Sleeping Beauties Ch. 04

Chapter Four - Mommy's Home

"Why Equine semen?" Silvia stared at the screen.

"What?" Penelope turned away from her whiteboard and looked at Silvia.

"Horse semen. He put horse semen in her this time," Silvia sighed.

"Ok that might not help identify our perpetrator but it adds more data to his signature. As you know, some serial killers like to engage with law enforcement or the media. Needling them or making demands or just boasting," Bradley Wilson piped in from where he was sitting at his desk, reviewing cases.

"The Zodiac Killer in California is a perfect example."

"Yeah... and they never caught him," Penelope said.

"Ok, so once again we have nothing. No hairs, fibres, DNA, and no witnesses. We know that Mary Whitehouse was last seen at the Fox and Firkin and that she was approached by several men but we have her on CCTV leaving alone," Bradley chewed his pen.

"We have officers out there identifying the men who approached her in the bar, those who used credit cards we've identified and interviewed and ruled out."

"Let's look at the evidence we do have," Bradley handed over to Penelope.

"The lingerie isn't exclusive to any particular store. The white lingerie we found on Rhonda Stevens is sold at Victoria's Secret but there are dozens of stores in Texas alone and he may have bought it interstate or online."

"The red lingerie we found on Mary Whitehouse is not exclusive to any particular store. We've canvassed all the lingerie stores in Balwyn and drawn a blank," Penelope said.

"Once Bradley developed the profile on this guy and we had an idea how he thinks, I figured that this guy would be way too smart to buy any of his requisites anywhere near where he commits his crimes."

"Same with the shoes. They come from the Shoes For Less retail chain and can be bought anywhere in the USA. They target low income earners and specialise in offering larger sizes."

"The makeup he put on the victims can be purchased anywhere and the Poison perfume he likes is in every drug and department store, so nothing there."

"Straws of animal semen are freely available. There are rigorous protocols to handle, store, and use it properly but our guy doesn't care about that. None of the sperm were motive; he just uses the semen to taunt us is my guess, it's not part of his fetish."

"I agree," Bradley piped in.

Silvia noticed that the animosity that Penelope had for Bradley Wilson had quickly dissipated over the two weeks they had been working together and in fact they seemed very friendly. She couldn't help wondering if something was going on there but had refrained from asking Penelope because whatever Penelope was doing was working. She hadn't had drink, she was looking after herself, dressing better and had even had her hair done. She was working a lot better too.

"Mary's online activity was pretty much confined to her employment, she wasn't on Facebook and wasn't on any dating sites. Her phone records are equally mundane and of little help," Penelope said.

It was Bradley's turn to speak.

"Our perpetrator's signature is not as unique as you'd think. A guy named Jerry Brudos was one of the first serial killers with this signature and active in the late sixties when profiling was still in its infancy."

"His mother had wanted a girl and was very displeased that she had another son instead. She would also constantly belittle him and treat him with disdain, as well as physically abuse him."

"He developed a fetish for women's shoes and women's underwear. He began to stalk local women, knocking them down or choking them unconscious, and fleeing with their shoes."

"At age seventeen, he abducted and beat a young woman, threatening to stab her if she did not follow his sexual demands. He married a seventeen-year-old girl and fathered two children, and insisted that his wife do housework naked except for a pair of high heels while he took pictures. He kept the shoes and underwear he had acquired in a garage that he would not allow his wife to enter without first announcing her arrival on an intercom."

"He made his victims wear the lingerie, underwear and high heels that he had collected. He killed four that we know of and attempted to abduct who knows how many more."

"Psychiatrists found that his sexual fantasies revolved around his hatred and revenge against his mother and women in general," Bradley finished reading from a file.

"Does that sound like our guy?" Bradley seemed pleased with himself.

"And there were there others with similar signatures?" Silvia asked.

"Not were... are. The FBI estimates that there are between twenty-five and fifty serial killers operating throughout the U.S. at any given time and many of the organised serial killers are fetishic about underwear and shoes," Bradley replied.

"So how does that help us?" Silvia asked.

"It's almost certain that he didn't start out like he is now presenting. He's planned these murders for a long time but he started out when he was younger attacking women, likely forcing them to wear specific underwear and high heels or they were wearing them and it attracted him to them."

"My educated guess is that he started out using hookers for convenience. But that doesn't account for the controlling part of his fetish; his need to overwhelm the women and have his victim helpless and incapacitated. I bet he started tying some of them up, maybe even practicing on them with various chemicals," Bradley proposed.

"So you think our guy is a mommy's boy but hated his mother. Is it possible he also dresses in lingerie or ladies clothes?" Penelope asked.

"Oh that's almost certain. I'm surprised he doesn't take some of his victims clothing with him as a talisman but this guy is too smart to be caught with anything that would tie him to the crime," Barry answered.

"But isn't the profile confusing? He's a mommy's boy who likes to wear panties, nylons and heels but he's controlling and capable of cold-blooded murder," Silvia scratched her head.

"You've seen the movie Psycho right?" Bradley countered.

"I might have something here," Silvia changed tack.

"A women in her middle thirties claims she was abducted by a man in Austin and held for over twelve hours. The man had her change into lingerie, stockings and high heels that he had bought to the crime scene and repeatedly assaulted her over the time period. He made her touch up her makeup between attacks and he was very specific about how she applied the makeup."

"He wore a stocking over his head to mask his appearance, latex gloves, and wore a condom during the attacks. He made her lie perfectly still while he was assaulting her and told her to look him in the eyes."

"The perp made her shower repeatedly after the attack and supervised her doing so to ensure he left no trace evidence. He was described as tall and well built," Silvia read from her screen.

"The case notes in the file state that the woman has a history of solicitation convictions starting from her teens when she worked for a high class escort agency, to her twenties when she worked the local bars and hotels, to the most recent conviction where she was arrested street walking in one of less salubrious neighbourhoods."

"The complaint probably wouldn't have been investigated except that the detective assigned to the case was a woman who believed the complainant. The case notes state that the detective suspected that other women had been abducted and suffered the same fate but had not come forward, either because they too were prostitutes or they were too ashamed."

"When was this?" Bradley asked.

"Two years ago. Could this be our guy?" Silvia asked.

"It could well be; let's get the detective on the phone," Bradley sounded excited by the lead.

Over coffee, Bradley told Penelope and Silvia what she had gleaned from Sharon Patton, the detective who had interviewed the prostitute they now knew as Kimberley Morris.

"I have a feeling about this guy. Sure, I like the structure and scientific approach of profiling but I'm still basically a cop and I have to trust my instincts," Bradley said.

"I think this is our guy practicing for his ultimate thrill. There are significant attributes that relate to our guy. The general description of the perpetrator, although I don't put too much stock in that, but the lingerie and high heels and the repeated sustained assaults are indicators. Making her lie still and not talk, the makeup - he was very specific about her makeup and of course his obsession with leaving no trace evidence."

"I'd like to go to Austin and interview Detective Patton and possibly Kimberley Morris," Bradley tried to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Good idea and take Penelope with you; it would be good to get a woman's perspective, also, you two seem to make a good team," Silvia's eyes twinkled over her coffee cup.

Penelope blushed.

"This Detective Patton; is she good at her job?" Silvia asked.

Bradley nodded.

"More importantly, does she have a good ass?" Silvia quipped.

Bradley choked on his coffee and Penelope was stunned.

"I'm just joking you morons, trying to break the tension," Silvia grinned.

"If I'd said that I'd likely get fired," Bradley said.

"Yeah we have come a long way in the Balwyn PD. Men get reprimanded for inappropriate behaviour, but sexy black lesbians like me can be as imprudent as they want," Silvia smiled cheekily.

"Now should I book two hotel rooms for you in Austin or just one?" her smile widened.

It was Bradley's turn to blush.

*****

"Michael! Mommy's home," Livia Kendal screeched up the stairs.

Michael pulled the comforter tightly around him and prayed his mother would go to her own room.

He had no such luck. He could smell her perfume even before he heard her enter his room. The brand was Christian Dior's Poison, and his mother seemed to drench herself in it.

"How's my pretty little Michael? Are you wearing your pretty little things?" his mother crept onto the bed and began to crawl towards him.

Livia Kendal made no secret that when Michael was born she really wanted a girl and was bitterly disappointed when she gave birth to a son. She'd even bought girl's baby clothes and dressed Michael in them; not that he had any recollection of course.

But as a child his mother would dress him like girl up and even put makeup on him while his father was away. His father was a weak willed man devoted to Livia but her endless affairs and infidelity eventually took its toll on their marriage and he moved out leaving Michael alone with her.

Livia lied to Michael, telling him that giving birth to him had caused her injuries that prevented her from having any more children and that she really wished he had been born a girl. She was domineering, controlling every aspect of his life. She kept him isolated and friendless and so he became perversely ingratiated and devoted to her whilst at the same time, deeply afraid of her.

When they were home alone he became the girl that his mother wanted.

He developed an obsession for women's clothing as he grew older. His mother wore vintage lingerie; lots of satin and silk, bustiers and corsets, fully-fashioned-stockings and spiky high heels. Michael came to realise that his mother was supplementing her income by bringing men home and having them pay her for sex. He would listen to the moans and groans through the thin walls of a succession of bedrooms as they moved from town to town.

Michael would dress up in lingerie and stockings and put on his mother's makeup and lie in bed, hating what the man in the next room was doing to his mother but at the same time wishing it was him doing it to her.

His mother's good looks faded quickly as she became more addicted to alcohol and drugs and her behaviour to him became more inappropriate and indecent. She didn't begin to molest him until he was of legal age, but they both knew there was no real legal age for incest.

Livia burst into his room one day and caught him dressed in a satin bra and panties, garter belt, stockings and high heels. He was lying on the bed with a stocking draped over his erect penis and was slowly stroking it.

"Oh my pretty, let me help you with that," she sat on the bed as he lay there mortified.

"Don't be scared honey, let mommy take care of it," she whispered through her bright-red lipsticked lips.

She wrapped her fingers around her son's throbbing flesh encased in the sheer nylon stocking and moved them up and down. Livia had deliberately let her dress ride up and smiled when she saw Michael was staring at her panty-clad mound.

Gobbets of hot semen seeped through the nylon stocking as Michael orgasmed. His mother milked him dry, patted him on the head and left the room.

But that was only the start. Livia began sleeping with her son while he was attending college. Returning from her late night excursions to the local bars and hangouts, if she hadn't picked up a man Michael was required to perform what she called husbandly duties.

Sometimes he'd be dressed in his lingerie, sometimes he wouldn't be, she didn't seem to care. If he pretended to be asleep, which he often did, it made no difference. She would bring him to full tumescence and use his cock to satisfy herself. It became a ritual. He would lie on his back pretending to be asleep and she would mount him, usually still dressed in her lingerie and stockings. He'd stare at her through lidded eyes and lie still while she pleasured herself and inevitably he would orgasm.

Finally Michael reversed the roles. He'd wait for his mother to pass out and remove her outer garments and lay her on the bed in her lingerie and heels and molest her. He'd fuck her and if she woke up she'd just lie there quietly and let him.

Michael accidentally killed his mother just after he received his Bachelor of Science in Pharmaceutical Sciences. He was experimenting on her by then, dosing her with different concoctions, trying to find the perfect blend of chemicals that would immediately incapacitate her. The concoction of recreational drugs and alcohol in Livia's system was listed as the cause of death and Michael was never suspected.

At the time, Michael was dating Felicity and they married soon after Livia's death and she bore him two daughters. He never told Felicity about the incestual relationship with his mother, and his busy work schedule and family commitments with Felicity and the girls calmed his primal urges. But the hate he felt against women, particularly his mother still festered deep inside. After a while he couldn't resist the compulsion and he began to steal underwear and high heels, wearing them secretly in his workroom where no one was allowed without his express permission. He would slip into the garments and masturbate, having sprayed himself with Poison. Knowing the garments had been worn against the most intimate places of the women he stole them from was very satisfying.

But he couldn't keep his urges under control. Michael sought out mature prostitutes who had similar features to his mother. He paid them to wear retro lingerie, stockings and heels and to lie perfectly still and remain silent while he fucked them. It satisfied his needs for some time. He would later slip into the lingerie he had paid the hookers to wear and masturbate.

Michael was very controlling and overprotective of his wife and daughters. Felicity had to account for every penny she spent and every minute of her day. She had to dress the way he liked her to, which she found to be very old fashioned but she was devoted to her husband and it made him happy, so what the hey? The few friends she had, thought she might be one of those women who were into the retro look.

When Michael asked her to wear the retro lingerie, stockings and heels to bed she didn't question him, even when he told her to lie still and keep silent until he had orgasmed. It gave her a perverse sense of power somehow, knowing he craved her that way, she started to like it.

Michael knew that paying prostitutes to do the things he wanted them to do was dangerous. Plenty of Johns wanted hookers to wear stockings and heels, they didn't blink at that, but being asked to basically lie there like a corpse was too much like something from the Ted Bundy movie. He knew that one day he was going to kill a woman, he fantasised about it; it was his ultimate dream.

He started abducting the prostitutes and forcing them to do those things. The abduction and control became as important to him as the clothes he made them wear. He wore a disguise and took precautions not to leave any trace evidence at the scene; he left each of them a significant amount of cash in the hopes that they wouldn't report the crime. Most didn't. Michael's employment as a pharmaceutical representative took him on the road and he was able to seek out victims who met his strict criteria: mature-aged, good looking women with nice legs and asses just like his mother.

Michael perfected his concoction for quickly knocking the women out. A precise amount of it on a cotton wool ball dropped into a dust mask placed over the victim's nose and mouth did the trick. He also believed he had perfected his neuromuscular blocker, he tried measured doses on animals and it paralysed them but they remained conscious and could feel everything he did to them. He was so excited and couldn't wait to try it on his first human victim.

Like everything he did he was meticulous in preparing for his forthcoming crimes. He studied criminology, crime scene investigation and serial killers. He knew what had got most of them caught so he came up with his own methods for committing the perfect crime. He put together his rape kit and took it for a trial run in the City of Balwyn which was far away from his home town. He went to the Starlight Lounge just to scope it out but immediately became infatuated with Rhonda Stevens and had to have her. And so his spree began.

*****

Penelope sat in the passenger seat of the unmarked police car which she had fully reclined. She was wearing a dark business suit; the jacket was hung up in the back of the car, as was Bradley Wilson's. She and Bradley were discussing the case, she had kicked off her heels and was relaxed, her short skirt had ridden up but she was not concerned. Penelope and Bradley were in relationship, they had spent every night together either at Bradley's hotel or at her apartment.

After a while they exhausted the topic and were content to just listen to the golden oldies on the radio, Penelope tapping and swaying her feet in time with the beat of some of the songs. She noticed that Bradley kept glancing at her feet, her thighs and breasts; she had undone the top two button of her tight blouse.

She smiled to herself and decided he needed a little more teasing and snaked her hand across to his thigh and stroked and squeezed it affectionately. Bradley patted her hand and then returned it to the wheel. Penelope slipped her hand down the inside of his thigh and stroked there, she could feel his penis begin to engorge through the fabric of his pants.

"What are you doing?" he smiled at her.

"I'm just being affectionate; isn't that what dating couples do?" she smiled back at him.

"Is that what we're doing? Dating?" Bradley's smile widened.

"Well I suppose technically we are lovers but you haven't actually taken me out on date," Penelope pursed her lips.

"We can go out on a date in Austin tonight. I thought that in Balwyn you wanted to be discreet," Bradley countered.

"Probably for the best," Penelope replied.

She squeezed Bradley's erect penis and he gasped.

"It's nearly lunchtime but as you know I'm on a diet so I can watch you eat a Big Mac while I drink coffee or we can pull over somewhere and roll around on the back seat," Penelope leaned over and whispered in his ear and squeezed his penis again.