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“Perhaps Martha misses sex with Felicia. Looks like Zelda might be up to the same antics. There sure is a lot of bed hopping in this little S&M community,” Leslie said.
“Is that some sort of judgment?” Robin asked.
“No, no, not at all, just an observation. They were right about one thing, the police will chew up Remy in seconds, if they start to interrogate her.”
“I think it’s time we had a talk with our detective friend downtown,” Robin said.
“Perhaps he won’t think it’s such an open and shut case anymore.”
“Isn’t it strange? Two such very different women, the two likeliest suspects?”
As the two retraced their steps to the garden, they spotted Remy some distance away, moving around to the back of the house with a bouquet of flowers in her hand. “Maybe Remy and Jane aren’t so very different, they’re both duplicitous women. They’re just duplicitous in different ways,” Leslie suggested, as they watched Remy slip out of sight on her way to the garden shed at the back corner of the property.
Reaching the cottage, Leslie rapped loudly on the door. “Jane,” she called, hoping to find the woman at home.
After a time, she remarked, “Doesn’t look as if she’s here.” She put her hand to the knob and turned it easily. “Or maybe she just didn’t hear us.”
The door swung open and the two women looked inside.
“Jane!” Robin called this time. She stepped inside, urging her partner to follow.
Inside the cottage they had a different view of Jane’s life than the one they witnessed in high relief when they watched Jane and Zelda engaged in their sex. Her home was much prettier than they expected. Of course it was without the fussy flowers that were splashed throughout the big house; but Jane’s taste in interior decoration included a dozen well-tended house plants, and sumptuous leather that was a cozy accompaniment to her earthy style. Two large abstract oil paintings hung on the one wall, companion pieces, depicting nude women in states of bondage, although so uniquely painted one would have to look at them closely to see what the wild shapes represented.
“Tasteful, don’t you think?” Robin said.
“Yeah,” Leslie replied. A cold shiver raced down her back. “I don’t feel comfortable here. Let’s go.”
“Why, what’s the problem?” Robin asked.
Leslie looked at an empty place on the wall where there were rings embedded in the brick, remnants of the cottage’s former use. She spied the cabinet where the crop Jane had used on Zelda came from. And the bench that Zelda had mounted during the scene sat innocently in front of Jane’s leather chair.
“You want to submit to Jane, don’t you?” Robin asked, wishing she could really press Leslie on her newfound desires.
“Maybe, but I’m just not comfortable busting into someone’s home uninvited.”
“Since when has snooping around bothered you?”
“What’s there to look for?”
Robin didn’t reply, but continued a typical ‘Robin’ perusal of the place, as if the walls were speaking, telling her their secrets. “The more I’m in her environment, the less I think she could have murdered Felicia,” Robin finally said.
“I agree, but our strongest evidence still implicates her,” Leslie reminded her.
“Then perhaps we should go to the police now.” Robin turned around to face her partner.
“No. I still want to talk to her one more time,” Leslie said. “I just want to see the look on her face.”
“You’re sounding like me,” Robin said with a laugh.
“I guess I am,” Leslie concurred, “And is that so bad?”
Chapter Twelve
“I don’t think we’re going to find her tonight,” Robin said, as she looked at the outside facade of Sapphos.
“Two hours already,” Leslie looked at her watch. “Not much going on.” The two detectives sat in Robin’s Suzuki waiting for Jane to show. After a quick dinner, they’d checked inside the club and were told that Jane was expected later. They’d waited for the Domme outside the club, but that proved fruitless. Jane didn’t show her face.
“We could check back at the estate,” Ro
