All The Pretty Girls Ch. 05

Chapter Five -- Penelope

There was no déjà vu when Penelope burst into the college cafeteria. Melissa Doyle was the furthest thing from her mind; her heels clicked-clacked on the tiled floor as she strode purposely into the large space, mostly empty at this time of day. She looked around frantically until she found Jaylene Foster sitting at a table by herself, her head buried in the screen of her laptop.

Penelope sat across from her and Jaylene looked up a little surprised and then she smiled and Penelope's heart swelled. She reached out and took Jaylene's hand in her own and kissed it softly.

"What's wrong Penny?" Jaylene looked concerned.

If anyone else had called her Penny at that particular time she would have swung at them.

"There's been a development," Penelope swallowed.

"A development?" Jaylene closed her laptop and looked at Penelope, trying to read her expression.

"He's taken another girl," Penelope's mouth was dry; she could hardly speak.

She put her hand over Jaylene's and clasped it, wanting to hold her, wanting to comfort her, wanting to never let her go.

"Oh?" was all Jaylene could articulate; she couldn't take in the enormity of it.

"Was she?" Jaylene whispered.

"She was a prostitute yes but she wasn't trans," Penelope said.

"Are you sure it's him?" Jaylene didn't like that she said those words with hope in her voice.

"It's him," Penelope said with cold conviction.

"I want you to come and stay with me. Just for a little while," Penelope forced a wan smile.

"Stay with you?" Jaylene sounded confused.

"I don't want anything from you. I know I behaved petulantly asking you to stay with me before, telling you that I loved you so early in our relationship. I'm sorry," Penelope breathed.

"It's not what you think. I left your apartment because I wanted to stay. I didn't want to go to work. I wanted to get up in the morning and make you breakfast and then crawl back into bed with you and eat in bed while we watched the morning news together. I wanted to sit and watch you read the morning newspapers, watching your facial expressions change as you skipped from story to story. You're so intense when you read anything," Jaylene squeezed Penelope's hand.

Penelope had no idea that Jaylene had studied her so closely.

"But if I did that. If I stopped working. If I'd stayed in your bed. I would have sacrificed my independence. I've been dependent on people all my life and they have all hurt me or abandoned me," Jaylene shivered with emotion.

Penelope could hardly believe that the woman that she had only just come to love was pouring her heart out to her in this cold chrome and steel cathedral of a room.

"I promise I won't abandon you, that I won't hurt you," Penelope whispered.

"Says the woman with two failed marriages and a string of jilted lovers," Jaylene said coldly.

Penelope snatched back her hands.

"There's more," Penelope's voice was cold; almost stern.

"I think... we think... that the killer took this woman by mistake. We think he wanted you," Penelope said.

"Me? Why would he want me?" Jaylene looked nervously around the cafeteria.

"Because you are the only person who can identify him," Penelope said sombrely.

"The composite! How does he know it's me? I only saw him for a few seconds on Bridge Street and he waved me away and took Loretta instead. And now you're telling me that he came back for me and took someone else by mistake? It makes no sense," Jaylene shook her head slowly.

"The woman. Pauline Sanders. She was taken in Bolen Alley. Am I right in guessing that you use Bolen Alley as a shortcut to get to Bridge Street?" Penelope asked.

Jaylene nodded dourly.

"Pauline Sanders lived a few doors down from you. In the dark... from a distance... she looks like you. Fuck! She looks a lot like you up close," Penelope said coolly.

"That doesn't explain how he knows that it's me who can identify him. Has he been stalking me? Following me?" Jaylene shivered violently.

"The honest answer is I don't know. What I do know is that it takes a lot of time and resources to follow someone. When we do it we have two teams in twelve hour shifts. We're talking about one man," Penelope explained.

"A psychopath," Jaylene countered.

"Yes, a psychopath. He can't follow you twenty-four seven but he has followed you. He must know where you live. He obviously knows where you work," Penelope regretted saying that last sentence as soon as it left her lips.

Jaylene bristled.

"Steve Edwards is waiting in the car outside. I want you to come with us to your place and pack up some essentials. I'll relocate you to my place temporarily until I can get a safe house organised," Penelope started digging in her handbag for her phone.

"What if I say no? What about my studies? Can I still go to school? How am I going to earn?" the questions tumbled from Jaylene lips.

"Let me get you safe first. We'll arrange something with the college; maybe get you an undercover escort?" Penelope countered.

"A bodyguard?" Jaylene sounded incredulous.

"Maybe. Someone to keep you safe until I catch this guy," Penelope began to write a text.

Jaylene reached out stopped Penelope from texting and looked at her tersely.

"And how am I going to live in the meantime? How am I going to earn money?" her voice was cold.

"We will work something out. I... we need to get you safe first and then we can work out the rest," Penelope went back to texting.

Jaylene leaned back in her chair and thought about the situation. It was no use dying in a ditch if the outcome was that she literally died in a ditch.

"So your place at first. Then a safe house. And I get to continue to study for my degree," Jaylene sounded resigned.

"Yes. It will take me a little time to organise a safe house and security for you," Penelope replied.

Jaylene began to pack away her laptop and gather her course notes and Penelope sent her text.

The ride to Jaylene's apartment was conducted in silence. Steve was glad that he was driving so he had something to pay attention to because you could cut the tension in the car with a knife.

Steve followed Jaylene into her apartment and helped her pack and brought her suitcases back to the car while Penelope stayed in the car working her phone and her tablet, silently fuming.

"I need to go by the workshop," Jaylene announced.

Jaylene and a couple of other women studying fashion design rented a small workspace where they worked on their projects. Penelope hadn't been there but Jaylene had told her about it.

"When we get you settled in the safe house we'll take you there to pick up any materials you need for your course but for now let's just get you settled," Penelope countered.

Jaylene leaned back into the seat and crossed her arms and silently fumed as they drove the rest of the way.

"You know where everything is," Penelope said when she had Jaylene settled in her house.

Steve had helped carry the bags inside and beat a hasty retreat back to the car.

"Can I have a key?" Jaylene asked.

"Jaylene, I need for you to stay inside for now. It's almost impossible that the killer knows where you are and highly unlikely that he will come after you again but I want you safe. Please just stay inside and keep the place locked up until I can get you to a safe house," Penelope pleaded.

"I'm your prisoner," Jaylene snapped.

Penelope sighed with frustration and wiped away a tear. She stood in the centre of the room looking forlorn.

Jaylene stepped into her and put her arms around her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean all the nasty things I said. I know that you are doing your best to keep me safe. I act out when I'm not in control. It's a defence mechanism I've developed over the years," Jaylene whispered and held Penelope close.

"It's ok. I understand," Penelope sighed.

"You shouldn't be surprised. You've seen it before," Jaylene stroked Penelope's hair.

"Really? When?" Penelope looked at her quizzically.

"When I left your house when you asked me stay," Jaylene smiled.

Penelope furrowed her brow and looked at Jaylene curiously.

"I left because I was losing control. I was ok when I knew you as a cop who occasionally came to me looking for information. Then you started making me trust you and made me fall in love with you and if I love you then I'm no longer in control," Jaylene kissed Penelope softly on the lips and then eased out of her embrace.

"Go! Catch bad guys. I'll get set up in the spare bedroom, I have work to do," Jaylene snatched up one of her suitcases and walked down the hall towards the spare bedroom.

*****

"Are you fucking crazy Bishop! And you! You're in on this too! You're supposed to be in charge Steve!" Gary Rasmussen was dressing down Penelope Bishop and Steve Edwards in his office.

"You come to me with some half-baked theory that the killer really wanted to kill this trans hooker but took another woman by mistake."

"It's just conjecture; there's no real evidence to support your hypothesis," he fumed.

"Need I remind you too assholes that you leaked the composite picture and the story about the killer into the general population when I told you only send it other law enforcement agencies and to keep a fucking lid on it!" Gary was furious.

"It's your fault that we had the press gang out at the gas station hanging around like vultures waiting to feed off the carrion. If your story has any truth to it then it's your fault that this guy went after Ms Foster and took Pauline Sanders by mistake," Gary waved his finger at the both of them.

"No fuckin' safe house! No fuckin' bodyguards! I don't have the budget or the justification," Gary fumed.

"What else you got?" Gary calmed down and sat down behind his desk and indicated for them to sit.

"The fingerprints at the Texaco match the other two crime scenes, we're waiting on DNA. The pantyhose used to strangle Pauline Sanders are L'eggs Everyday Regular just like the others. The MO is similar; the signatures the same. He even stole the Toyota from Forest Gardens just down the street from where he stole the BMW. It's him Chief," Steve said grimly.

"The ME has formally identified Pauline Sanders. Denton PD found Pauline's NOK and they identified her from photographs. The father is flying into Balwyn to make funeral arrangements when the body is released. We found Sanders' purse in Bolen Alley. Alice Leasingham and another CSI tech are at her apartment but they haven't found anything that helps us," Steve continued.

"After you and Penelope made your statement to the media the phones started running hot. The usual lunatics trying to take credit for crimes they know nothing about. A couple of leads that won't go anywhere. Lots of assholes with grudges identifying their next door neighbours and ex-boyfriends from the identikit," Steve summed up the situation.

"We'll follow the leads, conduct interviews, ramp up the police presence around the Bridge Street free zone," Penelope added.

"You don't use the term free zone anywhere near the media," Gary said gruffly.

"What about Jaylene?" Penelope asked.

"You have her in a safe place. Just make sure that nothing happens to her like it did to Melissa Doyle," Gary wagged a finger at Penelope.

"That was uncalled for Chief," Penelope bristled.

"Get out of here and catch this guy," Gary dismissed them

When Penelope got to the door he called her back into his office. He looked her up and down studying her closely.

"You look good Bishop: smart, alert, impassioned, sober. Heard you haven't been around The Longhorn for a while. That hotshot Ellery Gamble just transferred out to the Highway Patrol. Good riddance I say. I don't know what you're doing but keep doing it. Maybe I'll keep you on the Task Force when this is over," Gary said.

"Thanks Chief," Penelope blushed.

"Keep that girl safe Bishop. I mean it," Gary said solemnly.

"I will Chief," Penelope flushed deeper, her cheeks rosaceous.

*****

Steve, Penelope and Alice worked the case. Steve and Penelope chased down leads while Alice reviewed the crime scene information and sent an evidence pack to the FBI's Behavioral Science Unit and asked for a criminal profile to be created. Now that they had a serial killer on their hands they could enlist assistance from the FBI. Penelope's soon to be ex-husband Bradley Wilson still worked out of the field office in Austin and Penelope had made it clear that she did not want him working the case.

After work Steve went to Ride em' Cowgirl to catch a show and catch up with Jill Graham and the queens. Since he had taken up with Felicity Benson and fallen out with Steve Randal his social circles had changed dramatically. He no longer hung around with other cops after work; he preferred the company of Felicity's circle of friends.

Jill was working the bar. The waiters on Thursday nights were twinks dressed in black hotpants with red suspenders, white tank-tops and Doc Martin boots to cater to the gay clientele. Jill was similarly dressed in black hotpants with a white tank-tops and black high heels. The tank-top showed off her tattooed arms and shoulders and her tits. The hotpants showed a lot of leg. She was wearing glossy flesh-toned pantyhose and Steve was taking an eyeful of her ass as he sat at the bar watching her. She was bent over with her back to him, struggling to take a six-pack of Vodka Cruisers from the under-shelf built-in fridge.

When she stood up and turned around Jill saw Steve and blushed.

"You get a good eyeful asshole?" she smirked at him.

"No. Do it again but this time take a while longer," Steve smiled back at her.

"What would Felicity say if I told her you were ogling my ass and flirting with me?" she placed a Lone Star on the bar before him and turned to pour him a shot of JD.

"She doesn't mind where I get my appetite so long as I eat at home," Steve smirked, appreciatively looking at Jill's long legs as she poured his drink.

Just then his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Expecting it to be work he reluctantly read the text and was surprised to find it was from Wendy Beaumont. He typed a response and then sipped his drink and continued his small talk with Jill Graham.

"You see much of Mitch Freeman lately?" Jill asked.

"Not really but I'm not his keeper; he works for Felicity not for me," Steve replied.

"He's taken a few days off here and there is the only reason I asked," Jill commented.

"While the cat's away and all that," Steve grinned.

"He usually makes some excuse to watch the girls rehearsing, especially their dance numbers. Ain't like him to miss a free show," Jill continued, only really half interested in the conversation.

"Is he sweet on one of them? I can't say I've noticed is all," Steve replied just as disinterestedly, checking his messages repeatedly.

"Never took him for a tranny chaser. Seems too straight-laced," Steve smiled when he read an incoming text.

"Who knows what the fuck you men get up to? I know he keeps a wanking stocking in his desk drawer," Jill said offhandedly, causing Steve to choke on his beer.

"Fuck Jill. I'd never let Felicity look in the drawers of my work desk. A man's gotta have some secrets," Steve said once he'd swallowed his beer.

"Be right back," Steve went to the front door and spoke to the security guy briefly.

The door opened and Wendy Beaumont entered. She kissed Steve chastely on the cheek knowing that this was not the time or the place to show open expressions of affection.

Steve thanked the security guy and led Wendy into the club and over to the bar.

"Jill this is Wendy; Wendy this is Jill," Steve made the introductions.

The women looked each other over critically like only women can, looking for flaws and making comparisons. Jill was impressed with Wendy Beaumont's eclectic style. She was wearing a simple black cocktail dress which in Jill's opinion was little too short and showed a little too much cleavage. The irony was not lost of her that she was wearing hotpants and a tank-top but that was a prescribed uniform.

Wendy's face was surrounded by a shock of red hair, her bangs came down over her wide blue eyes, her nose was a little too big and crooked, and her pale skin was sprinkled with freckles, her lips were full, emphasised by her bright red lipstick. She was putting a lot of stress on her cocktail dress, it was close to bursting at the seams because Wendy was wide hipped and broad shouldered. She was a big girl with long legs. Thank god for lycra Jill thought, feeling a little bitchy.

Jill thought that she had won the staredown and of course Wendy thought she had.

"Wendy was April Showers' best friend. They lived together," Steve explained.

"Sorry for your loss," Jill said and was immediately sympathetic to the woman.

"What can I get you Wendy?" she asked.

"Scotch neat please," Wendy gave her a beatific smile.

"Wendy's having trouble sleeping with all the commotion about the serial killer so I invited here to check out a late show. Have one of the waiters bring our drinks over to my table please Jill," Steve said and directed Wendy through the crowd to his reserved table at the back of the club.

Jill knew that when men explained too much they were up to no good. She wondered what Felicity would think of Steve bringing Wendy to the club.

"Well... while the cat's away I suppose," she said to herself and began to fill drink orders.

Steve deliberately did not sit too close to Wendy. He'd fucked her in the bed he shared with Felicity which was an act of betrayal even though he and Felicity were not exclusive when she was away. Flirting with Wendy in the club would be another act of betrayal and Felicity would find out because if drag queens liked to do anything it was gossip and kiki.

"I've seen April perform of course but the places she worked were nothing like this. The production value here is amazing; the queens are incredibly talented," Wendy said as they watched the performance.

"April must have been just as good otherwise Felicity would not have invited her to perform," Steve replied.

"I miss her. I hope you catch that guy soon; I can't believe he's taken three victims," Wendy sighed.

The news had been hot with the story, the reporters trying their best to get the specific details of the murders. 'If it bleeds; it leads' was their mantra. The press were calling the perp 'The Honey-Trap Killer' because they believed he had gaslighted all the women. They were either too stupid or just didn't care that they were using the term honey-trap out of context. The press focussed on the fact that all the women were prostitutes so they assumed he had solicited them and lured them to their deaths.

"Anyway, the queens are amazing and those costumes! My god they are brilliant, I'd die to be able to wear clothes like that," Wendy gushed.

"Who makes them?" she asked.

"Some of the queens can sew but most have designers who make them. Panti Down is in charge of costumes for the big production numbers," Steve pointed to Panti on the stage.

They had a couple more drinks and over the course of the evening Wendy edged her seat closer to Steve and was eventually close enough that she could put her hand on his cock under the table.

"Take me home and fuck me," she whispered in his ear and then nibbled his earlobe.

"I can't take you back to my place," Steve breathed.

"Then come back to mine," Wendy squeezed his growing erection.

Wendy stayed glued to him in the car, if it wasn't for the centre console she would have been in his lap. She kissed his face and stroked his cock and put his hand under her dress and mewed when he stroked her thighs. They pawed at each other as they entered the converted red brick townhouse in Slattery Park.

Wendy half dragged Steve to her little bedroom; she was so horny that she didn't even bother to close the door. Not that it mattered anymore, April no longer lived there.