Murder in the Nude

This story is another attempt at mixing two genres which I like: erotica and mystery. If I keep trying, maybe I eventually get it right. I hope you enjoy my most recent attempt.

Some real places and institutions are mentioned or implied, but they are used fictitiously here. As far as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those places or institutions has done anything akin to what is described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended.

I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.

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By age 31, I had been with the state's criminal investigation division for six years. I liked to think it was my master's in criminology that got me hired. More likely, it was my uncle's political connections.

The CID investigated crimes involving state agencies. However, the bulk of our work was helping local law enforcement agencies. Since the state's large urban police forces were, or thought they were, adequately resourced, most of our work was in the rural parts of the state. Therefore, I wasn't surprised to get an assignment "helping" the Sheriff in Adrian County one Monday morning in June. Adrian was one of the state's least populated counties. It was located on the state's southern border in the Appalachian foothills.

I was surprised to learn that the case was a murder. Those were rare in the rural counties. When there was a murder, it was usually a family issue or drugs were involved. "Adrian SO has asked us to take the lead," my supervisor told me. "You want the really good part?" my boss asked.

"Sure," I said, fully expecting to be told that the victim was a locally prominent person.

"It happened in a nudist colony," my boss said with a smirk. "At least, that's where they found the body, bare ass naked."

"We have nudist colonies in this state?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Eight of them," my supervisor said. "Of course, with our weather, there are only a few months you can run around naked outside. Nudists like to be outside."

"How do you know that much about them, Supe?" I asked.

My boss frowned. "Our daughter dates a guy who likes to take her to those places," he said. "I checked them out. At least the people there don't do things to get on our radar screen." My boss paused a moment before adding, "our daughter says she enjoys running around naked with other people. I thought we raised her better than that." He dropped a thin file on my desk and left the room shaking his head.

It didn't take long to read the file. I called the Adrian County Sheriff's Office in West Richmond. An hour or so later, I got a call back from the Chief Deputy, who was their lead investigator. The victim was a 56- year-old white woman. Friends at the nudist colony county became concerned when her car was still there but they didn't see her at all on Saturday. When she still hadn't appeared by mid-day Sunday, they went into her cabin.

The friends found the woman's her naked body face down on the bed, unresponsive and cold. The life squad, which took over a half-hour to respond, concluded she was probably dead, a fact confirmed an hour or so later at the small county hospital. The probable cause of death was the bullet hole in the back of her head. Deputies had found nothing they recognized as potential evidence at the crime scene. I made a note to have our crime lab send trained crime scene investigators down there as fast as possible.

The victim's name was Glenda White. That came from the driver's license found in her purse in the cabin. The purse also contained $350 cash and credit cards. The license showed an address in Cincinnati, about 70 miles west of the nudist colony. That name and address matched her registration form at the nudist colony on arrival and the registration of her car in the parking lot.

"I don't have any really trained interrogators," the Chief Deputy told me, "But we talked to management and other folks staying there. Ms. White was a regular, coming most weekends during good weather. Everyone likes her and has no idea who would shoot her. Of course, no one heard anything. Ms. White's been divorced about nine years. No idea yet where her ex is. The only known next of kin is an adult daughter who also lives in Cincinnati. I sent a deputy to give her a death notification. I figured you would want to talk to her, so I told our guy not to hang around."

"What about this nudist colony?" I asked.

"Maple Lodge Naturist Resort," the Chief Deputy said, with a small chuckle. "Been open twenty years. This is the first call we've ever had there. I don't get why folks want to run around with no clothes on, but they haven't caused any trouble, and they pay a lot of taxes."

"Any signs someone broke in?" I asked.

"No," the Chief replied. "Either Ms. White let the killer in, or she didn't lock her door. There's a fence around the Maple Lodge property but anyone could get over it easily. We walked it and saw no signs anyone had."

"The body?" I asked.

"At the coroner in Cincinnati for an autopsy," the Chief replied. "We don't have the facilities for that out here." Not much to go on.

My first step was to interview the daughter. I called her, explained who I was, gave condolences, and she agreed to meet me the next morning. To get her as comfortable as possible, I offered to come to her residence. She agreed. She had a nice voice.

At 10:00 the next morning, I was hunting a parking place on the narrow streets of the hillside community where Meredith White lived. The hillside overlooked the City's central business district. Having grown up east of City, I knew this was a high rent district. Even a dump in this neighborhood cost money.

Meredith White looked to be about my age. In fact, we were the same age. She was about 5'7" and slender. The knit top she wore outlined two breasts somewhat larger than grapefruit and, when she turned to lead me into her townhouse, her jeans clung to a very nice-looking ass. She had very dark brown hair that just broke over her shoulders. Her blue eyes were large and relatively far apart. She had a somewhat wide face with prominent cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a wide mouth with narrow lips. She also had a wonderful smile. My initial impression was a "girl next door" type.

Meredith White was composed but, understandably, subdued. She explained that her mother was an art dealer and appraiser. Glenda's shop was in a high-end community several miles northeast of the city. Glenda had divorced Meredith's father while Meredith was in college in the East. Her father, Gavin White, had remarried about five years before and taught art history at a university in California.

"Why did your mother go to Maple Lodge?" I asked Meredith.

"Is there something wrong with going there?" Meredith asked me.

"No," I said, surprised at her defensiveness.

"Good," Meredith said. "I've gone there several times myself. I like it." I must have formed an inappropriate look on my face because Meredith took on a more defensive tone. "What's wrong with being nude?" she asked rhetorically. "If you go there, you know you are going to see nude people, so no one is offended. Is there something evil about my tits or my vag that I always need to keep them covered? I've worked hard on my body. I want people to see it."

I had to lower her temperature. "I'm sure it is a great experience," I said. "I'm not questioning the motivations of people who go there. I'm just trying to find out whether any of your mother's reasons for going there might shed light on what happened to her."

"I understand," Meredith replied. "Sorry, I'm in a shitty mood." I didn't say anything. After a long pause, Meredith continued. "Dad would never go to a naturist resort and would probably have gotten angry if Mom had suggested it. After my parents divorced, there were a lot of things Mom wanted to try. Nudism was one." Meredith paused again. After another long moment of silence, she said, "Nudism isn't inherently sexual. However, nudism does make you more conscious of your body and the things which make your body feel good. Mom really enjoyed sex but, after Dad, she did not want another relationship. She met some couples at Maple Lodge who shared a sexual relationship. You'd probably call them swingers."

I wondered whether Meredith was also in that group. Meredith anticipated that question. "I've never had sex with any of those people," she said. "But I've met them when I've gone to Maple Lodge with Mother. They are nice people."

"How was your mother's business doing, if you know?" I asked.

"I know," Meredith said. "I'm a minority owner. It's very profitable. That's how I can afford to live here."

"Do you work in your mother's business?" I asked.

"I help out, usually with PR and when she hosts an event. My degrees are in journalism. I have a contract relationship with the local newspaper. Mostly, my stuff only goes online. I also contribute to some magazines. And I model a little."

"Were there any problems with your mother's business?"

"You mean," Meredith said, "anything someone might kill her over?" I nodded. "Nothing I'm aware of," Meredith said, "but art can be a cutthroat world. Mom was prominent enough that her decision to show or not show an artist's work in her gallery can affect an artist's career. Her appraisals were sometimes much less than her client had paid for a piece. People get emotional about art. Add in the large amounts of money involved, and I'm sure people have been killed over art. I can't think of anyone who'd kill Mom, though."

Meredith seemed on the verge of tears as she spoke her last sentence. I sat quietly until she raised her head and looked me in the eyes. "Who gains financially from your mother's passing?" I asked.

"Some goes to charities," Meredith replied. "The rest comes to me. I'm the only heir. Before you asked, I was in New York from last Thursday morning until I got back Sunday night. I can give you airplane tickets, a hotel receipt, and the names and numbers of the people I was with."

Because she was offering the information, I assumed it would verify that she was hundreds of miles from Maple Lodge when her mother was killed. That did not exclude the possibility Merdith had hired someone else to kill her mother.

Once again, Meredith read my mind. "I know police always look hard at the victim's family," she said. "You are welcome to my phone records, and you can examine my devices to see who I've communicated with."

I declined that offer for the same reason. Whatever she gave me would be exculpatory. She could withhold devices from me, or she could have been smart enough not to communicate electronically about arranging a murder. However, I was getting a strong feeling, hunch if you will, that Meredith was being straight with me. "Can you think of any other reason why someone might kill your mother?" I asked.

Meredith gulped as I said, "kill your mother." She thought for a moment. "Mom has some very valuable pieces at her house," she said, "but I'm not sure how that gets her killed at Maple Lodge."

"Was anyone besides your mother in the house regularly?" I asked.

"Just me," Meredith answered. "I guess someone might kill her there to keep her out of the house while they were plundering it. She's got neighbors close enough that I expect they'd hear a gunshot. Do you want to look at the house? I've got a key and I know what should be there."

Glenda White's house was in another high-rent district a mile or so north of the university. It was stone and sat on a lot that was large for the area, perhaps one and a half acres. Meredith led me to a back door off the driveway. She started to put her key into the deadbolt and the door swung open. "That is very weird," Meredith said. We entered a kitchen. It wasn't a complete mess, but someone had been looking for something. The rest of the house showed the same, with drawers left open, clothes piled on the floor, and books removed from shelves. "Mother would never leave the house this way," Meredith said. "Some one has been in here."

I called the city police. The detective who responded was none too happy to have a state guy on the scene but, once I explained what had happened to the homeowner, he agreed that the connection between his case and mine likely was not coincidence. My murder case took precedence over his burglary.

We waited for a city crime scene specialist. Once she was on site, Meredith went through the house carefully. After about an hour, Meredith concluded that nothing of value was missing.

While the detective and crime scene specialist went over the house, Meredith and I stood outside. "I wonder..." Meredith said and started walking to the rear of the house. The back patio included a large in-ground spa. A few feet away was a small brick shed which, I assumed, held the spa's machinery. Meredith walked to the back of the shed. She pried what turned out to be a piece of brick veneer off the wall. It concealed a metal box with a keyhole on the front. Meredith pulled out her keychain and unlocked the box. Inside were several jeweler's boxes and a couple of flash drives.

"Mother had this built to hide her most valuable jewelry," Meredith said. "I don't know why she didn't get a safe deposit box." Pointing to the flash drives, she said, "I also don't know what those are."

"Was this hiding place at all disturbed?" I asked.

"No," Meredith answered.

"These drives," I said, "may have something to do with your mother's death. May I take them?"

"As long as I'm there when you see what's on them, sure," Meredith replied.

I agreed. I spoke again with the city officers, and we left. In the car, Merdith said, "we can look at the flash drives at my place." I agreed.

Back at her townhouse, Meredith plugged the first flash drive into her computer. The directory showed the drive contained only picture files. Meredith opened the first file. Her screen filled with an image of three people standing side-by-side. A woman stood on the left side of the picture as I looked at it and a woman stood in the center. A man stood on the right. They were outside on a sunny day. They were smiling. They were also nude. The woman in the center appeared to be around 50. She was very attractive.

Meredith said, "that's Mother in the center. This was taken at Maple Lodge."

"Do you know the others?" I asked.

"The other woman is Harriet Varner," Meredith replied. "She's part of that group I told you about this morning. I'm guessing the man is Harriet's husband."

The rest of the pictures on the drive were of naked people doing various things. Glenda White appeared in most of them. No sexual acts were depicted, but it was clear that the people in the photos were very close friends. The people seemed to be enjoying themselves. The pictures were all dated the previous summer.

The second drive contained more pictures and a video. The pictures were all dated within the last six weeks. One of the first stills Meredith opened showed her mother standing naked with a younger couple. "The people with Mother are Earl and Vickie Morris," Meredith said. "I've met them. They are good people."

Just a few pictures in on the second drive, two people appeared whom we'd not seen before. The man was somewhere between 50 and 65, slender with distinguished silver hair. The woman, who appeared to be with the man, was much younger, probably no older than 26. She was blonde and had a cute face and a spectacular body. Like the others in the pictures, this couple was also nude.

The video showed the silver-haired man on his hands and knees. His blonde companion was lying on her back below him sucking his dick. Glenda White was behind the man, wearing a strap-on dildo. Glenda was fucking the man in the ass. The date on the video was the weekend before Glenda's body was found.

"I'm not surprised to see Mother with a strap-on," Meredith said, "although I'll bet that was the first time she used one on a man."

"Who is the man?" I asked.

"No clue," Meredith replied.

It was mid-afternoon. "Ok," I said, "I guess that's all for now. May I have a copy of what's on that second flash drive? I'm sorry to have to invade your mother's privacy."

"Mom wouldn't mind," Meredith said. "She enjoyed other people watching her have sex. She told me several times that I should try it." I must have reacted to that because Meredith added, "I haven't. At least, not yet."

Meredith copied the flash drive onto a CD and gave it to me. "Thank you," I said. "I apologize for taking up so much of your time. You've been very helpful."

"Hey," Meredith said, "you've been asking me questions for hours. I've got a few questions for you. Sit down." She said it pleasantly, but I got the impression I needed to answer her questions if I wanted future cooperation from her. I sat back down.

The next three hours were like an extended job interview. Meredith took me through my entire life story, from wrestling in high school and college to why I went into law enforcement. She was a very good questioner and got me to tell her things I hadn't told anyone else. Of course, none of that was very exciting. She also got me to explain why I hadn't dated much the last few years. Being around "a cop" makes a lot of women, and men for that matter, uncomfortable. On the other extreme, there are women whose hobby is fucking police officers. They seem to have a hierarchy of desirable targets. A plain clothes investigator for a little-known state agency is at the bottom.

It was around 7:00 p.m. when I left Meredith's townhouse. I had a two-hour drive to my apartment in Columbus if traffic wasn't screwed up. I tried to think through what I had on the murder, but my mind focused on Meredith White instead. The longer I had been with her, the more beautiful she seemed. She was a very pleasant personality, given that I wasn't meeting her under good circumstances. In a lowkey way, she was also a forceful personality. She also had an innocence, or maybe a seeming absence of guile, that was attractive and made me trust her.

I also kept thinking that she said she liked to go to Maple Lodge and enjoyed being naked. I had never tried social nudism but the thought of going naked with Meredith seemed very appealing. I mentally shrugged. That wasn't going to happen. Meredith was a possible witness, and a woman that attractive certainly had a boyfriend.

The autopsy report came in and showed that Glenda had a small amount of alcohol in her bloodstream and there was semen in her vagina. Death was caused by a.22 bullet in the brain. I also heard back from our crime scene people. They found nothing in the cabin where Glenda's body was found. No blood, no fingerprints, no shell casing, no fibers, nothing. I sent one of the still pictures showing the silver-haired man's face to someone in our office for comparison with a database of known pictures. That also came back negative. Later, I would wonder why.

I was getting nowhere on the Glenda White murder. I found myself thinking up reasons to call Meredith White. They were all pretty thin and I was a bit ashamed of myself for entertaining the idea.

A week after I had interviewed Meredith in Cincinnati, she called me at the office. "You haven't identified the guy with the silver hair or his blonde girlfriend, have you?" Meredith asked.

"No," I admitted.

"I have an idea on that," she said. "Have you been to Maple Lodge?"

"No," I said.

"So," Meredith continued, "no one there knows you are an investigator or that you're working on Mother's murder?"

"I don't know how anyone there would," I replied.

Meredith took a deep breath I could hear over the phone. "I talked to Vickie Morris. She and her husband are going to Maple Lodge this weekend and she expects others of the group Mom was involved with to be there. I was thinking we could go there this weekend and ask them. It was my mother, so it's natural I'd want to know. We don't need to tell them you're a cop."