RELEASE TO OBLIVION

Chapter Three

“Ms. Torte’s office is on the upper floor, at the back.” Jorge opened a door for the detectives. “If you don’t mind walking through the club, we can use the staff elevator.”

“You’re the head of security, right?” Alex asked.

Jorge nodded. “Yes…this is the first incident we’ve had of any kind for a very long time…and the first this bad.” He muttered something in Spanish. “I feel terrible about this…Lisa is…was…a good and kind person…”

“And this certainly doesn’t help the club,” Alex added.

Jorge stopped before a door. “The club,” he said quietly but with meaning, “can move or change its name. Lisa was a person…” He paused as he pulled out a set of keys. “We will have to go by several of the rooms…they are rather “specialized” areas…” He was trying not to catch either detective’s eyes, although Alex thought he was trying particularly to avoid her.

“We’re NYPD 1st Grade Detectives,” Alex said. “We’ve seen or heard nearly everything.”

Jorge unlocked the door. “Just a warning,” he replied, and swung the door open.

The door revealed a long, well but not overly lit hall with numbered rooms opening from either side. Most of the doors were open, and Alex and Bobby glimpsed their contents as they passed. Alex sensed an increasing level of discomfort rising from Bobby as they walked down the corridor. She saw nothing that her time at Vice hadn’t prepared her for—some ropes and whips, a
few chains, a few elaborate but revealing costumes. A quick view of a leather mask caused her a brief uncomfortable memory of standing on a street corner in an outfit that did nothing to protect her from near zero temperatures, but Bobby seemed both repulsed and drawn to the rooms and their contents. Alex doubted that Jorge or anyone else would notice the change, but it was apparent to her. “But,” she thought, “he may not have actually encountered this sort of thing in reality—I’m sure he knows all about S&M from reading about it, but this may be one area
where I actually know more than he does.”

To Alex’s eyes, Bobby was clearly relieved when they reached the corridor’s end and entered the elevator.

“I’ll give you a detailed report on our security arrangements and procedures, as well as our employees’ information,” Jorge said in the elevator. “But I don’t know how useful that will be.”

“What about your clients?” Alex asked.

Jorge paused. “You’ll need to discuss that with Ms. Torte. I understand the importance of that information for your investigation, but I’m sure you’ll understand the importance of privacy to our clients.”

They left the elevator, and Jorge unlocked another door, which led to a small, comfortable reception area. “Ms. Torte will be with you in a moment,” Jorge announced.

“She’s watching us, right now,” Bobby stated. He had been so quiet that Jorge started slightly, and then smiled.

“Yes, sir,” he replied. “But, as I’m sure you can appreciate, Ms. Torte likes to know something about the people who come here.” He left.

Alex and Bobby had only a moment for a reassuring look at each other before the door in front of them opened.

“Detectives…please come in. I’m Marcella Torte.”

Marcella Torte was a woman of about 50. Her short, greying hair and trim suit suggested a no-nonsense business woman, but her slightly reddened eyes indicated her employee's death had left a mark. She welcomed the detectives with a resigned graciousness, and gestured towards two chairs just in front of an elegant but understated desk. Alex sat in one of them, but Bobby restlessly patrolled the tastefully furnished office. The only unruly aspect to the room
was a large bulletin board behind the desk that contained dozens of pictures of happy families.

Bobby moved behind the desk, and bent to gain a different perspective of the photos. "Your family?" he asked, waving a large paw at the pictures.

Marcella Torte seemed more bemused than annoyed at Bobby's antics. "In a manner of speaking, detective," she replied. "Those are photos of former and current employees and their families." She gazed steadily at Alex. "You seem vaguely familar, detective.."

Alex returned the steady gaze. "I was assigned to Vice a few years ago. I was undercover here the night you helped us bust a Mafia operation."

Bobby's mind flooded with several unwanted images--Alex in one of those leather costumes; Alex
with a whip; Alex tightening a rope around his wrists. He stumbled from behind the desk and fell heavily into the empty chair. Alex and Ms. Torte both regarded him carefully before continuing their conversation.

"Then you'll have some idea of the services we provide here," Ms. Torte said. "I have both Mr. Ericcson and Lisa's files. We don't usually provide either, especially the clients, but I want you to find who did this. And," she said with a resigned air, "you'd likely find some way to get access to them." She leaned across the desk to place the full force of her personality behind her next words. "I find it very hard to believe that Mr. Ericcson or Lisa would be
capable of murder. I know that Mr. Ericcson was an important man--the things that made him important were part of his reasons for coming to us--but please don't forget Lisa. She..." Ms. Torte's composure broke for a moment, but with a visible effort she continued. "She was a bright young woman who was trying to make a better life."

Alex continued her questioning. Bobby found it difficult to concentrate. His mind was full of
unwanted images and questions. He knew from his reading why some individuals sought pain and others domination, but he couldn't force his thoughts from wondering what damage, what release the whips and ropes might give, what thrill their snap and rough ties might give. Bobby tried to give a discrete shake of his head, and blamed the thoughts on his mind's exhausted state.

Alex had finished the interview. "Here," Ms. Torte said, handing several documents to Alex. "These are the files you'll need. And a brochure explaining our services and fees. I understand Jorge has provided you with information regarding our security arrangements. Please--is there anything else you need?"

Bobby roused himself. "Was there anyone--a disgruntled client, employee--who might have had a grudge against the club--particularly against Lisa?"

Marcella Torte turned her eyes on Bobby. He suddenly, guiltly felt that she could see right
through him, that she knew about his recent, horrible thoughts. Bobby struggled to meet her eyes. Marcella's gaze turned from one detective to the other.

"You don't believe that either of them did this...You think someone else killed them both..." she said softly.

Alex was disconcerted by Bobby's silences. "The physical evidence suggests that," she said.

Bobby was more decisive. "No, neither Lisa nor Ericcson killed anyone--they were both victims. And," he added, "I think Lisa was trying to protect Ericcson."

Marcella gave a long sigh. "You're not judging...you will go after who did this..." She looked at the two detectives, and then reached insider her desk and pulled out three files. "I'm trusting your discretion on this, that you will protect the privacy of these people if they're not suspects." She handed the files to Alex. "These are clients...well, we had to drop them. All three worked with Lisa."

"Thank you. We'll be careful," Alex said.

Ms. Torte escorted them to the door. "Please," she said, "let me know..."

"We will," Bobby said forcefully.

Jorge quietly escorted Bobby and Alex though the club. The journey was again marked by Bobby's discomfort, and Alex resolved to use this as a minor torture against him when the case was over.

In the SUV, Alex opened the files. "Oh great," she sighed. "These guys are only slightly less famous than Ericcson. Friend of the mayor, friend of the governor, friend of the mayor and the governor..."

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Great," he thought, "as if the pressure inside my head isn't bad enough, we've got this extra pressure from the outside." He tried desperately to blot out the image of Alex, whip in hand, standing over his bound body...

End Chapter Three