The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) 📕

“Not at all. Your roommate offered us wine.” I nod to the bottle and glasses sitting untouched on the table. “Can I pour you a glass?”

It couldn’t hurt to lubricate her memory.

“Please.” She takes the glass from me and downs half of it before opening the take-out cartons and setting in on the noodles and veggies with a pair of chopsticks. “What do you want to know?”

Ignoring her attempt to control the interview, I take out my notebook and pen. “Damon Tiger said Laurel was the one who got the invitation to Pedro and Terri Castillo’s Fourth of July party on Fire Island. Did you know the Castillos before the party?”

Dovie shakes her head. “I don’t know them now. I couldn’t point out either of them if I saw them on the street. Laurel’s firm does something with Mr. Castillo’s firm. That’s all I know.”

That’s not all she knows. As I take her through the night of the party, she knows a great deal more. Or thinks she knows, because not all of her recollections tally with the three other versions of the night’s events that I’ve heard.

“Then he put his belt around Laurel’s neck and dragged her into the bedroom,” Dovie says after she’s recited how she, Laurel, and Damon met Rick.

I tap my pen on my notebook. “You remember Rick putting his belt around Laurel’s neck and dragging her into the bedroom?”

She nods. “That’s what I remember.”

That’s not what Damon, Rick, and Laurel remember. Interestingly, however, that is what’s in EvonneBringsTheTruth’s account.

“Did Rick pick the bedroom?”

Dovie chews a mouthful of noodles, her bright blue eyes cast up as she tries to remember. I’ve read psychological studies that say a right-handed person moving their eyes up and to the left is a sign they’re accessing their left hemisphere, the creative side of the brain, manufacturing an untruth. But in my experience, it’s more an aid to memory, particularly if the person’s memory is fuzzy.

“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” she says. “But I think I did. I’d been talking earlier to the bartender and he said the rooms down the right hallway were for VIPs, the film guys, but the rooms off the left hallway were okay for anyone. I just went down to the first open door on the left.”

I jot that down.

“Once you got in the bedroom, what happened?”

She gives me a sour glare. “They had sex. What do you think happened?”

“I think you took pictures of them having sex.”

A red flush runs along her cheekbones, visible even through her makeup. She jabs her fork into the take-out container, taking out her embarrassment on the hapless noodles. “Yeah, that, too.”

“Were you photographing them from the beginning?”

“Pretty much. I think I turned my phone on as soon as we got in the room.”

“Were you taking video or just single pictures?”

“Pictures. Before we went in, Rick said we couldn’t video. I guess it’s illegal.”

Glad Rick managed to keep his wits about him to that limited extent.

“Is that true?” Dovie asks suddenly, looking at Theo. “Is it illegal in New York?”

“If you were planning on making a porno, yes,” Theo responds. “Production of obscene material. That’s a misdemeanor. If you stick it on the internet, that’s possession with intent to distribute. That’s a felony.”

“Oh.” Dovie swallows hard before she stabs at her noodles again. “I didn’t stick it on the internet.”

Someone did, but we’ll get back to that later.

“While you were taking pictures, did you ever hear Laurel say ‘no,’ or ‘stop,’ or ‘red’?” I ask.

Dovie touches her forehead with her fingertips but doesn’t rub. Mustn’t mess up those careful layers of makeup.

“I don’t remember her saying ‘no’ or ‘stop.’ I’m not sure about ‘red.’ I mean, she might have. I don’t remember.”

I don’t look at Theo. I’ll have other opportunities to press the point home.

“Did it seem like Laurel didn’t want what was happening?”

“Sure.” Dovie takes another deep drink of wine. “Who wants to be hit with a goddamn belt?”

Well, I know a few people.

“What was Laurel’s reaction when Rick hit her with the belt?”

“She moved around a lot. She had a dick down her throat so she couldn’t really scream.”

I’ve had women, and men, scream around my dick plenty of times. And it sounds like I have more to scream around than Damon Tiger.

“At some point when they were having sex, you threw a bunch of money on Laurel’s back. Care to explain that?”

Dovie flushes again and stabs at her noodles. “It was stupid.”

“Were you trying to encourage Rick to have anal sex with Laurel?”

She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, but nods.

“Did he?” I ask.

“No. Dirty bastard pulled out and shot his wad all over my money. Disgusting.”

That is fairly disgusting, I have to admit.

“After Rick came, what happened?”

“It went really bad. Laurel started screaming and Rick slapped her. He shot out of there like his ass was on fire. Damon and I calmed Laurel down and went back to the party.”

“Then what?”

Dovie takes a bite of noodles, chews and shrugs. “I think we stayed for another hour or two and then headed out. Damon and Laurel took the train. He went back into the City. She went home. She was just up for the weekend.”

“Did she get home safely?”

Dovie gives me a puzzled glance. “Yes, why?”

I shrug as if it’s inconsequential. If Laurel didn’t tell Dovie what happened to her, I’m certainly not going to. Particularly since Theo doesn’t know yet.

“How long after the party was it that someone knocked on your door wanting to buy the pictures?” I ask.

Dovie goes back to stabbing her noodles. “Can I have some more wine, please?”

“Sure.” I refill her glass and watch her toss half of it down. “So how long was it?”

“Almost a year.” Dovie sighs. “She contacted me maybe a month ago.”

Gotcha.

“How did she get in touch with you?”

“Email.”

“How did she find you?”

“I posted some comments in a forum. It was a discussion about porn and feminism. There were threads on each of the big