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The Dashwood Tapes Ch. 01

Post #1

He looked around the house and cursed.
"That fucking bitch! Damn It!"
The whole house was a mess. The pots and pans from dinner, the night before, were still on the stove and the sink was full of dishes and pots from dinner two nights ago. The dirty laundry, in the bedroom, was stacked higher than the hamper it was supposed to be in, there was trash everywhere and she was not to be found. He was pissed!
He walked back to the den and kicked an empty pizza box out of the way as he was dialing the phone. All he got was her voicemail.
Seething, he looked around the house and, trying to curb his growing anger, began to pick up trash and straighten the house.
He was silently sitting in the den, in the dark, when he heard the key in the lock of the front door. He watched her come in, carrying her heels and carefully shutting the front door, making as little noise as possible. As she tiptoed down the entryway, he spoke carefully and slowly.
"Care to explain where you've been?"
She jumped and turned.
"You scared the fuck out of me, you asshole!"
He stood, walked into the entry, turned on the light and looked at her. At first glance, everything seemed normal but, to someone who notices details, there was a story. He was a detective on the homicide squad so his business was details.
He noticed her makeup was smudged and patchy, except for her lipstick, which was fresh. She was still flushed and obviously sweaty. Her hair, which was usually so carefully arranged, was slightly in disarray and she was missing one earring.
"I'd ask you who you've been fucking but I'm not sure you even know their names."
He easily dodged the shoes she threw at him.
"Are you going to deny it?"
She stared back at him and then spat the words at him like weapons.
"No, you piece of shit of a husband. There were five of them and I fucked them all more times than I can count. What are you going to do about it, you fuck?"
He looked at her and suddenly realized he no longer gave a shit. After eight years, he was done. Actually, he felt sorrier for her than he did anger. What was it that drove her to need to constantly have strange cocks in her pussy, ass and mouth? She never repeated with the same ones, they were always different.
"Nothing. I want you out of the house by tomorrow."
"Oh, NO! I'm not going anywhere! You can move but I'm staying!"
He sighed. He had no intention of leaving the house, either.
"Then you're going to have to put up with me."
"HAH! You aren't ever here anyway and when you are, you're too tired or too preoccupied with a murder or something to even give a fuck about this marriage, much less fucking me."
She turned and stormed to the back of the house as he sighed deeply when he heard the bedroom door slam.
"Well, that's that, I guess."
He turned, sat back down in the recliner and picked up the full glass of scotch sitting on the table beside the chair. Maybe Glen Livet would rock him to sleep. Later, he roused and looked around. Pulling himself out of the recliner he stretched.
"Fuck, that chair is not a good place to sleep."
He glanced at the clock. He was going to have to hump it to make it to the office on time. He headed to the guest bath, to shower, not wanting to chance meeting her in the bedroom or master bath. He found some clean clothes in the laundry room and was soon headed out of the door to his office.
It turned into a routine day. Things were quiet in the city and they were reduced to chasing old leads on old cases which usually meant spending hours on the phone trying to find people that invariably didn't remember anything or had long since moved.
When shift change finally came, he was relieved and then realized he had to go home. He looked around and thought about staying at the office but decided, instead, to head to the local bar where the other cops hung out, have a few drinks and at least have a few laughs.
He ended up staying until almost one am before he finally broke free of the crowd and headed out to his car. He checked himself and decided, if he was careful, he could make it the short distance home and drove carefully until he pulled into the driveway. He was still able to notice that her car was gone and shrugged. At least he didn't have to face her and he would get to sleep in the bed. He made his way into the house, collapsed on the bed and was almost instantly asleep.
He woke the next morning and groaned. The light from the window was like a stabbing knife through his eyes into his brain. He stumbled into the bathroom and into a hot shower where he stood for a long time just letting the hot water pound on his face and head. When he got out, he felt almost human again. He pulled on his çekmeköy escort clothes and headed out to the office, noticing that her car was still not in the driveway but didn't have time to really care.
It looked like another quiet day. He spent the first part of the morning simply filing reports and other paperwork that had been piling up for weeks. That done, he wandered down to the lieutenant's office and stuck his head in.
"Anything pressing?"
The lieutenant looked up and shook his head.
"If we don't have something to do soon, the city council is going to start asking questions about why we are getting paid."
"Catch 22, if we do a good job and stop crime, the 'powers that be' think they don't need us and they cut the budget."
He turned and walked back down the hallway toward his desk as one of the other detectives slammed down the phone and turned around.
"We have two unidentified bodies in a warehouse down by the industrial district. Who wants it?"
He ran toward the man.
"I'll take it. I sure as hell don't have anything else to do. Who is on it with me?"
The new female detective looked up as the lieutenant stuck his head out of his office.
"Take Rafferty. She needs the experience."
He turned to look at the pretty young detective. She had just gotten her promotion and this could be her first big case.
"Come on, let's roll!"
As they drove across town, he chatted with her politely. He didn't know much about her but it was obvious she was smart. She had come up through the ranks rapidly, as fast as the promotion system would allow, but working homicide took more than book smarts. It took a certain intuition and an ability to read people. He believed that it couldn't be learned, you either had it or you didn't.
They could see the flashing lights of the marked units sitting in front of the building, with a line of yellow police tape strung between them, and the coroner's wagon was there. They parked behind one of the marked units and walked toward the door. The uniformed officer nodded as they walked up.
"Hiya, Steve. Looks like one for a movie."
The officer looked the young woman up and down.
"Officer Stevens, meet Detective Sergeant Rafferty."
The uniformed officer suddenly straightened and gulped.
"Pleased to meet you, Ma'am."
She smiled.
"Don't worry about it officer. I'm not one of those progressive career women. I can appreciate an approving look from a handsome man."
She winked at him as she walked past him into the building as Steve looked at the officer and chuckled.
"Ain't that a kick in the ass!"
He walked in as well. They walked down a long flight of stairs into a basement. It was dim except for the flood lights that the forensics unit had set up around the scene. The bodies were already gone but it was still a grisly sight. As they walked toward the lights, he kept looking around, trying to figure out what the hell this place was.
As they approached, the forensic tech stood up and met them just at the edge of the light.
"I'll let you guys in when I'm done. We are still taking samples and photos."
"What do you have so far?"
"One male and one female, both unidentified. They were apparently involved in some kind of kinky sex game. The woman was tied to that bench there and the man was laying alongside of her."
"Do you have a cause of death, yet?"
"I can't say for sure but I will venture a guess on the woman. I would imagine it had something to do with the three inch diameter, wooden stave that was shoved into her asshole and almost out of her mouth. As for the guy, I'm not sure but he has all kinds of trauma on his head and face."
He heard something gurgle behind him and turned to look at Rafferty holding her hand tightly over her mouth.
"There's a bathroom up the stairs if you need to do that. Just don't contaminate our crime scene."
He turned back to the tech as he heard her heels clicking rapidly across the concrete floor.
"What the hell is this place?"
"As close as I can tell, it's a dungeon. All of this stuff is some kind of torture equipment."
"Jesus fucking christ, what the hell were these people doing?"
The tech shrugged and turned back to the crime scene. Steve stood and watched as they moved around, one taking pictures and one bagging samples and evidence. He finally saw the wooden stave laying with a tag around it and several plastic bags wrapped around it. The sharpened end was bloody.
He wandered around the room looking at the different equipment and the other gear scattered around. There were whips of all kinds, leather manacles of all sizes, ropes hanging from the ceiling, a huge cevizli escort wheel, what he assumed to be a rack, some kind of sawhorse contraption and steel cages.
It was like wandering onto some bizarre horror movie set. He heard the click of heels coming back across the floor and turned to look at her. She was a bit pale but standing straight and walking steadily.
"The first one's always the worst and this one's pretty bad. What do you make of all of this?"
He was gesturing around the room as she looked around then she casually commented.
"It looks like a BDSM club."
"A what?"
"A BDSM club. You know. Bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism."
He shook his head.
"How the hell do you know about that?"
"It was a hot topic when I was at college. I never got into it but I have several friends who got started in college and are still active."
He looked at her. College grad, fresh detective sergeant, good looking and one hell of a body. He shook himself mentally and tried to refocus. As they walked around the room, the tech called to him.
"We're done if you want into this area. Is there anything else?"
"No. When will you be ready for us in the morgue?"
"Give us a couple of hours. The ME is tied up on another case from the county."
He looked at his watch.
"About two pm?"
"That should be about right. Do you want to join us for lunch in the morgue?"
"No, thanks. I'll pass. Rafferty, do you want to eat lunch with the morgue boys?"
He watched as she turned a little green again.
"Um, no thanks. I'm good."
He laughed and turned.
"Come on, let's go. We can start trying to figure out who these people are."
Upstairs, he asked the ranking officer to have some of his uniformed officers canvass the neighborhood to determine if anyone saw or heard anything. He had his doubts since this was an industrial area and didn't see a lot of traffic or people. He looked up and down the street.
"Let's get the info on these cars. Maybe one or two of them belong to our victims."
They took opposite sides of the block, noting the registration, make and model of each of the cars on the street. Once they were done, they walked slowly back to their car.
"What do you think Rafferty?"
"About what."
"This thing. What happened?"
"A sex thing gone bad, I would guess. Someone got jealous."
"Not a bad place to start. Until we know names, we don't really have a place to start. I would like to know who owns this building. That might get us some information about what was going on in the basement."
As they got to their car, he looked over the roof.
"Are you ok? The morgue is going to be worse, I'm afraid. Even I get a little queasy during an autopsy."
"I'll be ok."
He nodded, they got into the car and pulled away. He headed the car downtown to the tax office. He wanted to know all he could about that building. She was amazingly helpful at the tax office. She seemed to already be familiar with how the records were kept and how to do a title search.
"Where did you learn that?"
"While I was in college, I worked for an attorney who did a lot of real estate work so I got pretty good at doing title researches."
"Well, what have you found?"
"The building belongs to a trust called, The Francis Dashwood Trust. The agent for the trust is an attorney. I have his information. Other than that, there isn't much else."
He frowned. That meant it would be almost impossible to get any information about the building.
"What's this attorney's name?"
"Albert D. Cogborn."
"Never heard of him. Let's drop in and have a chat with him before we go to the morgue."
The office of Albert D. Cogborn was in a very prestigious office building and occupied an entire upper floor. The receptionist was polite but insisted that Mr. Cogborn could not be disturbed. Steve showed her his badge and suggested Mr. Cogborn might want to see him then and not when he returned with a search warrant. It was a bluff, of course, but she didn't know that.
In a few moments, another very severe older woman came to the door and asked them to follow her. She led them through the maze of offices to a corner office that was almost as big as his house. Mr. Cogborn turned out to be a man of about sixty years old, well dressed and quite pleasant.
"I apologize for my receptionist. I'm afraid she tries to be the first line of defense against all sorts of people who insist that they see me. Now, what can I do for you today?"
Steve watched him carefully. It was often what wasn't said, during an interview, which told more than the answers. What he saw was a man who talked to him but erenköy escort rarely took his eyes from Rafferty. Steve looked at those eyes and saw something he'd only seen a few other times. It was the hungry look of a predator when prey is at hand.
He had seen it in the eyes of addicts when they thought they could score. It was often present in the eyes of sexual predators which was the impression he got, immediately.
"Mr. Cogborn, I understand, from the tax rolls, that you are the agent for a trust called, The Francis Dashwood Trust."
"That's correct."
"Can you tell me a little about this trust?"
"It's a private trust set up to benefit a group of associates. It was funded by a wealthy friend and was intended to continue their associations."
"Just, exactly, what does this association do?"
"Nothing, really. They meet occasionally to discuss topics of interest to them. It's really more of a social organization than anything else. Why are you interested in the Dashwood group?"
"Does the trust own a piece of property in the industrial district?"
"Do you know who rents it or occupies it?"
Steve saw the walls go up behind Mr. Cogborn's eyes. There was something there that he probably wasn't going to get easily.
"The Trust has a board of directors who oversee those kinds of things."
"Can you give me the names of those board of directors?"
"I'm afraid that is privileged information and subject to client, attorney privilege."
Steve nodded as he made notes in his book.
"One more question and we'll be out of your way."
"Do you have any idea what goes on in that building?"
"None at all. Can you tell me what this is all about?"
"There were two bodies discovered in the basement this morning. They had basically been executed in some really questionable circumstances."
Steve stood and looked at Rafferty.
"Let's go. We're due at the morgue in twenty minutes."
Steve didn't' say goodbye or thank you, he just turned and walked out with Rafferty hurrying along to catch up. As they exited the office, she caught up with him.
"That was sort of rude. Why did you do that?"
"He's lying. He knows exactly what goes on in that building and I'm betting he's a member of this Dashwood group. I also know that, given the chance, he would do his best to get under your skirt."
She stopped and looked at him as he continued walking. She hurried to catchup as the elevator door opened.
"Just what, exactly, does that mean?"
"You should watch people's eyes. They'll tell you more than they tell you with their lips. He spoke to me but he was looking at you almost the whole time. He had a predatory look."
She looked at him in amazement. As the elevator opened to the lobby he stepped out and then turned to her.
"You're really going to have to learn to pay attention. While you were looking around his elegant and expensive office, in his mind, he had all but undressed you and fucked you on the desk."
She blushed.
"You don't mince words too much, do you?"
"Why mince words when the truth will do? I'll bet money that man is involved in that Dashwood group, that they are the ones behind this dungeon thing and, somehow, he is involved in this murder."
They got to their car and were soon on their way to the morgue.
"Rafferty, why are you here? I mean, you're educated and pretty. Why a cop?"
She looked at him and smiled.
"My dad and my granddad were cops. I was an only child so my dad was sure that it was the end of the tradition but I fooled him. He lived long enough to pin my badge on me before his heart gave out."
He glanced over at her.
"Well, I've heard worse reasons."
He pulled up in front of the morgue and parked. Within minutes, they were standing in the stainless steel room that was the autopsy theatre. There were two tables and two bodies draped in sheets. The coroner was already at work on the male.
"What do you have, Doc?"
"Preliminary, he died from blunt force trauma to the head. The whole back of his skull was fractured hard enough to drive bone splinters into his brain."
He held the man's brain up and pointed to the white bone slivers.
"Age, about forty-five. Weight, about two hundred forty-five pounds. That's my preliminary findings but I'll know more when we get all of the lab tests done. My initial assumption is that it's homicide."
"What about the woman?"
"I really haven't gotten to her, yet."
He wiped his hands on the apron he wore and stepped around them as he spoke.
"Based on the initial observations, she probably died from exsanguination...she bled out. It would have been a pretty horrendous way to go. I'll give you more when I've finished the autopsy."
The ME pulled the sheet back, exposing her face and bare breasts. Steve gasped then gagged. The ME, and everyone else, looked at him.
"What's the matter?"
Steve was silent for several seconds, his eyes riveted to the corpse on the table. When he finally spoke it was in a hoarse whisper.
"She's my wife."
03-19-2023, at 05:39 PM

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