Suspect Passions (14 page)

Regan turned the tape over and over in her hands. It seemed to scorch a fiery path up her arm and into her heart. Her body already knew what was on the tape without hearing it. Her mind wasn’t sure it wanted confirmation. The warring feelings sparred back and forth like a feedback loop caught in continuous repeat mode. She didn’t want to hear another woman’s voice maligning Syd’s reputation or her private life, and she wasn’t sure she could endure any other woman describing the physical pleasures that Syd was capable of providing. But she needed to know what was on the tape because Dean Bell had obviously listened to it. If she had any hope of defending Syd, she had to know what the opposing counsel intended to use against her.

Filled with trepidation, Regan found her cassette player and started the tape. A deep male voice spoke first, providing the routine details of a conversation taped in August, the month of the shooting. The officer who took the complaint was Detective Ramon Boudy with the Internal Affairs Division.

The female complainant provided the information requested in a tone designed to arouse speculation and fantasy. Her soft, breathy voice oozed sexuality. Regan pictured a diminutive blonde batting her baby blue eyes, cooling herself with a hand-painted paper fan, and sipping a mint julep. After a feeble protest about getting anyone in trouble and a few over-exaggerated attempts at modesty, Gina Lorrey began her tale.

“It was August twenty-first. I remember specifically because it was my birthday and I was supposed to meet some friends at the Cop Out club, to celebrate. I parked in the back lot and was walking to the door when this cop came up to me. She was in uniform but I didn’t see a cop car anywhere. Of course my first reaction was, ‘What have I done?’

“She seemed to be in a daze or something. I asked if she was okay. I mean it looked like she was going to cry. Being the kindhearted person that I am, I reached out to comfort her. Well, that was the wrong thing to do. She grabbed the front of my jeans. Don’t misunderstand. I’m no prude when it comes to sex, with men or women. It was just a surprise, that’s all. Then she kissed me, and it was pretty clear what she wanted. I’ve never been kissed like that before. It was like she sucked the energy out of my entire body.”

Regan crushed the Diet Coke she held in her hand and the sticky liquid spewed everywhere. She’d experienced that kiss, and listening to another woman try to explain its effects was like exposing raw flesh to acid. She didn’t want to hear anymore but knew she had to. Wiping the spilled soda with the hem of her T-shirt, she concentrated on the breathy voice.

“She never spoke a word. She just backed me into a dark corner and onto the hood of a car. It was still hot. It felt like my ass was burning. She ripped my blouse open like a mad woman. Then she yanked my jeans down around my ankles.”

Grabbing the pillow from her desk chair, Regan put it under her head and lay down on the floor. Tingles of excitement rippled through her as she remembered the texture of Syd’s skin beneath hers and the pleading look in her eyes. Regan slid her hand down the length of her torso and cupped the quivering flesh that begged for attention. She’d never been the kind to enjoy girlie magazines or even dirty talk, but ever since she’d seen Syd having sex in the restroom, fantasies had played incessantly in her head like porn movies. Something about Syd called to the primeval urges of her body and soul.

“When I was completely naked, lying there on the hood of the car, she stopped.” Gina Lorrey’s tone hardened. “I’m not sure what happened but she just stared for the longest time. It was getting a little awkward, if you know what I mean. So I asked if she was okay. She started apologizing and told me to get dressed. But I was already too far gone.”

After a long hesitation the voice changed. Regan had the impression that Gina Lorrey had decided to play a game with the detective at the other end of the phone.

“I grabbed her by the gun belt. She put up a bit of resistance, but I unzipped her pants and stuck my hand right in there. God, she was wet like you couldn’t believe.”

Regan plunged her hand into the band of her sweats and into the liquid warmth between her legs. She imagined Syd’s hand there smoothing and stroking the engorged shaft of aching flesh. She pulled and kneaded the tender folds of skin. It had been entirely too long, and touching Syd on Friday night had rekindled her appetite for physical satisfaction.

“Well, she was having none of that,” Gina continued. “She wanted to be in charge. She took her nightstick out and flicked the tip across my breasts. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

The detective made an impassive sound, like he’d heard it all before.

Gina’s voice took on a taunting lilt as she said, “It’s like the hardest dick in the world begging to be fucked. I felt like I could’ve taken the whole thing if she’d given it to me. She twirled it around between her thumb and palm like you cops do and started rubbing me with the handle.”

The idea of making love with Syd in her uniform had played itself out more than once in Regan’s imagination, but being seduced by the tools of her trade was a new spin. The delicate skin around her nipples dimpled in anticipation. She massaged her left breast in time to the intensified stroking between her legs.
She
was the woman on top of that car in the dark parking lot behind Cop Out. Syd was teasing and tantalizing
her
with her nightstick, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm.

“That handle has these ridges on it, you know. And when she dragged it between my legs, I thought I was going to come right then. She knew I was in a bad way. I started humping that stick. The harder I tried to get a piece of it inside me, the more determined she was to keep it away. I was on the edge.”

Regan was starting to lose control. Like the woman on the tape, she’d long since abandoned any sense of modesty or decorum. She writhed on the hardwood floor, her clothes oppressive with their confinement. All she wanted was the precious release that only Syd could provide.

“I was desperate, I’m not ashamed to say it. A girl can only stand so much torment. I begged her to fuck me with that long, hard stick. Then she finally said something. I still remember it. ‘Every woman deserves to come with something hot and throbbing inside her.’”

Regan sighed. The voice droned on, blurring with the sounds of her own rapid breathing.

“Oh, God, I’ve never been fucked so good. It was like she knew exactly how much I needed and how hard. I’d get right to the edge and she’d back off. When she told me I could come, I didn’t ask questions. I blew.”

Regan’s climax ripped through her and weakened her extremities. Her muscles contracted, relaxed, and then trembled before she slid into complete euphoria. She inhaled deeply and allowed Syd’s imaginary hands to once again run the length of her body and persuade her to rest. How long she had waited to feel this kind of liberation.

The tape droned on. “By the time I composed myself, she was gone.”

Regan looked around her empty home, alone, postorgasmic, and craving more. The tape was silent and she reached to turn it off. Just before she hit the stop button, Detective Boudy spoke.

“Um…well, I guess I’m confused, Ms. Lorrey. What exactly is your complaint?”

“I’d think it was obvious.”

It certainly was to Regan. Syd had loved and left, as usual, and this woman was angry.

“Isn’t it against the law to use those, those weapons on a person without arresting them, or something?”

“Does this cop have a name?” Boudy asked blandly.

“She never told me, but I saw her in that club again a few weeks later so I asked. It was Sydney Cabot. She acted like nothing had happened, and she wouldn’t see me again. That sounds criminal to me.”

There was a sound on the tape that resembled a muffled laugh before the detective spoke again. “We’ll look into your complaint, Ms. Lorrey, and give it the attention it deserves.”

Now Regan understood why this particular grievance had ended up in the secret file. There was nothing to investigate. A horny woman looking for a fuck was routine in the police world and was hardly grounds for discipline, unless, of course, the cop failed to uphold the brotherhood’s reputation for exceptional performance. And from what Regan had heard, Syd represented the team quite well.

A feeling crept over her, an odd mix of anger, nausea, and insecurity. She struggled to identify the emotion. Jealousy?

“Ridiculous,” she mumbled. “I’ve never been jealous in my life.”

But the image of Syd pleasuring another woman on the hood of a car summoned the alien feeling with full force. Regan’s hands shook as she turned the recorder off and shuffled through the index cards one more time. If this was the ammunition Dean Bell planned to use to discredit Syd, it was her job to render the tactic ineffective. She grabbed the phone and stared down at the contact information on the first card. Steeling herself, she dialed.

Dean Bell’s puffy red face looked as if it was ready to explode when he hurried into Regan’s office on Monday morning. His costly Italian suit strained at the seams and buttonholes meant for a leaner specimen as he wedged himself into a chair across from her desk. “How long have you been practicing law, Ms. Desanto?”

Regan stifled an equally demeaning comment, pleased that her latest move had unsettled her opponent. She took a Diet Coke from her mini-fridge and asked, “Would you care for a Coke or a cup of coffee?”

“No, I would not care for a Coke or a cup of coffee.” Bell studied Regan with the disdain he probably reserved for the very poor or the very ignorant. “What is the meaning of this motion for a bench trial? This just isn’t done in wrongful-death cases. We
always
have a jury trial.”

“Actually, one of the first things I learned in law school is that we don’t
always
do anything. The law is very fluid, with lots of room to negotiate. As attorneys, we see to that, since we write the statutes in the first place.”

Bell squirmed uncomfortably in his ill-fitting suit, and the red of his cheeks deepened. “I didn’t come here for a damn lecture on the law, Ms. Desanto. I want to know what you hope to gain by this stall tactic. No judge will agree to hear this case without a jury. It’s too potentially volatile, and he wouldn’t want his ass on the line when it hits the media. Judges defer that pleasure to twelve less politically aspiring citizens.”

Regan liked the fact that she’d caught Bell off guard. He was obviously unsettled and already playing the political card. This usually meant that opposing counsel was not as confident in his case. She chose to believe it also meant he considered her a worthy opponent. Good thing too, because she aimed to win this case, whatever it took.

“You might be surprised,” she said. “I’m sure there’s a judge with enough integrity to take on public opinion in the name of justice. But I was actually trying to save us both a bit of embarrassment and to settle this quickly and amicably.”

“You just don’t want a jury to see the seedy side of your officer and how she gunned down my client’s teenaged son without provocation.”

“Is this the same teenager with a criminal record dating back to age twelve and covering charges from shoplifting to assault and two counts of robbery? That teenager?” Regan hated to speak ill of the dead, but it was obvious that Bell intended to vilify Syd and downplay the youngster’s criminal past. If a judge or jury was going to reach an informed verdict, they’d have to know all the facts.

Bell straightened in the chair and flashed his perfectly capped teeth at Regan. “You must be pretty desperate if you’re already trying to malign the character of the victim.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re trying to do to Sydney Cabot? Her personal life has no relevance to this incident, yet you’re planning to parade it out in the open.”

Bell stood and leaned over Regan’s desk, his coffee breath heavily laced with last night’s garlic. “That’s where you’re wrong. Her personal life is exactly the reason she overreacted and shot that young man. She’s been on a downward spiral of sex and booze for months. Read her files. There’s one complaint in particular that you might find stimulating.”

Regan wanted to reach across her desk and strangle Dean Bell until his bulging eyes popped out of his fleshy face. Remembering Gina Lorrey’s explicit complaint, she was nauseous to think Bell might have been titillated by it. Listening to Syd satisfy another woman was bad enough, but to imagine this pompous blowhole getting off on the recap was too much.

“Judge Marie Chamberlinck has agreed to hear both sides of the motion this morning. I assume that’s why you’re here.” Regan rounded her desk, moving as far away from Bell as possible. “I suggest we not keep her honor waiting.”

“It’s a waste of time,” Bell mumbled as he collected his briefcase and followed her.

They crossed the concrete-and-stone courtyard that separated the municipal building from the courthouse in silence. The door to Judge Chamberlinck’s office was open and she motioned them in.

“Thank you for seeing us this morning, Your Honor.” Regan had researched the judge as soon as she’d been awarded the hearing. She was a respected member of the bench, with a reputation for fairness and no nonsense.

“Mr. Bell, I assume you’re here to oppose Ms. Desanto’s motion for a bench trial in this matter.” Judge Chamberlinck directed them to a conference table in the corner of her modestly decorated office. Her totally white hair and crystal blue eyes projected an image of keen intelligence.