Syrah and Swingers Page 11

  “No one is innocent!”

  The crowd mumbled their surprise.

  “The genius serial killer knows exactly how to burrow into the minds and hearts and psyches of an innocent victim and manipulate her. He feeds off of humanity. He feels that his superiority gives him the right.”

  “He can love!”

  “He is hollow inside!” shouted Joy.

  “It’s love that drives him to kill.”

  “It’s rejection that drives him. But no matter how often he kills, he will remain a hollow, empty shell, incapable of love.”

  “He feels pain when those he loves reject him! That’s feeling.”

  “He feels a loss of control. He will kill again to get it back. It’s control he loves, Dr. Blackmoor.”

  Draven Blackmoor stormed out. He flew past Max and shot him a look that could kill.

  For the duration of the class, Joy lectured and Max took notes. He kept glancing over his shoulder, but the mysterious woman who had sat in the back row at the last class never showed up.

  The moment the lecture ended, Max flew to the stage. “That was quite a show.”

  Joy let out a heavy breath. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  Max put a hand on her arm. “One—you’re shaking. Two—you should be afraid of him, Joy. He terrifies me.”

  Joy nodded. “He rattled me with the Evan Owens reveal. I had to rattle him back by dominating him. It’s the one thing he can’t tolerate—someone else in control. I don’t know what he’s done, Max. But we’re going to find out.”

  “He has a solid alibi for the night Ted was killed.”

  “Ted might be an overdose, nothing to do with this.”

  “I’d buy that, except for the champagne and the card. Maybe he met up with Ted. Got to know him and found out about the swinger’s party. He could have given Ted the drugs and told him to dose himself just before engaging in sex. You said he’s a manipulator. He could have told him it would rock his world.”

  “That’s not a bad theory, Max. He would do that, knowing Ted would die, and no one could pin it on him. But why Ted?”

  “I don’t know. Is Steele staying over tonight? I don’t like your being alone with that psycho in town, especially after you became the cat and made him your defenseless mouse.”

  “Steele said the same thing. I didn’t tell him everything about Draven, but it was a start. He’s staying over until Draven is long gone.”

  “Good. Then I’ll get some sleep.”

  “Max.” Joy’s voice had a hard edge. “Keep one eye open. I don’t trust Draven. He might hurt the people close to me. I’m still trying to sort out the fact that Evan Owens killed Sam two years after leaving Blackmoor’s institute. Evan said he did it because the police killed his friend, the guy in the house who held a mother and her two children hostage. Sam took their place in a hostage exchange, but I need to research it. See if Sam was a random cop-target or…”

  “Get some sleep. We need to interview the virgins still.”

  “And the preacher.”

  17

  The next morning, Max drove to the mall, where Steve and Sandy owned a kitchen gadget and cooking store called The Pots and Plates Pantry. The store had a rustic, country kitchen feel, with copper pots hanging overhead, barrels and baskets overflowing with goods, and a working kitchen. Shelves brimmed with dinnerware, silverware, pots and pans, cooking appliances, gadgets, table linens, and knick-knacks. The vaulted beamed ceiling gave it a barn-like homey aura. They even had porcelain pigs and chickens in a walk-in faux petting zoo with straw on the floor. Max walked past a sign that read “There are two choices for dinner. Take it. Or leave it” and past aprons hanging on hooks, one of which he recognized—the white eyelet one that Cynthia had worn, which read, “My Secret Ingredient—Love.” That case seemed like a long time ago, but it wasn’t.

  Max didn’t bother flashing his credentials. He approached Sandy and Steve, who were helping a woman set up the kitchen for a cooking demonstration. “Need anything else?” asked Sandy.

  “Nope. It’s under control. I’ll get the oven heating up,” said a woman with curly brunette hair and round rosy cheeks.

  “We’d like to speak to you separately, if that’s okay?” said Max.

  “We prefer it,” said Sandy. “One of us needs to be on the floor.”

  Max and Joy had planned on splitting them up and interviewing them at the same time, but it was an easy accommodation to make to interview them one at a time. “Who’s first, then?”

  “I’ll go. Let’s go to the storeroom.” Steve led Max and Joy around the check-out counter and through a door. They entered a stark white room filled with shelves burgeoning with products. There was also a small round table and four chairs.

  Once seated, Max asked, “So this was your first party?”

  Steve crossed his arms. They rested on his pudgy belly. His polo shirt had the store logo and he wore casual shorts. “Yes. And our last. This is really embarrassing, detectives. I love my wife. We’ve been married over twenty years. We were high school sweethearts. I know how this looks.”

  Joy used a gentle tone. “Steve, we’re not judging anyone. Our only interest is to find out what happened to Ted. How did you meet Sophia and Elwin?”

  “Ted came in here with Elwin and Sophia about five or six weeks ago. He’s a cook, as I’m sure you know, and Sophia and Elwin had recently redone their kitchen. Ted was helping them pick out some good cookware and knives. I know Elwin from the gym and Sophia from the library too.” Steve paused.

  Max nudged him. “Who brought up swinging?”

  “You do the crime, you pay the time, pun intended.” Steve shook his head. He leaned in and whispered, “It was my idea. I love Sandy, but our sex life, well, it’s kinda disappeared for the last couple of years. I admit, I’ve gained weight, but well, anyway, I tried introducing porn. I think Sandy kinda liked it. Sophia is a regular customer. And she’s flirty, you know. But I never said anything. After she bought her kitchenware, she invited us over for dinner. They asked us how long we’d been married, and we told ‘em the story. I said they seemed so happy all of the time, kid-like. Then Elwin gives Sophia a look, and she nods. He holds her hand and says, ‘We have an open marriage.’”

  “And they wanted you two to join the circle?”

  Steve’s face blushed red. “They explained how it worked. No pressure. Everyone says yes or no and what and with whom. They said we should just come and check it out. On the way home, I said our love life could use a pick-me-up. I’m not sure what Sandy really thought, but she agreed to go check it out. Funny, right? We’re married for a couple of decades, but we can’t talk about our own sex life without being embarrassed. We just ignore it and move on.”

  Max had to pull the conversation back on track. “How was Ted?”

  “To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to him. Between Sophia and the blond bombshell and the other women there…”

  “You spent time with Mark and Mary,” said Joy.

  “I don’t get it. They’re kids. I guess kids aren’t what they were when we were young. But I have to say, they were super nice. They tried to make us feel comfortable. We went with them and just sat on the bed talking and laughing. Then they ask if we wanted to just watch, saying that’s all they did the first time, and we said yes. Neither of us was ready for anything more, even though they said to jump in if we wanted to—Mark isn’t gay and neither am I—have to say that.”

  “We know,” said Max. “Elwin explained that point too.”

  “When we came out of the room, we said awkward goodbyes and thank yous and slid on out of there.”

  “Thanks, Steve. Send Sandy back, if you would,” said Joy.

  “Sure thing.” Steve ambled away.

  Sandy came in and sat down. Right away, she seemed more at ease than her husband.

  Joy asked, “Steve filled us in about how you two ended up at the party, but what can you add about that night?”

 
“I hope he told you it was his idea—this swinging thing.”

  “He did,” said Max. “So why did you go?’

  “Curiosity, really. Steve is the only man I’ve ever known, but anyone who reads romance novels like I do thinks about other men. Fantasies, mind you. I’d never considered or even thought about being with any man other than Steve. And I don’t think swinging fixes a relationship either.”

  Joy added, “Right you are.”

  “But it’s hard to resist when Elwin and Sophia seem so happy, so sexy. They have a reason to be in the gym or to buy a new lipstick or a new dress. Steve and I have, well, we’ve let ourselves go. What’s the point, you tell yourself. It’s not like you’re trying to attract another man. Sex became routine, then we just let it go. We told ourselves we were too tired, even the famous ‘date nights’ didn’t help. We’d sit and eat and barely talk.”

  “You watched Mark and Mary,” said Joy.

  “We did, and those two really love each other. They didn’t hold back. I don’t know what Steve said about it, but when I watched them make love…” Sandy paused. “It wasn’t dirty at all. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I wanted to join them, but I didn’t know what Steve would say, so I held back. I’ve never been drawn in like that. I feel guilty, like it means Steve isn’t enough for me, but he is. I love him.”

  Joy nodded. “You explored fantasies through your reading. And then a real fantasy was put before you. It caught you off guard.”

  “Boy, did it. It seemed so natural. So normal. Yet, if you told me a month ago, I’d be sitting and watching a couple having sex, I’d have called you ‘crazy.’ The real crazy thing is that Steve and I came home, and we made love like we have never made love before.” Sandy laughed.

  “Did you see Ted at all?” asked Max.

  “Before, yes. It was odd, though. We both got the distinct impression that several people there didn’t want anything to do with him. It was the way they looked at him. He mostly spoke with Tony and Christie. We were shocked when we heard Ted died. Sophia said you think it was a drug overdose, but they don’t do drugs. They made that very clear.”

  “Possible,” said Max. “For some people, the first time they take a drug it kills them, especially with street drugs. People have different tolerance levels or heart conditions they know nothing about. We’re still investigating. We don’t know what happened yet.”

  “Call us if you hear anything else, though,” added Joy, rising to leave.

  “Will do,” added Sandy.

  Once in the car, Max blurted, “Not that I’m judging, but I still don’t get it. I could not sit there and watch other people getting it on and see it like she did.”

  “Careful, Max. Boundaries are funny things. They shift when we least expect it.”

  Max realized his faux pas. He still didn’t know and he didn’t want to know the boundaries across which Draven Blackmoor had led Joy. “You’re right. Like you said, we all have thresholds, clear-cut lines we draw in the sand, but given enough motive or desire or whatever, we happily step over them.”

  “Yep. We do.”

  18

  Max drove to the outskirts of town to where Mary’s father had built a house on a stretch of land off of one of the many dirt roads that meandered from the main road toward Goldrush Creek. Folks who had first settled the area dug roots into tracts of land several acres in size, buying it for next to nothing.

  Max approached a single-level ranch-style home with a rust-colored metal roof and walls built of reclaimed wood. The home had been made to look like a weathered barn.

  Max and Joy stepped out of the car and Max knocked on the door.

  A woman with long braided hair and the same eyes as Mary’s opened the door. She had a kind face, full cheeks, wore no makeup, and was heavy set. She wore a long skirt and a long-sleeved cotton blouse. The smell of food baking or simmering on a stove wafted out the door. It made Max hungry for lunch.

  “Mrs. Bakken, I’m Detective Max King and this is Dr.—”

  “Mary, is she hurt?” blurted the woman, holding a kitchen towel to her chest.

  “No, Ma’am,” said Joy. “She’s fine. We just have a few questions.”

  “My husband isn’t home right now. Can you come back?”

  Max eyed Joy. Joy said, “No, actually, we can’t, but if you prefer, Max will wait outside.”

  Mrs. Bakken hesitated. “I guess that’s all right. Come in.”

  Joy stepped inside, and Mrs. Bakken closed the door. The interior of the house could not have been more minimalistic. It had functional wooden furniture of beige fabrics that sat on wooden floors and simple lamps that would add light on dark nights. There were no knick-knacks and few pictures. The Bible sat open in the middle of the coffee table.

  “Mrs. Bakken, your husband was seen at a residence owned by a Sophia and Elwin Hansen this past Friday night. Do you know anything about that?”

  Mrs. Bakken pursed her lips. “No, I don’t.”

  “Then can you tell me about the friction between your husband and Mary?”

  Mrs. Bakken’s face fell. She put her kitchen towel to her mouth to hold back her emotions.

  Joy waited. “I’m sorry. Children don’t always behave as parents would like, do they?”

  Mrs. Bakken shook her head. “No, they don’t. Mary is a troubled girl. She left our house, left our church, and who knows what evil will come to her. I do nothing but pray and worry.”

  “I understand that Mary had an argument with your husband.”

  “Joseph…he just wants what’s best for Mary. She’s headstrong. They fight and fight.”

  “How many children to you have?” Joy hoped that by changing the subject, she could nudge Mrs. Bakken into giving her useable details.

  “We have six children still living at home. Joseph could not let Mary poison them. First she moved out and then she left the church. We had her over to dinner some weeks back, and she argued with Joseph. She said that people were born homosexual and could not change. She said God made them that way. Joseph didn’t mean to, but she wouldn’t stop. Joseph slapped her face.” Mrs. Bakken shuddered at the memory. “Joseph told her to repent her sins and rejoin the church. Is that why you’re here? Did Mary accuse him of abuse? That’s what children do nowadays, isn’t it? Parents can’t use corporal punishment or it’s called abuse.”

  “I’m here because Joseph was seen outside of a home where a man died. We are not accusing Joseph of any crime.”

  Mrs. Bakken’s eyes drew wide and she sucked in a breath. “Mercy me!”

  “Why was your husband there?”

  “A church acquaintance of Mary’s is friends with her on Facebook. She called me, concerned. Mary told her about seeing a boy named Mark. She mentioned her excitement about a party on Friday night. I told Joseph, and he followed her. He wanted to see the kind of people with whom Mary congregated, but he couldn’t see anything in the windows.”

  “Did he go inside?”

  Voices erupted just outside the front door. The door flung open. Max followed an angry bearded man inside. “Get out!” he shouted. “Get out of my house!”

  Max came up behind him. “Mr. Bakken. Calm down!”

  Joseph spun around and sneered at Max. “You’re trespassing! Get out!”

  “If we leave this house, it will be with you in handcuffs, Mr. Bakken. Is that what you want?” asked Max. “I’m happy to oblige!”

  “On what charge?”

  “Interfering with an investigation. You’re a suspect in a recent death—so you can either answer our questions here and now or at the station—either way, you will answer our questions!”

  “Death? Who died?” Joseph grumbled audibly, but he sat on the sofa and lowered his voice. “Faith, tend to the house. I’ll speak to them.” His wife scuttled away.

  Joy rose to her feet. “I wasn’t done, Mr. Bakken. Max, you interview him, and I’ll finish asking my questions to Mrs. Bakken.” Joy’s tone and her
locked-and-loaded eye contact let Mr. Bakken know she would not be man-handled—not by him, not by anyone, so it was in his best interest not to argue.

  “Mr. Bakken, on Friday night, your car was spotted outside the residence of Elwin and Sophia Hansen. A man died there, and we just need to know why you were there.”

  The bearded man grumbled again. “To spy on my sinful daughter. Was the man who died named Mark? If it was, God struck him down for his sins.”

  “No, the man’s name was Ted. How did you know about the party?”

  “Faith found out about it through a friend of Mary’s. I parked near her car. Waited. And I followed her. I wanted to see her debauchery for myself.”

  “Did you enter the premises?”

  “I snuck around the house to peek inside, but not one window wasn’t all covered up. What does that tell you? Drinking! Carousing! Sin, sin, sin!” Mr. Bakken slammed a fist on the table so hard, the Bible jumped. “I could hear them! What did they talk about? Sex! That’s what they talked about, sex! One couple had gone on a sex vacation—on some kind of cruise. That was enough for me. My daughter is lost to me. She’s dead! Only God can save her now.”

  “You never entered the premises?”

  “I thought about it. Two fellows came out back and smoked. I hid. They left the door cracked. You have no idea the temptation I fought not to go in. But I know my temper. I’ve got other children to raise, and by God, I’ll raise them righteously.”

  “What time did you leave?”

  “I have no clue when I got there or when I left! How could Mary do this to me? I’m a preacher.”

  “Mr. Bakken, I’m sure she’s not the first girl nor the last girl to ever leave the church of her father or mother. It happens.”

  Joseph’s eyes fixed on Max with rage. “Did those people complain? Did they see me?”

  “Mary saw your vehicle.”

  “Good, then she knows that I know the pit of hellfire into which she’s thrown herself.”

  “That’s all I need to know for now. If we need you later, we may come back.”