Shared Obsession Chapter 133
From his domain next to Beckett's desk, Castle examines the cache of papers from the victim's locked file. "Jessica's notes on Venom's sessions are pretty detailed. She studied these guys like lab rats."
Kate sighs in frustration. "But she only refers to them by nicknames, 'ladyboy,' 'pincushion,' and 'scared bunny.'"
"You know," Castle mulls, "if they didn't know what Jessica was doing and one of them found out…."
"Fear of exposure would be a strong motive to kill," Kate picks up.
Castle leans on his elbow. "I wonder what attracted her to all this."
Kate holds up a document. "According to her proposal, she became interested in S&M after witnessing a dysfunctional relationship up close. Her dissertation compares the overt expression of dominance in the dungeon to more subtle expressions in real-world relationships."
"Like who drives?" Castle teases.
"Castle, that's regs and you know it. I can't let a civilian operate a police vehicle. Anyway, you drive when we go out – most of the time."
"As long as I'm not driving stick. You don't seem to be able to keep your hands off one."
"What can I say? I like to get my fingers around something long and throbbing."
Castle chokes. "Can we leave the torture to Venom," he wiggles his eyebrows, "at least until we're someplace more private? According to Jessica's notes, Venom works in Dungeon Alley."
"There's a whole slew of fetish clubs down there," Kate notes. "Vice leaves them alone because technically they're not breaking any laws, at least not any they could get someone to testify to. But if Venom took Jessica under her wing…."
"Or her whip…."
"She might be willing to steer us in the direction of the killer."
Ryan saunters over to Kate's desk. "We tried to trace the creepy calls Jessica was getting at her office. But since they were routed through the main switchboard at the college, there's no way to determine their source."
"What about the cell phone?" Beckett asks as Esposito joins his partner.
"The day she died, she placed a phone call to her boyfriend at the hospital," Esposito reports. "She also called her voicemail at the office and Lady Irena's House of Pain twice."
"Lady Irena's House of Pain must be where Mistress Venom works," Kate assumes. "Did you get an address?"
"Yeah, an office building on 38th."
"Conveniently located for all your lunchtime spanking needs," Ryan comments.
Kate points to the stack of documents on her desk. "OK. You guys continue going through Jessica's notes. Castle and I will go meet this Mistress Venom."
As the partners walk away, Beckett pulls out her cell. "Hi, my name is Kate and my boyfriend has been a very bad boy. Yes, that's right. His name is Ricky."
"Kate, when I suggested someplace private, I was thinking more along the lines of our bedroom, or at least the janitor's closet," Castle protests.
Kate shakes her head and presses a finger to her lips. "Actually, a friend of mine recommended a Mistress Venom. Is she available? Four pm? Yes, that will be perfect. Thank you."
Castle squirms, pulling at his collar. "Kate, you know I have your back and anything else necessary. But if someone is going to brandish a whip at me, I'd much rather it be you."
"Relax, Babe. We'll just be doing a little role-playing until we get in to see Venom. After that, I can flash the badge."
"As long as that's all that gets flashed."
Castle gazes through the entrance to a sleek reception room. "This place looks like a law firm."
"Did you think they'd have torture wheels and corsets out here?" Kate asks.
"Businesses do often display intriguing samples of their wares," Castle returns.
"The equipment is in the back. Anticipation is part of the game," Kate explains, as the receptionist looks up from behind her station.
"Welcome to Lady Irena's House of Pain. How may I serve you?" a pretty woman in gothic but only mildly titillating clothes asks.
"Well, answer her!" Kate shouts at Castle. She looks at the receptionist. "You see what I have to deal with? My boyfriend Ricky has an appointment at 4:00 pm with Mistress Venom."
"Will you be joining him?" the young woman asks.
Kate smiles wickedly. "Oh yes. I've been dying to watch him squirm."
The receptionist nods. "Mistress Venom will be delighted to have an audience. Follow me."
"Do you think we could gag him?" Kate inquires.
"My safe word is apples," Castle says meekly.
"Mistress Venom?" Kate inquires of a dark-haired beauty awaiting them in a cave-like chamber.
"Mistress Venom is unavailable," the woman responds. "I'm Lady Irena. I own this dungeon. I'm sure we can find another dominatrix to suit your needs."
Kate pulls out her badge. "I'm afraid you can't. I'm Detective Kate Beckett. I need to speak to her right now regarding a murder investigation."
"Perhaps I can help. Who was murdered?" Lady Irena asks.
"Jessica Margolis, the Ph.D. student who was observing Mistress Venom's sessions," Kate replies.
Irena stares in confusion. "I have strict confidentiality rules. No one was observing Mistress Venom's sessions."
Kate holds up a picture of Jessica. "And you've never seen this girl?"
"Of course, I've seen that girl," Irena retorts. "She wasn't observing Mistress Venom. She was Mistress Venom." Irena picks up an album from a nearby table. She opens it to a photo spread of Jessica dressed in full dominatrix regalia. "This is how her clients knew her."
Kate studies the pictures. "Well, this explains the marks on her body. She must have been wearing this before she died."
"Like cruel shoes, these outfits can leave marks for hours after you wear them," Irena agrees. "She had three sessions yesterday. She left around 7:30."
"You really had no idea she was conducting a sociological experiment out of your dungeon?" Castle questions.
"No. She came to me about six months ago, and quickly became one of my most requested doms."
"Did Jessica have any clients who were unusually obsessed with her?" Kate asks.
"Of course. I mean they all were. But her clients were submissive," Irena adds. "Killing is an act of dominance."
"You and I both know that people aren't that simple," Kate says. "Men might come here for humiliation and torture but it's easy to imagine that one of them might have been pushed too far and lashed out."
"If she was concerned for her safety, she would have told me," Irena asserts.
"Do you have a list of Jessica's clients?" Kate inquires.
Irena's eyes harden. "Detective, all of the services we provide here are perfectly legal. Part of that service is protecting the privacy of our clients. I'm not about to betray the trust they've paid for because you have a hunch."
"Oh, I think it's more than just a hunch," Kate returns.
"Well then, I'm sorry. Unless you have a court order my hands are tied," Irena declares.
"That would be a switch," Castle quips.
"You seem pretty well-versed in the law for a dominatrix," Beckett observes.
"Don't let the leather fool you," Irena cautions. "I used to be a partner in a law firm."
"Wow! And how better to know the vagaries of legal torture?" Castle responds.
Irena smiles knowingly. "When you dominate and manipulate men in every boardroom and courtroom that you're in, this just seems the normal progression. It's called Mistress Red."
"Excuse me," Castle says.
"My lipstick. It's called Mistress Red. I noticed you couldn't stop staring at it."
"Should I be using Mistress Red lipstick, Castle?" Kate teases as they settle in her unit.
"No. I mean any color would look luscious on your lips," he adds hurriedly. "But that isn't why I was staring. That's the exact same color Mother wore in Bride of Fatcula."
"You mean Bride of Dracula? I thought that was Elsa Lanchester."
"No. Bride of Fatcula. He liked the blood of victims with high cholesterol. Mother had to put on 30 pounds to play the part. She hated that but she needed the money. It was one of those cheapie TV films for late-late-late night. These days, one like that would go straight to DVD. But it was unintentionally hilarious. It made it to that show with the puppets heckling movies."
"Do you have a copy?" Kate asks.
"If Mother ever found one in the house, she'd kill me – and not over the movie. She's made plenty of bad movies. Over being reminded of the extra weight."
Kate considers the workouts she mercilessly puts her body through to keep her willowy form. "Yeah. I can understand how she feels."
Brinkman's mouth feels drier than after his worst binge, and his veins are on fire. He doesn't know how long he talked with the drugs forced into his bloodstream. Hours? Days? It seemed an eternity. And worse, he doesn't know if his inquisitor was satisfied. Between the mask and his fuzzy vision, he couldn't judge the man's expression. The torturer could return at any time to ask more questions. The senator curls into himself on his cot, trying for some measure of comfort, if not excruciatingly elusive rest. Neither comes.
