Chapter 4: Motive, Means and Opportunity

Steve Edwards was continually amazed that the average civilian thought that detectives had some sort of super power when it came to solving crimes. They believed TV that shows where CSI techs wearing Armani suits or Prada skirts found murderers by putting a hair sample into a machine that gave them the perpetrator’s name, current whereabouts and shoe size or that police officers studied a crime scene and suddenly had an ‘Ah Ah!’ moment that solved the case.

The reality is that most of it was pure grunt work. Interviewing people, analysing the evidence and using open sources to tie clues and suspects together.

For instance what did Steve know about Felicity Benson? Spencer Duvall had visited her club the night he was murdered and Spencer had even spoken to her. Felicity was in Houston when Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington were murdered. A woman of similar features was seen in the vicinity of the crime scene but that didn’t mean much as the area around the motel and truck shop was lousy with women who wore too much makeup, short skirts and high heels ... but rat-face was pretty certain that it was Felicity.

Steve knew nothing about drag queens but he had quickly educated himself using open source material on the internet. Drag had become a form of mainstream entertainment during the second decade of the twenty-first century mainly due to the popularity of the TV show RuPaul’s Drag Race and had jumped the fence from being a niche trend in the gay scene to become a valid art form in its own right.

Most of the queens had drag names that held subtle or obvious innuendo with references to drugs and sex or had names that were simply wordplay. The innuendo in the name Felicity Goodnite was obvious. Most of the famous queens had large local, national and even international followings and their fans could be quite militant and overzealous. Felicity Goodnite was no exception and several websites were dedicated to her and her drag sisters who were regular performers at Ride em’ Cowgirl. She even had her own Wiki page.

Her early years at Balwyn College were documented including her decision to transition. It took Steve only seconds to determine that she had attended the same college as Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington, Spencer Duvall and William Turner at the same time. Pictures of her from that period showed a stunning young woman who exuded charm and sensuality although it was stated that she had an acerbic wit on which she had based her act.

Her talents had led her to being invited to compete on a season of Drag Race although she hadn’t made the final four. This experience had boosted her career incredibly.

According to the open source information, Felicity identified as a transgender woman and had never had a long-term romantic relationship although she admitted to being bisexual and sexually active. She owned Ride em’ Cowgirl outright and her business associates were Mitch Freeman and another queen named Panti Down whose legal name was William Russell. She still toured regularly both domestically and internationally although not as often since she had bought the club.

Steve pondered the evidence. It would certainly be enough for him to bring Felicity in for questioning and to get a subpoena to get her DNA but that would mean sharing what he knew with that cunt Penelope Bishop and that sycophantic asshole Joe Wagner. He would lose control of the case and more importantly lose any hold he might have over Felicity Benson.

Although he had only met her once she intrigued him. She was exotic, sensual and self-assured. If she had murdered Ben Roach, Jamaal Washington and Spencer Duvall, like he strongly suspected she had, she was also dangerous.

What had they done to incite her? And why take revenge now?

He surmised the answer lay in her college days. He thought about what Penelope Bishop had told him ‘We have several women who have come forward and told us that Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington, Spencer Duvall and William Turner forced or blackmailed them into having sex’. Hell hath no fury, he thought.

If those five spoiled rich assholes had forced college co-eds into having sex with them would they also force a pretty young drag queen still unsure of her gender and sexuality? He looked at the array of pictures of Felicity Goodnite.

“You bet your ass they would,” he whispered to himself and crushed out his cigarette.

He shut down his workstation and collated all of the evidence he had illegally copied from the Houston PD case file and shoved it into his briefcase. He had also broken into the Balwyn PD task force office and riffled through Penelope and Silvia’s desks. Most of the evidence was kept on encrypted computer files but he took copies of what he thought was relevant. He needed time to consider what he was going to do about Felicity Goodnite. How could he use what he knew about her to his advantage?

Melissa Doyle was sitting in the park practicing her resting bitch face or so it seemed to Penelope Benson. Penelope had invited the thirty-something raven-haired, stunningly beautiful economics professor with the blue eyes and full lips to meet her near the fountain at City Park where they had met before.

She was wearing the same lycra leggings and sports top and full makeup including her signature red lipstick that she had worn the last time they had met in the park and Penelope was similarly attired.

Melissa and Silvia were now in a full-blown lesbian relationship, outside of work they were almost glued to each other. What Silvia didn’t know was that Melissa was constantly texting, emailing and calling Penelope on the phone.

Melissa continued to bombard Penelope with threats, promises, entreaties, demands, declarations of love, declarations of hate, depending on her mood and Penelope had had enough. She ran past Melissa brushing her shoulder and Melissa sprang from the bench and fell into step beside her.

“This has got to stop. That crap you pulled in Houston was bullshit!” Penelope said through gritted teeth.

“You look beautiful today Penny, I love the way your tights and top accentuate your attributes. Of course your best attribute is tucked away between your legs,” Melissa’s voice was melodic, like they were having different conversations.

“The only one who is going to get hurt by this is Silvia,” Penelope turned onto the forest running track.

“You can stop that easily Penny. I only want our relationship to continue,” Melissa tried to reach out to Penelope but she brushed off Melissa’s hand.

Penelope started running faster and Melissa increased her pace and kept up quite easily.

“What relationship Melissa! We fucked once and I told you that it was going to be the one and only time, that I love Bradley and that he and I are in a relationship,” Penelope sniped.

“But you also told me that it wasn’t a pity fuck, that it was wonderful and had meaning, that it wasn’t just debauchery,” Melissa countered.

“And I also told you that it would never happen again,” Penelope hissed.

Melissa didn’t answer and they ran in silence for a while. Penelope hoped that Melissa was finally seeing the hopelessness of the situation. They entered the deep forest where there were no other joggers and they were both aware that they were approaching the stately oak tree against which Penelope had pressed Melissa’s body and fucked her.

Melissa stopped running and put her hands on her hips drawing in huge gulps of air and Penelope did the same. When Melissa had her breathing under control she continued talking and she no longer sounded like the sweet silly ditz with a girly crush.

“I could fuck you over Bishop! I could tell Bradley that we fucked and he’d know that you were lying if you tried to tell him it didn’t happen. I can go and see your boss Gary Rasmussen and tell him that I was a witness that you were interviewing and that you seduced me when I was at my most vulnerable. That when you fucked me I could taste the bourbon on your breath,” Melissa’s beautiful face turned stormy; she looked like a wicked witch with her heavy eye makeup and red lips curled into a snarl.

“Bourbon was your drink of choice when you were slutting around wasn’t it Penny?”

“It’s amazing what you learn from pillow talk. Silvia told me all sorts of things,” Melissa closed in on Penelope who started to back up.

She could see the malice in Melissa’s eyes and wished she had a weapon. She could probably beat Melissa in a fight if it came to that but she wasn’t certain, people who were angry and deranged sometimes seemed to have super powers.

“She told me you were a lush and that she was close to letting you sink into your own shit and drown. She joked that you’ve had more pricks in you than a second-hand dartboard. She told me how Bradley Wilson was the knight in shining armour who rescued you.”

“I could bring all that crashing down Penny,” Melissa’s face was inches from Penelope’s who had backed against the giant oak.

“Why?” Penelope whispered.

“Because I love you silly,” Melissa’s face softened as quickly as it had transformed into a witch.

Her features changed back into the beautiful, vulnerable woman and her voice softened.

Melissa brushed Penelope’s bangs out of her eyes and leaned in to kiss her. Penelope turned her face away and Melissa’s lips fell on her cheek instead but Melissa was not perturbed and she rained soft kisses on Penelope’s face.

Penelope could feel the heat from Penelope’s body and smell the undertones of her exotic perfume under her sweat. She should have just pushed Melissa away and started running but she felt powerless. Running away wasn’t a solution anyway. All Melissa had to do was tell Gary, Bradley or Silvia about their fucking and her life would be ruined.

“You don’t blackmail someone you love,” Penelope sighed.

Melissa’s face lit up. She pressed her body against Penelope’s and persisted in kissing Penelope’s face until she found her lips and then she kissed them. Penelope kept her lips firmly closed but Melissa persevered, she could taste the saltiness of the sweat on Penelope’s top lip and the buttery taste of her lipstick.

“Then don’t make me,” Melissa whispered and forced her tongue into Penelope’s mouth.

Melissa squeezed her hand between their bodies and pushed it down the front of Penelope’s tights. Penelope tried to stop her but Melissa used her weight to drive Penelope against the tree, temporarily unbalancing her. Penelope had to use her hands to hold onto the tree to keep her balance and with her arms splayed wide she was vulnerable.

Melissa found Penelope’s penis becoming turgid and Penelope could feel the smile form on Melissa’s lips as she continued to kiss her. Melissa was using her tongue to explore Penelope’s mouth whilst Penelope remained passively holding onto the tree.

Penelope had recovered her balance and could now quite easily resist Melissa. She could use the tree as a springboard and push Melissa off her. She could smack Melissa’s hand away from inside her tights and turn her head away. Penelope could do a lot of things but she didn’t.

She remained passive, holding onto the tree with her arms wide allowing Melissa to press her body against hers. Allowing Melissa to kiss her; her lips soft and her tongue, warm wet and inquisitive as it investigated her mouth, allowing Melissa to squeeze her turgid member as it became bloated and began to throb, allowing Melissa to slide her free hand under her sports top and inside her bra, squeezing Penelope’s nipples until she winced with pain and pleasure both.

Penelope suddenly felt powerless. Pleasure radiated from her mouth, her breasts and her groin. The feel of Melissa’s body and the taste of her mouth evoked the sweet memories of when they had last made love against this tree.

Except now the tables were turned. Melissa was the aggressor and she was passive. She was aware of the power that Melissa had over her. She could ruin Penelope’s life with one phone call. Penelope felt such a fool for succumbing to Melissa’s feigned vulnerability.

But all that was moot at this moment in time because Penelope’s body was betraying her like it had so many times before. She opened her mouth wider and entwined her tongue with Melissa’s, she thrust out her hips so that Melissa had unfettered access to her groin and she didn’t resist when Melissa yanked down her tights to expose her rampant penis.

When Melissa dropped to her knees and engulfed Penelope’s penis in her mouth her instinctive response was to put her hands on Melissa’s head and hold it while she fucked her mouth but she didn’t. She hung onto the tree trying to convince herself somehow that she was offering passive resistance.

But when Melissa used her lips to suckle her shaft and her tongue to tickle her fraenulum Penelope moaned like a slattern. Her pleasure centres lit up as ringlets of delight radiated from her pubis. For a woman who claimed not to have been with a man for over ten years Melissa was an accomplished fellatrix using her mouth expertly on Penelope’s penis and scrotum.

Penelope could feel her orgasm approaching and she was almost relieved that the ordeal would be over soon but Melissa had other plans. Melissa had pulled down her own tights while she was fellating Penelope and was stroking her cunt, gently circling her clitoris with the pad of her finger and stroking her coral-pink labia. She was wet and excited. The sensation of having Penelope’s throbbing penis in her mouth while she tickled her clit and fingered her vagina was heavenly.

But she wanted more!

She wanted Penelope inside her. She wanted to feel Penelope fill her vagina with that wonderful big cock, to feel Penelope’s breasts pressed against hers, to feel Penelope rut and prod and poke her until her orgasm exploded.

Melissa wrapped her arms around Penelope’s knees, spat out her cock and used her own knees as leverage to twist Penelope off the tree and grapple her to the ground. The blanket of autumn leaves broke her fall and Penelope ended up on her back with her tights around her knees and her cock pointed to the sky. It was not very ladylike or elegant but that didn’t matter because Melissa pounced on her, straddling Penelope, driving Penelope’s cock deep into her hot, wet vagina.

Penelope gasped when the tight spongy velvet glove of Melissa’s steamy cunt gripped her turgid member and intuitively she drove her hips upwards to push her cock into Melissa’s vagina as far as it would go and then she held Melissa by her hips and began to fuck her.

Melissa rode Penelope like a bucking bronco delighting in the feel of Penelope’s cock buried deep inside her, then withdrawn until Penelope’s glans nestled in her labia and then thrust back deep inside her tight cunt. Penelope thrust upward as Melissa pushed down, delighting in the sensation of Melissa’s tight spongy snatch gripping her throbbing cock.

The two women rutted like slatterns until the crescendo of their orgasms was reached and Melissa fell forward and crushed her mouth against Penelope’s who opened her mouth and offered her tongue as she held onto Melissa’s hips and drove her cock deep inside her buttery cunt and ejaculated. Melissa felt Penelope’s cock quiver and then runnels of hot semen filled her vagina. Her own orgasm washed over her and her quivering cunt milked very last drop of seed from Penelope’s penis.

Melissa collapsed on top of Penelope who lay on the bed of leaves reeling in post-coital regret and self-loathing for succumbing to Melissa’s coercion but what else could she do? She was open to blackmail until she could resolve the situation with Melissa.

Penelope rolled over, spilling Melissa off her and they both struggled on their backs in the mounds of leaves pulling up their tights and adjusting their clothing. Penelope’s cock was still semi-erect and she couldn’t force it between her legs so she pushed it to one side and tried her best to pull down her sports top to cover it. Melissa could feel Penelope’s semen dribbling from her cunt into her tights but she didn’t care, in fact she liked having some part of Penelope still inside her body.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Penelope hissed as she brushed leaves off her body.

Melissa tried to brush away the leaves that Penelope couldn’t reach but Penelope pushed her away.

“We keep doing whatever I want whenever I want it!” Melissa sounded like a petulant child.

“But you’re right that we can’t keep fucking in the park. Maybe next time you come to my place; I still have it even though I now live with Silvia” Melissa said in a sing-song deranged voice that irritated the fuck out of Penelope.

“There won’t be a next time!” Penelope screamed at her.

“That’s what you said last time Penny. See you soon darling,” Melissa waved childishly at Penelope and then sprinted away.

Penelope kicked at the pile of leaves on which they had just made love and cursed when she found a rock with her toe.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she screamed into the silent trees.

Steve Edwards took a little time to contemplate his position and then made up his mind as to how he would approach Felicity Benson. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman was dangerous but he sensed an opportunity.

Felicity saw Steve enter Ride em’ Cowgirl and approach the bar where Jill Graham was setting up for the evening performance. Felicity was on stage with Panti Down and three other drag queens rehearing a dance routine for their latest show. She was dressed in black leggings with a tight black mesh top over her bra. Everyone on stage was wearing high heels because it was pointless performing in ballet slippers when they would be performing in pumps. Felicity wasn’t wearing her theatrical makeup but she was wearing a face.

“Bourbon with a beer back and none of that well shit, make it JD,” Steve said pointing at the top shelf and parking his ass on a bar stool.

“We’re not open for business,” Jill Graham quipped and turned her back on him.

“This place has a twenty-four-hour liquor licence toots so pour me my drinks and don’t give me any lip. I’m not here on a social call,” Steve had decided to go in hard.

Jill reluctantly poured the JD into a shot glass and pulled a Lone Star out of the ice tub while Steve studied the décor.

With the overhead lights on Ride em’ Cowgirl didn’t look quite as glitzy and glamorous as it did under the mood lighting. Some of the furniture looked tired and the walls could use a coat of paint. Some artist had painted a mural on one of the walls depicting a gaggle of drag queens with panicked looks on their faces scampering ahead of a cowboy on a horse swinging a lariat over his head. The caption read ‘herd em up – move em out’. Steve got the joke and chuckled to himself just as Jill put his drinks down on the bar.

“You get it huh?” Jill leaned on the bar.

“Yeah, funny cartoon,” he took a sip of his whisky.

“Those are caricatures of real girls who have performed here over the years,” Jill explained.

“Girls?” Steve took a slug of Lone Star.

“Drag queens. We refer to them in the female vernacular when they are in drag,” Jill wiped up the ring of condensation left by the cold beer.

“What about her?” Steve pointed his bottle at the stage where Felicity was demonstrating a move she wanted the other queens to perfect.

“You know she’s a woman you fucking philistine! Felicity is she in and out of drag!” Jill threw the dish towel over her shoulder and strode away.

“Fucking testy bitch,” Steve grinned.

He sat at the bar nursing his drinks watching the queens rehearse; he wanted a clear head when he dealt with Felicity.

Felicity deliberately extended the rehearsal to make him wait then she called a wrap and exited the stage and went directly to her office. She went to her little bar and poured herself a drink with her back to the door anticipating Steve’s entrance. She didn’t like that this was his third visit to the club or that he had come alone.

“The new routine looks pretty good,” Steve leaned against the door jamb.

“Ah, a connoisseur of the arts,” Felicity took a sip of her drink but kept her back to Steve.

“I don’t know anything about art but I know what I like,” Steve’s eyes were drawn to Felicity’s tight buttocks sheathed in her dance tights.

“Last time I spoke to you, you knew nothing about drag, now you’re a cognoscente,” Felicity kept her back to him.

“So you’re not just a pretty face; you’re also articulate,” Steve followed her hips up to her slim waist and then to her shoulders.

If there was any imperfection in Felicity’s appearance it was that her shoulders were a little too wide for her body.

“I’m college educated,” Felicity countered, turning to face him.

Her breasts were still heaving slightly from the workout on the stage and her makeup had smeared a little because she had sweated, her blonde hair was wet with perspiration, her bangs matted to her forehead. Steve noted the brunette roots. The hair samples collected at the Duvall crime scene were blonde with brunette roots. The hair samples taken at the no-tell motel in Houston were red and synthetic; a wig.

“Four years at Balwyn College majoring in theatre and performance. You changed your major in your first year; graduated in the top three. That was also the year you transitioned,” Steve gave her knowing look.

Felicity remained stoic and showed no emotion. She studied the detective. He didn’t seem as dishevelled today. He was clear eyed and his suit and topcoat looked expensive and fashionable. He was tall and rangy with a stylish shaggy haircut and chiselled features; he looked like Kevin Bacon when he was in his forties.

“You seem to know a lot about me detective,” Felicity crossed her arms.

“If you could sew better you probably would have won your season of Drag Race. Bella Donna was a poor choice for the win but Ru was getting old and the producers had too much control by then,” Steve sniffed.

“Now I know that you’ve just been educated by Google. Bella was by far the best contestant,” Felicity countered.

“They say she was fucking one of the executive producers,” Steve chuckled.

“They say a lot of things. Are you going to come in or are you going to just stand there holding up my door jamb?” Felicity drained her drink and turned her back to pour another.

She poured Steve one too and when she turned around she found him seated and the door closed.

Felicity handed Steve his drink and took a seat in the easy chair across from him. She noted that he put his drink down without taking a sip.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” Steve took his cigarettes out of his coat and offered them to Felicity.

She took one and studied his face while he lit it for her. She remembered the last time they had met when she had surreptitiously rubbed her finger on his when she handed him a drink and he had leaned in and almost touched her cheek with his lips before he left. There was undoubtedly chemistry between them but chemistry could be volatile.

Felicity shrugged her shoulders. Steve lit his cigarette and looked at her, waiting for her to talk but she remained silent.

“My boss is a transgender woman,” he leaned back into the seat.

“Now that’s an unexpected segue,” Felicity was surprised at the shift in conversation.

“You know ... for ... whatever the fuck,” Steve blushed.

“So what you think we all know each other? We meet up once a month to sew quilts and compare notes?” Felicity bristled.

“I’m just saying is all. Jeeze, I’m sorry, that was stupid,” Steve shook his head apologetically.

Penelope smiled at him. She was surprised by his embarrassment.

“As it turns out I have heard of her. She’s been in the press a few times. Helped catch the Sleeping Beauty Killer and all,” Felicity made him feel a little better but she didn’t know why.

This cop was dangerous and he knew a lot about her and she knew that detectives did not waste their time studying strangers unless they considered them suspects.

“So why are you here?” Felicity asked.

Steve took the flyer out of his coat pocket, unfolded it and put it on the coffee table.

Felicity knew what it was and a shiver ran down her spine but she deliberately did not stare at it.

“So what? I travel a lot. Working drag queens need to make a living and most of us travel to do so. Panti Down is my booking agent; she got me the gig. You can ask her,” Felicity bristled.

It was the first real emotion Felicity had shown and Steve knew he had her.

“I can ask anybody anything I want; I’m a detective,” Steve blew smoke at the ceiling.

“You got the club. Why travel?” he asked.

“Mitch Freeman oversees club business. Everything we make here goes into the business as profit to be shared by the stakeholders, to pay overheads and operating costs. The money I make freelancing is mine, except for what I pay William,” Felicity regained control of her emotions.

“William?” Steve pretended to be perplexed.

“William Russell is Panti Down’s legal name,” Felicity explained.

Steve waited a beat and took a small sip of his drink. He looked through the office window and saw there was no one within earshot.

“You fucked up when you left the motel in Houston,” he said soberly.

Felicity did her best to remain emotionless and kept silent. She just stared at Steve trying her best to look nonplussed.

“The rat-faced guy you ran into crossing the car park. He identified you from that poster,” Steve pointed the toe of his shoe at the flyer on the coffee table.

“Right now he’s helping a police sketch artist put together a likeness of you,” Steve met her gaze.

The wheels began to spin in Felicity’s head. If they had a picture of her from the flyer why was rat-face helping Houston PD make a composite?

“Ok. Enough bullshit,” Steve’s voice became gruff.

“Spencer Duvall was in your club right before he was murdered. Your bartender Jill Graham, a loyal friend and keeper of the faith, collaborated your story that he only spoke to you briefly. I bet if I lit a fire under her ass she will admit that you and Spencer had a longer intimate conversation. Maybe you left the club together?” Steve began.

“At Duvall’s place they found hair samples that look very much like yours. I bet if they took a sample of your hair it would match the hairs found at the crime scene as would the DNA they found from the non-secretor. I bet your fingerprints would also match some of those taken at the scene.”

“The symbols written in lipstick over the bed; they translate to Eta Lambda Pi, the fraternity that Benjamin Roach, Jamaal Washington and Spencer Duvall pledged when they were in college at the same time you were. I haven’t figured the connection there yet but there is one.”

“You were in Houston contracted to perform at Hamburger Mary’s when Roach and Washington were murdered. I looked at the timeline and you had the opportunity and the means, although I’m yet to figure out where you got the gun.”

“You were smarter that time. I’m guessing Duvall was an opportunist murder whereas as Roach and Washington’s murders were planned. You left very little DNA and no prints and you wore the red wig but DNA will put you at the scene and rat-face will identify you.”

“You couldn’t help but leave your little calling card on the mirror. That was dumb because it links the crimes.”

“So there you are. I have opportunity and means, the only thing I don’t have is motive. If I obtained a warrant for your fingerprints, DNA and a hair sample I bet my ass they would match the samples taken at the scenes. I have enough circumstantial evidence now to arrest you and get that warrant,” Steve stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back into his seat.

“So why haven’t you?” Felicity extinguished her cigarette.

“Well there are a couple of reasons. I don’t have motive yet but I can guess it has something to do with that fraternity, specifically Benjamin Roach, Jamaal Washington and Spencer Duvall. I also speculate that William Turner and Carl Huntley could be involved. Those five jocks are thick as thieves and still were until recently,” Steve took another small sip of his drink.

Steve saw Felicity’s jaw tighten when he mentioned the five names.

“There is mounting evidence that those five assholes sexually assaulted women while they were in college and have continued to do so after they left. The victims have either been paid off or are too scared to come forward because they have something they can use against their victims. I’m guessing it will be pictures, videos or even correspondence that might suggest the women were complicit,” Steve searched Felicity’s face for any signs of emotion but she remained passive.

“Did you say they are still doing it? Blackmailing women for sex?” Felicity whispered.

“Well they were before three of them were murdered. Huntley and Turner have taken flight,” Steve offered Felicity another cigarette but she shook her head.

“But so far no one has linked you to the murders except me,” Steve lit up a cigarette.