according to you I am," Felicity smiled back at him.

"I never picked you for a tranny chaser," Felicity picked up her drink and finished it in one gulp.

She saw the storm clouds gather behind Steve Edwards' eyes. She'd gone too far.

He stood up abruptly and straightened his tie and jacket and made to leave.

"Wait!" Felicity put out her hand and gripped his arm.

He turned to look at her and then looked down at where she was holding onto him. She took her hand away.

"You want to know what those men are capable of?" Felicity strode over to her desk and wrote something on a message pad and tore it off.

"Be there at one AM, that's the earliest I can get away after the show," Steve looked down at the scrap of paper and saw that she had written an address.

"You want me to come to the home of a woman I suspect of being a murderer by myself at one o'clock in the morning?" Steve looked into her icy-blue eyes.

"You've seen the crime shows. You put all your evidence against me into an envelope marked 'to be opened in event of my death'," she gave him a wry smile.

"You're very self-assured aren't you?" he couldn't help but smile.

She lifted herself on her toes and leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He could smell her perfume and the musk of her perspiration; it was an intoxicating combination.

"You have to be self-assured in my business," she turned away from him and Steve once again admired her ass.

*****

Felicity's apartment was located in the city, not far from her club. Steve checked that his weapon had one in the chamber and pressed the call button.

"Come on up," Felicity's sultry voice came through the intercom.

He glanced up and saw the camera pointed at him. Swank places like these had security cameras that transmitted video to remote operating stations where private security guards were on call to respond as required. The video would be recorded so if Felicity where to do anything untoward to him, there was evidence of his presence at her apartment.

That said he didn't feel particularly threatened. Whoever had murdered those frat boys had motive; he doubted they would kill a policeman... but you never knew what someone would do to if they were desperate.

Felicity greeted Steve at the door. She had changed out of drag and was wearing a sky-blue chiffon nightgown, black fully-fashioned stockings held up by a white satin suspender belt, matching white satin panties and bra and slip-on high heel pumps. Her makeup was perfect and a miasma of perfume preceded her.

Steve was amused that she had dressed so seductively but he was also appreciative. She invited him inside and he was impressed by the opulence of the apartment. Felicity fussed around him and got him seated on a white leather couch and brought him a drink which he put down untouched.

He carefully scanned the room for exits and for anything Felicity could use as a weapon and she watched him amusedly and then sat on the same couch but scooched into the other corner.

"Afraid I'm going to poison you?" she nodded at the untouched glass of bourbon the rocks.

Steve blushed and Felicity leaned forward and picked up the drink and took a sip. He noticed her lipstick on the glass.

"There," she said smiling at him.

She handed him his drink and picked up her own drink and took a sip.

"So what happens now? Is this where you confess and beg for mercy," Steve put his drink down still untouched.

"I'd jump off that balcony before I begged for mercy for what happened to those raping assholes," the bitterness in her voice was palpable.

"That's not a confession by the way," she smiled at him over the rim of her glass, the bitterness gone.

She looked beautiful but also vulnerable. There was something about her; like she'd been wounded and needed to be cared for but also like a wounded wild animal she might bite. Steve couldn't understand his attraction to her.

There was no doubting that she was beautiful and sexy but he knew that she was a trans woman and previously that would have repelled him. Not repulsed him, he wasn't transphobic, but he wasn't particularly attracted to trans women either. That was why he'd bristled when felicity had called him a tranny chaser... or was it?

But she beguiled him. Her beauty aside she exuded confidence, vitality and intelligence but under it was a hint of vulnerability. She was the type of woman he could easily fall for but there was also a sense that she was unattainable, that she was too good for him.

And then there was the consideration that she was almost certainly a murderer.

Felicity shifted slightly and her robe fell open. He could see all the way to the top of her thigh, the dark welt of her stocking shockingly contrasting with her alabaster skin. The V of her panty was just visible. He'd read about how queens were able to tuck to present a feminine pubis and he wondered what lay along her perineum.

"Ok. You didn't invite me here for drinks and small talk; what is you couldn't tell me at the club?" Steve cleared his head and got straight to the point.

"You are correct that I was at Balwyn College at same time as Spencer Duvall, Jamaal Washington and Ben Roach. I was performing as Felicity Goodnite in the college amateur theatrics, my act wasn't polished but I was pretty good on stage and a very good female impersonator," Felicity put down her drink and began her story.

"I caught their eye I suppose is how you'd put it. I was naïve and stupid. I really thought they wanted me to perform at one of their frat parties," Felicity took a sip of her drink to fortify herself.

"I went to the frat house dressed as Felicity, I hadn't started to transition then, I didn't know if I would. I was unsure of my gender identity and sexuality. What they did to me in that room sealed my fate."

She told him.

She didn't hold back. Felicity gave Steve every gruesome detail. The pain, the sorrow, the lust, the self-loathing, the self-hating and her vow that she would seek revenge if she ever got the chance.

Steve never said a word. He sat silently and listened.

"When they had finished with me Ben Roach led me to the door," Felicity had sobbed during her tale but she was all cried out, her voice hoarse.

"I asked him why?" she whispered.

"'Because we can', was the answer he gave me," she folded her hands in her lap and lowered her head.

Steve couldn't talk. He'd had to hold back tears when she told him about the boys holding her down while each of them defiled her. It made no difference to him that she had taken pleasure from some of the things they did to her; in fact that only made it worse.

He finished his drink and cleared his throat.

"That sounds a lot like motive to me," he said dryly.

"You know I wasn't the only one who hated them. There were so many more and they were still doing it. Still getting away with it!" Anger replaced the sorrow in her voice.

"What now?" Felicity stood, allowing her robe to fall open exposing her body clad in the sexy lingerie.

"That's not going to work," Steve said wryly.

"It was worth a try," Felicity smiled coyly at him.

"You are quite the enigma Steven Edwards. You have a reputation for playing loosely with the rules but you have certain lines you won't cross," Felicity closed her robe.

Steve frowned at her.

"Oh come on; you're not the only one who does his research. You don't mind shaking down businesses for free meals and drinks but you won't take cash bribes or freebies from hookers," Felicity stared at him.

"You don't mind using your fists on a suspect or a witness if you think the situation warrants it but you abhor violence against women. You were demoted from Sergeant to Senior Police Officer in Houston when you beat a man so bad that he spent a month in hospital recovering. The fact that the man had beaten his wife, raped her and then threw her in the street was the only mitigation that kept you on the force," Felicity approached him.

She leaned in close and whispered in his ear seductively.

"I think you might be a softy," she wrapped her body around him and nuzzled his earlobe.

Her body felt delightful and she smelled alluring and sexy. Steve had never wanted a woman more in his life. He was erect in his pants and Felicity found him hard and began to caress him though the fabric while she licked and nibbled his earlobe.

Steve removed her arms from around him and pushed her gently away from him and held her at arm's length.

"Don't do that," he said gruffly.

"What?" Felicity looked wounded.

"Don't prostitute yourself," he said through gritted teeth.

"Are you accusing me of being a whore?" anger flashed across Felicity's face.

"Far from it. I think you are beautiful, talented and delightful and under other circumstances I would be delighted to make your acquaintance but using your feminine guiles on me demeans us both," the regret in Steve voice was evident.

He released her upper arms and took a step back.

"Another place... another time... who knows? Although I doubt I'd be good enough for you," Steve sighed.

He buttoned his coat and strode to the door.

Felicity ran after him and placed herself between Steve and the door.

"Look at us. Were both concerned that we aren't good enough for each other. We both carry baggage that precludes us from attaining the happiness we so desire," tears ran down Felicity's cheeks.

"I know that I've only just met you and that we come from different worlds but we both know that there is something between us. If we don't give it a chance we may miss our one chance for true happiness," Felicity searched Steve's eyes.

"This isn't right Felicity. This is the sort of fairytale that you read about in cheap romance novels," Steve countered.

"Then don't let it be. Don't let it be cheap. Don't let it be a fairytale," Felicity pressed her body against Steve's.

This time he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.

She tasted exactly as he thought she would: sweet but exotic, soft but resilient. He marvelled at how her body seemed to meld to him like it was meant to be. They both gasped; both surprised at the emotions that erupted from within. Yes there was lust, yes there was passion, but there was also empathy, compassion and affection.

"I don't know how," Steve whispered when they finally broke their kiss.