Sleeping Beauties Ch. 03

Chapter Three - Teacher's Pet

Felicity Kendal burst through the front door with her two excited daughters right behind her. They had come home from church to find their father's car parked in the driveway.

"Daddy!" the girls called out in chorus.

Michael Kendal rushed out of the kitchen where he had been waiting and hugged all three of them and kissed his wife.

"Hey; you girls wanna go and get yourselves some ice-cream or go see a movie?" Michael rummaged in his pocket and extracted a fifty dollar note.

"Sure dad but can we get changed first?" his youngest daughter of thirteen-years asked.

Michael snatched back the fifty.

"Nope, you go now in your church clothes or you can get changed and I'll find you some chores to keep you busy," he smirked at the girls.

The eldest, seventeen years old, snatched the money back.

"We're outta here daddy," she lifted up on her tippytoes and kissed his cheek.

She grabbed her sister by the wrist and pulled her outside.

"Be back by dinner or you're grounded. And no boys!" Michael called through the door.

The girls heard the deadlock clunk when the door slammed shut.

"Did you see the boner he had!" the youngest girl giggled.

"Yuk! Don't talk about dad's boner. I can't even think about mom and dad doing it," the eldest laughed as they walked down the pathway.

"Every time he comes back from a trip he grabs mom and takes her up to their bedroom," the youngest said.

The girls were both virgins but they knew all about sex. A lot of the kids at their school came from broken homes and even those kids whose parents were still together complained that their parents fought all the time. The girls were happy that their mom and dad loved each other and that they still had a healthy sex life which meant a happy marriage.

Michael Kendal grab-assed Felicity all the way up the stairs, running his hands up her nylon-sheathed legs and squeezing her buttocks.

"You want me to put on the special lingerie Mike?" Felicity was getting wet in anticipation.

"No time Fliss. I'm locked and loaded and on a hair trigger, we'll do that later," Michael guided her though the bedroom door impatiently.

He pushed his wife on the bed and leapt on top of her.

"You sure you don't..." Felicity was silenced by his hand firmly grasping her chin.

"Shh. Lie still. You know what I like," Michael was struggling to free his cock and Felicity suddenly got wetter.

She lay still beneath him with her hands by her side and her legs parted while Michael pushed her frock out of the way to get to her. He squeezed her thighs and then his hand found her sex. He tore open her pantyhose and pulled aside her panties and pushed his big hard cock deep inside her.

Felicity felt her husband's big cock fill her vagina and he grunted as he rutted against her, his pubis rubbed on her clitoris and Felicity immediately orgasmed.

She knew to lie still and look up into Michael's eyes but she couldn't hide the pleasure from him.

Michael could see the lust and satisfaction in his wife's eyes. She was coming! She was having an orgasm whilst she lay still underneath him, not moving.

"Yes!" he hissed and ejaculated.

He was sure that he had seen the same look in Mary Whitehouse's face when he fucked her the third time. He'd taken his time with her and massaged her clitoris with his fingertip while he fucked her and finally pressed his pubis on her vulva when he came and he was sure he had seen that exact same look. Mary might not have wanted to but she had orgasmed.

"Did you like that Felicity?" Michael stroked his wife's face, a signal to her that she could move and talk.

She lifted her legs and wrapped them around him and leaned up and kissed him.

"It was wonderful but these pantyhose are ruined and I'd better get out of this church frock," she smiled up at him.

"Yes do that, and put on your special lingerie and high heels for me. Let's do it properly this time, the makeup, the perfume the whole shebang," he grinned down at her and she could feel him growing to full tumescence again inside her.

Finding a black wig similar to Mary Whitehouse's hair style and colouring had been easy enough. Back at the hotel in Balwyn he'd gone through the ritual of slipping into the red lingerie and heels, putting on the makeup and wig, inserting the vibrator and lying on the bed staring at the tablet whilst immobilised.

It was satisfying, he'd enjoyed re-living the crime from Mary Whitehouse's perspective, but he couldn't see her eyes in the video he had taken of himself fucking her on her bed. He needed to figure out how to do that; maybe wear a GoPro on his head, yes that might just work!

The idea got him so hot that he'd raced home to fuck Felicity, to watch her eyes and see if he could tell if she orgasming just by looking at them.

Now he believed he could.

*****

Penelope went back to her apartment and quickly showered and punched up Silvia's number on her phone and spoke to her on speaker while she put on her makeup and dressed. She noticed that her skirt was tight around her waist and remembered what the college kid and Silvia had said about her being fat.

"The Crime Scene guys and the medical examiner are at the scene right now; I've got a team going door to door, get down here as soon as you can, I'll text you the address," Silvia broke the connection.

Penelope could sense the tension in Silvia's voice. Technically it was still their day off but the obvious similarity of the murder to that of Rhonda Stevens tied the cases together and it had been assigned to them. If she had any decent clothes with her she would have gone straight to the crime scene but all she had were her skank clothes and she was not turning up dressed like that.

Once again she vowed to get her drinking under control and resisted the temptation of the vodka in the freezer on her way out the door.

The crime scene, on the outside at least, was different to the last one. This was a house in suburbia, a nice neighbourhood not an apartment in the city.

The victims were different too. Rhonda was a single cocktail waitress with no kids who could barely make ends meet but Mary Whitehouse was a divorced single mom with two kids who held down a well-paid job in the finance sector.

In Mary's bedroom though, with the exception of the lingerie being red instead of white, the crime scene was identical.

"Let me guess, no sign of forced entry. No hairs and fibres and no fingerprints," Penelope walked over and circled the bed.

Mary Whitehouse was arranged identically to Rhonda Stevens, she could have been sleeping except for the lewd pose. Her lingerie and heels were red but other than that everything was the same. Same makeup, same Poison perfume, same pose and Penelope noticed the glistening fluid in her vulva through the translucent panties.

"What do you think the chances are that the perp left his DNA inside her?" Penelope pointed to Mary's crotch.

"I'd say it's more likely to be llama or camel semen than it is to be from our guy," Silvia grunted.

"This scene is even cleaner than the last one; every hard surface has been wiped down. My preliminary take is that we are going to find no hairs or fibres except those belonging to the victim," Bob Tanner had joined them.

Penelope took a good look at Mary Whitehouse's face. Her lipstick had been smudged and then reapplied.

"I think he kissed her, just like Rhonda Stevens. He kissed her then he put the lipstick back on her when he posed her," Penelope said.

"Rhonda Stevens' lips and mouth had been cleaned; oxygen-producing detergent had been used to clean her lips and sprayed into her mouth so any DNA was destroyed. Then he fixed her makeup putting foundation and powder around the area he'd cleaned and of course another coat of lipstick on her lips," Brendan Scott chimed in.

"Ok everyone. Let's not assume everything is the same as last time. Work the crime scene people," Silvia Bickle clapped her hands but she was not optimistic.

*****

Penelope and Silvia sat in the Chief of Detectives office and gave him an update.

"The FBI field office in San Antonio is sending an agent," Gary Rasmussen steepled his fingers.

"So the cavalry is coming," Penelope said flippantly.

"Look. Technically you need to tie three murders together before anyone uses the word serial, but with these MOs, the fetishism, the pristine crime scenes. We've got us a serial killer. However if you use those words outside this office you're fired," the Chief said half-joking - half-serious.

"You guys can set up in syndicate room two. Keep the fucking door closed I don't want any lookie-loos leaking to the press that we might have a serial killer."

"This guy didn't get this good on his first rodeo. You can bet he's killed before or at least raped women before, using the same fetishic MO," the Chief said.

"The FBI has far more resources that we do and they can search for similar crimes across the USA, so like it or not you guys are partnering up with whoever they send," Gary Rasmussen said with finality.

The women got up to leave.

"One more thing. Close the door," he said gravely.

Penelope closed the door.

"Look at this. It was sent to me by some guy named Zeke Dickinson the owner of a shithole called the Starlight Lounge," Gary pointed to a video on his computer screen.

The CCTV footage showed Penelope out back of the Starlight Lounge talking to Zeke Dickinson who offered her a flask. Penelope looked around quickly and snatched it off him and took a long pull and then handed it back.

Penelope became lightheaded and had to sit down.

"Asshole!" Silvia hissed.

"Yeah right Silvia, Zeke Dickinson is an asshole. But now he has something on one of my best, hang on let me rephrase that, someone who used to be one of my best detectives."

"Penelope, your FITREPS have been steadily declining, you're tardy, you're sloppy and I hate to say this because it sounds sexist, but you're getting fat and you look like shit most of the time. Your sympathy card is stamped null and void Penelope. We all know you've been through a lot but it's time to buck up or fuck off."

Penelope's head was bowed and she was crying. Silvia was about to interject but Gary Rasmussen shut her down.

"Don't you start on me Silvia! You're enabling her. Stop being her friend and start being her partner. If she's drinking on the job she's liable to get you killed one day," Gary was red-faced.

"Penelope. I respected your dad; he did a lot of good things for this PD before he died and Randolph Cody was the best street cop I've seen, but that's over and done with. Get over it or get out of Balwyn PD."

"You're gonna sign this Final Warning, acknowledging that you are on probation and one fuck up is going to get your ass fired," Gary slid a sheet a piece of paper across his desk.

"Silvia. You witness it and if you really are her friend you come to me if she takes another drink on the job so I can fire her. That way she knows she's on a short leash. If she drinks and you know about it and don't report it, I'll put you back in a skirt and have you filing traffic reports," the Chief said earnestly.

Penelope signed the document and they both left the Chief's office feeling cowed.

Penelope was still crying and Silvia bundled her into the stairwell.

"You listen to me Penny. There ain't no way this black lesbian is wearing that little skirt again just so white boys can check out her legs and her fanny, which I might add are remarkable."

Despite the changes that had been made to the Balwyn PD after the corruption scandal, the 1970's era uniform had not. There was a lot of tradition and sentimentality attached to it and when a vote was taken, the overwhelming majority elected to keep the old-style uniforms. The uniform was now made from modern fabrics and quite comfortable, but women police officers were still required to wear skirts and hosiery unless they were actually on the beat.

"So you gotta quit drinking right now. I'll help you any way I can but it's down to you ok?" Silvia said.

Penelope nodded and Silvia pulled her into her arms and held her while she sobbed. She kissed Penelope's cheek and pushed her out to arm's length.

"You know I love you girl but this is on you ok?" Silvia said earnestly.

Penelope nodded.

"Go and fix your face you look like a panda. Go home, get some rest and we start again tomorrow ok?" Silvia smiled.

Penelope nodded again.

"And no drinking!" Silvia added.

"I get it. No drinking," Penelope slunk away and went home.

The next day she got up early and squeezed into her PT gear.

"Thank fuck for spandex," she said as she pulled her tights up over her belly.

Penelope ran until she puked. She drank some water and ran again until she puked some more. She forced herself to do ten miles.

She didn't want breakfast but she forced herself to eat some yoghurt and fruit and drink a glass of OJ. Pouring the juice she thought about the vodka in the freezer and she pulled the bottle out and drained it down the sink. She found every bottle of booze in the house and poured them away too.

"Day one," Penelope smiled as she got into the elevator but her stomach hurt, her legs ached and she was jonesing for a drink.

"Well look at you all fresh-faced and looking good," Silvia said to Penelope when she got in the car.

They drove to Police Plaza and moved into syndicate room two. Silvia reviewed the soft-copy case file held in the database while Penelope worked on her whiteboard, adjusting the timelines, affixing crime scene photographs, autopsy reports, victim profiles, maps, and lists of persons who had been interviewed.

It looked impressive but the cold hard fact was that the crimes were far from being solved. The two detectives were trying their hardest to have their evidence laid out as best they could before the FBI Profiler arrived.

"I'm Special Agent Bradley Wilson," the FBI profiler introduced himself thirty minutes later.

"Are you on the FBI recruiting poster honey?" Silvia Bickle couldn't help herself.

Bradley Wilson was around six feet tall, handsome, toned, had perfectly styled collar-length black hair and wore the FBI regulation dark suit, dazzling crisp white shirt and polished black shoes.

"I'm Lieutenant Silvia Bickle and I'll let you know that I'm a lesbian but if I was ever going to change teams it would be someone like you who turned me," she grinned and shook his hand.

"Don't worry about her; she can't help herself," Penelope stuck out her hand.

"I'm Lieutenant Penelope Bishop," she found his bright smile overpowering without a drink to steady her nerves.

"Nice to meet you both; where can I set up shop?" he pointed to a large suitcase he had propped in the doorway.

"Bring it in and take that desk over there. Close the door please we are trying to keep this on the down-low," Penelope pointed to a desk she had allocated to the agent.

Bradley Wilson carried in his suitcase and started to unpack.

"I like your whiteboard," he commented, stopping briefly to look at Penelope's handiwork.

"Are you mocking me Agent Wilson?" Penelope said harshly.

"Oh no Lieutenant Bishop. I'm a fan of having the crime laid on a whiteboard like that; it provides me with instant visual references. Databases have their place, especially when you are searching through a myriad of documents, but the good old analogue methods still have a lot to offer," Bradley gave Penelope a conciliatory smile.

Penelope just scowled at him.

"Look I'm not here to take over your case; I'm here to work with you guys, be part of the team so to speak. We all have our own strengths and I'm a good profiler, I'd like us all to have a good working relationship," Bradley gave them both his best smile.

"Don't worry about Bishop; she's just sore because she got her ass chewed out yesterday, that's all," Silvia said.

Penelope gave Silvia a murderous look and then went back to what she was doing.

"Look with all the information that you already sent to Quantico I was able to start running a profile on your perpetrator. Let me get this set up and I'll walk you through what I have," Bradley said attempting to break the tension.

He set up a laptop and fiddled with it for a while, the FBI logo appeared on the screen and then he logged in and began manipulating a few files.

"This is what I have," he began

"I've assimilated everything we have so far and I have classified our perp as 'Organised'."

"Organized murderers have advanced social skills, plan their crimes, display control over the victim using those social skills, leave little forensic evidence or clues, and often engage in sexual acts with the victim before the murder," he explained.

"That's our guy down to tee," Silvia nodded her head.

"Based on the behavioural sequence and this guy's signatures I have a rough profile already," Bradley sent a document to a printer.

"Wait... behavioural what and signature who?" Penelope interjected.

"The offender's 'signature' is identifiable from the crime scene and is more idiosyncratic than the modus operandi — the signature is what the offender does to satisfy his psychological needs in committing the crime."

"This offender's behavioural sequence, or MO, is to stalk and attack single, middle aged women in their homes and kill them after assaulting them. He keeps the crime scene almost pristine leaving no trace evidence."

"His signature is to dress them in lingerie, make them up a certain way, spray them with a specific perfume and keep them paralysed but lucid during the assault," Bradley Wilson pointed to the crime scene photos on the whiteboard.

"That makes sense," Silvia put her hands on her hips and nodded.

"And?" Penelope was not as magnanimous as Silvia.

Bradley took the sheet of paper out of the printer and read from it.

"Look it's early days and we will keep updating the profile as we get more evidence but my supposition is this:"

"Married white male, late thirties - early forties, middle-class well paid professional who travels for work, college educated and works in the pharmaceutical or medical field, controlling - likely keeps firm control over his wife and any children, presents a pleasant disposition, is charming, and is likely good looking."

"How does that sound?" he looked at Penelope and then at Silvia.

"You just pretty much parroted what we already knew," Penelope said.

"Be fair Penny, we never really articulated that way," Silvia gave Penelope a withering glare.

She only ever called Penelope Penny when she was angry with her.

"Ok. So what next?" Penelope asked.

"We run what we have through the criminal databases and see if we can find subjects that match our profile or crimes that match our perp's signature," Bradley said.

"And then lunch," he grinned.

"Lunch?" Penelope looked perplexed.

"I've been on the road since five thirty this morning and I haven't eaten. It's going to take a while for this thing to crunch those ones and zeros so let's go get some lunch after we've set the machine in motion. I bet you know a good place to eat?" he smiled a Penelope.

"Are you calling me fat?" Penelope snapped back.

"No. I'm sorry... I just meant that you are a local so you'd know a good restaurant," Bradley apologised.

"That makes sense," Penelope mimicked Silvia's response to Bradley's hypothesis, mocking her

"Teacher's pet," Penelope stuck out her tongue.

"What's got into girl? Are we in high school now?" Silvia looked angrily at Penelope.

Bradley Wilson was taking a restroom stop before they headed out for lunch.

"I thought you were an angry bitch when you drank, you're downright ornery sober," Silvia snatched up the keys to their work vehicle and Penelope followed.