Twisted Sister

Jazz softly filled the shadowy room, weaving through the smoke wreathing the ceiling. The dim light seemed to light the smoke, not the people. I walked with the music. The dark crimson of my dress picked up the shadows of the room. Mike lifted his drink to me as I neared, indicating his appreciation of the show. His eyes glinted as he drank. I sat to his right, where we could both talk and watch the room.

"The Dane didn't do it, did he?" Big Mike was nothing if not direct.

"No," I asked in return. "Do you know who did?"

I smiled, meeting his eyes over my glass. He drew in a deep breath and for a moment we matched stares. Mike was dominant the way few men are, calm, certain of his ability. I never dated him. We would either kill each other, or . . . Well, I didn't think life would ever be the same for either of us. I liked my life the way it was.

He smiled back, before he broke our gaze to look out over the room and say, "I don't know, Jasmine. Her brother thought I did. Do you?" His eyes cut back to me.

"No."

I gave him nothing else, for the time being. Let him give up whatever he knew without any guidance from me. A man like Mike was likely to give more for free than anybody would ever take from him. I know the type. I am just like him.

I followed his eyes and realized he was tracking a waitress through the crowd. A redhead. Shirl. What was Shirl doing here? I looked back at Mike and found him watching me. He gave me a twisted half smile and turned to call the waitress over.

She walked up, hips swinging as wide as ever. "Jasmine. Well, don't you get around." She grimaced at me and looked back at Mike. "What can I get you?"

"Tell Jasmine why you're here," he told her. His eyes stayed on me until I looked up at Shirl.

Shirl threw me a look and protested, "It ain't none of her business, Mike!"

Mike looked at her.

She sighed, and turned to me. "If you gotta know, fine," she said. "Brasso threw me out. He's been all weird since the murder. Finally he yelled something about how I wasn't never gonna measure up to her."

She stopped and gritted her teeth for a moment, pressing her bright painted lips together. "He always had a thing for her. I thought he'd get over it, but the bastard never did." She turned back to Mike and muttered, "Anything else, Sir?"

Mike smiled at her. If the girl had any sense she would have shivered at that smile. He told her, "Not right now, Shirl."

He watched her swaying walk away. "It will be interesting to see her lose that attitude."

I thought for a minute. Brasso was doing Satinne, with Shirl on the side? While Satinne belonged to the Dane. And Satinne was helping out her brother over here . . . where Shirl ended up. Because Brasso threw her out?

I asked, "What is Satinne involved in over here, Mike? What was she doing to help out her brother?"

I caught his eye. He looked amused.

He answered, "She was paying the interest on his debt. In cash. That's all. Petey was an idiot, but that sister of his was something else. Did you know she liked bondage?" He watched my face carefully.

"I knew," I said. "Where did she get her bondage fix, Mike? I know the Dane didn't do it for her."

I stared back at him. His face was bland, but the glint never left his eyes.

He said, "She asked me once, where a person would learn to do such things. I told her about the Wild Thorn Club."

"Did she go there?" I asked.

"I don't know. We didn't talk about it again. I never heard anything." He sat back and looked around the room. "I can't figure it, Jasmine. Nobody had a percentage in killing her unless the Dane got jealous and you say he didn't do it."

"I think I know what happened, Mike," I said. "I just don't know who yet. Except it wasn't the Dane."

I didn't want to say more. I could still have been very wrong. But those pictures . . . something wasn't right.

"Have you been to the Thorn lately, Jasmine?" Mike's dark eyes gleamed with amusement.

"No. You know Karlene gets on my nerves," I growled. I had trouble being civil to Karlene. She returned the favor. It kept things nice and simple. There was only one problem with that: Karlene ran the Thorn and she had the information I needed.

The Wild Thorn is a fetish club. The huge old Victorian mansion seemed to match stares with me as I walked from the street. The vines that bound it needed trimming. Their wicked thorns were used in a certain specialty of the house. I opened the door and stepped in.

The foyer was done in tasteful patterns of vines, of course. Only the occasional scarlet drop on the thorns betrayed that it wasn't just a Bed and Breakfast. Karlene looked up from behind her Victorian desk and slowly smiled through her thick lipstick.

"Well, well, well," she said. Her eyes traveled down and back up. "Look what the cat dragged in. Hello, Jasmine. To what do I owe this displeasure?"

"Hello, Karlene. You're looking well put together, as usual," I told her. "I have a question, then I'll happily be out of your way."

"Well, then, by all means, ask away. I'm all in favor of anything that shortens your visit," she said and smiled sweetly, like saccharin.

"Satinne brought somebody here to learn bondage. Who was it?" Subtlety would take time. I didn't want to spend more time here than necessary.

Karlene leaned back in her chair, one perfectly manicured nail tapping her chin, and then answered, "Why would I tell you that? Privacy is part of what our clients pay for. You know that as well as I do."

"Satinne is dead, and the Dane is in jail for it. He didn't do it," I said.

"How do you know he didn't? Maybe he got jealous." she said. "The Dane isn't one to share. Besides, I never heard that you and the Dane were exactly tight."

I didn't want to go into this with Karlene. If I was right, it wouldn't be good news for the Thorn. Karlene might be annoying, but she wasn't stupid. I told her, "Satinne's brother is one of mine. He asked me to look into things for him."

She snapped at me, "Petey's dead too. It seems like he may have thought Big Mike killed Satinne."

Karlene tilted her head in a practiced pose. "Who do you think did it, Jasmine? That's why you want to know, isn't it? That's it. You want to blame the person who was tying her up, and since that person learned bondage here, we will be blamed in association."

Karlene dropped her polished smile, stood, and walked around the desk. She didn't look good when she was angry and knew it. I think it made her even more angry. I used to enjoy making her mad enough to drop her pretense. Now I would have preferred that she stay her usual phony self. This Karlene would be harder to convince.

I said, "Satinne died, Karlene, and an innocent man is being blamed for it. That's more important than your petty concerns." I knew I'd used the wrong word as soon as it left my mouth. Damn.

"Petty?" she said. "Petty? Satinne is dead, and the Dane is hardly innocent, even if he didn't do this particular crime. Why should the Thorn suffer for them? This is a business, Jasmine, and more people than just I depend on it. What good does it do them to injure our reputation on your suspicions? You call that petty?"

I sighed, took a mental step back, and answered, "Of course not, Karlene. Poor choice of words. I just think that people's lives are more important than commercial interests. Even the Dane's life."

I knew that argument wouldn't sway Karlene's mercenary soul, but also knew that sooner or later she would make an offer. I just hoped it was a price I was willing to pay.

"I have no reason to tell you anything, Jasmine," she said. "I'm sure the police can figure things out just fine without your help, why don't you go on home like a good girl?" She gave me that sweet smile again.

I matched it with one a little more feral than Karlene could ever manage. I said, "Well, if you want the police here asking instead of me, that's your choice." I turned to leave.

"The police won't listen to your little suspicions," she snapped again.

"Maybe," I said. "but I bet the Dane's lawyer will listen to me and the police just might listen to him." I took another step and put my hand on the doorknob.

"Wait."

I turned, smiled and waited.

"You always were a bitch, Jasmine." Her ruby lips were flat, just like her eyes.

I waited.

"I'll give you what you want to know," she said, "if you give me Brandon to serve at the Thorn for a night. Otherwise, I'll wait and talk to the cops."

Damn. Brandon was my boy in a way none of my customers were. He wasn't my boyfriend. He was just mine. He was one of those few who was too submissive for his own good. He was like a whipped dog that kept crawling back. He was mine to protect, because I took him. And Brandon was at the center of the bad feelings between Karlene and me.

Karlene didn't really want Brandon. She just wanted Brandon to be seen here, serving her in a public declaration that she got what she wanted from me. It was a Karlene power game. One I usually refused to play. I didn't care who thinks whom is more dominant. I did care about Brandon though. He would do it; he wouldn't even mind. Hell, he'd probably enjoy it, as long as he got to serve. I just had to be sure what "service" meant in Karlene's vicious mind.

I said, "Alright, Karlene, Brandon will serve here, publicly, for one night. No private play, no marks, no heavy humiliation. Just public service." I watched her blink. She hadn't expected me to agree. Karlene never did understand me. Those ruby lips pouted for a minute while she tried to figure out my angle. Since I didn't have one, she didn't get very far.

"Fine," she said. "Next Saturday. He can be here at opening time." She went back around the desk and sat. "Brasso came here to learn bondage. Satinne wasn't with him, but I assume the two are connected."

"Did he learn suspension play?" I asked.

"No, of course not," she said. "He isn't ready for that. You know the type though, a man like that can't believe he couldn't do it on his own. He kept saying the only reason he came here was because she wouldn't play with him until he learned from a pro. He never said who 'she' was."

Karlene sat up and pulled her appointment book forward as the door opened behind me. "Now, if we're done, sweety?" The saccharin smile was firmly back in place.

"We're done," I agreed. I turned and walked out past the nervous looking man hugging his overcoat around him like a security blanket. The night was clear, a huge moon flooding the streets with liquid silver.

It was all over but the cleanup. That wasn't my job. That was for the cops and the lawyers. I was more than happy to leave it to them. But I wanted the Dane to know he owed me. A debt like that was a valuable commodity.

I called around and found out who his lawyer was, and set up a meet with him and the Dane for the next day. Jails don't do nighttime visits, and I refused to spill what I knew to the lawyer until the Dane was there to hear who got him sprung. Never trust a lawyer.

If I were Brasso, I'd be glad if the cops got to me before the Dane did. Brasso wouldn't be going up for murder, though. They'd probably call it negligent homicide or something. You see Satinne's death was an accident. Just a stupid accident.

Brasso tied her up. He hung her from the ceiling, and teased her soft flesh with his big shiny knife. It was a common practice. I'm sure he never meant to cut her, just play with the cold steel and watch her shiver and her skin pebble with goose-bumps.

But human bodies are slippery. The ropes moved, a knot slipped, and suddenly the knife was inside her and she was bleeding all over him. She died fast. Brasso panicked and left to clean himself up before anybody could see him.

"But Brasso and Shirl were an item?" the Dane asked, his eyes wide. He didn't want to believe it, even if it freed him. He and Brasso went way back.

"Shirl was just a smoke screen," I told him. "Brasso has already gotten rid of her. She's working for Big Mike now."

The Dane collapsed back in the gray metal chair that seemed to be mandatory for jail interview rooms everywhere. I watched the belief take hold and then the rage grow.

"I'll kill him," he said. His eyes were cold, the kind of cold that lies deep under a glacier. "I owe you, Jasmine. I hate the twisted crap that you do more than ever, but I owe you."

The lawyer looked nervous. He said, "No talk of killing, Dane, not here, not in front of me, even in jest. You were joking, right?"

The Dane barely glanced at him and said, "Yeah. Just joking."

I was glad those cold eyes left mine.

The lawyer said, "It will take me a few hours to pull things together and get them to drop the charges, but you'll be out of here this afternoon." He turned to me and asked, "You ready to go, Ms. Walker?"

The lawyer did things with his briefcase like lawyers do and closed it up.

"I'm ready," I said.

And I was. Ready for a long hot bath and a good massage.

It was Brandon's night with me and I looked forward to some pampering. I was more than ready to put this behind me, lock it away with the sound of the bars clanging shut on the way out. I am a dominatrix, not a detective. But you know, I think I do pretty damn well at both.