~Subject: Ladycop  Chapter 11
~From: SDJS55C@prodigy.com (Mark Allen)
~Date: 13 Oct 1995 03:03:58 GMT
~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

  The next 4 chapters in the hunt for the serial killer. 

                                Chapter 11

     Devlin and Sinclair sat in front of the Lieutenant's desk.
They had just disclosed the reason Devlin had been able to find
her, the suitcase of cocaine. Somehow though they had failed to
mention the chains and the torture with the electrical outlet.
There were officers several doors away that could hear his deep,
booming voice as it reverberated through the hallways. It was
certainly no secret any longer that Sinclair had failed to book a
suitcase of coke into evidence, the whole squad knew it by now.
     Karla sort of slumped down in the chair as Walker's wrath
fell on her burning ears. Devlin felt a tremendous amount of
empathy for her but couldn't think of a thing to say in her
defense. Without a doubt she had been wrong in police procedure
when it came to evidence, on the other hand, if it hadn't been
for the cocaine Menzmer would probably have killed her like the
others and been on his way to God knows where.
     Walker never let up. "I hope you two have some sort of a
plan in mind for Christ's sake. Goddamn fortune in cocaine
floating around out there and a crazed killer still on the loose.
I'd sure as hell like to know how you plan on fixing this Goddamn
mess you've gotten us in to."
     Devlin glanced over at her as Walker finally grew quiet and
sank back into his chair. She had the faintest hint of a smile on
her face and Devlin wondered why. Karla shoved herself forward
and sat up in her chair. "He's going to be easy to find," she
said.
     "Just what in hell makes you think he's going to be so easy
to find now?" Walker ranted.
     "It's powdered sugar," she said in a low voice.
     "Huh?" Walker grunted. "What's powdered sugar?"
     "The stuff in the suitcase. The bastard is trying to sell a
suitcase full of powdered sugar."
     Walker turned slightly red in the face and began to sputter
and stutter. "Wha . . . how . . ., what are you talkin about,
Sinclair?"
     "I switched the coke for sugar, that's what I'm talking
about. If you'd have called the evidence room before you started
your tirade, they'd have told you I booked the coke in last
week."
     In his booming voice, Walker raised up in his chair. "Why in
the hell would you fill a suitcase with powdered sugar?"
     "Because I had a scam going down in the Northbeach area and
I was going to set up a dealer with it, that's why. When Menzmer
was getting ready to kill me I came up with the idea he might be
greedy enough to go for it."
     Devlin leaned back in his chair and stared at her for a
second. "Well I'll be damned. Well done, Karla, well done, but
why in the hell didn't you tell me."
     "You might have said something to make him suspicious. I
thought he'd just take the stuff and run, but obviously he's
nuttier than a fruitcake."
     "Well, anyway, great job. I'd like to be there when he tries
to sell it to someone."
     "While you two are congratulating each other, what makes you
think he's going to be so easy to find?"
     "Look at it this way, Lieutenant," she hissed. "Wouldn't you
think someone trying to peddle a suitcase full of sugar is going
to cause some talk among the street people?"
     Walker sputtered somemore and then agreed she might be
right. "You have any stoolies down there?" he asked.
     "Of course. Believe me, it's not going to be long before the
streets start to hum."
     "All right, you two. Get the hell outta my office. Devlin,
don't get any ideas about getting away from this one. I'm making
arrangements for Sinclair to stay with homicide until you get
this bastard."
     "Yessir, understood," Devlin chided.

     Out on the street finally, Devlin stopped and turned toward
her. "Why in hell didn't you tell him about the coke switch in
the first place?"
     "Because he's such an ass sometime. I knew he was going to
go off the deep end, sure enough, I was right."
     "I'm certainly glad you were right," Devlin said with humor
in his tone. "Now what kind of caper you have in mind. We just
going to wait at the bus stop for something to turn up?"
     "Not exactly. One of my stoolies tipped me off over an hour
ago that Menzmer had tried to sell the suitcase. He's out and
around and probably mad as hell at you."
     "Me? Why me?"
     "You're the one that gave him the sugar."
     "Jesus, I didn't know it wasn't the real thing."
     "Of course not but he don't know that. I have a strange
feeling you just might hear from our elusive Mister Menzmer
before too long."
     "Why do you say that?"
     "Just a hunch, that's all."



     A week went by and still nothing from the elusive Delford
Menzmer. It was late in the afternoon and Karla was sitting next
to Devlin's desk at the homicide bureau. They had just returned
from talking with one of Karla's informants and had learned
Menzmer had tried to palm off nearly a hundred pounds of sugar on
one of the underworld's biggest dealers over in Oakland. It seems
the dealer hadn't been amused when he found out the stuff wasn't
coke. In fact, there was word they'd given Menzmer quite a bad
time about the deal.
     They were just about to leave the office and get a bite to
eat when Devlin's phone rang. Picking it up he listened a second
and then motioned her to pick up the other phone. It was a call
from Seattle with information that Menzmer had been spotted by
another informant heading north toward Canada. 
     She looked at Jim after the call and then shrugged her
shoulders. "I didn't expect something like that," she said. "I
half way expected him to stay around the bay area and keep
playing his games. Better get Vancouver on the line and let em
know he's heading their direction."
     Finished for the day, Karla and Jim stopped into a local
cop's hangout for a couple drinks and bite to eat before going to
their respective apartments. "Sure you don't want company
tonight?" he asked her.
     "Not tonight. I'm still furious about that creep and what
he's going to do next. It just doesn't figure. He was a rich
pervert with his own estate and built in dungeon. He could have
remained that way for years if he hadn't turned to killing his
victims. Now he's just a sicko on the loose and going to continue
his nasty lifestyle of torture and murder and there's not a damn
thing we can do about it."
     "He's insane, Karla. Simple as that. We don't give up, just
put it on hold for a while. If I know my serial killers, he'll be
back. Somehow, someway, he'll be back. Now then, since I still
can't convince you to let me spend the night, I'm outta here.
I'll see you tomorrow. I imagine you'll be going back to the vice
squad about the first thing in the morning."
     "Probably, it was kind of fun though. Maybe I'll put in a
transfer request to homicide."
     "Do that, Sinclair. I'll vouch for ya."
     
     Karla lay back in the huge bathtub and let the hot water
soak the pain and stiffness out of her abused body. For a while
at least she felt safe. Menzmer might be completely crazy and
insane but he wasn't stupid. Leaving the country for a while was
probably the best move he could have made under the conditions. 
     She soaked until her skin began to pucker and then stepped
out of the tub and wrapped a large white towel around her body.
Rubbing her skin softly, she turned to see herself in a full
length mirror on the wall. Feeling a warm glow from the tub she
opened the towel to look at her body. The ugly black and blue
marks were nearly gone around her uptilted breasts. Damn, she
thought to herself as she gently caressed first one and then the
other.
     The feeling sent shivers down her spine for a few seconds
and then began to make her feel wickedly sexual. Her thoughts
again turned to the events of the past few weeks and suddenly she
felt the heat of passion flushing through her body. Visions of
their several ordeals together made her begin thinking again of
how she was changing. She began to wish she'd let him stay the
night with her. How she could have persuaded him to tie her to
the bed or something and then had his way with her. She heard
herself moaning slightly as her hand trailed down between her
legs, her fingers gently slipping up and down between her now wet
lips.
     The thoughts of the ropes and pain was making her slightly
crazy. She had felt sick at learning she was a closet S and M
freak. She was discovering her needs, her desire to find that
damn club up across the bridge again. The sexual pleasure was
lulling her into a euphoric state as she lay back on the giant
bed, her hand roving as if it had a will of its own. Damn, she
thought, I wish he were here.
     She suddenly stopped and sat up on the bed. Using her
willpower she removed her hand and closed the towel around her
body. On a whim she reached for the phone and dialed Jim's
number. It rang several times and she was just about to hang up
when she heard the click at the other end. "Hello."
     "Jim? Its me."
     "Karla? You all right?"
     "No! . . . Yes! . . . I don't know. I having aftermath
shakes again."
     "Want me to come back?"
     "No, I'm all right, really. I just wanted to talk."
     "Okay. I'm here."

     She didn't even know where to start. "I've been doing a lot
of thinking about the last days and weeks, the episode in
Sausalito, things like that."
     "So have I. Maybe we should get together and talk about it."
     "Perhaps you're right, but not tonight. I'm too worn out.
Its just, well, its just I'm starting to find out there were
parts of the past few weeks that I liked and it scares me."
     "Stay put. I'm on my way over there."
     "No, Jim, please. I'm not ready yet and I'm really worn out
tonight."
     "Not for that, silly. Just to talk. You really need it and
you need it right now, not tomorrow."
     Karla thought about it for a minute. "Okay, but just to
talk, you promise?"
     "I promise. See you in a little bit."

     It was nearly an hour before Karla opened the door to his
soft knock. She was dressed in her shabbiest old flannel
housecoat and floppy slippers. "Come on in, I just made a fresh
pot of coffee."
     "Best deal I've had all night," he retorted.
     Karla flopped down on the divan and pulled her legs beneath
her. Devlin sat his cup on the coffee table and made himself
comfortable in the chair to her front. "Okay, lets talk," he
chided.
     "When I was a little girl, I was sort of a tomboy. I played
with a bunch of boys all the time, we use to do a lot of cops and
robbers, cowboys and Indians, you know?
     "I know, so?"
     "So there were a lot of times when we'd get captured we'd be
all tied up with ropes and stuff. I didn't give it much though at
the time except I remember enjoying it. We had a lot of fun."
     "I think all kids do that, what was so special about all
this?"
     "Nothing really, until now. All of a sudden I'm starting to
realize there's something wrong with me. I think I'm sick or
perverted."
     "Why on earth would you think that?" he asked.
     She dipped her head and brought her hands up to her face.
For a second she didn't say a word. "Because I enjoyed what was
happening to me. Don't get me wrong. I detested that scumbag
Menzmer, he scared hell out of me. It was the other. You and me
when we went, well, you know."
     "Yeah, I know. What makes you think you're perverted?"
     "Oh, come now. Don't you think it rather strange for a grown
woman to get sexually turned on at the act of being bound and
gagged?"
     "No, not at all. I found out a long time ago. If it doesn't
hurt, causes no harm or violates the law, it's all right. Well,
being among a group of people and enjoying having done to you
what they did to you has to be all right, wouldn't you think?"
     She thought about that for a minute or two. "I guess you're
right, except for the kidnap and the rape. I was scared but it
was titillating."
     "Nothing in the law says you can't enjoy sexual games with
consenting adults. You really wasn't harmed and neither was
anyone else, so where does that leave you?"
     "It leaves me confused inside. I don't know what I want
anymore. I came in here and took a bath and all of a sudden I'm
trying to figure a way to get back to that group up across the
bridge."
     "Hmmmmm. I see. We've opened Pandora's Box and suddenly you
don't want to stop. You've discovered you like doing that sort of
thing, right?"
     "Yes, basically."
     Jim got out of his chair and walked to the kitchen for more
coffee. "Okay, Karla. Stop worrying about it. It turns out we
both like doing the same things. I've been associated with the
one group for quite a while. Of course, it looks like they
resented it. I guess the old saying is true, people don't like
cops getting something for nothing. Anyway, there has to be more
gatherings out there someplace, I'll make a few calls."
     "What then?" she asked.
     "Well, if I come up with something we try and get an invite.
Just two people wanting a little fun out of life. We don't even
mention what we do for a living. How about it?"
     The mere thought of it sent another shiver down her spine.
She couldn't resist his offer. "Okay, do it. Whatever it takes."