Sleeping Beauties Ch. 05

Chapter Five - Felicity's Proposition

Bethany Stills had been a delight. He first saw her when he was sitting in his car parked outside of a modern business complex where he had just met with several doctors to espouse to them of the latest advances in a blood thinner developed by Kent Pharmaceuticals.

One of the businesses in the complex was a women's-only gym and Bethany Stills looked magnificent clad from toes to tits in body-hugging black and pink spandex. There were little panels of gauzy material sewn into the tights and the sport's top where her smooth pale skin was visible, very tantalising.

She was one of those women who wore full makeup to the gym, her appearance as important to her as the actual workout. Michael found the sheen of light perspiration on her face and body titillating.

His lizard brain began to work. Why would she dress like that, showing off her ass, her cunt, her long legs, her tight tits if she wasn't looking to be fucked? Why the makeup and the hair? The woman was attractive and strode purposely to her car, wiggling her fanny, shaking her tits, she wanted it alright. Whore. Just like mom.

He quickly took the stocking out of the glove compartment and freed his erection. The gods favoured him. Bethany Stills leaned into her BMW Z4 Roadster and put her large gym bag on the passenger seat. Her spandex-clad ass and long shapely legs were on full display as she bent over and began to rummage for her keys; her ass high in the air.

Her legs were slightly parted and Michael could see the shape of her mound, the tight Lycra leaving nothing to the imagination. She became frustrated when she couldn't find her keys and this caused her to waggle that magnificent derriere as she got angrier, frantically foraging in her gym bag for the elusive key fob. Finally a cry of triumph announced that she had found them but by then Michael Kendal had unloaded his wad into the stocking and was cleaning up.

Michael had already bought the lingerie and heels to put on his next victim and was keeping them for the right woman. He was determined to wait awhile, let things cool down, aware that he was accelerating, the time between crimes was getting shorter and that could be dangerous. He would be more likely to make a mistake. But when he saw Bethany Stills and her resemblance to his mother at the height of her beauty, he had to have her.

Michael followed her home; she parked in the underground car park of an apartment block. He watched her through the steel mesh security roller door that descended automatically after she had driven through it. She humped her gym bag over to the single elevator and he watched the numbers light up seeing the elevator stop on the second floor.

Modern technology is a wonderful thing but it can leave people vulnerable as proved to be the case.

Michael went back to his hotel and entered the address of the apartment block into his computer and began to search. Using proprietary software provided to him by the sales division of Kent Pharmaceuticals which had been developed to find prospective clients he was able to find a listing of everyone who lived on the second floor of the building.

If she was married or if she was living with a man he would be shit out of luck no matter how much he wanted her. He needed to confirm that she lived alone. There were two women listed as owner-occupants of second floor apartments, the rest were men. He searched for their names. The first woman was Belinda Morris, a fifty-year-old matronly woman and the second was Bethany Stills.

He began to scrutinise everything he could find about Bethany online. First of all he searched Google images and found several pictures of her. One was from the social pages of a local newspaper where Bethany Stills was attending a charity event. It was her alright, the woman from the gym. Another picture in the same paper taken a few months earlier showed her dressed in an evening gown at a political fundraiser.

More research revealed that she was a thirty-three year-old divorcee who had landed a handsome divorce settlement from her rich husband and lived the life of a social butterfly. He found her on a dating site for professionals called Elite Singles where she gave away far more personal information than was prudent. She had no children and was currently not in a relationship and she was looking for a handsome man of similar age or older who was financially independent.

She seemed like a shallow, gold-digging socialite.

Michael briefly considered posting a bogus profile on the site and hooking up with her that way, but that would leave electronic fingerprints for the cops to follow no matter how careful he was. He decided to stick to his tried and true methods.

He did some more research on Belinda Morris and found what he wanted.

Michael searched for and found the floor plans for the apartment block and noted the location of the security cameras. Importantly there wasn't one in the elevator. There were two in the underground garage but they didn't have coverage of the whole car park, nor were there any in the building's corridors. The remaining security cameras covered the main entrance, the foyer, and the grounds. The CCTV was not monitored, it was fed to a security firm and the video was stored on a hard drive for later analysis in the event of a crime. It was setup mainly to deter break and enter criminals.

He could no longer contain his impulses; he really wanted Bethany Stills so he executed his plan. He was glad he had taken the time to think it through and prepare carefully.

Michael cased the apartment block for the next few days and finally struck lucky. Bethany Stills drove out of the garage early one night dressed up to go out for the evening. If she came back accompanied the jig was up but if she came back alone he had a good chance of taking her.

He was dressed in his dark tracksuit and training shoes, gloves and beanie and wore his fanny pack. He slipped into the garage when a car exited the underground car park about half an hour after Bethany Stills left. He slid into the shadows and waited; he was good at waiting. When it was quiet he pulled his beanie down to cover his face, took a small can of spray-paint from his fanny pack and used it on the two cameras. He went back into the shadows and entertained himself thinking about all the things he was going to do to Bethany Stills if he got her.

Bethany Stills returned about three hours later alone and parked her BMW in her allotted parking space and punched the button for the elevator. Just as the doors began to close he jogged over and put a hand between the automatic doors causing them to open.

Bethany Stills looked a little concerned at first but he gave her his best smile and she smiled back.

"Oh good we're going to the same floor," he said.

Bethany looked at him quizzically.

"Sorry, I'm Graham Morris; Belinda Morris' nephew. I'm visiting for a week, do you know her? She lives on the second floor too," this was the most dangerous part of his plan.

"I see her around," Bethany replied as the doors began to close.

Good. Bethany Stills and Belinda Morris were only passing acquaintances. An age where people lived mostly private lives and communicated regularly with online friends thousands of miles away but didn't talk to their next door neighbours gave predators like Michael Kendal an advantage.

Michael noticed Bethany check out his physique in his tight-fitting tracksuit and he smiled to himself. She would soon be seeing plenty of what was beneath it. His cock was rock-hard and he made no attempt to hide it. He saw her glance down at it and his smile widened.

When the door opened at the second floor he did the chivalrous thing and waved her out first. It gave him a chance to check out her ass in the slinky evening gown she was wearing.

"Have a good evening," she smiled at him.

He nodded and smiled back, then stopped; pretending to tie his shoelace. Belinda Morris lived two doors down from Bethany Stills and when Bethany began to unlock her door Michael arose and walked down the corridor as if he was heading to Belinda Morris' apartment. He had his hand in his fanny pack. When Bethany Stills opened the door to her apartment he put the dust mask over her face and she began to tumble to the floor. He caught her and dragged her inside, kicking the door closed behind him.

When he had her naked and incapacitated on the bed he used her keys and security clicker to drive his car into the garage and park in a visitor's parking space.

There was one unnerving moment when he passed a man coming out of the elevator going to his car. They both nodded to each other cordially. Michael looked like any another asshole who had been out for an evening jog.

He let himself back into Bethany Stills' small, stylish, apartment and went to the modern kitchen. The granite bench-tops, tiled floor and smooth surfaces would make cleaning up a breeze. He stripped and put on the spandex bodysuit and fresh surgical gloves; he closed the case and carried it to Bethany Stills' bedroom. He checked on her. She was still totally incapacitated but her eyes were filled with wild terror.

"You're going to enjoy what comes next," he smiled down at her and then began to lay out the black lingerie and French maid's headpiece.

*****

"At least we have something this time," Penelope studied her whiteboard.

"Yeah we have fuzzy CCTV footage of a tall man wearing a tracksuit entering the garage and coverage of him with his beanie pulled down spraying the cameras with black spray-paint," Silvia stared at her laptop.

"The crime scene boys found the paint can. It's a generic brand available at any hardware store and of course no prints," she sighed.

"What about the eye witness?" Bradley chimed in.

"I interviewed him. He described the same man we found on the CCTV, the garage was dark and he didn't get a good look at his face but he's with our sketch artist and we'll compare what he gives us with the identikit provided by Julie Swindon. It's our guy though," Silvia said.

"The eye witness said he was carrying a small suitcase but he thought nothing of it. The man appeared to be confident, like he belonged there. He didn't notice the make or model of the car."

"He's taking risks though. He allowed himself to be caught on CCTV and seen by a witness. He's spiralling up but he's still being careful not to leave any trace evidence. This guy is not going to quit. He could move his crimes to another city but we have his signature so we would know it's him. We're sure we got him in Austin starting out and now here in Balwyn fully matured," Bradley mused.

There was a knock on the door and Brendan Scott entered the room with a thick file in his arms.

"The coroner's office has had a breakthrough," he put down the file and waved the top sheet of paper vigorously.

"This stuff, the chemical concoction he uses is proprietary; unique. Not available commercially or even experimentally according to our experts who engaged all of the reputable pharmaceutical companies. We had it properly analysed and it's like nothing they've ever seen. Very little analgesic which means the women saw and felt everything he did to them, but full of neuromuscular blocking agents that keep the women basically paralysed but wide awake," Brendan said.

"What's more, this guy would have had to ensure the dose was consummate to the victim's bodyweight, not necessarily precise, but too much would result in an overdose and too little wouldn't incapacitate them."

"From what we know from the bloodwork and the track marks in the victim's veins we figure each dose lasted about four hours, and then he injected them again. He held each victim for about twelve hours and that ties in with the number of puncture wounds we found, the last injection being the fatal dose."

"I'll put the details in the case file."

"This guy is no amateur. He has a real affinity for pharmaceuticals. That should narrow your field a little."

"Oh, and no surprise really... the semen in Bethany Stills' vagina was bull semen."

Brendon left the team to analyse the data he had bought it. Penelope picked up the précis sheet and pinned it to her whiteboard using a magnet.

The Chief of Detectives entered and wanted an update and the three case officers took turns telling him what they knew and where they were with the case.

"So to summarise... we know everything about this guy except who he is," Gary Rasmussen said bitterly.

They all nodded.

"The press has made the connection. They know we have a serial killer," Gary exhaled loudly.

"We know cops leak stuff all the time, sometimes for a kickback, sometimes to be malicious... whatever the fuck; it doesn't matter."

"Bonny Mendelsohn from the Balwyn Herald called me today advising me that the Herald is going to run the story on page one. I told her to hold on and rather than print conjecture and scare the shit out of everyone, that we would fact check her story," Gary looked a little beaten.

"You told her what!" Silvia Bickle was angry.

Silvia and Bonny Mendelsohn had lived together for two years and the breakup was acrimonious to say the least.

"Look, you know how this works. You give her the story and tell her most of the facts, the factors that might cause someone to come forward with evidence or identify a suspect, but you withhold key pieces of information. The perfume, the animal semen, the colour of the lingerie; you know the drill," Gary ran his fingers through his hair.

"Weeds out the loonies and confirms their story if someone comes forward with something legitimate we can use."

"I get it. But why are you directing your speech to me?" she indicated the other two law officers in the room.

"Because you're the lead detective on this case Silvia so you're doing the interview," Gary gave her a cheeky grin.

"I don't think so. Get one of the others to do it," Silvia balled her hands into fists and put them on her hips defiantly.

"I'm saving Wilson for the inevitable TV follow up; he's got a face for television and looks good in Brooks Brothers. If we use Penelope the Herald will just bring up old news. How she singlehandedly flipped the Balwyn PD on its ass and turned all of us corrupt cops into angels."

"No offence Penelope," Gary nodded to her.

"None taken; but it was hardly singlehandedly and I didn't get them all," she replied flippantly.

"Whatever the fuck... go and see your old girlfriend and make nice and get out the story we want, not some bullshit they made up around a few rumours," he said to Silvia.

"Also I wanna see you outside, alone," Gary opened the door and waited for Silvia to exit and he followed her and closed the door behind them.

"How's she doin'?" Gary chewed a fingernail.

"How is who doing?" Silvia stared at him, still angry.

"Don't be coy. You know who I mean, our bad Penny," Gary looked tired and on edge.

"Hasn't had drink far as I know and she's stopped dropping her drawers for every guy who winks at her. She's doing good," Silvia replied.

"She fucking the FBI guy?" Gary raised his brows.

"How the fuck would I know?" Silvia studied her fingernails.

"You two are thick as thieves; you know everything about each other. Anyway it doesn't matter, looks like she's doing ok. Last time I saw her she looked like a hobo in her dirty wrinkled suit and with runners in her nylons, she looks good now."

"What are you doing checking on female police officers nylons?" Silvia baited him.

"Whatever the fuck. Go and do the interview... and play nice," Gary Rasmussen turned and walked away.

*****

"Do you own anything except pantsuits?" Bonny Mendelsohn, crime reporter for the Balwyn Herald, asked Silvia.

"Do you own any skirts that don't show your ass," Silvia replied just as flippantly.

"You used to like me showing my ass," Bonny smiled.

"Yeah, well, that was then," Silvia said dismissively.

Bonny was a pretty Lipstick Lesbian, a real girly girl, who favoured short skirts and dresses, heels and hose, makeup and jewellery. She had been the bottom in their relationship and Silvia had been the top.

Bonny was not averse to using her looks and femininity to encourage both men and women to give her a story if that's what it took, and there were rumours that she had fucked a young handsome lawyer to get information about a corruption piece she was researching. Silvia had confronted Bonny who refused to confirm or deny the allegation. They had fought until they could fight no more and Silvia had walked away from the relationship.

"So what you got?" Silvia slid into the booth across from Bonny.

They had agreed to meet on neutral ground at a coffee shop that they used to frequent when they were a couple.

"Rhonda Stevens, Mary Whitehouse and Bethany Stills. All good looking women in their mid to late thirties, assaulted in their homes and then killed," Bonny read from her notebook.

"Go on," Silvia signalled a waitress.

"All posed provocatively but no signs of a struggle, they almost looked like they were asleep when police arrived. Oh, and you guys are stymied."

"Do I have it about right?" Bonny opened her wide sensuous bright-red lipsticked-lips to expose her brilliant white teeth.

Silvia's heart skipped a beat; she had really loved Bonny.

Silvia put up her hand to stop Bonny as the waitress approached.

"I'll have a double-shot latte and she will have the house grind, black with no sugar," Bonny said to the waitress.

"She always liked a good grind," Bonny's eyes twinkled at the double entendre.

"Very funny," Silvia sighed.

The waitress wrote down their order and left.

"So do I have it right?" Bonny got back to business.

"Everything except that we are stymied, we are following up some promising leads," Silvia replied.

"We have an identikit which I'll email you; the perp is a tall handsome guy, late thirties early forties, picks up his victims in bars or somehow ingratiates himself into the victim's residence."

"We think it's someone in the medical field because he uses chemicals to overpower and kill his victims. He dresses them in lingerie," Silvia stopped when the waitress arrived with their coffee.

"A latte and a house grind," she gave Silvia a salacious wink.

The coffee shop was frequented by the LGBTI community.

Bonny was scribbling in her notebook. She looked up.

"The lingerie? Anything specific? You know my readers like the intimate details," she grinned.

"Bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and high heels. Fetish stuff," Silvia sipped her coffee.

"The sort of thing you used to like me to wear," Bonny snaked her hand across the table and touched her fingertips to Silvia's.

"The sort of thing you liked to wear, I was ambivalent," Silvia replied coldly.

"Bullshit, you used to just about rape me when you came home and found me dressed like that waiting for you," Bonny gave her that big red-lipstick smile.

"Can we get back to your news story? I want you to include a warning to women in the victim's age profile to be careful and a request for anyone with any information they think might be useful to come forward," Silvia asked.

"Done," Bonny replied.

"I gotta use the restroom," Silvia slid out of her seat.

"I didn't do it," Bonny called after her.

Silvia turned.

"What?"

"I didn't do it. I didn't fuck the lawyer. I didn't fuck anyone when we were together, I loved you too much. But when you accused me I got angry and indignant because you didn't trust me. I should have just told you the truth," there were tears in Bonny's eyes.

"Yeah... well. Too late now," Silvia turned around and strode to the ladies restroom.

She did her business and was touching up her lipstick when Bonny came in and headed to a stall.