The Academy Affair

He found my boobs, clung to them, working my nipples as I fumbled for his belt and zipper, sensed his trousers falling away, being kicked loose. I stepped back, shed my own jeans and panties, pulled him in again, thrilling at the feeling of his hardness pressed between our bare stomachs, his hands now on my bare bum, pulling us together harder and harder, my heart hammering.

Then I was lifted in his arms, carried into his bedroom, landing in the middle of his bed with my legs outspread, bouncing not at all as he landed on me, panther on prey, pressing me into the mattress with a weight I needed, cherished, cheered. I fumbled for him, found his shaft, aimed his tip as he drove down in one long, forceful push. I rolled my hips, met him, gave a ragged roar as I felt myself being filled and stretched.

It wasn’t making love, not by any description, not that time. Love might follow, but this was as primal as anything seen in a troop of chimpanzees. Jungle creatures male and female, I think his need now matched my own and there was no gentleness in either of us. The mattress springs groaned and shrieked as his body drove down onto and into me, again and again. My hands clawed at his back and hips, pulling him down. He panted above me, matching my cries every time he lunged into my depths.

There was no sophistication to it and it didn’t last long. Vlad groaned, sagged, emptied himself and with that I felt an excruciating heat boil up from within me at, growing and blazing until I feared I would erupt, burn bodily under him, then, as quickly as it had come, it faded, leaving two tired, panting monkeys silently wondering what to say or do next.

Vladimir solved part of the puzzle for me by rolling over onto his back, pulling me with him so that I landed on my side with my head on his shoulder.

I started to speak, but his finger found my lips, silencing me.

“Not now, Taffy,” he said softly. “Not now.”

“But…”

“Not now, woman.”

For once, Boss or no, I listened.

+

Vlad makes amazing coffee. He’d always done pretty well with the cheap beans I bought for the office, but the aroma that greeted me when I woke the next morning was from a different dimension.

I awoke, not to coldness, but gradually sensing the absence of warmth, the special warmth that had cuddled me, spooned me, guarded me most of the night. Just the memory of that was warming. I opened my eyes, saw nothing but white, blinked and realized it was the white of Vlad’s duvet. I yawned, stretched, felt with my hand for him. I was alone in bed and was suddenly, deeply aware of how disappointed that made me.

The man must have ears like a cat, for he appeared almost instantly, wearing a pair of boxers and bearing a large, steaming mug. The smile on his face made my heart start all over again.

“Hi,” he said softly. He put the mug on the side table, sat down beside me on the bed. His hand caressed my cheek and I leaned my head into it.

“Hi, back.” I paused, closed my eyes, smiled a little. “Thanks, Vlad.”

“You’re welcome.”

My eyes popped open at the return of memories from last night. I’d given up blushing a decade ago, but remembered how this morning. Scarlet, I stared at him.

“Oh, god, Vlad,” I whispered. “I’m so…”

His finger again moved to my lips, cutting me off.

“Enough, Taffy. It wasn’t tender, not the way I’d always hoped for us, but it was real and we both needed it.”

“But…”

He silenced that protest with the softest kiss I could imagine. His tongue talked to my lips, reassured them of his understanding and forgiveness. I found myself sniffing again — twice in two days, McFitch, you’re losing it!  — but these were happy tears.

I brushed them aside with a knuckle, smiled my bestest smile and pulled him into a deep hug. My head on his bare chest seemed just right and I kept it there for a long time, listening to the dull beating within.

“What time is it, Vlad?”

“Just after ten, I think.”

“Ten!”

I never sleep past seven or so.

“You were tired, Boss; I decided to let you sleep.”

I took a sip of coffee. It tasted as good as it smelled.

“Thanks, then. Um, where’s the…?”

“Second on the right. How do you take your eggs?”

“In multiples, please. I’m starving.”

+

Vlad puts on a good spread, I’ll say that. Scrambled eggs, fresh muffins, a perfect mango, juice, cheese – I had become too used to my own bachelor chow cooking to not be delighted.

Dressed in a robe he’d loaned me, I inhaled seconds, lingered over a third muffin and sighed. Vlad pointedly looked under the table for scraps and chuckled.

“Where did you put it all, girl?”

I grinned, touched his forearm with my hand.

“Vlad, I really appreciate all this.”

“No worries, Boss. I know you’re generous with Christmas bonuses for us little people.”

I choked at that, almost spat coffee at him.

“Seriously, Taffy, what’s the plan? I do think I need to be in the office today; somebody might notice if I wasn’t.”

“Agreed.”

“So, what do you want me to do? I’ll swing by your place on the way to work and check to see if there’s still anybody watching.”

“Yeah. I guess.” I thought for a second. “Try and do some more digging into Penny’s trip. I doubt the station still has security footage from a month ago, but you could ask. Some quiet checking on the trust fund, maybe. Do some discrete checking to see if anybody on the street has seen Natasha. But be careful, Vlad. Somebody’s playing hardball and I don’t even have a licence anymore. Watch your six.”

“Gotcha, Boss.”

“And, Vlad, do you still have your old motorcycle? I need to get around and public transit wouldn't be a good idea for me right now.”

He grinned.

“Yes, but I can do better than that, Taffy. I’m sort of car-sitting. My Aunt Tara’s out of town for two months. She didn’t want to leave her car in her outdoor parking space, so it’s downstairs, too.”

“Yes! Thanks again, Vlad.”

“I’ll add it to your tab.”

+

I had a couple of sources in the Medical Examiner’s office. One of them was — I thought — enough of a friend to know the warrant was bogus. I called her on a burner phone; she was willing to talk to me, off the record, background only.

You’d think I was working for The Washington Post.

Dr. Andrea Soames looked around as she entered the lounge. My eyes were aimed past her, at the other people in the rather run-down suburban mall. She took off her dark glasses, peered around, trying to spot me. I kept still, watching to see if anybody was watching her. There didn’t appear to be anybody and I half-rose in my booth, waved to catch her attention and sat back down again.

She came to my table and stared down at me. I lowered my own glasses, smiled for a second and she recognized me.

“Sit,” I stage-whispered. “Please.”

“Taffy? What’s going on? What’s with the wig?”

Her eyes ran over the décor of the shabby place, “Frankly, Taffy, this place is pretty low, even for you.”

I grinned at her. “You’re looking good, too, Andy. Thanks for coming.”

“What’s the deal?”

“Wait a minute.” The server was coming towards us. “Coffee suit you?”

She nodded and I told the girl I’d have another cup myself.

We talked trivia until the coffee had come and the server gone.

“I’m in hot water, Andy. I’m keeping my head down real low until I can find out what’s going on.”

“I’d heard you were on somebody’s Bad Girl list.” She sipped the sour coffee, frowned, put the cup down with a look of distaste. “Kiddy porn? I’ll be honest; I wondered until that was mentioned, then I knew it was crap.”

I felt my shoulders drop a little from my ears.

“Thanks, girlfriend. I needed to hear that from somebody.:”

“How serious is it?” Her face was cautious now.

“The charges? They’re bullshit. I could – will – beat that. But somebody’s trying to ice me, Andy. Hence the wig and meeting here.”

I could see the thought pop into her head – how much danger was she  in now, just for being here? I tried to reassure her.

“Relax, Andy. I was watching through the back window when you parked; there was nobody following you. And there was nobody behind you inside the mall when you came in here. You’re clean.”

She looked around nervously.

“If you say so.” Her hand reached for her cup, but, looking at it, she had second thoughts. Instead, she pushed it away from her. “Well, I’m here. What did you want, spy-girl?”

“Don’t joke about that. I’m just your everyday, ordinary private eye, trying to find out why a boring missing persons case has me suddenly dodging incoming comets.”

I gave her the barest outline of the case, then expanded a bit. The only lead I had at all was Petey’s mention of pimps.

“Andrea, I’ve got a hunch that it’s something to do with prostitution or human trafficking. I hear that you’re getting a string of young women on the slab.” I didn’t mention Petey or Sarah Cotton by name.

She nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Three we know of. We noticed it a couple of days ago and are digging into previous records, trying to see if there were others.”

“What can you tell me about the three recent ones?”

It was a slim trail, but it was about all I had.

“Female, Caucasian, late teens or early 20s, very pretty. Well, they would have been, once. All of them died from overdoses.”

“Overdoses?”

She looked rather nervous. “This is just between us, right?”

I nodded in turn. “Yup.”

“We’re used to finding the normal street drugs, Taffy – fentanyl, heroin, crack, meth. This is an unusual combination and finding it three times in a row has the bells ringing.”

“Spill.”

“The lab reports for all three came back showing very high doses of Meperidine, crack and MDMA.”

“Break that down for me, please.”

My eyes kept watching outside, but I was seeing nothing unusual.

“Meperidine is an opiate, a strong one. Another name for it is Demerol, but that’s usually given via injection.”

That one I knew.

“So, Demerol, crack and Ecstasy. Ick.”

“’Ick’ is right.”

“And that’s what killed them?”

“Looks like. Triple the lethal dose, based on the blood-work.”

I thought a minute. Pimps the world over use drugs to keep their strings in line, keep them loyal to the only source the girls know. Mainly it’s the simpler stuff, I knew, the readily-available drugs she'd mentioned first.

“How addictive would that be, Andy?”

She scowled. Addiction was a sore point for her.

“Super-addictive, Taffy. They’d be hooked after the first one and then they’ll crawl over a mile of broken glass on their hands and knees to get another.”

“What would be the effects, for a non-lethal dose I mean? What would it feel like?”

She thought.

“Like a Speedball, but more so. The lab reports suggest the stuff in these women was unusually pure, far more so than we usually see in street overdoses. Very soon after taking it, there’d be euphoria, unusually high suggestibility and extreme tractability. A real Party Girl pill, until it wore off.”

“’Pill’?”

“Possibly, although injection is certainly possible.”

“Did you folks notice track-marks?”

“No, which is kind of surprising. Drug users often slip into shooting the stuff; they have to take what they can get when their regular source runs short from time to time.”

“So, would that suggest that these women might have had a steady supplier?”

“Maybe, if they were using the stuff on a regular basis. It’s an unusual combination in any case, so the police are definitely thinking there’s a connection.”

“Where were they found?”

“In the river, downstream of the park.”

That didn’t mean much. It was a long river, with lots of quiet places to unload a corpse.

I thought, tried to put it all together.

“So, you’ve got three floaters, all young pretty females, all killed by an overdose of a very specific drug combination, one which, in smaller doses, would make users happy, obedient and cooperative. Oh, and willing to sell their souls to whoever’s holding the candy bag.”

“That’s about it. There may have been more that haven’t been found. Like I said, we’re checking.”

“Any idea who they were?”

“We got a solid ID on the second one, a runaway from Nowhere, Montana. She was reported missing not quite two years ago. No idea on the other two.”

My hand reached into my purse, emerged holding a photo of Penny Higgins. It wouldn’t hurt to double-check.

“Is she one of them?”

Andy took it, examined it closely before returning it.

“No.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. Two of them were unmarked, no bruises or signs of a fight. The third, the last one, looked like she’d put up a struggle. Serious bruising on the right side of her face and a broken jaw. We found blood and tissue under her fingernails, like she’d fought back, scratched her assailant.”

I winced.

“Oh, and semen in her vagina.” Her voice was bleak.

“We’ve sent samples off to the lab, but it’ll be a few days before we hear anything.”

I thought about all that.

“Thanks, Andy. Could you give me a call when you hear?”

“Of course. Your office number still the same?”

“No.” I scrawled the number of one of the burner phones on a paper napkin. “Use this.”

She glanced at it, then rose, looked down at me.

“Um, do you need anything, Taffy? How are you for cash?”

I felt tears well up, sniffed them back. The value of real friends never ceases to amaze me. I managed a brave smile.

“I’m good, Andy. But thanks so much for asking. I owe you.”

“I’ll give you a call if I find anything.”

“Thanks. But be careful.”

“You, too.”

I waited ten minutes after she’d left before leaving a five under my cup and heading out the back door.

+

I took the burner phones for a drive in Aunt Tara’s car. I wasn’t sure how closely their locations could be pinned down and didn’t want to find out.

I parked in a deserted corner behind a diner and dialed Petey’s private number. He answered.

“Petey?”

“Yes. Who is this, please?”

“We talked earlier about buses and train stations.” The odds of the burner being tapped were negligible, but Petey had his own competitors.

He paused, then, “What in heaven’s name have you been doing with yourself?”

“I wish I knew. I seemed to have kicked somebody’s hornet nest.”

“Indeed you have. Did you know that you’re worth fifty grand?”

“Say what now?”

“Word’s out on the street, hon. Somebody is extremely annoyed at a certain detective.”

I hesitated. “You need 50K, Petey?”

“I could choose to be insulted by that, but I think, under the circumstances, we can let it go. By the way, did I tell you Roger and I are getting married?”

I hadn’t known that. Unless Petey was a profoundly better actor than anybody had a right to be, he’d just given me his answer.

I took a deep breath, let it out.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s OK. I understand. I do. How are you?”

“Moving fast, staying low.”

“No doubt. Well, I haven’t found your girl yet, but I do have a bit of information for you. Maybe it’s related. It does involve what we were talking about, in general.”

I waited.

“I think I know why the late but hardly lamented Boris was killed.”

“Oh?”

“He and Natasha had been playing good-guy-bad-guy with the incoming fish at the bus depot.”

I was silent. If Petey wanted to drag this out, make it a surprise, so be it.

“A young woman would tumble off the all-night bus looking tired and frightened. Boris would move in and make an obvious play. Most girls would start looking for the police, but a severely-dressed Natasha would show up in the nick of time and 'rescue' her.”

“Bad cop, good cop,” I said, understanding.

“Indeed. Young lady instantly trusts her rescuer, gratitude soaring when the oh-so-kind Natasha offers her a place to stay until she finds a job.”

“And, of course, Boris gets home first,” I said.

“Oh, you’ve seen the movie already?”

“No, Petey, but it makes sense.” I thought for a moment. “Were they working for themselves or selling the fish as they came in?”

It was his turn to pause. I got the impression he was wondering how much he could trust me with.

“Let’s say they were acting as recruiters for one very rich organization.”

“The Mob?”

“No, dear. And don’t mention that name near me. No, something far more quiet, far more exclusive. Those girls will never be working street corners.”

I waited, finally spoke. “So?”

“Dear girl, I think I may have said to much already, but the word is that Boris got popped because he got far too interested in one of his catches. Instead of he and Natasha giving her a happy pill and delivering her as expected, he got a little aggressive and the, um... ‘goods’ got damaged. Total loss for the Academy and an example was made.”

“’Total loss?’” I repeated. “’Academy’?”

Then it hit me.

“She died, Petey?”

“They decided it would take too long to make her saleable.” His voice was flat. “So, yes. She died.”

Bingo!  That had to be the third corpse in the morgue. That thin lead was getting more solid.

“What’s the ‘Academy’, Petey?”

“That’s enough, dear. I want Roger to be my husband, not my widower.”

I got it. One piece of the puzzle made sense.

“Thanks, Petey.”

“Good night, hon.”

“Petey? If you ever owed me anything, it’s been paid in full.”

“Good night.”

The phone went silent in my hand.

It was long past my bedtime, but I had one more call to make. I shifted locations and called Sarah Cotton at her private number.

She didn’t sound happy at being awakened.

“H’lo?”

“Sorry to bother you, Sarah, but…”

“Taffy? What in hell? Why are you calling me? You know I can’t talk to somebody with a warrant out on them!”

“Just a quick tip for you, Sarah. Do a DNA comparison on Boris and the third floater, the one who’d been raped.”

“What’s going on, Taffy? Where are you?”

“Oh, if this works out as I think it will, you might find that Boris was left-handed.”

”The hell, Taffy!  Where...?”

“G’night, Sarah.” I hung up and took the battery out of the phone, dropped it into my purse. I drove carefully back to Vladimir’s place, stayed below the speed limits and stopped at every stop sign.

+

“Well?” Vlad asked as he let me in his door. “You’ve been gone all day, Taffy. I was starting to get worried.”

I sighed as I pulled off the wig.

“Well yourself, Vladimir. Here’s your chance to earn fifty big ones.”

“Fifty thousand dollars?”

“That’s apparently the going price on my head.”

He thought about that, a sour look on his face. “Don’t joke, Taffy.”

“Sorry.”

“What about Boris?”

“Apparently, he and Natasha were doing a tag-team recruiting scam for runaway girls at the bus depot. They’d trick them into going back to their home, then drug them and sell them to something called 'the Academy’.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. If Petey knew, he wasn’t saying.”

“And Boris?”

“Boris’ apparently got too interested in one of them. His dick overruled his brain. When he was finished, somebody decided she wouldn’t be worth the time and effort to heal, so they killed her quietly and him less so.”

“Oh.”

I accepted a cooler and gave him some more detail as I sipped it.

“Why’d you tell Lieutenant Cotton to find out if Boris was left-handed?” he asked.

“One of the three girls had been badly beaten, mainly on the right side of her face.”

“Ah.”

We sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts, before he spoke again.

“Have you eaten?”

“Bagel and an apple for lunch.”

“Your usual.” He gave me a wry smile. “No wonder you’re so skinny.”

“Vladimir! I am not  skinny!

I knew he was teasing, but all the same…

He deliberately ran his eyes over me, openly lingering over my boobs and legs.

“Naw,” he grinned, “I guess not.”

“May I use your shower, please? It’s been a long day.”