A Dish Best Served Cold - Chapter 3

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Chapter Three – Hamburger Mary’s

The investigation into the murder of Spencer Duvall had stalled. Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington and William Turner had lawyered-up and refused to be interviewed and as they all came from privileged, influential families and could not be directly implicated in Spencer Duvall’s murder the judge refused to issue a subpoena to compel them.

Penelope left Silvia Bickle and Alice Leasingham to re-examine all of the evidence and police reports and decided to drive up to Balwyn College and see what she could find out about the five men that might assist their investigation.

Without a warrant or a subpoena she was pretty much powerless. The Dean of the college and the Executive Board of the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity had refused her request for a meeting claiming that the men had left the college over ten years ago. They had no interest in opening old wounds or in any way connecting the college to Spencer Duvall’s murder.

She tried to spring a surprise visit on the Dean but his secretary proved to be an impenetrable gate keeper who protected him from unwanted visitors such as she. Penelope was ushered off the site of the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity house when she tried to enter to speak to anyone who may have been employed there when the five men were pledged to the fraternity.

Penelope gave up and decided to grab a coffee at the campus cafeteria before the half-hour drive back to Police Plaza. She was staring into her coffee cup when the chair beside her screeched on the tiled floor as someone pulled it back.

She looked up to see a tall thirty-something raven-haired woman in a black pantsuit. She was stunningly beautiful with blue eyes and full lips which were accentuated by red lipstick. The woman sat down uninvited and put her venti latte on the table and pulled in her chair.

“Melissa Doyle, I teach business and economics,” the woman held out her hand.

Her fingers were long and delicate and her long nails were professionally manicured and painted the same colour as her lipstick.

Penelope took the proffered hand.

“Detective Penelope Bishop, Balwyn PD,” Penelope shook the woman’s hand.

“I know who you are. The college is a rumour mill,” Melissa sipped her coffee.

“I can’t talk to you here. I have tenure,” Melissa looked anxiously around the cafeteria.

“You look pretty fit. Do you run?” Penelope asked.

Melissa gave Penelope a quizzical look.

“I like to run the track around City Park. I’ll be at the fountain at six this afternoon,” Penelope stood up and picked up her disposable coffee cup and put the lid on it.

“Yeah… I run,” Melissa gathered her things and left.

The women walked away in different directions.

Melissa had put her jet-black hair into a ponytail which she threaded through the back of her ballcap. She looked even more stunning clad in body-hugging black lycra. She was running on the spot when Penelope jogged into the square adjacent to the fountain. Penelope smiled when she saw that Melissa was still wearing full makeup.

“Are those two assholes still checking out my ass?” she asked Penelope when she jogged up to her.

The question caught Penelope off guard but she looked over Melissa’s shoulder and saw two men dressed in running clothes pretending to tie their shoelaces while they examined Melissa’s rump clad in skin-tight lycra.

“Yep they are, although one of them seems to have switched his attention to my tits,” Penelope was now running on the spot with Melissa.

“You wanna have some fun?” Melissa gave Penelope a mischievous grin but Penelope looked perplexed.

Melissa stopped jogging and stepped into Penelope and pulled her close and kissed her passionately. Penelope was shocked at first but she could feel every curve of Melissa’s body and her lips were soft and inviting. Melissa took Penelope’s hand and put it on her ass.

Melissa broke the kiss as suddenly as she had initiated it. She turned to face the two men who were still kneeling, slack-jawed at what they had just witnessed.

“You two limp-dicks don’t stand a chance with two fine looking pieces of ass like us so take your droopy noodles and get the fuck out of here,” Melissa screeched at the two men and gave them the finger with both hands.

One of them got to his feet and looked like he was about to approach the two women but Penelope whipped her badge out of her fanny pack and flashed it at him.

“Fuck off needle dick!” she hissed.

The two men fell over each other as they scrambled to run away. Penelope and Melissa broke up with laughter.

“Come on,” Melissa took off at a steady pace selecting a running track that meandered through the trees.

Penelope caught up and ran beside her.

“Like I said I have tenure at the college so I don’t want to be seen talking to you,” Melissa began.

Penelope decided to remain silent and just let Melissa talk.

“I got my degree in Business Administration at Balwyn College and stayed on and joined the teaching staff when I got my Doctorate. It’s a good college with good people running it but it wasn’t always the case,” Melissa explained.

“In my sophomore year I took up cheerleading. It wasn’t as a means to meet the jocks as so much as to keep fit but don’t get me wrong some of those football players were hot.”

“I started dating Benjamin Roach and he treated me nice. He was very respectful to me. A couple of the other cheerleaders warned me to be careful but I just assumed they were jealous. Believe it or not I was still a virgin.”

“Ben wooed me and swept me off my feet. I decided to give him my virginity and we went away for the weekend to Houston. The city was beautiful; vibrant and exciting but we stayed in this shitty motel on the outskirts, which pissed me off a little because I knew that Ben had money.”

“The first evening I was getting dressed for dinner. I wanted to look nice for him because he was taking me to a swank restaurant in the city. It was going to my first time. He came into the bedroom while I was still in my underwear and began to kiss and fondle me. At first I struggled. I wanted my deflowering to be after a nice romantic dinner but he was insistent and to be honest he got me hot and I figured I was going to do it anyway so why worry about waiting until after dinner.”

“I have to admit that it was nice. He was gentle and considerate and experienced and he did things to me that took me to places I had never been.”

“Carl Huntley was outside filming it through the bedroom window,” Melissa stopped talking for a while and all Penelope could hear was her laboured breathing.

“He, Spencer Duvall and William Turner burst into the bedroom and at first I thought it was a prank. I dived under the covers. I expected Ben to tell his friends to leave, to fight for my honour I suppose. I was so young and so stupid.”

“Instead he said ‘She’s all yours boys; I’ve popped her cherry’ and helped drag me out from under the covers. They kept me in that shitty motel room all weekend taking turns or going at me together. They made me drink liquor and take drugs, half the time I didn’t know where I was.”

“They did things to me. They did things to me that made me ashamed of myself because I liked some of what they were doing. They had their phones out some of the time and filmed a lot of it. I had to wear stockings and high heels the whole weekend and they had brought sexy lingerie and made me wear it.”

“I was in shock during the drive back to the campus, folded up in the passenger seat while Ben drove. He tossed a tablet in my lap and told me to look at it. The video had been edited. Anyone who looked at it would think that I was a willing participant in a gangbang.”

“He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He had the audacity to take me to his student digs and fuck me one last time. He performed cunnilingus on me until I screamed with lust as I came and then he fucked me and god help me I came again.”

“I hated myself and I lived in constant fear that they would show that video to someone. I left the cheerleading team and became a virtual recluse until I graduated. By then the five of them had long gone but to this day I still worry that the video might come to light.”

“Benjamin Roach was the ringleader but Spencer Duvall and the others were complicit. I’m guessing that your interest in the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity is related to those five scumbags. Jamaal Washington wasn't at the lodge but he was a member of their clique. If it was a woman like me who killed Spencer then I’m sorry but I hope you don’t catch her,” Melissa stopped running and bent over, putting her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath.

She had been steadily increasing the pace, running faster and faster as she told her story and Penelope was glad that they had finally stopped running.

The women sat down on a park bench panting and sweating. Melissa’s makeup had run and she had dark rings around her eyes. Penelope couldn’t tell if her mascara was smeared by perspiration or tears.

“I knew there had been others before me and that there would be others after. It was too well organised and they were stupid enough to brag about some of the others in front of me. I knew I should have reported them. I blame myself for those that came after me,” Melissa was still catching her breath and her speech was staccato.

“They're rich and entitled and I was poor and they had the video. I wondered if they deliberately targeted vulnerable girls.” Melissa sighed, her breathing was returning to normal.

Penelope decided it was time to speak.

“They didn’t stop after they left college. We think they're still using the same MO to entrap women and you are right in assuming that we suspect that Spencer Duvall may have tried it once too often with the wrong woman,” Penelope took Melissa’s hand.

“But you can’t blame yourself for the others,” Penelope gently squeezed Melissa’s hand.

“I haven’t been with a man since. I just don’t trust them. I’ve never had a steady girlfriend either, just one night stands… of my god... now I’m blathering,” Melissa snatched her hand away but Penelope put her arm around her shoulder and hugged her.

It was getting on dusk and the two women suddenly realised that they were alone in a remote area of the park.

“I’ve felt dirty ever since it happened and even though I know I’m not, I feel ugly. Ugly inside,” Melissa snatched her ballcap off her head.

Penelope released Melissa's ponytail and allowed her jet-black locks to fall around her shoulders. Penelope stroked Melissa's hair.

“You are not ugly; you are beautiful,” Penelope comforted her.

“You don’t know me,” Melissa sniffed.

“I’m a detective, which makes me a very good judge of character and I’m a woman who has more than her fair share of emotional baggage so I know how you feel,” Penelope lifted Melissa’s chin so she could look into her eyes.

“I suppose that’s possible. I don’t know you but I know of you,” Melissa held Penelope’s gaze.

Penelope frowned.

“I have a Doctorate Penelope. It’s in my nature to study and investigate. I know who you are and what you’ve done, it’s all in the public domain,” Penelope explained.

“What’s in the public domain isn’t everything,” Penelope whispered.

“I know you’ve been through a lot and that your life has been difficult but you seem so together,” Melissa absentmindedly stroked Penelope’s hand which was still resting on her shoulder.

“See. I’m proof that you can overcome your demons,” Penelope gave her a wry smile.

Melissa leaned in and pressed her lips against Penelope’s and Penelope jerked her head away. The look of disappointment on Melissa’s face was heart-breaking.

“I’m sorry. I misconstrued the situation. I’m so stupid. Why would you want to kiss me?” Melissa bowed her head.

Penelope felt awful. This woman had been robbed of her self-respect and had lived with self-loathing for ten years and Penelope was treating her exactly as Melissa expected to be treated.

Penelope pulled Melissa to her feet and pushed her against a sturdy oak. Melissa looked confused but then Penelope pressed her body against Melissa's and kissed her.

At first Melissa was bewildered and then she reacted instinctively. She put her arms around Penelope and returned the kiss opening her mouth to accept Penelope’s tongue.

Penelope felt a tang of guilt and regret at what she was doing. She had not cheated on Bradley Wilson since she became sober but they had never stated that they were exclusive to each other and she was not cheating with another man. She could sense the need radiating from Melissa and rejecting her now would be an act of cruelty. Penelope compartmentalised her feelings for Bradley and concentrated on the moment.

Penelope had not been with a woman for a long time and the feel of Melissa's bumps and curves, her soft skin, the feminine smell of her body, brought back memories long forgotten.

The two women existed only for each other at that moment in time. They were alone in a quiet copse deep in the forest with twilight falling around them. They pressed their bodies against each other to combat the chill in the air. Sweat from their run had dried on their flesh and Penelope tasted the saltiness of it as her lips when she explored Melissa’s cheek, the hollow of her neck and her earlobe, which she nipped gently.

Melissa gasped and pressed her body harder against Penelope. Their breasts squished together, nipples hardening under their spandex sports tops. It was Melissa who pushed her fingers under Penelope’s shirt, her long nails raking the tender flesh as she sought out Penelope’s breasts. She found Penelope’s teats engorged and she pressed her lips back on Penelope’s mouth and used her tongue while her fingers stroked and tweaked Penelope’s nipples.

Penelope drew in her breath harshly as rings of delight radiated from her breasts.

“Oh fuck!” Penelope pushed Melissa against the tree and disentangled herself from their embrace long enough to pull off Melissa’s sports top and training bra whist Melissa did the same to her.

Their hair was tussled, their makeup ruined, their skin was clammy with sweat and they stank of perspiration comingled with their perfume. They gazed into each other’s eyes and saw not only lust, they saw need, they saw yearning and they also saw trust.

The two women fell on each other, pawing at each other’s breasts, lips locking, tongues entwining; gasping, mewing and moaning as darkness fell. Melissa could feel the rough bark of the oak abrading the skin on her back. Penelope could feel the delicious sting of Melissa's fingernails grazing her tender flesh.

Melissa hooked her leg around Penelope’s and clung to her to keep her balance as she pressed her pubic mound against Penelope’s. She slipped her hand down there and pressed it between Penelope’s legs. Penelope pressed her hand to Melissa’s pubis and she imagined she could feel the heat radiating from her cunt. She could feel the folds and contours of Melissa’s sex through the spandex.

“Where is it? I want it! I need it!” Melissa was gasping, almost crying as she pawed at Penelope’s crotch.

Penelope knew what Melissa wanted. She didn’t tape when she wore her close-fitting spandex tights. She simply retracted her testes into her inguinal canals and tucked her penis along her perineum. She took Melissa's hand in hers and pushed it inside the waistband of her tights and guided it between her legs.

Melissa gasped when she felt the girth of Penelope’s penis tucked back between her legs. Penelope tensed and relaxed her cremaster muscle and allowed her testes to descend into her scrotal sac. Melissa suddenly found her hand filled with Penelope’s scrotum and semi-engorged penis.

Penelope pushed her hand inside Melissa’s tights and found her pubis steamy and wet. She struggled to push her finger between Melissa’s labia so she could find her clitoris.

“Fuck this!” Penelope gasped and disengaged briefly.

She pulled Melissa’s tights down to her knees and then pulled down her own. Melissa caught a glimpse of Penelope's rampant penis before Penelope pressed her body against her. The last time Melissa had felt a cock against her flesh she had felt repulsed by it but the feel of Penelope’s hard flesh on her belly only excited her. She reached for it, measuring its girth with her fingers, cupping Penelope’s scrotum to feel the weight of her balls, returning her fingers to Penelope’s phallus and stroking the meaty corpulence.

Penelope parted the folds of Melissa's sex and found that she was wet. She used a fingertip to pull back her clitoral hood and gently manipulated the tender nubbin. Melissa hissed into Penelope’s mouth and Penelope smiled. It had been a long time but she still had the touch. She stroked Melissa's clitoris and eased two fingers into her vagina. Melissa squeezed Penelope’s penis and began to stroke it.

They fell to the forest floor; the fallen leaves a soft bed. The sweet smell of decaying foliage mingled with the musk of their perspiration and the piquant odour of Melissa's cunt. Their tights were gathered around their knees and they were still wearing their running shoes but neither of them was willing to cease what they were doing.

Penelope managed to thread her legs between Melissa's and mount her. Melissa reached between their bodies frantically trying to find Penelope’s cock and when she did she guided it to her sex and arched her back to drive Penelope’s cock deep into her steamy cleft.

The two women clung to each other, kissing, biting, scratching, as they writhed in the dunes of autumn leaves. They moaned and sighed and groaned, pressing their bodies so tight that they were one. Melissa’s snug vagina clung to Penelope’s cock as she drove it in and out, grinding her pubis against Melissa's clitoris. They felt the need, the yearning, and the desperation radiating from each other as they fucked.

Penelope pulled Melissa hard against her as she ejaculated deep inside her. Melissa wrapped her arms and legs around Penelope and pressed herself as hard as she could against Penelope, wanting to feel the softness of her breasts and the hardness of her cock as Penelope disgorged her scalding seed inside her. A momentous orgasm washed over her and Melissa began to sob and laugh simultaneously.

Penelope clung to Melissa and silenced her cries by pressing her mouth over Melissa’s and kissing her passionately. The two women held onto each other desperately and lovingly as they crested the waves of their climaxes and began to descend into the peaceful nirvana of post-coital bliss.

They lay in each other’s arms as much to keep warm as to seek comfort. Neither of them was in a rush to end their tryst. Finally the cold won out and there was an embarrassing moment as they tried to disengage from each other with their tights bunched around their knees. They pulled them up, put on their sports bras and found their shirts. They both blushed as they brushed the leaves off their clothing and put on their ballcaps.

Penelope eased Melissa back against the oak and kissed her softly.

“That was wonderful,” Penelope whispered.

“Please tell that it wasn't a pity fuck,” Melissa searched Penelope’s emerald green eyes.

“It wasn’t a pity fuck,” Penelope sighed.

“But that’s where this ends. You’re not technically a witness but I’m stretching the rules, besides I’m in a relationship with a wonderful man,” Penelope brushed a stay leaf from Melissa's hair.

“Do you feel guilty?” Melissa caressed Penelope’s cheek.

“No, not at all. What we just did was wonderful and had meaning; it wasn’t just debauchery. I will cherish the memory but it can’t happen again,” Penelope sighed.

“I will cherish the memory too. I’ve wanted to feel someone inside me for so long. I’ve fantasised about being taken by a big cock but every time I’m near a man I freeze. You’ve fulfilled my fantasy Penelope and I’m grateful,” Melissa grinned cheekily.

“Glad to be of help. I hope you get everything you deserve. You are beautiful,” Penelope kissed Melissa one last time and then she jogged away back the way they had come.


Felicity Benson looked at herself in the mirror and applied the last touches to her makeup. She was in a suite at the Lancaster Hotel in Houston. Felicity was guest hosting at Hamburger Mary’s all week but to her it was just a legitimate excuse to make the trip to Houston. When Panti Down had offered Felicity the gig she had seen it as her destiny, her opportunity to continue her reign of revenge.

Finding Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington on Secret Singles had been easy and any caution she thought they might have exercised after the demise of their friend Spencer Duvall in suspicious circumstances had been thrown to the wind when she had DM’d them both to see if they were interested in a threesome. Maybe they thought that they were safe in Houston or maybe they were just stupid; it didn’t matter to Felicity, she was more concerned with how she was going to take down two strong healthy men.

Jamaal booked a room at a fleabag hotel just outside of the city. It was a place where the men regularly took women they intended to use either with or without their consent. Predators such as they were creatures of habit. It was far enough out of town to be discreet as both Benjamin and Jamaal were married and well known amongst Houston’s high society. It was something they were used to doing; something they had control over and they were comfortable with the situation.

Felicity drove her rental to the no-tell motel and parked across the road at a road-side diner and truck stop. She doubted the motel had surveillance cameras but you could never be too sure. She flicked open her burner phone and sent a text to Jamaal ‘I’m here honey’. He texted back immediately ‘room 102’.

She knocked on the door to room 102 to find Benjamin and Jamaal dressed only in their jockey shorts. They were both sporting erections in anticipation.

“Come in gorgeous, long time no see,” Jamaal grinned.

Felicity had set up a bogus profile on Secret Singles identifying herself as a trans woman and when Ben and Jamaal had responded positively to her DMs she had told them that she had been with them both a long time ago in college. They too were using fake names but they had posted real pictures of themselves in their profiles. It was common practice on a website specifically designed for cheaters.

Felicity had reminded them both of the time they had held her captive in their frat house and ravaged her. She had told them that she had been ashamed that she had enjoyed what happened to her and had been secretly fantasising about it for all these years. When she found them with linked profiles on Secret Singles she was surprised but elated and really wanted to do it all again.

They had taken the bait. Men were so stupid. They thought with their dicks and any form of flattery and the anticipation of a fine piece of ass was enough for them to throw caution to the wind.

Felicity was wearing a black mini-skirted cocktail dress, flesh-toned sheer pantyhose and fuck-me heels. She had tucked her natural hair under a stocking cap and wore a flaming-red lace-front bouffant wig. Being a drag queen was licence to slip in and out of disguise. Her makeup was heavy and provocative: overdone eyeliner and mascara, 301 false eyelashes, glitter eyeshadow, red rouge and bright red lipstick. She looked more like a hooker than a drag queen which was exactly the effect she was looking for. It made her look slutty but also acted as a form of disguise if she were seen.

The men reached for her but Felicity evaded them long enough to carefully put her purse down on the coffee table. She did not want them to hear the clunk as she lowered her black clutch onto the glass-topped table.

Felicity turned around and opened her arms invitingly and the two men grabbed her and threw her on the bed. They wasted no time; they were horny and impatient for relief. Felicity had promised them that she would stay the night so they could take their time defiling her but for now they wanted instant gratification and Felicity was more than willing to give it to them.

The expectation and anticipation of taking revenge on her assailants had for some reason made her incredibly horny.

“I knew that you really liked what we did to you all those years ago,” Benjamin Roach grinned at her as he shucked out of his underpants.

“You squealed like a whore when I was fuckin’ your ass bitch! You was begging for it,” Jamaal Washington grinned just as stupidly as he dropped his drawers to reveal a magnificent erect cock.

“Stop bragging and get on this bed and fuck me!” felicity hiked up her dress to show that she was wearing no panties under her sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose.

Ben climbed on first. He was still the leader of the gang and took his spoils first. He pinned Felicity to the bed and lay on top of her kissing her and ripping open the bodice of her dress so he could get to her breasts. He fondled them roughly as he drove his tongue into her mouth.

“Let me get out of this dress,” Felicity struggled underneath him and he relented.

He and Jamaal pulled the dress over her head, tossed it aside and began to ravage her.

Jamaal put his arm under her waist and positioned her on her hands and knees, pushing down on the small of her back so that Felicity’s ass was raised while Benjamin scooted around front of her on his knees so that his crotch was level with her face. Felicity smiled when Jamaal ripped open her pantyhose. She knew that her pink puckered bud, glistening with the lubricant she had put there, would look inviting to Jamaal.

She felt him nestle his glans in her crinkle and braced as Jamaal gripped her shoulders and thrust.

She wanted to scream but when Felicity opened her mouth, Benjamin stuffed his engorged phallus into it. Jamaal was at least considerate enough to let Felicity get used to accommodating his huge organ and while she did so she softly suckled Benjamin’s cock, lapping at the precum dribbling from the eye.

Felicity signalled that she was ready by wriggling her buttocks and Jamaal began to slowly fuck her, his cock lighting up her pleasure centres.

“Damn bitch, you still tight!” Jamaal sighed.

“She knows how to suck a cock too,” Benjamin said as Felicity used her mouth expertly on his throbbing penis.

“I’m gonna cum man! She’s too tight and I’m too horny,” Jamaal groaned.

“Come in me! Come in me you black stallion! Fuck me hard! We got all night so you can do it again and again if you wanna but I wanna feel your hot jizz in my ass now!” Felicity goaded him, wriggling her buttocks invitingly, clenching her anus around his shaft.

She slavered on Ben’s cock and felt it begin to quiver and she knew that he was close to extremis too. Felicity would never admit to anyone how decadently wanton and impassioned she felt being defiled by these two big men. She hated them with all her heart but they elicited carnal desires that ran deep.

“Oh god!” Jamaal gripped Felicity’s hips and drove his cock all the way inside her and she felt it engorge to the point where she thought it would tear her ass apart and then she felt it begin to judder as Jamaal blasted her anus with steady streams of hot spend.

At the same time Ben spewed his issue into her mouth, filling her cheeks as she struggled to swallow the salty splooge. Felicity orgasmed without even touching herself; filling the gusset of her pantyhose with creamy semen. She bucked and pushed back against Jamaal whilst slavering at Ben’s cock, draining every drop of his issue.

Felicity collapsed under the weight of Jamaal’s body and Ben’s cock slipped from her mouth. Jamaal ground himself against Felicity’s body until the last of his load was expended in her bowels and then lay on top of her exhausted.

Ben climbed off the bed and put on his jockeys and Felicity heard the clink of glass as he poured drinks. Jamaal lay on top of her panting, trying to catch his breath, his cock still buried inside her but beginning to deflate. When he pushed himself up off her she was grateful; she could finally breathe without struggling. She felt Jamaal’s cum dribble from her sphincter and run down her thighs onto the sheets.

She rolled over to see Ben sitting in a scarred chair sipping bourbon and Jamaal, still naked, cutting lines of cocaine on the glass top table.

Felicity pushed herself off the bed and went over to the table and picked up her clutch.

“You wanna drink or a couple of lines?” Ben asked.

“I sure do but let me fix my makeup and clean up a little. It’s going to be a long night,” Felicity smiled down at him and then lowered her face to his and kissed him passionately.

“It sure is honey and I’m fucking you next. I want you to film that for me Jamaal. I want a souvenir of me fucking the hot tranny,” Ben chuckled.

Felicity ignored him and went into the bathroom and locked the door.

She looked at her face in the mirror and was disgusted with what she saw. Hate and self-loathing surfaced from deep inside her. It festered and boiled over until the mirror clouded in a crimson mist and she could hardly breathe; her body was shaking as if she had palsy. She forced herself to take deep breaths and get her breathing under control and the shaking stopped, which was just as well.

There was no way she was going to be able to physically overcome the men waiting outside for her and even they wouldn’t be stupid enough to let her use the handcuffs on them that she had seen in the carrybag full of sex toys they had emptied on the couch.

Felicity unzipped her clutch and removed the Glock 42 .380 from inside it. The gunsmith had told her that it was an extremely compact pocket pistol; an ideal weapon for a woman to carry in her purse. He had rubbed his body against hers when he took her out back to the two-lane indoor range where he taught her to shoot the gun one handed.

“Look it doesn’t have the stopping power of larger calibre pistols and you only have six in the mag and one in the chamber but for close-range self-defence it will do fine if you get in close and double-tap the mother fucker,” the gunsmith pumped her ass twice to emphasise his point.

Felicity gave him an inviting look and made him a proposition which if taken poorly would have ended up with her being in the back of a police cruiser in handcuffs but she was an excellent judge of character.

The gunsmith had locked the door to the range and Felicity had bent over the firing table and pulled her tight jeans down to her knees to facilitate access and the gunsmith had pulled aside her pretty pink panties and buggered her until he came.

In return she paid cash for the gun, ammunition, a spare magazine and a suppressor, without producing ID or filling in the Firearms Transaction Record or undergoing a background check. She knew that she had overpaid and had to put up with the sticky mess in her panties while she drove all the way back to Balwyn from San Antonio but she was satisfied with the transaction.

Felicity kicked off her high heels so that she would be steady on her feet. She screwed the suppressor to the barrel, took a deep breath and came out of the bathroom with the Glock extended as she had been taught. Benjamin and Jamaal were sitting side by side drinking and were taken completely by surprise when she put three rounds each into their centres of mass.

The gunshots weren’t that loud but to Felicity they sounded like a cannon. She quickly checked the men’s bodies, surprised at how little blood was visible on their torsos. She was no expert and couldn’t be sure they were dead. She went back to the bathroom and took the spare magazine out of her clutch and slammed it into the Glock and came back out into the room and put the gun against Jamaal’s temple and pulled the trigger twice. She did the same with Benjamin.

She felt no remorse whatsoever as she dressed, put on her heels, wiped down as many surfaces as she could and double-checked that she hadn't left anything behind. She took out her lipstick and went back into the bathroom to complete one final chore then she came back out. The motel room reeked of gunsmoke, sex, blood and booze. She opened the door a crack and seeing that the coast was clear she stepped outside. Halfway across the parking lot she passed a rat-faced seedy-looking man who leered at her but she ignored him.

She crossed the highway to the truck stop diner and drove back to the Lancaster Hotel where she went back to her room, showered and changed and was able to make the last show at Hamburger Mary’s where she performed her gig without a hitch.

Driving back to Balwyn the next day she made a slight detour and tossed the gun, the spare magazine, the remaining ammunition and the suppressor into Lake Conroe along with the burner phone she had used to solicit the two men.


Penelope and her team continued to work Spencer Duvall’s murder. She had the two Steve’s re-interview everyone and anyone who had anything to do with the case which gave them justification to swindle free drinks and food from the establishments they visited.

Steve Edwards was disappointed to find that Felicity Goodnite was not at Ride em’ Cowgirl but away on tour. He interviewed another queen named Panti Down who was also a looker but she resisted his charms. Jill Graham the bartender stuck to her guns that Spencer had left the club alone after a couple of drinks.

Alice Leasingham, Silvia Bickle and Penelope Bishop went back over all of the evidence they had. They were convinced that Spencer Duvall had been murdered by someone he had sexually assaulted. The forensic evidence from the crime scene suggested that was at least one woman present: the hair and the makeup they found attested to that along with the murder weapon being a nylon stocking. There was also another man present, evidenced by the non-secretor semen found at the scene.

The semen could have come from Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington, or William Turner but they were refusing to cooperate and their DNA and fingerprints were not on file except for Carl Huntley’s which they then excluded.

Penelope was becoming convinced that there was another member of the fraternity at Spencer Duvall’s house but she couldn’t prove it. And if there was, why didn’t he intervene or report the murder? Was he complicit? Had there been a falling out? She bounced these questions off Silvia Bickle who was as stymied as Penelope.

“What are you doing for dinner tonight girlfriend?” Silvia had that look about her that indicated to Penelope that she was in love… again.

“I don’t know Silvia, what am I doing for dinner tonight?” Felicity baited her partner.

“You and Brad are joining me and my new girlfriend at Bentley’s at seven thirty, that’s what,” Silvia smiled her sweetest smile.

“Yeah, we can do that. Should I bring a U-Haul or will your girlfriend bring her own?” Penelope ducked under the stapler that Silvia threw at her.

Silvia was living proof that the trope about lesbians falling in love and moving in with each other on the second date was true. She had been through a succession of live-in girlfriends ever since Penelope had met her. Not that Penelope could throw stones, she had been outwardly promiscuous until she had met Bradley Wilson and sobered up.

Penelope and Bradley were seated at their table at Bentley’s patiently awaiting Silvia and her date. She was drinking a club soda and Bradley was drinking white wine. He had told Penelope that he was willing to give up alcohol all together if she found it uncomfortable but she told him she had the drinking problem not him. He should not deny himself the pleasure of having a drink just because she couldn’t.

“Here they are. Jesus! What a stunner,” Bradley exclaimed and nodded over Penelope’s shoulder.

Penelope turned around and saw a tall thirty-something raven-haired woman in a black evening gown on the arm of Silvia Bickle. She was stunningly beautiful with blue eyes and full lips which were accentuated by red lipstick. It was Melissa Doyle.

Penelope was speechless and just jabbered incoherently when Silvia introduced her date. She gave Melissa a ‘what-the-fuck?’ look to which Melissa responded with a whimsical smile.

“Where did you two meet?” Penelope asked pointedly when they were settled and had ordered their entrees.

“Melissa teaches business administration and economics at the college but the staff gymnasium is undergoing repairs and I met her when she came to my gym,” Sylvia squeezed Melissa’s hand.

“It was a meet-cute. I literally bumped into her on my way to my spin class which it turned out she was also attending,” Melissa smiled coyly.

“What a coincidence,” Penelope returned Melissa's caustic grin.

When Melissa excused herself between courses to use the bathroom Penelope followed her. Checking that the stalls were vacant she pushed Melissa up against the wall.

“What the fuck Melissa? It was literally a one night stand!” Penelope hissed.

“I don’t know what you mean Penelope? My meeting Silvia was a coincidence… a lovely coincidence,” Melissa smiled down at Penelope.

“You just happen to start fucking my partner right after I fucked you in the park! You know you could get me fired? It was an informal interview but I was still interviewing you as a potential witness,” Penelope said seriously.

“I suppose I could get you fired if anyone was to find out. You look beautiful tonight by the way. I love the way you’re wearing your hair off one shoulder and that red dress is stunning. Very Jessica Rabbit,” Melissa leaned in to kiss Penelope who turned away.

“What the fuck are you up to?” Penelope stepped back from Melissa.

“If I can’t be with the woman I want I’ll settle for being with her best friend,” Melissa put a finger in her mouth and pouted.

“You’re crazy,” Penelope shook her head.

“You're not the first man or woman who has told me that. That’s what I like about you Penelope. You have the beauty and the instincts of a woman but you have all of the functionality of a man,” Melissa made a vain attempt to grab Penelope’s crotch.

“Go and finish your dinner, we can catch up later,” Melissa waggled her fingers at Penelope and went into one of the stalls and shut the door.

“Loopy cunt!” Penelope hissed and left the bathroom.

It was a week later that Gary Rasmussen called Penelope and said for her and Silvia to get their asses into his office. Houston PD had called him and told him that they had found Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington murdered in a sleazy hotel on the outskirts of the city.


“Tough titty said the kitty,” Steve Edwards said to Penelope and grinned.

She had been griping because Gary Rasmussen had told her take Detective Edwards instead of Silvia Bickle with her to Houston because Steve had connections there from his days serving in the Houston PD.

Silvia was even more pissed than Penelope because Melissa was attending a Law, Business, and Economics Workshop seminar at the University of Houston and she was hoping to catch up with her new lover but Gary Rasmussen had said a firm no. He wasn't paying his officers to take vacations he was paying them to investigate and Steve Edwards was better suited in this case because of his knowledge of local law enforcement.

“You’ll be fed to the kitty if you don’t get your fuckin’ feet off my dash,” Penelope pushed Steve’s size nines off the BMW’s dash.

She had elected to take her own car instead of one of Balwyn PD’s ancient town cars.

Steve stretched his long legs and looked down at the file on his lap. Ordinarily this would have been an ideal ruse to stare at Penelope’s long shapely pantyhose-clad legs but today was one of the rare occasions that she had elected to wear a pantsuit and he thought, rightly, that it might have something to do with him being her travelling companion. Back in her days of alcoholic promiscuity she vaguely remembered being bent over her car in the parking lot of The Longhorn, Balwyn city’s cop bar, with Steve Edwards behind her lifting her skirt.

She couldn’t remember whether or not they had consummated the act but at least Steve was gentleman enough not to remind her of it but he wasn’t gentleman enough not to leer at her tits, ass and legs every chance he got.

“Remind me what that says,” Penelope thought the best way to deal with the uncomfortable silence was to talk about the case.

“Benjamin Roach, married white male, and Jamaal Washington, single black male, both shot multiple times in the chest and finished off with a coup de grace to the forehead. Shell casings recovered at the scene and rounds recovered from the bodies indicate the weapon was a .380 pistol. The first rounds were fired from several feet away and the coup de grace was delivered point blank,” Steve read from the file.

“Both men were naked and were sitting at a table on which there were quantities of booze and illicit substances. There is evidence that they had both engaged in recent sexual activity. The bed was messed-up, forensics found several long red hairs in the bedclothes and Benjamin Roach had lipstick on his penis.”

“At first Houston detectives thought it was a drug deal gone bad but now they’re not so sure. A witness said he saw a red-headed hooker walking though the parking lot just after the couple in the next room heard muffled gunshots. The couple were reluctant to report the gunshots initially because they were both married but not to each other,” Steve Edwards grinned.

“You think this is funny?” Penelope barked.

“I don’t see how two ex-jocks getting tapped in a no-tell motel links to the Duvall murder,” Steve reached for his cigarettes but put them away quickly when Penelope gave him a ‘don’t you fucking dare’ stare.

“They were fraternity brothers and played on the same football team. They are all spoiled rich kids who grew up entitled and never had to work a day in their lives and got everything they ever wanted. And what they couldn’t get by asking they took,” Penelope thought she sounded like she was lecturing Steve but she couldn’t help it.

“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, either individually or as a group,” Penelope said.

“What witnesses? How come you didn’t let me and my partner in on this,” Steve sounded pissed.

“Because the witnesses will never testify and I promised them discretion and because you didn’t need to know about it to do your job. Now you know because you need to know,” Penelope couldn’t help but smile at the pun.

Penelope pulled over at the motel where the murder had been committed. Room 102 was still sealed with police tape and a uniformed officer was sitting on a lawn chair keeping guard. Penelope showed her badge.

“Lieutenant Wagner said you’d be coming. Sign in please. No need for booties or gloves, the scene has been processed,” the officer gave Penelope a clipboard for her to sign which she did then passed it on to Steve.

As soon as she entered the hotel room she recognised it from some of the videos that Alice Leasingham had downloaded from Spencer Duvall’s devices. She took some pictures with her phone. There was fingerprint dust everywhere and the sheets had been taken off the bed. There was evidence of luminol. The two blood-stained chairs were still pulled up to the glass-top table.

There wasn’t much else to see so she and Steve continued on and pulled up at 1200 Travis in Downtown Houston, the headquarters of Houston PD. They were escorted to a small office where they met Lieutenant Joe Wagner who was heading up the case.

“Hello Lieutenant Bishop, good to meet you. Your reputation precedes you,” he offered his hand to Penelope who wasn’t sure if Joe Wagner was having a dig at her or complementing her.

“And you, you old dog… what the fuck are you doing policing in that Podunk town?” Joe gave Steve a manly hug.

“I got sick and tired of seeing your ugly mug every day Lieutenant,” Steve gave him a brotherly punch to the shoulder.

“Nothing to do with the string of complaints that finally made it to internal affairs?” Joe said bitingly and Steve blushed.

“Look Penny I’m not sure if our cases are linked but we know that Roach, Washington and Duvall were tight. The families are rattling the Chief’s cage but refusing to be interviewed. Carl Huntley and William Turner have suddenly decided to go on a skiing holiday to Europe,” Joe said, pointing to two seats.

Penelope didn’t like being called Penny by people who didn’t know her but she tolerated it for the sake of grace.

“There are some similarities between the murders. Evidence of a woman being present and a non-secretor male but that could also be either Huntley or Turner; I don’t suppose they offered any DNA or even a saliva or blood sample?” Penelope posed.

“We have Huntley's DNA on file from a rape allegation last year but the victim withdrew the complaint. She suddenly seemed to have come into a sum of money and moved interstate. We’re having it compared to the forensics collected from the motel,” Joe leaned back and put his feet on the desk.

“If you give us your samples we can compare them to what we have,” Joe offered.

“I’ll have them sent down,” Penelope offered.

She knew that arguing to have Houston’s samples sent to Balwyn wouldn’t make sense because Houston was the bigger city and had far more resources.

“You’ve discounted the drug deal?” Steve interjected.

“Makes no sense. Those assholes were too rich to need to get into that kind of trouble and the drugs at the scene were not of trafficable quantities. Both vics had ingested cocaine before they were murdered,” Joe turned down his mouth.

“What about the woman?” Penelope asked.

“We have a witness said he saw a red-headed woman walk past him in the parking lot. Said she was wearing a short skirt, heels and heavy makeup, that's why he thought she was a hooker. The motel is a notorious hangout for hookers and callgirls. They even rent rooms by the hour,” Joe replied.

“The witness watched the woman cross the highway then he lost her. There is a diner across the road from the motel and hookers are known work the truck stop there so she could well be a pro,” Joe postulated.

“Or she could have parked her car there. Any CCTV?” Penelope asked.

“Nope. Neither at the motel or the diner,” Joe shrugged.

“Can I interview your witness?” Penelope asked.

“Hey, mi casa es su casa. You can have access to everything we have and I’ll get you the contact details for the witness. Why don’t you both get settled in? I’ve got you both booked into the Embassy Suites. I can take you on a tour of Houston’s nightlife,” Joe opened his arms magnanimously.

“I think I’ll pass on the tour,” Penelope said standing up ready to leave.

“Come on Steve… for old time’s sake?” Joe smiled at his old pal.

“I’m not missing out on a chance to visit my old stomping grounds,” Steve grinned.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” Joe Wagner got to his feet and ushered Penelope and Steve out of his office.

Penelope checked into her room and emailed the pictures she had taken of the motel room to Alice so she could compare them to the room in the Duvall videos before she took a shower. She called Bradley and then went to bed only to be awoken in the early hours by a hammering on her door.

Penelope took her sidearm off the nightstand and padded to the door and looked through the peephole.

“Fucking fuck!” Penelope hissed.

Standing on the other side of the door was an obviously drunk Melissa Doyle.

“Open up Penelope, I know you're in there I can see your shadow under the door,” Melissa cried drunkenly.

“Go away Melissa. It’s goddam one AM in the morning and I’m not putting up with your shit,” Penelope barked through the door.

“I know you arranged it so Silvia couldn’t come down here so we could be together,” Melissa wailed.

“You’re dreaming Melissa. I’m down here conducting an investigation with another member of my team,” Penelope countered, instantly regretting getting into a conversation with the drunken woman on the other side of the door.

“Silvia told me. Those other two assholes got exactly what they deserved,” Melissa began to sob.

“Go back to your hotel Melissa. I’m not going to discuss an ongoing investigation to a drunken woman through a hotel door,” Penelope said angrily.

“I love you Penelope and I know you love me even though you won’t admit it. I’m going now but you’ll be seeing me soon,” Melissa pushed herself away from the door and staggered down the corridor.

“Fucking loopy cunt!” Penelope said not for the first or last time.

Earlier in the evening Steve Edwards had showered and changed into casual clothes and then went down to the lobby bar to wet his whistle while he waited for Joe Wagner.

Joe took Steve to the usual cop hangouts and they relived old times. If Steve had have kept his nose clean he might still be on the Houston PD and would still hold the rank of Sergeant; he and Joe were classmates. As it was Steve had left as a Senior Police Officer, demoted after repeated complaints. He’d found greener pastures in the Balwyn PD which had gone on a recruiting spree after Penelope brought down nearly whole PD in a corruption scandal that went all the way to the top.

Steve Edwards thought it ironic that he owed Penelope the opportunity to get a second chance. He’d kept his nose clean until he made detective again but soon fell back into his old ways when he teamed up with Steve Randal

“You gotta let me take you to this one last place where we can get a feed and watch a show. It’s a fuckin’ hoot,” Joe and Steve were well and truly drunk by the time they got to the Montrose neighbourhood.

“They got this fuckin’ drag show and some of those ladyboys are fuckin’ hot I tell ya,” Joe was slurring his words.

When Steve saw the crowd at Hamburger Mary’s he was tempted to tell Joe to fuck right off; he wasn’t going to sit in a bar surrounded by faggots but he was ravenous and when he saw the trays of delicious food being delivered to the tables he decided he could put up with the eclectic clientele. As it was nearly 1am they were too late for the show anyway so they ordered craft beers and burgers.

“I gotta take a piss,” Steve said getting unsteadily to his feet.

He went out to the pisser and did his business and when he came out of the bathroom he saw a flyer pinned to a noticeboard in the corridor that attracted his attention.

‘Divas show all week from 10pm to midnite. Special guest host Felicity Goodnite!’ The poster depicted a number of pretty drag queens and right up front was Felicity Benson from Balwyn Texas. Steve studied the poster and his booze-soaked brain registered that it was out of date. The poster was for last week. Pinned to the board beside it was the flyer advertising the current drag show.

Steve snatched the poster off the noticeboard, folded it and put it in his pocket. Even though he was drunk he thought it quite the coincidence that Felicity Benson just happened to be in Houston when Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington were murdered and that her joint ‘Ride ‘em Cowgirl’ was one of the last places that Spencer Duvall had been seen alive.

He awoke next morning feeling a little foggy but that was more from lack of sleep than from the alcohol. Steve Edwards was a seasoned drinker and seldom woke up with a hangover. He ate scrambled eggs, bacon, chipolatas and a short stack doused in maple syrup for breakfast and he wasn’t sure if Penelope was looking at his plate with disgust or envy as she ate her egg-white omelette.

Over breakfast Penelope receive a string of texts from Melissa alternating between apologies for her conduct last night, and then a series of declarations of love and threats. She resisted the temptation to respond.

“You're pretty busy on the phone there boss; updates on the case?” Steve asked shovelling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

“Just spam,” Penelope lied searching for a waitress to top her coffee.

“Fuck! Get me a top-up when the waitress comes around, I gotta use the rest room,” Penelope looked pained.

Steve noticed that Penelope had been crotchety all morning and she looked like she hadn't slept well. He followed her ass to the restrooms then he flipped over her phone and quickly scanned her texts.

“Very interesting, Silvia is going to be pissed if she ever sees these,” Steve whistled to himself and then put Penelope’s phone back on the table where she had left it.

“I’m going outside for a smoke,” Steve said when Penelope returned, burping up a mixture of sweet and savoury; the Embassy Suites restaurant was non-smoking.

Penelope was grateful to see a full cup of steaming coffee in front of her. She needed it.

Out in the smoking area Steve took the flyer from his jacket pocket and studied it. He knew that he should hand it over to either Joe or Penelope. The link between Felicity Benson and the murders was tenuous to say the least but it was still a link.

Steve was still angry that Penelope had not shared with him and his partner all of the evidence that had been gathered in the Duvall case. She had treated the two Steves like imbeciles and given them the grunt work. She obviously didn’t trust them and even though she was probably right in doing so it still irked him.

“Fuck that tranny bitch!” Steve hissed and dropped his cigarette butt on the asphalt and ground it out with his shoe.

“And speaking of tranny bitches… I think I’ll be having another chat with Felicity Benson,” Steve grinned to himself and went back into the restaurant.

He and Penelope spent the morning reviewing the evidence collected by Houston PD and comparing it to their own. There were definitely similarities between the two cases but there also were differences. The choice of murder weapons was the most obvious.

Strangulation by nylon stocking is an up close and personal way to kill someone. Whoever killed Spencer Duvall had straddled him as they had tightened the noose, killing him slowly and painfully. Roach and Washington had been killed coldly. Shot from a short distance away and then finished off with a double-tap to the head. Ruthless but impersonal.

There was sex involved in both cases and the obvious link to the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity buddies which caused Penelope to want to go back to the crime scene.

They interviewed the clerk who was on duty the night of the murders and the manager of the motel who told them that Benjamin Roach had an account with the motel and regularly used room 102 for his trysts. He had seen all five men there sometimes and sometimes just one or two. There was always at least one woman and none of them had ever complained, the manager said but his gaze was shifty.

“Maybe some of the women looked a little… you know… knocked around but if you come to a place like this what do you expect?” the shifty manager had explained to Penelope’s disgust.

They entered room 102 again having signed in with the police officer guarding the crime scene.

“You have our copy of the case file?” Penelope asked Steve and he nodded.

“Let’s lay the photos out so we can get a better idea what the place looked like,” Penelope said taking half of the stack of crime scene photographs.

On the coffee table they laid the pictures of Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington slumped in the chairs, dead from gunshot wounds and pictures of the alcohol and cocaine. They laid the pictures of the bed on the bare mattress. In the photographs the bedding was still on the bed, rumpled but not pulled down to sleep. It looked like the bed had been used for fucking not for sleeping. They placed the rest of the pictures around the motel room and then Penelope froze.

“Fuck! Look at this!” Penelope called from the bathroom.

She was standing at the vanity looking in the mirror. The mirror was stained with luminol and fingerprint dust and a red smear stained the glass. The picture lying on the stained plastic countertop had been taken before the CSI team went to work. In the picture you could see that the mirror had something written on it in lipstick. It was the hieroglyphics Ā Ĥ П.

“What the fuck is that?” Steve asked.

“It’s the evidence that proves that the murders are linked. It was the same perp,” Penelope spoke barely above a whisper.

Steve cringed inwardly. More evidence that Penelope had withheld from him.

“Let’s go interview our potential eye witness,” Penelope said.

The found the witness at home, dirty and dishevelled and he didn’t have anything to add to what he had told Houston PD. He was coming back to the motel from the diner carrying his takeout dinner and had seen a tall attractive woman who he suspected was a hooker. She was wearing a black cocktail dress, pantyhose and fuck-me heels. She had flaming-red hair and her makeup was heavy and he specifically remembered her bright red lipstick.

“She had to be a whore dressed like that. Lotsa whores work the truck stop and that motel is lousy with hookers,” the rat-faced man sniffed.

His eyes were locked permanently on Penelope’s breasts except when he glanced down at her legs. She was wearing a skirted business suit today and she kept self-consciously pulling down the hem.

“What were you doing at the motel?” Steve asked.

“I was having a sleepover pyjama party, what the fuck do you think I was doing there?” the man sniped.

“Anyway the other cops are going to send one of those artists to try to draw what I saw. If you ask me they're wasting their time and they ain’t payin’ me anything like a reward neither,” the rat-faced man said bitterly.

They gave up on the man and went back to the car.

“Shit! I left my notebook in there. Give me a minute,” Steve called to Penelope across the roof of the car and then bolted back to the decrepit house.

He walked inside without knocking and pulled the rat-faced man out of his easy chair and pushed him into the kitchen where the light was better.

“Hey! What the fuck man!” the man protested.

“Shut the fuck up! Is that her? Is that the woman you saw?” Steve pulled the flyer he had taken from Hamburger Mary’s and put it under the man’s nose.

The rat-faced man took a beat for his eyes to focus and then he looked closely at the poster and more particularly at Felicity Goodnite.

“Yeah. That could be her. If she had red hair it could be her. Lotsa makeup, big tits, killer legs, pretty if ya like ‘em that way,” the rat-faced man rubbed his chin.

Steve took two fifty dollar bills out of his wallet and stuffed them in the top pocket of the man’s filthy shirt.

“Keep your mouth shut about this ok?” Steve stuffed the flyer back in his coat.

“Sure I can; any more where that came from?” the man grinned through stained teeth.

“Of course there is,” Steve smiled.

He punched the man twice in the belly so hard that he folded over and couldn’t breathe.

“And if you open your mouth I’ll be back to give you more. You make sure that sketch artist gets a good picture but it doesn’t need to be too good ok?” Steve grabbed the man by his greasy hair and lifted his face.

The man just nodded still unable to breathe properly.

“Remember what I said,” Steve gave the man a slap across the ear as a farewell gesture.

“Now I’m definitely having another chat to our girl Felicity Goodnite,” Steve grinned as he left the shit-hole clapboard house waving his notebook at Penelope as if he’d found it left inside.

To be continued

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joannebarbarella's picture

Let Felicity get the others and get away with it.