The Party Where They Kill GirlsChapter 3
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The Party Where They Kill GirlsChapter 4 free porn video
I had vague memories. Sara rushing in and screaming. Madeline falling on me with sobs. Then rough, fearful voices. Being carried down the stairs. I recalled a stranger's car and being dumped at a hospital, a small, dingy hospital in Brookline, not a nice place at all.
Then nurses and doctors, bandages and broken bones. Then sleep.
When I awoke, Jenny sat beside my bed and held my hand, my good hand, the hand not in splints.
"Hi sweetie," I said through a bandaged face and swollen lips. "I bet I look ugly."
She didn't agree or disagree. Nor did she smile or frown.
"I was the emergency contact in your cell phone," she said in a flat voice. "When they called and said that my friend 'Amber Darling' had been in an accident, I guessed it was you."
"I'm very sorry."
"Were you raped?"
That was a complicated question. I certainly felt raped. The Painter, the Engineer, they got their rape – by any other name. "Not exactly," I said. "I got beat pretty bad, though."
She released my hand and stood.
"I didn't tell them you were a cop. They called the cops though, the hospital, when they saw your injuries. They want to question me."
"Don't. It would blow my cover."
She walked to the door. "I guess now that you're awake, they can just talk to you and decide if a crime occurred." She paused, facing away from me. "Speaking of which, did a crime occur? Or was this just part of the game?" She worked the latch on the door.
"Jenny..."
"Yes?" She still faced away.
"I'm sorry."
There was another long pause.
"By the way," she said, "your new necklace, the one with the heart, they said they had to cut it off, that it was soldered on. It's in your purse in the drawer." I looked at the drawer. "It's very pretty. Did a man or a woman give it to you, solder it onto you?"
I didn't answer that. She opened the door. "The last time, the Mill's case, I accepted that. I stood by you through it all, all the ugliness, all the sex."
She really didn't need to continue. I remembered every horrible moment of the Mill's case, and I knew all that she would say. But still, she said it.
"But it was with men, and I understood why you had to do it, to get inside. But after they raped you, shot you, and dumped you in the river, I thought that you'd learned, that you'd given your share – more than your share – and that it had taken too much from me."
She walked through the door.
"I won't go through that again."
It was difficult with all the tubes, bandages, and splints, but I got my purse from the drawer. From it, I got my phone. I dialed Green's number.
He answered, "What's up? Make it fast, I'm in a deposition."
"I'm in the hospital. It's bad."
"Hold on." I heard him muttering something to whoever he was with. Then there was a pause. I heard a door close. "Alright. Tell me everything."
I told much, about the party, about the Painter, the Engineer, and the little game they played. Still, nothing about Sara or Madeline.
An hour later, he arrived with Detective Scott in tow.
Green looked away when he saw my face. Scott studied me with a blank stare.
"Okay," he said, "let's go over this again."
I gave it to them again, the abridged version.
"We've never heard of the Engineer or the Painter," Scott said, "or anyone like them."
"Whoever they are," I said, "everyone at the party knew them and were afraid of them. I'm sure they're our guys, and that the Painter is the strangulation guy."
Finally, Green managed to look at me and study my beaten face. "So, I guess that the Engineer is the one who beats his girl to death." Yeah, that seemed painfully obvious. "That leaves one question."
We all kind of said it at the same time. "Who's the cutter?"
"I haven't a clue."
I tried to shrug, but I'm sure it wasn't obvious in the hospital gown and with all of my tubes. Green said, "So, anyhow, so far it's a fine bit of police work, but you've done enough. Please consider this case over for you. Homicide has enough now to start digging."
"Right," Detective Scott said. "But still, I'll need to know more about this Omega person, and the address where this party took place."
I lay quietly until Scott became visibly annoyed. "She's not going to tell me, is she?"
Green shrugged.
"She's hiding something."
"No doubt a girl," Green said. He smiled when my face gave it away. "No matter. Homicide will make do with what it has. We won't ask more from Detective Wimberly." Next, he pulled a chair over next to the bed. "Now, for a serious matter. I assume you haven't told the hospital staff who you are."
"No."
"And I expect they've asked how 'Amber Darling' is going to pay for all of this."
"They've asked."
"Don't worry. You did the right thing keeping quiet, but I'm not letting an officer swing in the wind." I didn't say anything. "But still, if this goes through the normal channels, there will be all kinds of questions from all kinds of people, questions that will be tough to answer" – he paused – "for all of us." Still, I stayed quiet. But he was correct. There'd been many unpleasant questions after the Mill's case, questions that were hard to answer. "Anyhow, I'll make some calls. Some kind of arrangements can be made. In the meantime, keep quiet. I'll put some private feelers into the Norfolk DA's office and see if he knows the director of this hospital."
After their visit, I lay alone in my room for many days while I healed. Green's calls must have worked, for no one bugged me about money, and the nurses seemed slightly nicer. Then I was ready to be released. Again, I called the councilor, they wouldn't let me go unless I had a ride. When he arrived, they wheeled me to his car and he drove me home.
I checked the mailbox and removed a large pile. Then I climbed the creaky stairs to my cold, dark apartment. Jenny's things were gone.
I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. The bandages were off, but the bruises remained. The gaps in my smile remained. And around my eye, where they'd sliced into my face to set and pin the bones, the stitches remained. Some of that could be fixed, perhaps, by Green's magic phone calls to the right people. But bridgework and plastic surgery could only do so much.
I'd seen women after similar beatings, it was part of my job. I'd never be pretty again. I'd probably never get a girl like Jenny again.
I went to my room, lay on my empty bed, and cried for a very long time.
The next day, I put on a big floppy hat and too much makeup and took the train up to Sara's neighborhood. I walked through the crisp air along red-brick sidewalks under awkward looks. I arrived at her building and climbed the stairs. When I knocked on her door, there was no answer. I knocked again and waited. Then I tried my key. She'd given me a key.
The apartment was empty with a thin layer of dust. It seemed quiet, ominous, as if sadness lurked in the still shadows. When I checked her closet, the suitcases were gone. When I looked in the bathroom, their toothbrushes, deodorant, and other sundries were gone.
In a cabinet in the hallway, I found the toolbox with the solder gun. It was hard work alone, but I removed the necklace from my handbag and soldered it back on.
Then I left her apartment and strolled along to Lily's place, where the party had been. I climbed the brick staircase to her heavy old door and knocked.
Lily answered. When she saw my face, she gasped.
"Please come in," she said. She grabbed my elbow and pulled me, glancing each way down her street. "Did anybody follow you?"
"No. At least, not that I noticed."
"Things have gotten really bad since that night. Sara's hiding out."
"Yeah. I was just at her place."
"Look –" She looked at me again and sighed. "Sara is with Madeline, staying at The Independence Hotel. Do you know where that is?"
I nodded. Everyone in Boston knew the Independence, an old jail turned luxury hotel. I knew it better than many others, at least among we normal folk who could never afford to stay there. I'd sauntered through their lobby many times, wearing a tight cocktail dress and fishnets. I'd ridden the elevators – the desk clerks knew to let me right up – and met the unsuspecting johns in their rooms.
We all knew – it was no secret – that the desk clerks were just as quick to let the real call girls in. It was a game we all played.
"I know The Independence."
"Okay," she said. "Then check at the front desk for a Beverly Sommers. And Amber..."
"Yes?"
"Don't get followed. She called for the Engineer and the Painter to be kicked out, and she might make it stick this time."
"Oh?"
"Unless they kill her first."
The doorman gave me an awkward stare, but he opened the door just the same. I walked across a small entranceway and proceeded up the escalator to the lobby. And the lobby, like the lobby of all posh hotels, was a thing to behold, at least half the allure of the place. It had been the central tower of the old jail. It climbed to a grand, gabled ceiling. Along its sides were may balconies looming over marble floors. It doubled as a restaurant and lounge, and its well-dressed patrons milled about or sat on cushioned chairs, sipping cocktails, lolling away the cold Boston morning. I strutted directly to the desk. If anyone recognized me, I'd have been surprised.
As I neared, the desk clerk quickly hid his look of disdain. They were good at that, desk clerks at luxury hotels. He rested his hands flat on the desk. "How may I help you?"
"I'm here to see Beverly Sommers."
"Very good. Is she expecting you?"
"That's complicated. Would you ring her room and tell her Amber Darling is in the lobby."
He blinked. Then he picked up his phone and dialed, and no doubt I was not the strangest thing he'd seen that week. After a brief conversation, he said, "You can go right up. Room 1134."
I went up.
They must have waited by the door, for as soon as I drew near, it popped open and Madeline rushed out. But when she saw me, got a good look at my brutalized face, she stopped short. Her eyes got wide. Horror. "Oh Robin!"
Sara stood in the doorway and watched.
"Hi Madeline," I said. "I'm sorry – about how I look."
She stepped back, reaching behind for her aunt.
"Madeline!" Sara said.
The girl stood, poised between me and Sara. I pulled the brim of my hat down over my face. She began to cry. "Oh Robin!" It came out between sobs. Her whole body seemed to slump.
Sara stepped out and glanced back and forth down the hall. "Please come inside."
I put my hand on sweet Madeline. "Come on, dear, let's go inside."
Madeline kept crying, but she let me lead her in. Sara closed the door behind us. Then she stepped up behind me and got close. She touched me, just on the arm, but a touch all the same. "I'm so sorry Robin." I reached behind and searched for her hand. I found it. She squeezed. "Let's sit."
I led Madeline to the bed and we sat side by side. Sara pulled up a chair opposite us and plopped down. She looked up at me, at the brim of my hat.
"Can I see?"
I took off the hat and set it next to me on the bed. Then I looked directly at Sara. She looked directly back.
"That's gonna leave a mark." She let half-smile cross her face. Then she let it drift away when I didn't return the smile. Her look turned serious. "I see."
We looked at each other. Madeline fidgeted.
Then Sara turned to her niece. "Madeline, dear, how do think Robin feels right now?"
Madeline shrugged, but didn't say anything. Sara gave her a hard stare and arched her brows. A moment passed, then Madeline said, "Bad."
"Right. She probably feels bad. How do you think it made her feel when you looked at her and stepped away?"
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