CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

The club squatted at the ass-end of a grimy side street. Ella cocked a brow at the faded sign hanging askew above the entrance. Pandora”s Toybox. Cute. Probably thought it was real clever, a wink and a nudge to all the dark and dirty delights waiting inside.

‘Looks like this is the place,’ Luca said from the passenger seat.

Ella’s instinct had been wrong, because despite the late hour, Lord Leatherworth wasn’t at home. According to Luca’s quick-fingered research, he was doing a BDSM show at Pandora’s Toybox at one AM tonight. God only knew what a BDSM show entailed.

‘Charming place,’ she drawled. She fished into her pocket for a pack of non-existent cigarettes. Anything to take the edge off, to dull the sense of wrong itching under her skin. Luca grunted, his pretty face pinched tight.

‘Could this Leatherworth guy really be our unsub?’

Ella was in two minds. There was every chance their perp had a connection to the BDSM scene, but would such an unsub be so brazen as to employ the tools of their hobby for homicidal recreation?

‘One way to find out,’ Ella said.

Luca”s lips thinned, but he didn”t argue. Just squared those broad shoulders like a soldier marching into battle and fell into step beside her as they exited the car and approached the club. The door loomed before them in a pockmarked sheet of metal with a slit of a window cut at eye level.

A grate slid open with a rusty shriek, and a pair of piggish eyes peered out at them.

‘Password,’ a voice grunted. Gruff as gravel in a blender.

Ella flashed her badge like a get-out-of-jail-free card. ‘FBI. We’re looking for a gentleman named Lord Leatherworth.” Ella felt a prize fool just speaking the name. He sounded like a villain from some Penny Dreadful.

A pregnant pause followed. ‘Why?’

‘None of your business. Is he inside or not?’

The grate snapped shut and the door swung open on groaning hinges, revealing a slab of beef stuffed into a wifebeater standing in the dingy foyer.

‘Hell if I know, but go ahead,’ the bouncer said. He stepped aside, and Ella breezed past him into the club proper. Or improper, as it were. The joint was a symphony of sights and sounds designed to make good girls gasp and bad boys reach for their wallets. Strobing purples and reds, writhing bodies packed ass to elbow, music throbbing like a tell-tale heart.

And the outfits, Christ on a cracker. Leather and latex, PVC and spandex, all squeaking and straining over bits God never intended to see the light of day. Made Ella uncomfortably aware of her own get-up, with its black-rimmed glasses and split ends in dire need of pruning. Luca sidled up beside her, nursing his own flavors of discomfort, but at least the kid looked the part; clean-cut good looks and a jawline for slicing cucumber. Ella couldn’t help but think of Beauty and the Beast.

Luca leaned into her ear and yelled, ‘We look stupid.’

Just as Luca’s comment registered, a stick-thin young man in a neon bodysuit brushed past her, caressing her knees with what Ella concluded was a horse tail hanging off his backside.

‘You reckon?’

‘Yeah. If our guy is doing a show, he’s probably getting ready somewhere in the back.’

‘Let’s go,’ she shouted over the music. ‘Scope out the talent.’

Luca just nodded, too green to gag. They wove through the throng, Ella”s elbows as sharp as her tongue, carving a path to the stage at the back of the room. Some industrial monstrosity of metal and chains, draped in enough black vinyl to upholster a fleet of hearses.

But what really caught the eye was the curtained-off area just behind it, a slice of shadow hinting at hidden rooms and furtive comings and goings. Ella jerked her chin at it, raised brows asking a question. Luca shrugged, the universal sign for hell if I know, and together they slunk through the crowd, two currents in a river of sin.

Ella flashed her badge as they approach the curtain. The security guard took a closer look, mouthed something to his comrade and then asked, ‘FBI?’

‘Looking for one Lord Leatherworth,’ Ella shouted. The name still felt dumb to say.

‘Leatherworth?’ the guard asked. He looked back at his partner, who nodded and gestured behind the curtain. The guard waved them through.

Ella gave her thanks and slipped past the curtain into the humid hush of the backstage area. Cramped and crowded, smelling like sweat and a few substances that under other circumstances she might care about. In here, the glances fell by the wayside. To unwitting and uncaring performers, they probably just looked like venue staff.

‘Leatherworth,’ Ella called out. In a place like this, she guessed subtly wasn’t a necessity. ‘Anyone seen him?’

A few curious glances, a whispered word here and there. Then a wisp of a woman, sixty if she was a day and dressed like a Power Ranger, jerked her thumb further down the hall.

‘Try the greenroom, sweetheart. Probably polishing his pistol, if you know what I mean.’

Ella didn”t know and didn”t want to. Just grunted her thanks and forged on, Luca sticking close. At the end of the corridor, a single room loomed. Ella pushed inside, and immediately concluded that greenroom was a generous term for the closet she found herself in, barely big enough to swing a cat.

But there, crammed between a ratty couch and a lit-up mirror, was the man of the hour.

And Lord Almighty, was he ever a man. Six-six if he was an inch, biceps like boulders and abs you could bounce a quarter off. Oiled to the gills, skin gleaming like glass. Probably spent more time on his up-do than Ella had in the past fiscal year.

‘Lord Leatherworth?’ she asked, just to be sure. The beefcake beamed, teeth so white they probably glowed in the dark.

‘The one and only,’ he purred. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I”m Agent Dark, this is Agent Hawkins. We”re with the Feds, and we need to ask you some questions.’

That brought him up short, smirk faltering on his fantasy-art face. ”Questions? About what? Listen, sweetie, if this is about that little misunderstanding with the fire inspector...’

‘It”s not,’ Ella cut in. ‘We”re looking into something serious.’

Leatherworth turned away from the mirror and eyeballed his interrogators like two pieces of meat. He gave Ella the once over, but he lingered on Luca for what others might deem an uncomfortable amount of time.

‘I’ve got something serious you can look into,’ Leatherworth smiled at the rookie.

‘Quit the innuendo,’ Luca snapped, ‘or I’ll put something else in your endo. Harry Shepherd. The name ring any bells?’

Leatherworth held his hands up in surrender. ‘Relax, princess. I’m just yanking your chain.’

Poor choice of words, Ella thought as she sized him up. Leatherworth was a hulk, no doubt about it. Judging by those chemically enhanced biceps, he certainly had the strength to choke the life out of three people and haul their bodies into pillory stocks.

But as she considered it, she remembered that both Aleister Morgan and Officer Macklin had said the perp was on the smaller side, maybe a tad overweight and with buzzed hair. Leatherworth here was the polar opposite.

Ella”s eye twitched. On paper, this oiled-up dom wasn’t her unsub. Disappointment crept in, but she kept herself in the game. If this not-so-gentleman knew the victim, he might still have something useful to share.

‘So, you know Harry?’ she asked.

‘Maybe,’ Leatherworth said. ‘What”s it to you?’

‘It”s important, Mr. Leatherworth. Like, life and death important.’

The beefcake just crossed his arms. ‘Sorry doll, no can do. Loose lips sink ships.’

Luca surged forward, that pretty mug set hard as a slab of granite. ‘Yeah? Well how”s this for loose lips - your buddy Harry just turned up deader than disco about an hour ago.’

Bullseye.

Leatherworth reeled like Luca had socked him right in the abdomen. All the color drained out of his face faster than a flushed toilet, leaving him pasty as a corpse in a meat locker.

‘Harry”s...dead?’

Ella just nodded, watching those oil-slicked muscles seem to shrink in on themselves. Suddenly, the guy seemed a lot smaller.

But with the truth out there, Ella saw the raw, ugly anguish of loss on Leatherworth’s expression. It sucked the air out of his lungs, and at the moment, it confirmed that this domination-Casanova wasn’t the psycho she was looking for. The unsub was a squirrelly little goblin, not the Incredible Hulk”s roided-up cousin.

But Leatherworth wasn”t off the hook yet. Not by a long shot. He had secrets locked up in that thick skull, and Ella planned on rattling them loose.

‘So,’ she said, casual as a Sunday stroll. ‘You and Harry.’

‘Harry’s a… client.’

Ella noted the tense. In the wake of an unexpected death, it took a while for the conscious mind to catch up.

‘But he trusted you. Told you things.’

Luca cleared his throat. ‘So you and Harry never...?’

A bark of laughter, more reflex than humor. ‘Please, honey. I”m a dom, not a prostitute. Contrary to popular belief, we can keep it in our pants.’ His gaze raked over Luca, a flash of heat that sent a whole different kind of color rising in the rookie”s cheeks.

‘You saw him recently?’

‘This afternoon, like I do every Friday.’

Ella asked, ‘Anything you can tell us about Harry, anything at all, might help us figure out who might want to hurt him?’

The grief was back, etching lines in that chiseled face that hadn”t been there before. ‘He was a sweetheart. A real gentle soul, y”know? Most the jerks I deal with, it”s all macho posturing, who”s got the biggest hog. But Harry... he just wanted to feel safe. Cared for.’

Ella considered this, held it up to the light of what she knew about the other victims. The loudmouths, the abrasive types who caused ruckuses in pizza shops. Neither Archie nor Georgia wee gentle souls, not until you scraped down to the soft and squishy bits.

‘Did Harry ever talk to you about his life, his problems?’ she asked, grasping for threads.

Leatherworth said, ‘Not really. He was a closed book. Showed up, took his licks, tipped well and toddled off. The only time I ever saw him let his hair down was this one night, he came in half in the bag...”

Ella perked up. ‘Drunk? How”d he act?’

‘A complete one-eighty. Loud, rude, shooting his mouth off to anyone who”d listen. I had to take him aside, sober him up a bit before we could play.’

Well, well. Ella caught Luca”s gaze and held it. Another piece of the puzzle snapping into place. Booze the great equalizer, the skeleton key to the deepest, darkest parts of the psyche.

Leatherworth continued, ‘How’d you connect Harry to me, anyway?’

‘He had your business card in his wallet.’

‘And you think I might have killed him? Why would I do that?’

Ella shot for raw honesty. ‘We don’t think you killed him, but Harry’s death isn’t the only homicide in the past week. There’ve been others, and we believe our perp might have a connection to your… scene.’

‘Is this the… stocks thing?’ Leatherworth asked. ‘I heard rumors. Some girl in the park.’

‘It’s connected.’

Leatherworth pursed his lips and looked up to the ceiling. ‘And you found Harry in stocks too?’

‘Not quite. No torture devices on Harry, but he was restrained.’

Luca stepped up, ‘Mr. Leatherworth, did Harry…’

‘Please, call me Paul,’ the dom chimed in. ‘And before you ask, no. Harry’s tastes were simple. No restraints. Just an over-the-knee thrashing once a week.’

”Not a sniff of torture devices or handcuffs?”

‘Lovelies, you’ve both mentioned torture devices, but you know that stocks are far from that, right?’

Ella paused. Wheels turning. ‘How do you mean?’

Paul regarded Luca from head to toe. Somehow, the man found space to perv in the middle of an interrogation. ‘You ever been in stocks? It’s just a little pressure around the wrists and neck. Not exactly torment.’

Ella could safely say she’d never been in stocks in her life. ‘So, what are they?’

Paul shrugged his oil-slicked shoulders. ‘Humiliation, mostly. I mean, think about it. What”s more degrading than being trussed up like a pig, unable to move while the world gawks and laughs?’ A pause, wheels turning behind those bedroom eyes. ‘It”s about shame, sugarplum. Stripping someone down to their basest bits and putting it all on display.’

Ella rocked back on her heels, pieces clicking together like tumblers in a lock. The vics, the loudmouths and tough-talkers. All choked out and strung up, their darkest vulnerabilities laid bare for all to see.

It wasn”t about the pain. It wasn”t about the kill. It was about the spectacle, the sick theater of it all. Making a mockery of all their bluster and bravado, their pretensions of power.

Luca asked, ‘That’s how they’re used in an SM context?’

‘That’s how they’re used in every context. They’re for bad boys and girls. Nothing torturous about them.’

Ella”s mind whirred like a busted clock. She looked over at her partner. Similar gears were spinning behind those pretty blues and flushed cheeks.

Time to get out of here. Leatherworth wasn’t her man. He didn’t fit the physical profile, and despite his brawn, the man clearly had brains too. He wasn’t stupid enough to embark on a homicidal adventure, least of all with clients who likely had paper trails to him.

‘Paul, thank you for your time. You’ve been a real help.’

The big man nodded, still looking a bit shell-shocked. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.’ He reached out and put a weary hand on Ella’s shoulder. ‘Please find this guy. Harry was sweet as sugar. I know this scene might look bizarre to the outside, but we’re harmless.’

‘Count on it,’ she said.

‘Take care, both of you,’ finished Leatherworth.

Ella exited the greenroom with Luca in tow. They stepped beyond the curtain, out into the club and made their way through the masses.

They were out into the night, where the only eyes on them were the stars.

Ella sucked in a lungful, let it out slow. Watched her breath fog and dissipate.

‘What’s the plan?’ Luca asked.

Images flashed through Ella”s brain in fiendish kaleidoscope - the victims, alive, running those fool mouths. Words weapons, fists without fingers. Then dead, trussed up and displayed. Weaknesses bared, soft bits spiked for all to scoff at.

But if what Leatherworth said was true, then Harry Shepherd was an anomaly.

‘All of our victims pissed our unsub off. That means there’s a connection. Somewhere. He wouldn’t opt for humiliation if there wasn’t a personal reason for it.’

‘Then that’s what we need to find,’ Luca finished.

‘Come on, back to the office. We’re going to unravel this – even if it takes all night.’