The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 42

   

Helene Ballings (Gary Kent’s girlfriend)

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Debbie & Hayden Olander (Neighbor)

     

Gena & Katherine Foster  (Gary Kent’s neighbors)

Craig & Victoria Mooney   (Ivy Kim’s ex-husband and step-daughter)

David & Amy Brosette (David accused for killing his wife Amy)

     

Gary Kent (Actor, producer, director)

Big Rosa (Gary Kent’s dog)

Beast (Ivy Kim’s turtle)

Connie Ding (Japanese masseuse)

CHAPTER 42

 

Helene Ballings didn’t look a bit surprised about the detective’s visit. She right away opened the door to allow her to step inside.

The home was clean and tidy, without a staged feeling of showing off the architecture, furnishings, and accessories. A nice aroma of coffee filtered through the family room.

There was something about Miss Ballings that Ivy really liked. Perhaps it’s her relaxed and very natural mannerisms. She was not a native Texan, not with that accent. More likely from the West Coast.

She wore an Indian sari, light green, and was barefoot. On the floor in front of the TV, a purple yoga mat was rolled out. A muted video of a yoga instructor was on.

“Coffee?” Helene grabbed a mug from the kitchen counter.

Ivy shook her head.

“I know. I should drink green tea, but nobody’s perfect.” She smiled and poured a cup of coffee for herself. “I love your hair color. I’m sure you get lots of stares.”

“Not so much anymore. I’m back to red again; but sometimes it’s purple, blue, even green. People get used to other people being different, and then they find themselves doing it, too.”

“Please have a seat.” She pointed to a comfy armchair.

Ivy sat down.

The slim, agile woman bent down and got comfortable in a cross-legged sitting position on the yoga mat.

“It keeps me sane,” she said and made a gesture showing her perfect yoga posture. “Body, mind, and soul. I meditate. If we don’t know ourselves, how can we then interact with other people?”

“So do you know yourself?” Ivy wasn’t sure what that implicated.

“I’m still surprised what I learn about myself…sometimes even shocked.” She patted her hand on the mat. “Come sit next to me.”

“On the floor?” Ivy looked at her with a slight elevation of her eyebrows.

She nodded.

Reluctantly, Ivy moved from the comfortable armchair to the yoga mat on the floor where she moved into the same position as her new yoga instructor. Unbelievable what I do to get information out of people.

“Now close your eyes.”

“I’m a detective. We keep our eyes open,” she said and looked around.

“You can still see with your eyes closed.”

Ivy closed her eyes and sat for a moment in silence.

“Now, tell me what you see.” Helene’s voice was warm and soothing.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

A colorful picture surprisingly shaped for her inner eye. “I…,” she chuckled, “I think I see a face.” She paused. “I see a man’s face…Gosh!” She opened her eyes, unexpectedly staring into Helene’s peaceful face. “Hee! That was interesting.”

“There you go. We can all see, even with our eyes closed. So what are you looking for with your open, detective eyes?”

“Debbie Olander suggested I talk to you,” Ivy was still surprised by her experience.

“I like Debbie. She and I used to be close friends. Then I started dating Gary, and everything changed. Katherine and Debbie are neighbors, and their children are in the same class. Debbie doesn’t want to do anything to destroy that friendship.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Gary. And a woman in San Jose.”

“That’s far away.”

“Yeah, my husband got a job here, so we moved. He got sick and passed away. Don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“So do you belong here?”

“If I belong here.” She laughed. “I’m probably the only Democrat and Buddhist in this neighborhood,” she said and smiled.

“How does that make you feel?”

“Special.”

“Do they talk to you?”

“They tolerate me…No, I think they find me interesting. Something to talk about. Something very different from their silly charity balls with made-up princesses and all that nonsense. I always wonder why they put on these theatrics. Is that really what they dream about?”

Ivy recalled how Victoria had begged her to be part of the local chapter of The Women’s Beautification League. Craig had encouraged her since most of his colleagues and business associates’ wives were members. Once a year, they would put on this enormous ball, and the young girls would dress up as princesses in the most stunning dresses, be escorted by the successful families’ sons. Finally, she had given in; but shortly after, she and Craig had separated and The Women’s Beautification League was not a place for divorcees.

“They are all members of the country club. All they do is play tennis, golf, and go to luncheons,” she continued. “I don’t play golf or tennis. They talk a lot. I can do that, but honestly I’ve never figured out what they talk about. Lots of words are coming out of their mouths, but altogether they don’t make any sense. During the last presidential election, I was invited to a luncheon. I happened to bring up something about one of the candidates when a woman told me that we didn’t discuss politics.”

“So what do they talk about?”

“The women who couldn’t make it to the luncheon. Their very important but very abusive husbands. How to look young and sexy even if they don’t have a sex drive anymore.” She looked at Ivy. “Recently, they have talked about Amy Brosette, the West Lake woman who was run over by her husband…can’t really blame him…There you go! Now I’m gossiping. I’m a fast learner.”

“Did you know Amy Brosette?”

“I’d met her. But you see, she didn’t really mingle with people from River Place. I guess she has to now. Don’t think we have a choice when we’re dead.”

“And one day we’ll all mingle with Katherine Foster, “Ivy said. “How well did you know her?”

“She lives in my neighborhood. She introduced me to the book club. I like books; but we always had to read the books she recommended, so I stopped showing up.”

“So what do you think about this snake attack?”

“I’m sorry. But I’m sure you want me to be honest. I really think she got what she deserved. I didn’t want her dead, of course, but what a snake she was!”

A tingling told Ivy that her legs were about to get numb. She felt stuck in the yoga pose. “Now, how do I get out of this?”

With the assistance of Helene, she managed to unlock her legs. “Is this supposed to be good for you?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm.”

“I feel very sad for her daughter and her husband. I’m sure they loved her. I’m not going to miss her. Sorry! When I’m told to be honest, that I am.”

“So who planted the snake there?” Ivy moved up into the chair.

“Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps it should have been dropped off at Austin Zoo.” Helene said in an attempt to be funny. “I guess I don’t have much useful information, but feel free to call on me any time.”

The detective was getting ready to leave when the front door opened, and Gary Kent walked in. Without a word, he promptly headed for the kitchen carrying two heavy grocery bags that were killing his hands, judging from the pain in his eyes. With renewed energy after setting the bags down, he came back through the doorway to join the two women.

Gary reached out his hand to introduce himself to the fascinating woman with burning red hair. “I’m Gary.”

“Gary Kent? I was on my way to your house next, but now we can do it here instead.”

A totally perplexed look painted Gary’s face. “We can do what here?”

Helene didn’t offer any help, just wondered why her boyfriend acted so strange.

“I’m Detective Kim. I need to ask you some questions about your neighbor, Mrs. Foster.”

“Detective? They certainly have changed over the years. I’m sorry! I just thought I had seen you before. Sure, you can ask me questions.”

They returned to the comfy chairs and the purple yoga mat. This time, Ivy accepted a cup of coffee but not the mat. Gary got himself a beer and sat next to Helene on the couch.

“I don’t have much nice to say about my neighbor. She’s been a pain in the neck; but I must say, it’s a pretty dramatic way to teach her a lesson.”

“Why didn’t you get along?” Ivy sipped her coffee.

It wasn’t easy for Gary to talk about it without getting too emotional; it was important that he control himself. “The woman doesn’t approve of Helene’s and mine relationship. She constantly complains about me to the HOA.”

“About what?”

“My dogs. All she cares about is her daughter being an honor student. Who cares about an honor student when you have a Great Dane? I rescue dogs…She kills them!” It felt like his lungs were about to collapse. “She poisoned Big Rosa!”

“Big Rosa?”

“My Great Dane.”

“So she deserved a poisonous snake?”

Gary looked down. His heart was galloping. “What do you think, detective? Do you like dogs?”

“I love dogs. I have a turtle.”

“Do you want a dog? I have a beautiful stray dog that needs a home.”

Ivy almost jumped in her chair. “I know where we’ve met! The Japanese masseuse!”

The detective could almost feel her face burn with excitement. What was the link to this Japanese masseuse? “You arrived as my colleague and I were leaving. You asked me about your stray dog.”

She could hardly wait to follow up with her questions. “Is Miss Ding a good massage therapist? Does she make you stronger? Does she enable you to do things? Does she take your pain away?” It was almost impossible for her to stop her stream of words.

Gary leaned back as had he been caught in the stream of a jet engine. Feeling the pressure, he searched his mind for the right answers.

“Detective, I honestly don’t know. It’s so painful every time I’m there, I don’t know why I keep going back.”

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 41

   

Valerie Tyson (Police officer, Austin Police Department)

Scott Miller (Captain, Austin Police Department)

Ivy Kim, (Detective, Austin Police Department)

     

Leonardo D’Almagro (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Katherine, Collin & Gena Hurlocker Foster

Eric Saqui (Model, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

     

Kerry Gallagher (Receptionist, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Rob Bonner (Software programmer. D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Tiffany Kammer, Cile Cook’s friend)

     

Carolyn Dennis-Willingham (Principal,River Place Elementary)

Ruby Ochoa (Child Protection)

Victoria Mooney (Ivy Kim’s step daughter)

CHAPTER 41

 

Valerie grabbed her cell phone and made a speed call. Unbelievable. It must be some kind of horseplay. She was heading to her car. Only a few minutes ago, she had left Captain Miller’s office. Flabbergasted, shaking his head, he had finally muttered, “What the hell is going on?”

“Ivy!” Valerie heard a very familiar sound of a toilet being flushed. “Ivy, are you there?”

“Hold on…I’ll put you on the floor,” the reply came from a distance.

On the floor. No! No, Ivy! You and I are not going to the bathroom together! Valerie couldn’t help but laugh. “Ivy, are you done? Can you talk?”

Nothing happened.

“Ivy!”

“Who invented the brush they put next to the toilet?”

“Why?”

“That thing hurts!”

Valerie giggled. “Did you notice the small paper roll next to it?”

Ivy’s voice was now clear and crisp. “Why do people always call me when I’m taking a shower or in the restroom?”

“Because you take your phone, and you answer it!”

“What’s up?” The sound of running water, then the noise from a hand dryer conveyed that her friend was about ready to leave the restroom.

“The German shepherd wants us to check out another idiosyncratic case.”

“A what?”

“Idiosyncratic. I learned that word last night. I just love the sound of it. I like perpendicular, too.”

Valerie would spend hours doing crosswords; even during her lunch hour she would bring her crumpled-up crossword magazine. One time, it had been too much for a colleague. He had very impulsively torn the magazine out of her hands and thrown it out the window. Valerie had left her untouched lunch and run down the three floors to rescue her magazine. Upon returning, she had dropped his entire lunch tray into her colleague’s lap. “I’m studying! Have some respect for people who actually want to grow!” she had shouted.

“So what and where is this idiocrantic case?” Ivy had more than enough on her mind, but anything different always had stirred her curiosity.

“Idiosyncratic.”

“Whatever.”

“Where are you, Ivy?”

“The ladies room at D’Almagro Fashion and Talents. I seemed to have moved in here. I just finished an interview with Eric Saqui.”

“In the ladies room?”

“No, of course not, silly,” Ivy snorted. “Wouldn’t have been a bad idea, though. That guy is not bad looking, and he didn’t have a wedding ring. He used to work as a model but was in a car accident during a photo shoot. To some extent, it was D’Almagro’s fault. Eric is moving into acting. Actually, they made a pilot, I think that’s what they call it, for some kind of reality show. Something about a group of boys living in L.A., close to the beach. Unless, I’ve totally lost my sniff for criminals, this guy is clean as an innocent newborn baby.”

The door to the ladies room closed behind Ivy. She still was trying to dry her hands, waving them in the air.

“Okay, girl, take a deep breath and listen to this,” Valerie said. “A Katherine Foster has been bitten by a very poisonous snake. The snake was in her mailbox. Can you meet me at River Place Elementary? Her daughter is in school and still knows nothing. The principal has been notified, and a representative from Child Protection is on her way.”

“Jam-bam! What the hell is going on?”

“Exactly your boss’s words.”

Ivy waved to the receptionist before she walked out the front door of D’Almagro Fashion and Talents. “Make sure to call me, Miss Gallagher, when you remember who gave Miss Cook the face mask.”

The receptionist nodded her head in such a way that Ivy speculated if it would ever stop. Whether you’ll admit it or not, you wanted Miss Cook’s job. I’ll hunt you all down till I find out who’s responsible.

“I need an update from your talk with Rob Bonner and Tiffany Kammer.”

Valerie sighed. “Nothing new really. Bonner has still not regained his memory or doesn’t want to. No sight of his old suit.

“This Tiffany has some kind of love-hate relationship with her friend Miss Cook. It certainly makes me wonder if she gave her friend the facial mask. She has some medical assistant training, so she knows how to inject substances and knows about burns. She even told me that she had been burned with acid herself as a kid. She played with some bottles her parents had left under the kitchen sink.”

“So did she do it?”

“You tell me. I like her, but then again I have liked so many psychopaths. My ex-boyfriend to name one.”

“Okay, and the snake attack? So what’s your theory on that? Why a snake?”

“No theory yet. Could you meet me there?

“Okay, I’ll see you in 15…Oh…Valerie…”

“Yeah.”

“Did she survive?”

“No, she died.”

“What a relief.”

“What do you mean what a relief?”

“I mean…I just mean…I don’t wanna spend another minute in that hospital.”

“What!”

“Come on, Valerie, enough is enough. I’m a detective, not a freaking nurse.”

 

***

 

River Place Elementary was a rather new school. The fast-growing community constantly required new facilities to accommodate the new families moving to town. Austin was considered one of the fastest-growing cities in the United States and ranked among the top 10 places whenever it came to quality of life.

Valerie impatiently walked around in front of the school, waiting for Ivy to show up. No one had told Mrs. Foster’s daughter yet that her mother had died shortly after she had waved good-bye to her at the bus stop. This was exactly what Valerie hated about her job, telling people that their loved ones were gone and never would come back.

It had been the happy endings, the lost-and-found stories, that originally had made her join the police. She had wanted to be the good guy ringing the doorbell and with a happy smile saying, We found her. She’s safe!

In 20 minutes, the bell would sound. All the kids would run to the cafeteria where several moms and a few dads would meet their children to have lunch together. In less than 20 minutes, it would be all over school that a snake had killed Katherine Foster; and her poor daughter would be certain to receive the horrifying message before anybody could be there to support her.

Valerie checked her watch. Down to 15 more minutes. She tapped the front of the car a few times, then started her journey towards the school office. Two more steps, and she would enter the front door to River Place Elementary. She would be the bad guy.

Principal Caroline Dennis-Willingham had been notified but probably didn’t know what to do or think. This wasn’t something you could prepare anybody for. The stony faces of her staff would forever be painted in her memory, and afterwards the little girl’s terrified and grieving face would unpredictably show up in her dreams.

Principal Dennis-Willingham would go to the classroom. Katherine Foster’s young daughter would, with fear and confusion, follow the adult whose status she had feared even before she started in that school.

Mr. Foster had been notified and was on his way home from a business trip to Boston. He had begged them to wait for him, but there was no way they could keep it a secret for much longer.

What can we do to protect this little girl from reality? Valerie waited another moment before she stepped onto the black rubber mat and the automatic double door swung open.

Two young mothers made their way through the door, politely nodding to Valerie as if they knew she was part of law enforcement. She didn’t like uniforms and was pleased she didn’t have to wear one.

“It’s terrible,” one of the women said. “What if her kid had picked up the mail? What monster would plan such a thing?”

Valerie was about to stop the two women, letting them know that they couldn’t talk about it, when she realized it was an impossible task.

She heard the doors close behind her and spotted the sign pointing to the office. Guests are required to register at the office before entering the school, another sign said. Register your bad messages here. Dump them so someone else can throw them away. Valerie felt the weight of her feet as she moved on.

The doors opened again, and in a flash she envisioned herself running out the door, escaping the bad news. Letting the situation make up her mind for her, she turned around and started her exit. The hot air from outside mingled with the cooler, air-conditioned air. For a split second, she felt the freedom from her duties, then her name was called.

“Hey, Valerie, are we done here?” Ivy had parked the car right outside the front door.

“No, and when we leave, we’ll forever be connected with this place. Let’s get this over and done with!”

They were silent as they walked down the hallway next to each other: Principal Dennis-Willingham, Ruby Ochoa from Child Protection, Officer Tyson, and Detective Kim. We could just as well carry big cardboard signs. Ivy noticed how every person they passed would follow them with their eyes, knowing they were carrying heavy news.

They stopped outside room A5. The wall was decorated with funny children’s drawings. They looked at each other for a moment before they were ready to knock on the door.

“Isn’t this overkill?” Valerie asked, not addressing anybody in particular.

“What do you mean?” Principal Dennis-Willingham asked, searching for some kind of support from the representative from Child Protection. She didn’t like the expression.

“I mean four people showing up.”

“She’s right.” Miss Ochoa turned her back towards the classroom door as if she wanted to prevent anybody from entering it. “Principal Dennis-Willingham will ask her to come to the office, and we’ll wait for her there.”

Shortly after, they were all sitting in the principal’s office, looking at a little girl in tears, crumbling up in a fetus position on the floor.

Miss Ochoa was trying to comfort Gena, but the poor girl went from despair into rage. There was no way the Child Protection representative could get close to her.

“I want my mom! I want my mom!” she kept screaming while she lashed out at anybody who tried to get close to her.

Parents visiting during the lunch hour started to gather outside the office wanting to know what was going on. Were their children in danger? Why couldn’t they get any answers?

In a brief moment when the little girl stopped to get air, Ivy managed to start a dialog. “I have a daughter. Her name is Gena, like yours,” she lied.

Gena looked up, her eyes bottomless pits filled with fear and sadness. Rhythmic hiccups and sobbing sounds prevented her from saying anything.

Ivy moved closer. “My Gena lives in New York.”

The little girl now looked into Ivy’s eyes.

“I miss her a lot.” Ivy continued to move closer and finally sat on the floor in front of Gena. “Would it be okay if I hold your hand?”

She didn’t answer.

A little hesitant, Ivy took the little hand; it was warm and tiny. She couldn’t even remember when Victoria’s hand had been that small.

They held hands for a moment still looking into each other eyes.

At last, Gena’s body relaxed, and she sought comfort in Ivy’s arms. She let go of a painful cry. “I want my dad!”

Ivy could feel how the little girl’s tears made her shirt wet. “You dad will be here shortly,” Ivy answered and felt her own tears as they streamed down her chin.

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 35

       

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Chad Randlett (Coroner, Austin Police Department)

Princess (Chad Randlett’s daughter)

Victoria Mooney (Ivy Kim’s stepdaughter)

CHAPTER 35

The bedroom was a mess. Combinations of outfits were dropped on the spot where they had been rejected. Ivy checked another outfit in the huge bedroom mirror. No way! Not even with the loose shirt will I be mistaken for a man. She decided to dress up instead. A tank top. Earrings. Even makeup. She liked what she saw in the mirror.

Rain Bar or not, they would have to let her in. And she knew they would. Women did go to that club, many of them to avoid men who would hit on them.

She would feel more comfortable if she were in the company of a man. Who would come with me? Maury perhaps; but then again, he probably won’t. Chad? I could ask Chad. Hilarious! I end up calling him after I turned his dinner invitation down.

Ivy picked up the phone. A feeling of embarrassment hit her as she keyed in the number.

“Chad speaking.”

I can still hang up. Why do I feel like a schoolgirl making hoax telephone calls? For a moment or so, there was silence between the two receivers.

“Ivy! Speak up. Your name is on the display.”

“Hey.”

“So you’re hungry? Monday evening is kind of lonely, isn’t it?” A funny snort bounced through the line. “I just finished dinner, but I guess I have room for a dessert or something. Just to keep you company.” He snorted again. “I’m not watching my figure. No need to. It’s just me and my body.”

I should never have called him! This sends the wrong signals. Absolutely, the wrong signals!

Still no communication from Ivy.

“So…are you gonna say something?”

Still quiet.

“Well, if nothing else, then pretend you’re a heavy breather. That’d make my day.”

If something could push action into Ivy’s tired body, then that statement certainly could. For more than six months, some perverted man had harassed her by calling her almost every single day. She would hear nothing but heavy breathing.

In the beginning, she had just hung up. Then she would actually listen and in a sarcastic way cheer the pervert. When none of her tactics made him stop his game, her reaction had turned from annoyance and anger to fear.

“So it was you!” she fired back. “You were the heavy breather.”

“Surely, it wasn’t me, Ivy. I was in Asia then. I didn’t even know you.”

Ivy couldn’t help but smile. What an awkward situation. I better get to the point.

“Alibi accepted, Chad. Okay, to the point. I know you’re not doing anything tonight, so there’s no way you can reject my offer. I want you to be my escort at The Rain Bar.”

“What?”

“Yep! You heard me. I can show my badge to get in; but then honestly, how many people there do you think would talk to me?”

“Ivy, you can’t mean that. On a Monday evening? How about a movie? We could even make it a Japanese movie. The Last Samurai.”

“Nice try, Chad. Put on some attractive outfit. I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes.” She hung up, not leaving room for any rejection. Chad would do that for her, she knew.

Less than 30 minutes later Chad was, with screwed-up eyes, holding onto the seat handle, sitting next to Ivy driving through downtown. Ivy looks great, he thought. I just wish she would slow down.

“You clean up nicely, Chad. You’ll do just fine in The Rain Bar.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s an observation.”

A last-minute decision on a left turn made the car almost hit the curb. Chad let out a loud, high-pitched yelp.

“Jam-bam! You sound like a woman. Did you pee in your pants, too?” She laughed.

“And you sound like a man…and I did not pee in my pants.”

“Good! ’Cause you’re going to mingle with a lot of men shortly, and you can’t mingle with wet pants.”

“I’m a medical examiner, not a detective. I don’t talk to people. I talk to myself and my recorder.”

“Come on, Chad, do me this favor, and I’ll promise I’ll perform an autopsy for you one day.” She turned her head and smiled while she parked the car.

Sixth Street was filled with young men and women, especially students from The University of Texas. It didn’t matter what day of the week it was. It was hot outside, and love was in the air.

With some effort, Ivy and Chad made their way through the streets. Most of the girls wore as little clothing as possible, and Chad’s head rotated like a well-greased ball bearing.

“Close your eyes, Chad, or you’ll get woozy…And while you’re at it, close your mouth, too.” With a gentle push, she managed to make Chad look away from a small group of female students.

“Hey, don’t blame me, Ivy. You’re the one who brought me to this candy shop. They’re too young for me anyway. That one could almost have been my daughter.”

Unexpectedly, Ivy stopped, turned around, and stared at Chad. “You have a daughter? Why haven’t you told me that?”

“You didn’t tell me about Beast.”

“I did! I just didn’t tell you he was a turtle.”

Slowly, they continued towards The Rain Bar. Getting closer, they noticed a gathering of young men outside the club.

“But a daughter…that’s different. What’s her name?” Ivy curious continued.

“Her name was Emily.” The speed of Chad’s steps intensified as if he wished to avoid the questions that undoubtedly were to follow.

“Was?” Ivy stopped. “Hey, Chad, slow down.”

Unwillingly, Chad stopped but didn’t turn around. It was too painful to talk about. He had always protected his secret despite this urge he had to share it with someone. That someone could easily be Ivy. “Emily.” Repeating her name made all the memories, the good but mostly the bad ones, return.

Hesitantly, Ivy stepped forward and reached for his hand, which he didn’t accept. “Emily. What happened?”

“She was raped. Only four years old. A baby, and so innocent, so beautiful.”

For so long he had denied himself the relief of tears; and now,suddenly, in the middle of downtown Austin, he opened up. He didn’t whimper, she could hardly hear him, but the tears spurted out as if the space they had been kept in for so long had been too tight.

“So she…?”

“They found her in the woods. Only five minutes from our home.” Chad’s eyes met Ivy’s, but he didn’t see her. He was looking through his friend to the picture frozen in his mind of his abused baby girl lying crumpled up in the dirt.”

“I’m so sorry, Chad. I had no idea…Did they…?”

“No, they never found him. They had a suspect, but he had an alibi. I’ll find the bastard who did it! Everywhere I go, I look for him. I’ll find him! I tell you! I will! And when I do…” He finally faced Ivy. His expression was hard and unforgiving.

“Your wife?”

“It changed our world. We didn’t know who to blame, so we blamed each other.”

Ivy moved closer to Chad, looked directly into his eyes that had been avoiding hers. “Can I hold you?”

No words left Chad’s mouth, but his eyes told her it was okay.

She needed to comfort him, but she also needed to find a way to support herself. For some unexplainable reason, the emotions hit her like a baseball bat. The busyness of the street wasn’t able to distract her and so eliminate the pain she felt.

What if it had been Victoria? Her entire body shivered from the thought. What could be worse than losing a child? What could be worse than losing a child and knowing that the last thing your child felt was pain and fear?

Ivy embraced Chad, and for a short while they stood like that, blocking the sidewalk. A silent crying reached her ears. If she hadn’t known that her friend and colleague was in pain, she wouldn’t have been able to tell where this cry came from. It was a silent and very tender cry.

Slowly, Chad got in control of his feelings, and Ivy loosened her embrace.

“Thanks.”

Ivy just nodded her head, letting him know that no thanks were needed.

Looking around at the many people in the street, Chad discreetly dried away the salty tears on his cheeks.

“Well, let’s do what we came for,” he said in a determined voice and started walking towards the door leading into The Rain Bar.

They were just about to enter the bar when Chad turned towards Ivy and said, “She was my princess!”

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 28

   

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Victoria Mooney (Stepdaughter, Ivy Kim)

Craig Alan Mooney (Victoria Mooney’s father)

  

Beast (Turtle)

Kelly Turner Jones (engaged to Craig Alan Mooney)

CHAPTER 28

On Saturday night at nearly 7 o’clock, Detective Kim had been home for less than 15 minutes. She made a quick check around her small apartment before she dialed Victoria’s number.

“Happy birthday, Sweetie!”

“Mom, is that you?” Victoria’s voice still had its soft immature sound.

“Of course it’s me. Who did you think it was? Santa Claus? Wrong time of the year, Sweetie. Happy birthday, beautiful lady! I can’t believe my little girl is 15 today.”

Feelings of loneliness unexpectedly hit her, perhaps even a hint of self-pity. She walked to the window and looked at the busy world outside. Why on earth would I rent a place next to the freeway? It’s like an electric snake. Bumper to bumper.

“Come on, Mom, of course you can. The day you lent me your white leather jacket, you said I officially was a young woman. Remember?”

“Lent it to you? You sneaked out with it!” Ivy chuckled, realizing she hadn’t seen that jacket for a long time. I bet it is in New York! “I’m sorry I’m calling so late. It’s been a crazy day. One of my colleagues tried to…” She stopped. There was no point in sharing such bad news on her daughter’s birthday.

“Tried to do what?”

“Tried to catch a monkey that escaped from the Austin Zoo. He couldn’t, so I had to chase it.”

Victoria cackled. “And then the man with the yellow hat showed up…You’re such a bad liar.”

The apartment needed to be tidied up. The laundry basket, that still waited for its tour to the basement where the washer and dryer were, occupied the only comfortable chair in the small living room. Ivy moved the basket to the floor so she could sit.

“I sent you a check. I hope you can find something you like. I’m sorry. I’m not loaded with money like your dad. He…”

“It doesn’t matter, Mom!”

“I know, but your dad, he…”

“Mom! You’re doing it again.”

“Sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing, Mom.”

“Sorry, I’m not gonna do it again.”

“You just did.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

Beast looked up from his cardboard box next to the upholstered club chair as if begging to be picked up.

Hey, you. Miss me? Ivy put him on the coffee table where he, at a snail’s pace, moved around like a misplaced prehistoric creature. With her index finger, the detective petted the small turtle on its head.

“Beast is here, too. He’s sending you happy birthday wishes.”

“Beast?”

“Yeah, the too-cute-not-to-have pet you couldn’t bring with you to New York. Remember?”

“Oh…sure…I remember, Mom. Manhattan isn’t a place for a turtle. You know that, Mom. How is he?”

“Good. We’re getting really close.”

“There you go. I knew you would get along fine.”

“Absolutely. We’re getting married next month.”

Beast was about to snap a tiny piece of paper on the table when Ivy at the same moment put the tip of her finger near his mouth.

“Ouch!”

“What?”

“Beast bit me!”

“He bit you?”

“Yeah! Men! They are all the same.”

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay! What’re your plans for tonight? I wish you and I could spend it together. We could go to a movie, have dinner at Asti Trattoria, that Italian restaurant you like so much. And then we could dress you up and sneak you into Azucar, and dance salsa the entire night. I’m sure your dad will invite you on one of his fishing tours. My idea is so much better!”

“We’ll do that next time I’m in Austin, okay? I gotta run now. Dad and Kelly have dinner ready for me. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Sweetie. Have a wonderful evening with Dad. And…Kelly.”

The last word hung in the air, not being able to go either back or forth. Had it been part of a cartoon, it would have dropped to the floor.

An uncomfortable silence and an unspeakable, deep pain were the only things left when the phone’s buzzing tone left her alone on the line. Ivy rose from the chair. It was time for her birthday dinner.

The kitchen seemed so small that with every cooking venture, she dreaded she might suffocate. The walls were almost imposing on her. She wondered if they were alive, slowly moving closer to her, only in an absentminded moment to surprise and wrap her up like a used piece of gum. The tiny table and the stiff wooden chairs dated back to her years in college.

This apartment had never been the right choice; but it had conveniently been there, ready for her to move in, when she needed it. So long after the divorce, and still she was stumbling over unpacked boxes, reminding her that this was only to be a temporary home. Disappointed and sad, she lowered her tired body onto one of the wooden chairs.

She pushed away the cereal bowl from her breakfast and reached for the coffee mug. For 30 seconds or so she stared into the dark, cold liquid as if she could foretell the future.

“Shit!”

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 25

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Victoria Mooney (Ivy Kim’s Step-daughter)

Valerie Tyson (Police officer, Austin Police Department)

     

Scott Miller ( Captain, Austin Police Department)

Karsten Blok (Boy Scout leader)

Derick James (Police officer, Austin Police Department)

  

Leonardo D’Almagro (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Kimberly Cockrill (Secretary, Austin Police Department)

CHAPTER 25

Close to eight in the morning, Ivy left the parking lot where she had dropped the letter for Victoria in the mailbox outside the UPS office. Next year, I’ll have to come up with an exciting birthday present. Next year, I’ll surprise her by showing up in New York.

The detective turned off the radio as she parked the car outside the police department. She felt energized. This would be one of the good days, she was certain.

“Hey, Ivy! Where’ve you been? Captain Miller has been looking all over for you.” The greeting came from Valerie Tyson, a young police officer and one of the detective’s favorite investigators to work with.

Valerie wasn’t one of the tallest people, but she had the biggest happy attitude towards almost everything and a great sense of humor, even when it came to making fun of herself. “I’m too short and too heavy,” she would say, “but there’s one big heart inside.” She had a lovable face that very often was hidden behind her long, light-brown hair with lighter highlights. Her compassionate eyes kept staring at Ivy.

The detective was happily surprised to find her colleague at APD’s doorstep. “Valerie. Hi. I know it’s not even 8 o’clock, but we need to talk.” Ivy continued into the building, looking through some papers as she strode along.

“You’re right! Wait for me!” Valerie half-ran on tiptoe while trying to keep up with her friend’s rate of speed. All her attempts to get Ivy’s attention failed. As a last resort, she grabbed Ivy’s arm. “We need to talk!”

Finally, the detective stopped. “I know, and we’re very busy. Miller demands a progress report every freaking two minutes.” Ivy resumed striding down the hall. “Anything new about this crazy Boy Scout, Karsten Blok? I need you to dive into that. I wanna know what happened in Provo, Utah…and I need you to check on this footprint.” She almost slammed the photo into Valerie’s hands.

“Ivy!” Valerie called again.

The detective stepped into the crowded and rather noisy office space where her inferior office spot was hidden in a corner behind some piles of paper. She sensed, without knowing a reason, major excitement throughout the squad room.

The heavy buzzing slowed down and eventually stopped. All her colleagues were staring at her. The air was loaded with expectation.

She headed toward her desk with Valerie still following her around desk corners, fishtailing like a car. For a brief moment, the detective’s body froze. She looked around in search for some kind of explanation, which unfortunately didn’t manifest itself.

Then she turned to Valerie with flickering eyes. She liked the young woman and appreciated her big heart. “Okay. Tell me. What’s up?”

“For heaven’s sake, Ivy, that’s what I have been trying to do. It’s Derick…”

“What about Derick?” Her voice turned wobbly, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest.

“Derick has tried to take his own life. He’s in the hospital. We’re not sure how he’s doing.” She tried not to show her emotions, but her watering eyes told on her. “You better get in there.” She pointed towards the captain’s office. “And when you come out, let me know. I have been assigned to your cases, and Chad personally delivered this just an hour ago.” She slowly waved a folder with the autopsy report.

All eyes in the room followed Ivy as she, step by step, moved closer to the boss’s office. The glass walls would allow everybody, including the old janitor, to follow what was going on inside. As she knew they would.

The young detective saw Miller waiting, sitting straight up in his chair, his fingertips together forming a teepee. She knew that stony face too well. Her boss wanted explanations. He wanted resolution.

Captain Miller observed Ivy’s progress towards his office. She and Derick have always been among my favorites. Now, unexpectedly, things have changed in a direction I don’t approve of. Before, a promising young officer, Derick has now been labeled an insecure gay man who tried to commit suicide. Perhaps may even be a person of interest in connection with the D’Almagro murder. How could this come so far without me knowing about it? I’m supposed to know everything. That’s why I have been promoted to captain. This is a mess!

He scanned his surroundings. My office is a mess. I need to get rid of some of the stuff. I have too many things to distract me. Now where’s my comfortable old chair? He realized he hadn’t seen it for weeks. In the corner where it used to be, a small lawnmower occupied the space.

The exact moment Ivy was entering her boss’s office, he was on his way out, calling for his secretary. “Kimberly! Where’s my comfy old chair? I need it!”

Kimberly Cockrill was always perfectly dressed, her long light-brown hair clean and styled with hairspray. She looked up from behind a small desk piled high with stacks of case files. Miller’s secretary had been with the APD for more than 20 years and knew everything worth knowing about people there. Except for Officer James’s secret.

“It’s in my new apartment, Sir.” She was surprised that he would remember that old chair. She rose from her chair.

“In your apartment? What’s it doing there?” He, for once, sounded sincerely desperate.

“I thought you didn’t want it since you had put it outside your office. It had been there forever, and I could really use it in my new place.”

“What! Are my own people now stealing from me? From the police station?” His voice was loud and shrill. “Where’s Ivy?”

“In your office, Sir.” Kimberly, who was only 5′-2″, lost a few more inches in her attempt to cover up her crime.

“Stand straight, woman! You’re short enough already!” The 6′-5″ captain marched into his office and slammed the door behind him.

Detective Kim expected the worst from her boss; he was definitely not in a good mood. Smile, girl. Peace begins with a smile.

A cardboard box substituted for the missing guest chair next to the lawnmower. She sat. Uncomfortably. She shifted position in an attempt to find a way to rest without having the sharp edges carve into her skin. Her shirt was soaked from sweat, and she noticed a small but almost constant steam of salty beads running from her cleavage to her tummy.

The old and too-small air conditioning system was running on full speed, now and then sending out some threatening sounds indicating that retirement was closing in on it.

“There you are. Where the hell have you been?” Miller was getting settled in his chair. “For heaven’s sake, get off of that box! I can hardly see your nose above my desk. Find something else to sit on.” He looked questioningly at Ivy on her low perch. “Tell me, Detective, have I totally missed noticing that I have employed an army of midgets?”

She stood and sent a searching glance round the room.

“Well, sit down on that box again. But straighten up.” He gasped for air, and his round head was seriously red. “This Texas heat is killing me! You can’t breathe because of the heat, and you can’t hear because of the air conditioner.”

“It stopped!” Ivy rose again from the box.

An unexpected silence had taken over the entire building. Not even a sound from the surrounding offices was heard.

They looked at each other as if they were expecting a thunderstorm to break out.

“It’s dead! The air-conditioner is dead!” Kimberly was standing in the doorway waiting for orders. She was already sweating heavily, as if the air conditioner had been lifeless for an hour or more. Her enormous curls of hair made Ivy wonder how anybody could endure a life in the hot South with such a hairstyle.

“Just what we needed!” Miller roared. “Well, don’t just stand there, woman! Call someone and have ’em fix it. We’ll all end up as hot soup before long! So get moving…and make sure everybody has cold drinks.”

Kimberly disappeared as fast as she had entered the office, and they watched as she ran to her phone.

You might act like a German shepherd, but you really don’t bite. Kimberly smiled. She knew the captain had a big heart and took good care of his people. He would be the one who would go an extra mile to help a colleague or friend in need.

He sat back in his chair, took a deep breath, and shook his head. “Ivy, I need to hear the whole story about Derick and Leonardo D’Almagro. Everything you know. And then I want you to go see our boy. I find it hard to believe that Derick is involved in this death; but it is our job to find out, even if he’s a fine police officer.”

Step by step, almost matching the way Derick had told his story, Ivy made sure her boss was updated. He slowly rocked back and forth, nodding and showing expressions of surprise as she created the new picture of Derick.

“Poor guy. What a double life,” he finally said. “Interesting how people can live multiple lives, have multiple personalities. I don’t know how they do it!”

“Perhaps, we are just all part of one big game,” Ivy gave a final thought on the situation.

“Nah…I only play one part.” He paused. “I think you’re right. Valerie is needed on this case as well.”

Ivy rose from her uncomfortable spot and was about to thank her boss when he interrupted her.

“And Ivy…don’t mistake this decision for an acceptance of your female intuition.”

“Certainly not, Boss,” she replied and left the office.

Kimberly looked up from her desk as Ivy was about to pass by. “So has the German shepherd calmed down?”

“Yeah…for now, anyway. Tell me something, Kimberly. Why do you always refer to him as a German shepherd?”

The secretary’s eyes rolled around a few times and a sly grin formed on her lips. “Can you keep a secret?” She gestured for Ivy to step closer to her desk while scooting up to the edge of her chair. “His real name is Schwartzman. His father is an executed Nazi.”

The captain’s secretary sat back and continued with her work.

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 20

   

Brianna Fleet (Independent business owner and model) Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Majbritt Rayas ( Secretary for Leonardo D’Almagro)

Victoria Mooney (Ivy Kim’s stepdaughter)

   

Leonardo D’Almagro (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Cile Cook and David J. Hernandez (Model. Business partner, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

CHAPTER 20

The door to the apartment complex, where Ivy lived, closed behind her. She had overslept, something that rarely happened because she was a light sleeper.

Her alarm clock was nowhere to be seen. It took some time for the detective’s sharp eyes to locate it under the bed next to a cardboard box where a turtle rested. How it had ended up there, she had no clue and no time to investigate.

The weather was beautiful and hot, but unfortunately it came with drought, too. For more than three months, the city hadn’t seen much rain. In most communities, residents were not allowed to water their yards, but it really depended on where they lived.

It didn’t matter how hot it was outside, the detective would still take along a short, leather jacket. She had a love for jackets; somehow, they gave her a sense of safety. Today, she had chosen one in a light brown.

There was no way she would have time to stop by APD’s building before trying to catch Brianna Fleet downtown. From her conversation with Mrs. Rayas the night before, she knew that Miss Fleet would be at a fashion show at the Hilton Hotel. She drove the silver-gray Honda Civic up in front of the impressive entrance to the hotel.

A young man from valet parking immediately opened the door. “Are you checking in with us today, Miss?”

“I wish!” was the detective’s reply when she handed the young man the car keys. “I’ll need it in 30 minutes or so.” Ivy started her approach towards the front door.

“Valet parking is seven dollars, Ma’am!” the young man called.

Ivy flourished her badge. “Not for me, Hon!”

The lobby was filled with men and women dressed in beautiful outfits; and for the first time in a long time, Ivy felt very under-dressed.

Big posters let people know about the bridal fashion show that was about to begin. For a moment, Ivy admired the photo of a beautiful woman in a gorgeous wedding dress. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll have a huge, impressive dress next time. Jam-bam! What am I thinking? I’m not getting married again! Enough is enough!

The detective tried to blend in with a small group of excited guests outside the elevator. Different scents of perfume reached her nose when they boarded the elevator, one of the transportations systems she disliked the most. Claustrophobi and fear of heights always had her choosing between the escalator or the elevator. Ivy tried to reflect on her observations to forget where she was.

I don’t even own a perfume. Perhaps I should get one. I’ll ask Victoria what she would suggest. She’s so beautiful. She could be model. She recalled that she had asked the receptionist at the D’Almagro agency if her brain had been shaped like a coat hanger. Something she never would  have thought to ask her own daughter.

The elevator door opened. Upbeat music wafted out towards the guests. There were people everywhere, and photographers to document every detail of the event. Men and women would pose, showing shiny white teeth and overly excited faces while trying to look like models themselves. One never knew; perhaps someone important would spot them and turn them into the next new promising model.

There was no way for the detective to figure out where to look for Miss Fleet. Ivy stopped a young man with an unusual hairdo that reminded her of a rooster. “I’m looking for Brianna Fleet!”

“So am I, Honey. Let me know if you find her and what she looks like today.”

The young man walked on before Ivy could explain her business with Miss Fleet.

At that moment, the detective noticed a tall woman with long, dark hair striding down the hallway with an entourage of five young men and women following her. She was dressed in a long black dress, and she looked straight ahead with her chin slightly lifted. The description fit Miss Fleet perfectly. As the group was just about to pass the detective, Ivy stepped in front of them, her badge in hand. “Brianna Fleet?”

For a brief moment, the young woman looked startled, then she flashed a smile of recognition. “This is she. You can call me Brianna.”

Two minutes later, Brianna and Ivy were seated next to each other in some comfortable chairs in the same room where the models were getting ready for the show. Hair and makeup artists were working in a fast-paced environment in between the fashion designers making sure the last minutes fittings were taken care of. Photographers competed to get the best before-the-show shots while the models tried to be as flexible as possible to make everybody happy, including themselves.

“Look, Detective Kim, I’m really busy. I need to be on the runway in 20 minutes.” Inviting the detective to the room had really only been her way to avoid anybody else from overhearing the conversation.

“I’ll make it quick.”

The young man Ivy had run into earlier, also on a mission to find Miss Fleet, signaled from the other side of the room that time was running out.

“What kind of business relationship did you and D’Almagro have?”

Brianna hesitated for a brief moment. “We didn’t have one. I only deal with David J.” Brianna signaled back to the young man showing two fingers in the air.

“Did you like him?”

“No.”

“Why?” Ivy scribbled a few words in her notebook, amazed with her very honest answer.

“He didn’t like me. Thought I was trying to take his business. D’Almagro’s favorite has always been Cile. Cile, Cile, and Cile, and always Cile. I never understood why. Just look at her nose, and then her…” Brianna realized she was getting carried away with her jealousy. “What does she have that I don’t?”

My God! Are you all jealous of each other? Am I going to hear you whine the same way the receptionist did? Ivy didn’t say anything.

When Brianna kept looking at her as if demanding an answer, Ivy countered, “You want me to tell you that? When I haven’t even met this illustrious woman yet?”

“She’s right there!” With revulsion in her eyes, Brianna pointed to the other end of the room where Cile and David J. were posing together for a photo.

“Come on! Everybody can see they’re an odd pair! Okay, I really have to go now.” Brianna stood.

“One last question. Where were you at the time Mr. D’Almagro was killed…between 4:30 and 7:30?” The detective’s scrutinizing eyes locked with Brianna’s.

“I was at home. Alone.”

David J. was in a deep conversation with Cile when the detective approached him.

“I tell you what! Jeans…and then this sexy inlay of lace and leather. You’ll look stunning! Your long legs and your cute, firm…” David J. pinched Cile’s butt.

Cile gently slapped his hand and chuckled. “You’re sooo bad! Artie gets jealous.”

“Mr. Hernandez, can I have a few words with you? Oh, and Miss Cook. We haven’t met. I’m Detective Kim. I would like to have a word with you, too.”

Ivy was pleased to note that she had startled both of them and asked Cile to wait for her, then addressed Mr. Hernandez. “Do you think I look stupid?”

“Excuse me?” He made a funny expression showing he didn’t know what she was referring to.

“Do you in general find woman less intelligent than men?”

“I’m so sorry, Detective, but I have no idea why you’re asking me these questions. I…don’t find you stupid or women less intelligent.” His eyes flickered as he checked to see if anybody in the room had noticed this awkward conversation.

“So why is it you didn’t tell me that the night Mr. D’Almagro was killed, you went to The Rain Bar to talk to him?”

Over and over again, he licked his lips. “I didn’t think it meant anything. I never talked to Leo. I never saw him. He had already left before I arrived. I turned around and went home.”

“Who can verify that?”

His mind was galloping. What am I gonna say? “I’m afraid nobody.”

Cile was ready for the stylist to do her hair when the detective got to her.

Ivy admired the unbelievable artwork the hair stylist was creating. It resembled something between a huge rococo wig and a waterfall. If I was that talented, I would quit my job with the APD. Oh well, I’m a creative detective. The detective flashed her badge for who knew what time. “Miss Cook, I’m Detective…”

“I know who you are, Detective Kim. In my last photo shoot, the colorist referred to my hair color as ‘Detective Red’. What can I do for you?”

Still fascinated with this, for Ivy, impossible hairdo, she recalled her questions.

“What was your relationship with Mr. D’Almagro?” She opened her small notebook and picked up a pen from the small table in front of Cile. “I must have dropped my pen.”

“I liked him as a boss, and he liked me as a model. I’ve made a fortune for him.” She giggled. “David J. and Leo have always wanted to own me.” She lifted her head and looked into the mirror. “Nobody can own me.”

“What about Mr. Hernandez?”

“Yes, what about him? He’s cute but somehow pathetic. He’ll do anything for me.”

“And what do you allow him to do?”

David J. was keeping an eye on Cile while she talked to the detective. He waved and Cile waved back.

“This is a tough industry, Detective. I don’t know about you, but I take whatever I can get to reach my goal.”

The word goal echoed in her head. What is my goal?

“And Brianna Fleet? Where does she fit in?”

Cile turned her head to get a direct view of the detective. “She doesn’t! She’s an egocentric bitch!”

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 17

        

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Craig and Victoria Mooney  (Ivy Kim’s ex-husband and step-daughter)

Kelly Turner Jones  (Craig Mooney’s fiancee)

       

Cile Cook  (Model, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Tiffany Kammer  (Cile Cook’s friend)

Bee  (Homeless woman)

       

Kristy Chaviers  (Starbucks employee)

Leonardo D’Almagro  (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

David J. Hernandez  (Business partner, D’Almagro Fashions and Talents)

CHAPTER 17

 

Macy’s in Barton Creek Shopping Mall was busy like a railway station. The sale in the women’s department with promises of 50% savings had awakened the urge to spend in almost every woman born with a shopping gene. Including Detective Kim.

She had finally managed to escape from her duties for an hour or two to find the perfect birthday present for Victoria. Craig and Kelly were undoubtedly going to buy her a car, so she could start her driving lessons. She really wants a horse.

They had not even asked if she had plans to buy a car for Victoria. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if I showed up with a car, too? Ivy couldn’t help but smile. She could easily picture Craig’s and Kelly’s faces when they opened the door to present Victoria with a car and saw another car parked next to it. I so wish I could do that! But that wasn’t the situation.

It wasn’t difficult for Ivy to imagine the comments from Victoria’s friends.

“Wow! A brand new sports car!”

“Your dad must be a millionaire.”

“Oh, is that gift card from your Mom? One week of free gasoline. Nice…”

Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll married an outrageously rich man and then buy Victoria a horse. She snorted at her own fairy tale.

Next to Ivy, two young women in their early twenties were working their way through a load of tank tops in all different colors and designs. They couldn’t help overhear her outburst. They looked up, each still holding onto several spring-sale bargains.

“Oh nothing,” Ivy said when they looked at her in wonder. “I do that now and then…Snort, I mean. It has absolutely nothing to do with your tank top search. I’m not in any way competing with you! I’m just trying to figure out where to buy a horse for my daughter’s birthday.” I can always pretend I can afford a horse. Ivy opened her wallet and showed them a picture of Victoria with her long, golden hair.

Both women looked at the photo and then back at Ivy with puzzled looks.

“Adopted! Pretty obvious, right? We don’t exactly look alike. I know!” Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Normally it’s the other way around.”

The two young women now gave her blank stares.

“Americans adopt children from Korea. People from Korea do not adopt children from America,” the detective said. Duh! There are too many one-way streets in this world. Amen!!!

“And your daughter wants a horse?” one of the young women repeated. She was a Texas beauty, tall, with long, platinum-blonde hair and a model’s figure. “I doubt Macy’s has horses. They do have almost anything, but horses…?” She smiled and turned to her friend who was almost her complete opposite: short, auburn brown, and plump but still with a very pretty face. “What do you think, Tiff? A goat perhaps?”

Tiffany Kammer, who knew exactly what embarrassing episode her friend Cile Cook was referring to, didn’t answer. Instead, she took a step behind her friend to hide her blushing cheeks.

“I don’t think a goat will do. I’m talking about a horse for horseback riding. Not a pet.” Ivy smiled and began her own search through the tank tops.

“A pet-friend perhaps.” Cile winked at Tiffany.

“I really need to leave, Cile. I have an appointment.” It was obvious that Tiffany wasn’t enjoying the conversation.

“Oh darn. Really? I was just about to tell this lady about my practical joke.” Cile presented a proud smile.

Tiffany looked surprised that her friend would share that humiliating episode with a total stranger. “Your practical joke?” With a surprised and questioning expression, Tiffany looked at Cile, who didn’t respond.

“Sure. I love that story!” She dropped the tank tops she had in her hand to get ready to share her story. “In high school some of us organized a so-called charity drive for the benefit of ‘Lonely Tiffy’ to provide Tiffany with a true friend.” She nodded towards Tiffany. “You see, Ma’am, Tiff didn’t have many friends; and she comes from a, let’s say, low-income home where her mom and dad always have struggled to make ends meet.”

She searched for approval of her observations, but her friend looked away, embarrassed.

Ivy wasn’t sure what kind of story she was listening to but felt intrigued enough to stick around to hear more.

The young woman continued. “The new high school that was part of the new development plan for the county had been built right between the trailer park and the nice new homes the county planned to encourage more of.” Cile looked at her friend then Ivy. “Tiffany lived in the trailer park, and most of her high school friends lived on the other side. You see, Ma’am, Tiff has always been a good kid and an A student; but that didn’t help much when it came to making friends. Right, Tiff?” The young woman sent Tiffany a questioning look.

“On Tiffany’s birthday, our ‘benefit’ group showed up with a goat. A cute little mountain goat. With a red bow around its neck.” She giggled. “So what do you think? A goat? For a birthday gift? Gosh, I think that has been one of the most embarrassing moments in Tiff’s life. Am I right, Tiff?”

Tiffany reluctantly nodded.

“Almost the entire school was gathered around Tiff and the goat. Some found it a bad joke. I don’t know why. It was just fun! We didn’t wanna hurt anybody and definitely not the cute goat. Others were confused, surprised, or simply felt pity for her. But most of us organizers were laughing. So were you, right, Tiff?

Tiff was about to nod but didn’t. Again she looked away with tears in her eyes. Her friend didn’t notice.

“The principal took the goat into custody in his office. It was hilarious! We later learned it consumed several of the school’s important files.” She snorted and looked with excitement at Ivy. “Good ol’ Tiff knew her parents never would allow her to keep the goat when it was released after school, so she gave it to one of the students who lived on a small cattle ranch.”

Cile looked proud after having finished her story.

“A goat?” Now it was the detective’s turn to be surprised.

“Well, yeah…just a practical joke thing. Good luck with your horse hunt.”

She turned away, chuckling. Together with hundreds of other women, the two young women moved further into the clothing sale.

Ivy followed the odd pair as they were about to disappear into the swarm of people, wondering what had brought those two very different women together. She noticed that the taller young woman continued to be amused after her recap of this scene from her friend’s life.

“Hah, a horse! I think my idea with the goat was better, for sure. Don’t you?” Cile was waiting for Tiffany’s agreement.

“Your idea?” Tiffany repeated. “Was it your idea with the goat, Cile?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” She examined her friend’s face with disbelief in her eyes. “What! All this time, and you didn’t know?” She cackled.

The detective’s view was temporarily obscured when a group of three young men passed the girls, all the while giving Cile hungry looks.

Tiffany had seen those looks a million times. Guys would always do that, and she knew that Cile looked even more astonishing next to her. She trailed along after the woman she always had thought of as a friend.

With the crowd closing in, Ivy lost sight of the women and determined, I need some help with the birthday present, a defeat she hated to admit. She just couldn’t spend the whole day searching for the perfect gift. She felt very fortunate having a cell phone. She had no recollection of what the days had been like before the invention of this key communication device.

“Victoria! It’s Mom. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mom. You know something? Can I call you back? I’m about to start tennis practice, and coach is already waiting for me.” She sounded well, her crisp and happy voice sparkling through the line.

Would it always hurt whenever she had something more important to do than talk to her mom? “Sure, Sweetie, I just have one quick question. What would you like for your birthday?”

“I don’t know, Mom.”

“How about a red tank top?” She was staring at a red tank top she held pinched between two fingers.

“I already have a red tank top.”

“Well, how about a blue one?”

“Mom! I have fifteen tank tops, and I really have to go now.”

“Cash? Would you like cash? That way you can buy whatever you like.”

“Sure, Mom, cash would be nice. I gotta run. Love you!”

The conversation was over all too soon. Why am I always behind? she tortured herself. With an unpleasant feeling of being a bad mother, she maneuvered through the crowd of shoppers till she was back in the parking lot.

Not having to deal with the birthday present problem anymore, Ivy could do what she originally had planned. Earlier this morning, she had called D’Almagro’s receptionist and requested a meeting with her. Now will be as good a time as any other, she told herself.

 

***

 

Ivy took Mopac Expressway from Barton Creek Mall to get to the office of D’Almagro Fashion and Talents. She had another hour before the receptionist would lock the doors. During the day, that would be plenty of time. However, around four, traffic would pick up, and the short ride could easily require double the time.

I really need a strong cup of coffee. The receptionist will just have to wait for me.

A parking spot became available as Ivy arrived at Starbucks on Congress Avenue; a plus—the store was close to the D’Almagro Agency. Despite the place being full of customers, it wouldn’t take long to get her coffee.

In the parking spot in front of Ivy, a red Mini Cooper with a white roof was parked. A young girl walked up, unlocked it, jumped in, and started the trendy car.

Ivy stood for a moment to watch her quick departure. Too soon, Victoria would turn 15, and Ivy would not even be there to bestow her gift. She had asked Victoria if she wanted her to be in New York for her dad and Kelly’s engagement party or if she wanted her there for her own birthday party. She had chosen her dad’s engagement party. I know she did it for him. She’s always so thoughtful. I really can’t get more days off. I feel so bad about that.

“Why do you look so sad?”

Ivy turned around and faced her homeless friend Bee.

“Jam-bam, Bee! Is that you? I haven’t seen you for a while.” She gave Bee a friendly pat on her arm. “I’m not sad. I’m just thinking.”

“In that case, don’t think too much!”

Nobody knew Bee’s last name, but they knew she was the happiest homeless woman they had ever met. It was uncertain where she came from, what kind of past she had, even her age. What people knew was that she had an accent and made her living by telling stories.

The morning sun struck coppery sparks from Bee’s shoulder-length gold hair; it needed a wash and trim. However, her clothing looked nice and clean even it was pretty worn. Jeans, a loose brown blouse, and jogging shoes.

“Want a cup of coffee?” Ivy hoped she would accept her offer. Bee knew what was going on in the city if anybody did. She always had stories for kids as well as grownups. “Life is the story you create for yourself,” she would say, “so you better make it a good one!”

Bee nodded, pleased with the thought of a nice cup of coffee. It wasn’t every day she was offered such an expensive beverage. She tagged along with her small backpack over her shoulder.

“Where have you been?” Ivy wanted to know. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been on vacation,” she replied with a contented smile. “It was about time.”

“Vacation?” Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Where did you go?”

“360 and 2222.” Bee was referring to a highway overpass in Northwest Austin. “I got new shoes, too.” She proudly showed her new jogging shoes. “They’re a little tight, but they will be fine.”

“I like white sneakers.” Ivy pointed to her own white running shoes, indicating they had something in common.

“I prefer brown or black. You don’t see the dirt.”

They entered the café, lined up, and waited for their turn at the counter. Bee put down her backpack on the floor, then felt her sore shoulder.

“Heavy?”

Bee nodded. “Some days it’s heavier than other days. It depends what I put in it. What did you put in your backpack today? It looks heavy, too.”

“I don’t have a…oh…” She shrugged. “It’s a little heavy these days.”

“Have you checked it recently? Sometimes, I forget to check my backpack. When I do, I often realize I have been carrying around some heavy, stupid things for the longest time that I don’t even want.” She felt the weight of her backpack, lifting it with one hand. “I think mine is okay.”

The two women were next in line.

A young woman in her early twenties wearing a cap with the shade to the back and sunglasses was ready for their orders.

“Double tall latte with non-fat milk,” Bee rubbed her hands together in expectation of her hot drink.

“Absolutely, Bee,” the young girl behind the counter said and pushed a cookie across the counter to Bee. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Thanks, Kristy! You’re always so kind.”

“And for you, Ivy? The usual?”

“Yes, please! Black coffee. Grande.”

Kristy Chaviers was aware of who the two women were. Both were known for their stories, and yet they were so different. “I read in the paper that you’re on the D’Almagro case. What a story!”

“Yep, I’m the lucky winner of that problem.” Ivy replied and felt the weight of her personal backpack.

The two women sat at a small, round table. Bee sat quietly for a moment, both hands on the cup, smelling the coffee. She closed her eyes and smiled.

“Are you hungry?”

Bee opened her eyes and smiled even wider. “You are the sweetest thing, Detective. Thank you, but I just had some fries from MacDonald’s, some drumsticks from KFC, and an apple from somewhere. Plus this cookie from Kristy. People have been so nice today. Coffee and this cookie is good. And your nice company.” She broke the cookie into two pieces and pushed half over the table to Ivy. “I saw D’Almagro the other night.” She paused. “And what’s-his-name, his business partner.”

“Hernandez?”

“Yes, him. They came out from The Rain Bar…well, D’Almagro came out with some guy, and Hernandez showed up but left again without talking to anybody. Strange behavior.”

“What exactly did you see?” Ivy set down her coffee cup and munched her half-cookie.

“Well, Mr. D and another guy came out. Dark hair, slim, young. Hard to tell from the distance. The guy left in his car, and Mr. D started walking. Mr. H showed up, walked towards the club, stopped when he saw them leaving, looked at Mr. D, then turned around and left.”

“Strange.”

“That’s what I told you!”

“And then what?”

Bee sipped the hot coffee. “I don’t know. I left. I had an appointment with my attorney.”

Ivy sent her an acknowledging beam of a smile. “Thanks! Let me know if you hear anything. Where do you live these days?” Ivy stood ready to leave.

“Here and there. Don’t worry. I’ll find you!

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 15

       

Waltraud Contratto   (Leonado D’Almagro’s housekeeper)

Leonardo D’Almagro   (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Ivy Kim  (Detective, Austin Police Department)

       

Victoria Mooney  (Ivy Kim’s stepdaughter)

Albert Ding  (Musician and poet)

Derick James   (Police officer, Austin Police Department)

CHAPTER 15

 

The interview room at the Austin Police Department was tiny and very simple. A small wooden desk and two chairs were in the center of the room, and a small fridge with a coffee maker on top was in a corner.

Mrs. Contratto was sipping coffee with cream from a huge mug, trying to get used to the idea of drinking coffee from what resembled a bucket and not a nice delicate, flower-decorated coffee cup from the house china service.

The coffee was stale and tasted more like old cold tea than anything else. She wrinkled her face in disgust and returned the mug to the desk in front of her, straightened her black skirt, and checked that her blazer and blouse hadn’t suffered any damage from coffee and cream stains.

For the fourth time, she checked her watch, shaking her head in contempt for the detective’s lack of precision. She wasn’t used to being treated with such lack of consideration, and under any other circumstances she would have left. But she didn’t. Her fear of authority kept her in the room, even in this uncomfortable chair. The veins in her tired legs and feet begged for some motion to make the blood flow. She carefully tapped her toes, not making too much noise.

When the detective had requested her presence at the police station, she hadn’t questioned if she should bring an attorney. She wasn’t used to dealing with attorneys; but yet again, when had she ever needed one before? There hadn’t exactly been any indications that she was a suspect. As long as she didn’t let go and reveal her true feelings for Mr. D’Almagro, nobody would probably consider an old housekeeper to be the killer.

“Mrs. Contratto!” Ivy almost busted the door down in her attempt to meet an impossible deadline. The Buffalo Burger of earlier that morning felt like a brick in her stomach.

“Detective Kim.”

Ivy swiftly swung a chair around so that when she sat, she would be straddling it, resting her arms on its back. As she sat down, her stomach squeezed, and a burp escaped her throat. “Sorry. It must be the hot wing sauce that was on my burger.”

Mrs. Contratto sent her a disapproving look.

“Do you mind if I tape our conversation?” She had already started the small tape recorder, which was always at the ready on the small desk.

There was no end to the stories this tape recorder could tell, mostly sad stories and then a few with happy endings such as the story about the Tooth Fairy. A five-year-old girl had disappeared, and any attempt to find her had only led to dead ends. It was before Amber Alert, which afterwards had helped find so many missing children. The little girl was eventually found and reunited with her family after her not-so-successful attempt to find the Tooth Fairy.

Victoria had strongly believed in the Tooth Fairy. Ivy recalled the late nights when she had sneaked into Victoria’s bedroom in search of a lost tooth. The tooth was supposed to be hidden under the pillow, but one time it was nowhere to be found. Ivy searched long and hard, which resulted in her awakening Victoria.

“Don’t steal my tooth!” she had called out. Victoria had finally settled down after the explanation that Ivy was a police officer and so only was there to protect her tooth.

The following morning Ivy had found fifty cents under her pillow and a little note: Tank you for pretekting my toot mom–you are the bast polis ofiser. That was really the first time she had seen her new title on paper. Mom.

“Do you believe in the Tooth Fairy, Mrs. Contratto?”

The housekeeper was surprised with the opening question. “I believe in God.”

“Hmm…I wonder if they believe in each other.”

“I’m not sure where we’re going with this, Detective.”

“Neither am I….neither am I.” Ivy put on a direct but inviting smile. “Now, Mrs. Contratto…Maggie, tell me about your relationship with Mr. D’Almagro.” She looked around for some coffee and noticed that the coffee maker was empty.

“Relationship?” The older woman felt slight warmth rising in her face.

“Well, yeah. I mean, how and when did you get to work for D’Almagro?” She had noticed Mrs. Contratto’s blushing cheeks.

“I started my employment with Mr. D’Almagro almost a year ago. I found him to be a very kind and generous man.”

“Attractive?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you find Mr. D’Almagro attractive?”

“I really don’t see…” Mrs. Contratto looked away.

Yes, she had been attracted to this man from the very first moment. Who wouldn’t? He was handsome, bright, and very wealthy. For the first few months, she had fooled herself into actually believing that she could make him fall in love with her. And then…that devastating morning, when she had almost stumbled over a naked man coming out from the master bedroom, had shattered her dreams. She had never given up, but her strategy had changed. Her strong belief in God had convinced her she should and could change Mr. D’Almagro, and she planned to do it.

“Mrs. Contratto?”

“Sorry…Yes, I do…um, did…find Mr. D’Almagro attractive.” She looked directly at the detective in an effort to show that she had no emotional strings attached. “What do you think, Detective? What was your first impression of my employer?”

Ivy pushed her lower lip forward and rolled her eyes while she tried to picture Leonardo D’Almagro. Nothing really came to mind except for the image of a dead man practically chopped to pieces. “You know, Mrs. Contratto, I really don’t know what to answer. You see, when I saw Mr. D’Almagro, he didn’t look much like a human being. Actually, my first impression was borscht.”

Mrs. Contratto gasped. “Borscht! That’s Russian beet soup. How…How can you?”

An awkward stillness now occupied the room.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Contratto, if I strike you as very insensitive; but it comes with my job. I tend to say what I think. I apologize. Let’s move on. Where were you employed before you joined Mr. D’Almagro’s household?”

Mrs. Contratto’s was about to tell the detective how she felt about her manners but didn’t. “Before then, for almost five years, I was with a French family. They decided to move to Arizona, so I had to find a new position.”

She constantly looked down at her hands, turning a gold ring with a huge opal setting around her finger. There was no way this detective, such an unmannered girl, twice would make her reveal her secrets. She wasn’t going to let the detective know about how her failure had resulted in the loss of her position. It shouldn’t have happened, but she was just a human being. Forgetting to tell the servants about a dinner party of 40 people could happen, even for a French family, but they hadn’t agreed.

“So tell me, Mrs. Contratto—and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that I expect absolutely honesty—what do you know about D’Almagro?”

Ivy noticed an abandoned, probably too-hot soda can on top of the fridge. She reached for it. With a gesture, she offered to share it with her interviewee, who declined.

“I know…Cold coffee and hot soda aren’t exactly my cup of tea either.” It was probably only sensitivity, but it felt like the huge Buffalo burger had decided to camp out in her esophagus and was constantly calling for some kind of liquid.

The can almost exploded when Ivy cracked it open. In the blast, it sent out a spew of warm, sugary soda. “Jam-bam! I’m so sorry, Mrs. Contratto.” The soda had sprayed over the small wooden desk, making it look like it had small freckles everywhere.

Mrs. Contratto discreetly pulled back her chair but neglected at the same time to change her expression of apprehension.

“Damn! No napkins! We always have to think of everything in this place. I don’t know how they expect us to control rapists and serial killers while we’re hunting for napkins. You don’t happen to have a napkin in you purse, do you?”

She shook her head.

“I thought not. Well, let’s get back to Mr. D’Almagro.”

“Mr. D’Almagro was a nice man,” Mrs. Contratto continued. “I have absolutely nothing degrading to say about this man…or his choice of a lifestyle for that matter. I was not in the habit of snooping around and judging my employer’s way of living.” She screwed up and flinched her eyes, not to make it obvious to the detective whether she was about to cry or just showing some kind of attitude.

“Does the name Albert Ding mean anything to you?”

She looked away.

“Maggie? Are you still with me?”

“Of course I am, Detective.” She looked straight into her deep brown eyes.

Ivy took another large gulp of the Coke. “I hate when the burgers do that.”

Mrs. Contratto stared at her.

“I don’t even know why I keep eating that crap.” Ivy now noticed Mrs. Contratto’s surprised look. “Oh…I forgot. You probably don’t eat that kind of food.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Albert Ding.”

“I have met Mr. Ding.”

“So what’s your impression, Mrs. Contratto?”

“An interesting person.”

“In what way?”

“Well, he looked different from the other…Mr. D’Almagro’s other friends, “she stated.

“In what way?” Ivy emptied the hot soda can and threw it into the bin, impressing her “guest” as well as herself.

“He was so…so delicate in his bone structure, this face of his…so mystifying, almost feminine. He told me he is Chinese.”

“So he’s from China?”

Mrs. Contratto was getting tired of the conversation and didn’t see any point in the detective’s questions. “How would I know? They all look alike!”

“So where does he live, and how do I get in touch with him?”

“I certainly have no idea. I’m just Mr. D’Almagro’s housekeeper.” Finishing her sentence, she realized again that she was without a job.

“Who else of Mr. D’Almagro’s friends did you meet?” You better tell me the truth, Mrs. Contratto. I’m gonna find out anyway. Why are you twisting and turning your hands, and why do you keep turning that garish finger ring.

“Derick James. I liked Derick James a lot,” she said, as if her heart was floating. “Such a polite and very handsome man. Who would have thought that he was…” She realized that what she was about to say would reveal her own judgmental thoughts.

She had despised cleaning up from all the parties and never found any of Mr. D’Almagro’s companionships sympathetic. But with Derick James, it had been different.

He is just like you were, little brother. In so many ways, Derick James reminded her of her baby brother who had died at a very early age. It was more than 40 years ago now, but it haunted her every day of her life. He had been so gentle and so perfect in every way. His classmates had always been on his neck, trying to humiliate him. One day, it had been too much for him. She had found him in the basement, hanging from the ceiling. So little and fragile that even the low ceiling had allowed enough room for him to take his life.

You only tried to be honest. You dared to show who you were, and then it was too difficult. If only you would have allowed God to help you. Two small tears escaped from Mrs. Contratto’s eyes. I don’t have anybody.

“Was Mr. D’Almagro expecting any visitors?” Ivy continued, ignoring the tears.

“As I have told you before, I really don’t think so,” she dried her eyes. “I had planned to surprise him with his favorite dish, and he certainly didn’t mention anything about a large group of people for dinner.”

“Yeah, lamb chops, I remember. When did you last see Derick James?” The question didn’t feel right, and she was glad her colleagues didn’t hear her. Having one of your own people involved in such a nasty case was an awkward situation. No one would envy her.

“It’s been a while. I don’t remember for sure. Two, perhaps three weeks. I didn’t exactly see him, but I’m sure he was the one in Mr. D’Almagro’s study. The door was closed, but I’m certain it was Mr. James.” She looked away and licked her lips.” I shouldn’t really say this, but since Mr. D’Almagro is…Oh dear Lord, rest his soul…Mr. D’Almagro and Mr. James were arguing. And Mr. D’Almagro could get so angry; and when he was, he would be very loud.”

“What were they arguing about?” She wondered if it had anything to do with Albert Ding.

“I’m not sure, but I heard poor Mr. James say, well…more accurately shout, something like…‘You can go to hell!’…strong words, and not at all what I expected from him. Mr. D’Almagro turned extremely angry, and then I didn’t hear any more.”

She didn’t tell that she had been listening right outside the study until the door had opened, and she had sneaked away like a stray cat.

“Were you afraid of Mr. D’Almagro?”

“No!” Then she paused. “Yes. Sometimes. But I’m sure I didn’t have a reason to be.”

“Why would you be afraid, Mrs. Contratto?” With a quick glimpse, she checked that the tape recorder was still running. More than once she had sadly, after an interview, been listening to dead silence from the tape recorder. Learning by doing had always been her way of moving on.

“The dagger…”

“What about it?”

“I lied…It did belong to Mr. D’Almagro. It was a present from Albert Ding. I was there in the living room when Albert unwrapped it. Rather peculiar since it was a present for Mr. D’Almagro.

“Albert wanted me to be there, too. I don’t know why. I really didn’t want to stay; but when I tried to leave the room, he blocked the door.

“Mr. D’Almagro was extremely excited about his present and instantly reached for it, but Albert didn’t allow him to touch it.

“He kept staring at me with an odd, secretive smile…I didn’t like his eyes. I don’t know why…it was like he could look right through me, as if he could read my thoughts. ‘Ladies first,’ he said and then placed the dagger in my hands.”

The housekeeper paused as if lost to this world. She was staring into space, sitting straight up as if she expected to receive orders. She didn’t blink.

Ivy could hardly detect the woman’s breathing.

“Maggie?” Detective Kim was about to gently put a hand on her shoulder when Mrs. Contratto shrugged out of her pose, unexpectedly turned her head, and looked straight into her eyes.

“Yes? Where were we? What was I saying? I’m sorry. I normally don’t have blackouts like this.” She shook her head and then gently massaged her temples with her fingers. “I have such a headache.”

“Please, go on, Mrs. Contratto. Mr. Ding placed the dagger in your hands.” The detective was worried about the woman’s physical as well as mental state. Perhaps she should stop and then continue later. On the other hand, she felt that she had reached a level she might never get close to again.

“Oh, yes, the dagger.” A deep sigh left her and pushed out through her nostrils. “That dagger. And those eyes…I keep seeing them.”

“What happened next?”

The tape was still running.

“He asked me what I felt.”

“What did you feel?”

“Scared.”

“Just scared?”

“No, I also experienced this strong desire to show my loathing towards this man and his ridiculous game. I felt abused, and I felt angry.” She was shaking.

“Why did you lie about the dagger?”

The older woman’s eyes searched the gray linoleum floor, and then she looked up, as embarrassed as a scolded child. “Mr. Ding told me now that I had felt the dagger in my hands, I could never tell anybody about it, that it would turn against anyone not being faithful to its secret life. He said that such daggers were made out of steel from old daggers…that had belonged to people now dead.

“He laughed, and so did Mr. D’Almagro. They had been drinking the entire day, but it frightened me. I so regret that I ever touched this devastating weapon.

“When I saw that Mr. D’Almagro had been stabbed and killed exactly as Albert had warned me about, I believed the curse was true. You see, I know Mr. D’Almagro showed it to Mr. James and told him the same story. I know it sounds silly that a grown woman like me would believe such a tale.”

Ivy nodded to show she understood. She also understood that there was no way that Mrs. Contratto could stand another ten minutes of questioning. The poor woman was quite shaken, and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying in the days since Mr. D’Almagro’s death.

“One last question for today, Mrs. Contratto.”

“Yes?”

“Were is Mr. Contratto?”

“In Crestwood Cemetery.”

“I’m so sorry. How did he die?”

“He choked on a fish bone. Sea bass in sesame sauce.”

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 13

     

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police department)

Chad Randlett (Coroner, Austin Police Department)

Leonardo D’Almagro (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

     

Derick James (Police officer, Austin Police Department)

Waltraud Contratto (Housekeeper for Leonardo D’Almagro)

Scott Miller (Captain, Austin Police Department)

     

Valerie Tyson (Police officer, Austin police Department)

Victoria Mooney (Ivy Kim’s stepdaughter)

Maury Lane (Forensic investigator)

CHAPTER 13

“Any news, Chad? Did you manage to pull that paper from D’Almagro’s throat?”

A sense of excitement engulfed Chad when he recognized the caller’s voice. “Ivy?”

“How humiliating!” she burbled on. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to lay there on the coroner’s table, butt-naked, with a wide-open mouth while a total stranger pulls The New York Times out of your throat. Then again, when you’re dead, you probably don’t care….Chad? Hello?”

Ivy was driving the unbelievable survivor, her old silver-gray Honda Civic, which once had been her dream of a car. One more block, and she would be at the Austin Police Department.

She would be the one to deliver the startling news about Derick James and D’Almagro. Somehow, she had to find a way to buy some extra time for further investigation before the lions were let loose on Derick. Angry lions. That’s exactly what they are, and exactly how they will behave when the story comes out. Our boss, our colleagues, the press, the entire town will be on his neck. Poor Derick! He is such a great guy, and now all this.

“Ivy? Hey!…Ivy, is that you? You’re cutting out. Are you on your cell?”

“Yep, that’s me. The one with the boobs, you know.”

She stepped on the gas pedal since she was already late for her meeting with Mrs. Contratto. And before seeing her, she had to report to her boss, Scott Miller.

Perhaps she could convince Miller to assign Valerie Tyson to the case, too; she was such a great officer. It wasn’t that Ivy actually had any indication that this was going to be a complicated case, but her intuition and long years in this crazy world told her this wasn’t going to be an easy one either. A good officer like Valerie was priceless. She wasn’t sure what excuse or explanation she would present to Miller, but it had to be a good one.

“Ivy? Are you there?” Chad was still waiting for some kind of confirmation.

“Yep! Did you pull that paper out? What was it?” Then she unintentionally yelled into the phone, “Shit, you bastard!”

“Come on! You sound like a drunken sailor. What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Some idiot almost hit my car!”

“You did it again, Ivy. Ran the red light, didn’t you?” Chad normally declined to ride with Ivy. “Too much excitement for one day” was his justification.

“Yellow! It was yellow! And I’m late. That paper. What was it?”

“Well, it’s not The New York Times. It’s a page from an employee contract. Looks like a standard one from D’Almagro Fashion and Talents. No signature, no name, nothing as far as I can see that will link it to a certain person, but you’re the expert in that area.”

“Eat that, your bastard,” she muttered to herself, now wondering if she already should have brought Rob Bonner, handcuffed, down to the station for questioning. She speculated as to whether D’Almagro had been forced to eat the page before he was killed or if it had been pushed down his throat after. Some way to show loathing for a contract. Or the business in general. Then again, it wasn’t signed, so it could be a coincidence.

“What? Did you just say ‘bastard’ again?” Chad was amused.

“Sorry, Chad. I just had an impulse. I’ll try to avoid that word.”

“You should! You know that, don’t you? It’s no way for a lady to speak.”

“I’m not a lady, but that’ll work.”

Chad’s advice was the same thing her mother always pointed out to her in an attempt to convert her daughter to the virtues of a refined and educated woman. Victoria is ladylike. Almost too perfect. But what else would she be in her attorney father’s New York home.

Detective Kim yanked her thoughts back to the case. “The dagger. Is it still in the lab?”

“Maury Lane is working on it,” Chad informed her. “So far, I believe he hasn’t found anything. Well, the blood type matches D’Almagro’s; but besides that, it’s clean…so to speak.”

“Yep, what I expected. I would like to get those photos. Close ups. As soon as possible. Will you let Peter Tung know? I’m hoping that I can put Officer Tyson on that, you know, tracing its origin and hopefully the owner. According to Mrs. Contratto, it didn’t belong to D’Almagro.”

“Maury is good, Ivy, really good. He can find an ant leg on a soccer field. And it so happens, he knows a little about Asian culture, too.”

“Well, so do you, Chad! If I’m not wrong, you lived there for a while. So tell me, does it look Asian or what?”

“Maury said Japanese.”

“What do you think?”

He desperately wanted to come up with the perfect answer to impress her; but the truth was, he had no idea. Most of his time in Asia had been in the company of corpses, not ancient culture and fine artifacts. Unfortunately, in almost every way he was a novice when it came to defining what made one culture different from another. If it weren’t for differences in physical appearance among the various branches of Homo sapiens, then he wouldn’t know where he was. All medical examiners’ rooms looked the same.

“Japanese, I would say.” He felt bad about his little lie.

“Hmm. I wonder if this Japanese masseuse’s business card and the dagger are connected. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. Oh! Would you please have the employee agreement brought over to me when the lab is done with it. Let me know when you have finished your autopsy report, too. Thanks.”

She disconnected the call, parked her car right outside the APD building, and rushed inside.

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 7

       

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Waltraud Contratto (Housekeeper, Leonardo D’Almagro)

Leonardo D’Almagro (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

           

Albert Ding (Poet and musician)

Chad Randlett (Coroner)

Victoria Mooney (Ivy Kim’s step daughter)

 

CHAPTER 7

The gourmet kitchen in the D’Almagro mansion was impressive to the extreme. Expensive pots and pans hung from racks above two huge ceramic stovetops. Behind glazed glass panels set in hickory cabinets, hand-painted dinnerware was in perfect order, stacked next to crystal wine and drinking glasses. A beautiful silver bowl with fresh vegetables decorated the polished marble counter.

Welcoming aromas of delicious homemade food filled the air. Even with a single resident in this home, it was obvious that someone enjoyed cooking.

The detective’s nose appreciated the scents all the more after coming from the odorous living room. Then her stomach growled. Dang, I’m hungry! The detective seldom followed a regular eating schedule and couldn’t claim any cooking expertise herself. Her ex-husband had been in charge of the kitchen, and after the divorce the small local burger bars mostly made up for the absence of his fine cooking. I really need to eat healthier. Ivy patted her belly in aggravation over the extra pounds gained.

She noted that the housekeeper was sitting on a kitchen chair, constantly pulling out tissues from a Kleenex box to wipe her running nose and eyes. A horrifying sight had greeted her when she had entered the home.

Her employer Leonardo D’Almagro, a very handsome man, had been flayed like dinner leftovers. His eyes had been open, pleading for her do something. She had held his hand, said a prayer, called the police.

He was gone now. She still couldn’t accept it. Somehow, she had always had this feeling that something bad would happen someday. That she would lose him.

Like a sly cat, Ivy slowly moved around in the kitchen while she kept an eye on the devastated housekeeper at the same time. She had made several attempts to question Waltraud Contratto, but so far nothing that came out of her mouth had made any sense. Now and then the detective examined an object while still protecting any potential evidence.

She noticed the open door to the butler’s pantry and stepped inside. As well-organized as large as any walk-in closet she had ever seen, it held more groceries than the shelves at her favorite mom-and-pop grocery store. On a counter near the door, she noticed two large bottles of Grey Goose. “Wow! Was someone expecting to be snowbound?”

Mrs. Contratto looked up in an attempt to locate where the voice was coming from. Her eyes were all red, and she snuffled as though her sorrow had no end to it.

Ivy peeked out from the pantry. Her bright red hair glowed in the intense kitchen light. “Guess not. How silly of me. Not in Central Texas.”

Mrs. Contratto tugged out another tissue and blew her nose. “Right.”

With an elegant gesture, Ivy pulled out a chair from the large kitchen table and sat down in front of the housekeeper. The pile of tissues on the table was growing into a small mountain.

“So, Mrs. Conatta,” Ivy started out, uncovered her small notebook, and jotted something down.

“Contratto,” the housekeeper corrected her. “Waltraud Contratto is my name.”

Ivy scratched out what she had just written down. “And how would you spell that?”

The notebook was now in front of Mrs. Contratto. She wrote her name with a shaking hand. “My friends and Mr. D’Almagro call me Maggie.”

For a moment Ivy speculated if she should call the woman in front of her Maggie, then concluded that she wasn’t her friend and had no intention of making friends with her.

Detective Kim tried for the third time to get some accurate information from this terrified housekeeper who once again had started sobbing. “Mrs. Contratto, you said you left the house around 5:30 to go get something you had forgotten to buy earlier in the day. Exactly what time did you return to Mr. D’Almagro’s home?”

“Seven-fift…”

“Seven-fifteen? Is that what you’re saying?” Ivy asked with mounting frustration.

“Yes. Seven-fifteen,” Mrs. Contratto repeated, alarmed when she realized the detective’s face was taking on a more stern appearance.

The detective wasn’t exactly a patient person, and she was known to push people hard to get the information she needed. Once during an interview, a young suspect had snatched her gun and held it to his head, threatening to blow his own head off if the detective didn’t stop bothering him. She had only looked at the young man, called him a pathetic wimp, then pulled the gun from his hand. He had broken down and cried like a baby.

“Mr. D’Almagro always dines late,” the housekeeper said in a remarkably clear voice. “He called me to make sure I had remembered to get Grey Goose. I did forget, so I let him know that I wouldn’t be back before seven at the earliest.”

She started to cry again. “It’s so sad. I just can’t believe it,” she continued. “And just today, when I was going to make a lamb chop for Mr. D’Almagro. This is so sad! I can’t take it!” she cried.

“Yes, it is sad, Mrs. Contratto.” Ivy wondered if the housekeeper was referring to Mr. D’Almagro or the lamb chop. “And the Grey Goose? Is that his favorite liquor?”

“No, no, no! I get that for Mr. Ding. He only drinks Mai Tais for the cocktail hour.”

Small wrinkles furrowed Ivy’s forehead. “Mr. Ding? Mai Tais?” She paused. “Did Mr. D’Almagro expect dinner guests tonight?” Even though the owner of the mansion had been covered in blood, the detective had noticed Mr. D’Almagro’s unique attire, not something people would show up in at work. Black leather pants and a matching shirt with decorative leather straps crisscrossing in front so his skin showed. Most likely an outfit for a special, intimate date, she had concluded.

“Guests?” Mrs. Contratto shook her head and an almost teasing smile showed on her face. For a brief moment, she had exchanged the horrifying picture of her deceased employer with one of him from one of his many parties. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t. I wouldn’t have enough food for more than Mr. Ding and him. I had the butcher cut one thigh and juicy lamb chop especially for Mr. D’Almagro. He likes it medium rare. Not like the blood is ru…” Mrs. Contratto stopped with a terrified expression painted all over her face. “Oh, dear God! All that blood!” She started crying again.

Here we go again. Pull yourself together, woman.

“I know this must be difficult for you, Mrs. Contratto, and I apologize that I need to question you so shortly after the…” She was about to say murder but managed to stop herself. “I mean, this terrifying discovery. I really would like to get as much information as possible…while it’s all fresh in your mind.”

The housekeeper, who was a generously sized woman in her mid-fifties, nodded then grabbed a piece of chocolate from a small bowl. She unwrapped the chocolate, popped it in her mouth, and gobbled it down without paying any attention to taste or texture.

Irritated, the detective watched as Mrs. Contratto’s tongue cleaned what was left of the luscious-looking confection from her lips. Ivy hadn’t had time for dinner, and the thought of lamb chops made her stomach growl again.

With a hopeful expression, Mrs. Contratto looked at the detective. “Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m not hungry, Mrs. Contratto! My stomach is just growling ’cause it’s really protective of me.” Ivy shook her head in frustration. “Now tell me again about the car you noticed.”

The younger woman studied the older woman who without doubt was marked for life by this event. However, she would probably be eager to tell the women in her bunko group every gory detail. She would most likely appreciatively accept checks from her heart-wrenching interviews with newspapers and magazines.

Ivy knew her type, had met them over and over again in her search for justice. Justice? What exactly does that word mean? Justice for whom? Sometimes she thought that the victim in fact was the real perpetrator, and still justice was demanded.

I wonder if people are aware what part they play in this huge script, Ivy questioned. And me? Am I doing what I’m supposed to be doing? Do I play the right role? People commit crimes. I catch them. They are convicted, and they pay for their crimes. And then what?

Mrs. Contratto finally managed to pull herself together and was about to give her description of the car she had seen outside her employer’s home when the coroner entered the kitchen.

“Ivy, I think you need to see this,” he said. His expression let her know that he preferred not to tell her anymore in the housekeeper’s presence.

The detective nodded to acknowledge she understood but pleaded, “Can it wait a second?” Ivy most certainly did not wish to waste Mrs. Contratto’s brief moment of self-control.

“Sorry, you need to see this. Now. With your own eyes,” Chad continued, still trying to make her understand that this was not meant for Mrs. Contratto’s ears. Annoyed that he didn’t seem to be getting through to the detective, he continued, “I thought I pretty much had found everything obvious at this point…but no.”

He stopped again and directed a concerned expression towards Mrs. Contratto.

Both women looked at each other, then back at the coroner, wondering what was next.

“His mouth…his throat…Someone has pushed a letter or something down his throat.”

“Jam-bam!” The detective turned around on her chair to face the coroner directly.

Poor Mrs. Contratto was once again reminded about the horrible deed, now enhanced with new, revolting findings. Her desperate scream shattered the relative peace of the kitchen, and her body collapsed to the side of the chair.

“Now, Chad, look what you have done!” Ivy jumped up and tried to pull the housekeeper back upright in the chair. The detective noticed that she hadn’t passed out, but merely was showing her distress at hearing these new details.

Ivy walked closer to Chad and whispered in his ear, “I guess it’s never too late to freak out.”

“I tried to tell you,” Chad defended himself but then realized that his explanation wasn’t necessary.

“Did you get it out?”

“I can’t do it here. I’ll let you know when I do.”

Mrs. Contratto, who wasn’t the center of attention anymore, sent out another cry. Her rather theatrical reaction made her look pitiful. “I don’t know what to do now. Where do I go?” She grabbed another piece of chocolate.

“I know, Ma’am. Everything has a domino effect.”

“Yes, detective. It’s like we’re all linked together, isn’t it? We’re one big body.” An intensified moaning warned Ivy that another self-pity attack was building up.

“We need to continue tomorrow, Mrs. Contratto. If you would show up at the station at two that would be very helpful. One thing, though, before you leave. What color and what kind of car was it you saw?”

“It was dark. That’s all I noticed,” she fought back a wave of nausea. She rose from the chair and was about to leave the kitchen when the detective stopped her.

“Oh…let’s make it 11:30 A.M. instead.” Ivy remembered she had planned to spend the afternoon shopping for a birthday present for Victoria. “And you, Chad, why don’t you go get yourself a good massage when you’re done here. It seems as if you could do with a little relaxation, too.”

Chad nodded and smiled.

“I have a number for a Japanese masseuse in case you need one,” Ivy teased her friend.

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 5

        

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

David and Amy Brosette (Married)

Abby Brosette (Daughter)

         

Craig Alan and Victoria Mooney (Ivy Kim’s ex-husband and her step-daughter)

Kelly Turner Jones (Craig Mooney’s fiancée)

Peter Tung (Forensic photographer)

       

Chad Randlett (Coroner, Austin Police Department)

Leonardo D’Almagro (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Waltraud Contratto (Housekeeper, Leonardo D’Almagro)

CHAPTER 5

It was close to eight in the evening, and the sun was still up in the cobalt-blue sky. The imposing, wrought-iron gates gradually unfolded in an almost intimidating way. Only people trusted with the right access code were allowed to enter this exclusive neighborhood of West Rim Estates. A solid front door, a private security system, and a personal handgun were simply not considered enough protection from the outside world.

A silver-gray Honda Civic driven by an impatient young woman speeded up as it crossed the border between West Rim Estates and the outside world. Ivy Kim was a striking woman with distinct Korean features. Her deep, brown eyes swiftly scanned the fashionable neighborhood.

Only a few minutes earlier on West Lake Drive, she had passed a man on a bicycle pulling a cart loaded with groceries. His only attire had been a thong. Austin truly lives in harmony with diversity. A smile flitted over her face.

Farther down the street, she spotted a group of people gathered outside a home. This must be it, she concluded and stepped on the gas pedal.

She parked the car across the street from the huge and very expensive home. That anyone could afford to live in such a house was a puzzle to her. This gated community consisted of 35 homes. Not one of them was smaller than 4,000 square feet, and most were closer to 6,000.

For a brief moment Miss Kim took in the beauty of the home she was about to visit. The brilliantly landscaped front yard was as if designed right out of Architecture. Not one single straw of grass seemed to be going against the well-laid-out lawn. Colorful flowers decorated the beds, and the sprinklers were on to ensure the plants got enough water in the extreme Texas heat.

Cars, mostly belonging to people from the police department and SCI, were lined up outside the house. Neighbors had rapidly been gathering as the bad news had spread.

Greeted by a police officer, Ivy was let in behind the yellow band, which in a simple way kept the curious crowd outside the scene of crime. It was the second time in less than four weeks that police had been called out to this particular neighborhood.

They still hadn’t solved the first case, a white woman run over by a car. Not an accident, that was for sure. Hitting a pedestrian five times could under no circumstances be characterized as an accident, she thought, but that was, of course, still to be proven.

No matter how charitable she considered herself, Mrs. Brosette had been known to be somewhat snooty, not treating anybody below her social status with any true kindness or respect. Regularly, she would have illegal immigrants working in her yard, repairing her residence, and cleaning her home. She even had people walk Dexter, a pure-breed Boxer she reluctantly had invited into her home. Her daughter Abby had been pleading for a puppy, and being an honor student had called for some kind of reward.

Some people said Mrs. Brosette treated dogs better than her employees. The truth of the matter was she didn’t treat anybody with respect and she hated dogs.

The entire neighborhood had buzzed like a disrupted beehive. Was it one of the illegal immigrants who had ended the life of this displeasing female? Was it her fed-up husband? Or simply a mad dog?

“That must be Ivy Kim!” a man from the snooping crowd said and pointed at her.

“Wow! Look at that hair color,” a woman uttered. “It’s bright red!” Detective Kim was easily recognized because of her distinctive hair color, something that changed regularly.

The murmur from the spectators was intensifying. Some of them held up their cell phones to snap pictures of the renowned detective.

Some day I’ll get a new face and a regular meatloaf hair color. Kim quickly checked if anyone in particular stood out from the gawking crowd. Amazing how bulky people’s eyes get when they are curious. I wish they could see themselves.

Being successful was nice, but it definitely had its price. Last year, when she once again had been triumphant in solving a murder case, she had in the news been referred to as a remarkable and very unusual woman. She loved her job, even if it often meant late hours that, to an extent, had destroyed her personal life. After eight years of marriage to Craig Mooney, she was now alone and was in many ways married to her job.

Even her stepdaughter Victoria had chosen to live with her dad in New York. Victoria knew that it was her only option if she wanted a normal family life. Only two years old, Victoria had lost her biological mother to breast cancer, so she and Craig had been the family until Ivy had been introduced.

Children hadn’t really been part of Ivy’s plans, but Victoria had been part of the package, and Ivy had loved her new role as Victoria’s mom. The age difference between the two wasn’t great, and they had soon built a close relationship. Ivy had secretly cried the day Victoria had asked her permission to call her Mom.

She missed having Victoria and Craig around. She and Craig were still friends; but after he had started dating Kelly Jones, things had changed. Kelly was very young; however, she was sweet and took good care of Victoria, and that was the most important part.

Victoria was turning 15 on Saturday, and Ivy had still not figured out what to surprise her with. Her daughter wanted a horse, but there was no way she could afford that on her salary.

Approaching the front door, the detective overheard a conversation between two middle-aged women.

“It’s cute, but I don’t know about that color,” one of the women stated.

Cute, Ivy noted. That wasn’t exactly the look she wanted associated with her hairstyle. It’s okay. You don’t have to call me beautiful, but cute? Please. She swiftly checked her outfit, which wasn’t glamorous and definitely not cute. Jeans and a simple T-shirt, partly covered by a hip-length leather jacket. It was practical, and so was her hair. She had never been one to spend hours on her appearance.

The front door was wide open, and there was a gaggle of spectators in the home. A photographer walked around sending out flashes of bright light for each picture he snapped. Great. They have done it again. They have sent an army of police officers, all too excited to be of any real help, stepping on each other’s toes and mucking up evidence traces.

There was no doubt that the crime had taken place in the formal living room, leaving it as an abandoned battlefield.

“Jam-bam! What the heck happened here?” The detective looked at the blood-splattered walls. Her nostrils caught the distinct stench of death. “Another butcher is loose?”

The photographer stopped taking pictures. “Well, if it isn’t the famous investigator! Stop! Right there!” He snapped a picture.

“Stop that, Peter. You know I don’t like to see my face between pictures of dead people.”

Peter Tung and the detective had worked together for the last two years. He was a witty guy with a positive attitude who found it amusing to tease his colleagues. Peter returned to his duty.

“Hi, Ivy! You? What a pleasant surprise.” The coroner who had been bending over what appeared to be a corpse sent her a sincere smile. Chad Randlett scratched his dark brown beard while he again looked at the corpse. His masculine-cut face on a well-sculpted skull was perfectly proportioned, like the dot above the i, the whole placed on top of a tall well-trained body.

“How’ve you been?” His eyes sparkled like gemstones.

“Good, and yourself, Doctor Chad?” she teased. He’s always so happy. Happiness right in the middle of murder and sadness. She returned his smile.

“We missed you, Ivy.” He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair. “I was told that you were out of town. We needed you on the last case here in West Rim. You know. That woman who got hit by a car. Actually several times. You should have seen her. Tire tracks all over her body. Nice and clear. And her face…Not nice, not nice…Somebody didn’t like her!”

“So, who didn’t like her?”

“The husband got locked up. They found him in the car, but he claims he doesn’t remember a thing. He sat there with both hands on the steering wheel, staring into space as if in some kind of hypnotic trance.”

“Glad I wasn’t here! It’s so damn hard getting anywhere with people who suffer from amnesia. I was on vacation and a very much overdue one,” she pointed out.

“Vacation?”

“Kind of. I was invited to my ex’s engagement party in New York.”

“Do people still believe in marriage?” Chad asked and looked as if he checked his own answer to that question.

“I guess so.”

“Well, it sounds like you weren’t that bad of an experience since your ex decided to do it again.” Chad’s sparkling blue eyes sent her a wink.

“Thanks. Never looked at it that way. Perhaps there’s still hope for me.”

“Absolutely. Didn’t you see the line outside? They’ve all taken a number.”

“Great. I could use some male influence in my life,” she said and looked curiously around the room. “Nasty!”

“The engagement party?

“No. The party was glamorous, not like the one Craig and I had. Lots of people with lots of money. I believe I was the only one with a normal life and a simple income. Well, they paid for everything. Who would turn down a week’s stay in New York, even when it’s your ex-husband getting engaged?”

Dr. Randlett, who was busy checking bloodstains on a black leather couch, flashed a stunned face in the detective’s direction. “What? Could you repeat that? A simple income perhaps, but come on. A normal life? Just look at this chaos in front of you. Tell me this is normal!”

Ivy edged closer, watching her step since the floor represented more potential evidence than she had seen in a long time.  “You’re right! You should have heard the questions I was asked at the party. They really made me feel like a loony—Don’t you get sick when you see all that blood, Detective? How many dead people have you seen? What is the worst murder you have investigated?” She paused, then shook her head. “I tell you, Chad, they want blood! Lots of blood. As long as it isn’t their own. But you know something? I love my job!”

With a nod, Chad acknowledged her statement.

“Now, what do we have here?” The young woman bent down to look at what once was a living human being. It was hard to tell the body parts from each other.

The way the body lay reminded her of her first murder case years back. She had been sick and vomited right there on top of the corpse, and next she had cried hysterically for the longest time. Nobody, least of all she herself, had thought she would end up as one of the toughest investigators in Texas.

“Poor guy. He’s chopped up like ground beef.” For a brief moment she felt nauseous.

Chad rubbed his beard a few times with the back of his gloved hand. “Male, somewhere between thirty 35 and 45. Stabbed…or rather slashed to death with at least 15 wounds. Been dead no more than three hours. A mess! The perpetrator must have been pretty determined to end this guy’s life.”

“Whoever did this must be soaked in blood.” Ivy searched around. “So how come no bloody footprints?”

“You tell me. What I can tell you is that the first cut must have decapitated him.”

“I see that! Pretty upsetting.”

The coroner turned over the corpse to reveal several deep, bloody cuts on its back.

Ivy looked as if she had eaten something she didn’t like. “I’ll never understand how people can do a thing like that. How can you plan such a scenario and then follow through with it? Any normal human being would get sick to their stomach just imagining it.”

“The killer apparently didn’t. He didn’t even fear someone would show up and surprise him. He took the time to shower after the assault.” Chad turned the body back over again.

The eyes were still wide open, and Ivy uncomfortably felt they were looking at her. “It must have been cold water.”

“Sure, the best way to get rid of blood,” Chad confirmed as the expert who constantly dealt with bodily fluids. “We haven’t found any blood-splattered clothes. If he changed, then it looks like he took everything with him. It all seems too well-organized to me.”

“We’ll do a search in the area…” She paused. “Him? Any indications that the perp’s a he?”

“Nothing conclusive, but you gotta be pretty strong or very skilled to butcher a person the way this was done.” Chad pointed to the body on the floor. “Go ahead. Have a look for yourself.” The coroner had already done his initial exam. He was good at it. Many years in his profession had taught him what to look for.

“Who found him?”

“The housekeeper, Mrs. Contratto. She’s waiting in the kitchen. Very upset. She might need a doctor to prescribe her something calming.” Chad was aware of Ivy’s lack of patience when it came to interviewing upset people.

“And the murder weapon?”

“Right there next to the body.” He pointed to a long and rather unusual dagger.

Ivy looked it over, frowned, wrinkling her forehead in a funny way. “It looks old and foreign. Asian perhaps. Was the owner of the house a collector?” She looked around in search of similar items but found nothing except contemporary furniture and art.

“Yes, he collected money,” Chad said flatly, his broad grin giving away his opinion of his own cleverness.

“Do we know who he is?” She moved from side to side to get a better look at the man on the floor, which was just about impossible with all the blood and the awkward way he was situated. “He looks awful.”

“Well, he hasn’t been identified for certain yet, but we believe it’s the owner of this mansion. Mr. Leonardo D’Almagro. The owner of D’Almagro Fashion and Talents. Design, fashion, models, actors. Lot of money. You know how that works.”

“No, I don’t!” she snapped, unpleasantly having her memory jogged regarding her current slow cash flow. “I wish I knew what it felt like.”

“Oh, that’s true. I forgot,” he chuckled. “You know…if you spend a few more minutes in front of the mirror before you leave your home in the morning, you’ll have a pretty good chance of getting a moneymaker on the hook. You’re a pretty good catch, Ivy; don’t pretend you don’t know that.”

Chad flashed a huge boyish smile in an attempt to cover his own attraction for her. More than once she had been part of his dreams. His eyes followed her, and they enjoyed what they saw. She looked younger than her age, sporty and well-trained.

“Sure, I know D’Almagro Fashion and Talents,” she continued, ignoring his suggestions for introducing a more careful makeup procedure, something her ex-husband in vain had suggested more than once. “Married?”

“No, gay.”

“How do you know?” she asked, looking straight in Chad’s direction. “And for your record, gay people do get married, too.”

“I guess. Still find it awkward, though, but okay.”

“Of course it’s okay! It’s love. If love can’t make this world a better place, what can?”

“I’m all for love. I’ll support you in that any time.”

Ivy noticed his flickering eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The heavy stench from the body fluid had started to bother her more, and she unconsciously squeezed her nose. What would we do without air conditioners? I can just imagine the impact the 90-degree heat outside would have on a crime scene like this.

“So how do you know he’s gay?”

“Everybody knows,” Chad answered.

“Wrong!”

“Okay then. Let’s say I found him in the closet, and he jumped out with a big cardboard sign.”

“Not funny!” she continued. “A partner? Lover?” She bent down to examine the gory dagger. She pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and a clean napkin. Slipping the gloves on, carefully she picked the weapon up with the napkin, turned it a few times to examine it.

“None of my bags will fit that bastard,” she sputtered.

Immediately, a young police officer who silently had been going through some drawers handed her a bigger paper bag.

“Lover.”

“What did you call me?” She had already forgotten her own question.

Chad shook his head and smiled. His eyes were big and brown like a loyal Golden Retriever’s.

“He had a lover. According to the grapevine, he enjoyed every bit of his life and never made any commitment to anybody. Except once to a woman. So he was married once…but he didn’t marry again…even I do know that gay people marry, too.” A slight trembling of his lips told her he was about to laugh.

“He was known to be a regular at The Rain Bar downtown. It’s not that I care much about rumors, but my next-door neighbor happens to think it’s her job to put her nose in everything and most of all to inform everybody of her findings. I’m sure you can learn more at the club about his whereabouts.”

“I’m sure I’ll fit right into the crowd without being recognized as a woman with a new hairstyle,” she taunted, hoping to avoid any more comments by bringing it up herself.

“I like it. It’s cute.” Chad said and awaited his reward for his compliment.

“Cute? Of all things! Why do people think I look cute?” she almost yelled.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, sure you can fit in…if it wasn’t for your…well, you know…your…boobs.”

Ivy returned the dagger to its original spot and stood, showing a proud, slim body. She gave a hollow laugh, and their conversation suddenly got attention from everybody in hearing distance, which was almost the entire investigation team.

“My boobs? Did I hear you right, Chad? Did you really mention my boobs? Oh my, that is so funny! I’m all worried that my hairdo won’t fit in, and you’re all concerned about my boobs.”

She turned and called out, addressing everybody around her who all happened to be males, “Hey, guys! Is that true that nobody will be noticing my hair in The Rain Bar, but will only be looking at my boobs?”

An almost girlish giggling shimmered around the room, followed by a few statements.

“Yep, only boobs.”

“First boobs, then hairdo.”

“Always boobs!”

“Fine! You’re all the same! Men! When will you ever change?” She shook her head, not knowing why she was reacting so strongly. “I need to talk this housekeeper. What’s her name again?”

“Mrs. Waltraud Contratto,” Peter Tung replied and looked proud that he actually remembered her name.

“What kind of name is that? How do you even spell it?” Ivy was about to write down the name in her small notebook but decided to wait so the housekeeper could spell it for her.

“Boobs!” she snapped and headed towards the kitchen.

“I didn’t want to upset you!” Chad called right before she opened the door. “You know, it doesn’t matter how hard you try. You’ll never be taken for a man.”

“Apology accepted,” Ivy muttered before she closed the kitchen door behind her.