This story is another attempt at mixing two genres which I like: erotica and mystery. If I keep trying, maybe I eventually get it right. I hope you enjoy my most recent attempt.
Some real places and institutions are mentioned or implied, but they are used fictitiously here. As far as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those places or institutions has done anything akin to what is described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended.
I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.
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By age 31, I had been with the state's criminal investigation division for six years. I liked to think it was my master's in criminology that got me hired. More likely, it was my uncle's political connections.
The CID investigated crimes involving state agencies. However, the bulk of our work was helping local law enforcement agencies. Since the state's large urban police forces were, or thought they were, adequately resourced, most of our work was in the rural parts of the state. Therefore, I wasn't surprised to get an assignment "helping" the Sheriff in Adrian County one Monday morning in June. Adrian was one of the state's least populated counties. It was located on the state's southern border in the Appalachian foothills.
I was surprised to learn that the case was a murder. Those were rare in the rural counties. When there was a murder, it was usually a family issue or drugs were involved. "Adrian SO has asked us to take the lead," my supervisor told me. "You want the really good part?" my boss asked.
"Sure," I said, fully expecting to be told that the victim was a locally prominent person.
"It happened in a nudist colony," my boss said with a smirk. "At least, that's where they found the body, bare ass naked."
"We have nudist colonies in this state?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
"Eight of them," my supervisor said. "Of course, with our weather, there are only a few months you can run around naked outside. Nudists like to be outside."
"How do you know that much about them, Supe?" I asked.
My boss frowned. "Our daughter dates a guy who likes to take her to those places," he said. "I checked them out. At least the people there don't do things to get on our radar screen." My boss paused a moment before adding, "our daughter says she enjoys running around naked with other people. I thought we raised her better than that." He dropped a thin file on my desk and left the room shaking his head.
It didn't take long to read the file. I called the Adrian County Sheriff's Office in West Richmond. An hour or so later, I got a call back from the Chief Deputy, who was their lead investigator. The victim was a 56- year-old white woman. Friends at the nudist colony county became concerned when her car was still there but they didn't see her at all on Saturday. When she still hadn't appeared by mid-day Sunday, they went into her cabin.
The friends found the woman's her naked body face down on the bed, unresponsive and cold. The life squad, which took over a half-hour to respond, concluded she was probably dead, a fact confirmed an hour or so later at the small county hospital. The probable cause of death was the bullet hole in the back of her head. Deputies had found nothing they recognized as potential evidence at the crime scene. I made a note to have our crime lab send trained crime scene investigators down there as fast as possible.
The victim's name was Glenda White. That came from the driver's license found in her purse in the cabin. The purse also contained $350 cash and credit cards. The license showed an address in Cincinnati, about 70 miles west of the nudist colony. That name and address matched her registration form at the nudist colony on arrival and the registration of her car in the parking lot.
"I don't have any really trained interrogators," the Chief Deputy told me, "But we talked to management and other folks staying there. Ms. White was a regular, coming most weekends during good weather. Everyone likes her and has no idea who would shoot her. Of course, no one heard anything. Ms. White's been divorced about nine years. No idea yet where her ex is. The only known next of kin is an adult daughter who also lives in Cincinnati. I sent a deputy to give her a death notification. I figured you would want to talk to her, so I told our guy not to hang around."
"What about this nudist colony?" I asked.
"Maple Lodge Naturist Resort," the Chief Deputy said, with a small chuckle. "Been open twenty years. This is the first call we've ever had there. I don't get why folks want to run around with no clothes on, but they haven't caused any trouble, and they pay a lot of taxes."
"Any signs someone broke in?" I asked.
"No," the Chief replied. "Either Ms. White let the killer in, or she didn't lock her door. There's a fence around the Maple Lodge property but anyone could get over it easily. We walked it and saw no signs anyone had."
"The body?" I asked.
"At the coroner in Cincinnati for an autopsy," the Chief replied. "We don't have the facilities for that out here." Not much to go on.
My first step was to interview the daughter. I called her, explained who I was, gave condolences, and she agreed to meet me the next morning. To get her as comfortable as possible, I offered to come to her residence. She agreed. She had a nice voice.
At 10:00 the next morning, I was hunting a parking place on the narrow streets of the hillside community where Meredith White lived. The hillside overlooked the City's central business district. Having grown up east of City, I knew this was a high rent district. Even a dump in this neighborhood cost money.
Meredith White looked to be about my age. In fact, we were the same age. She was about 5'7" and slender. The knit top she wore outlined two breasts somewhat larger than grapefruit and, when she turned to lead me into her townhouse, her jeans clung to a very nice-looking ass. She had very dark brown hair that just broke over her shoulders. Her blue eyes were large and relatively far apart. She had a somewhat wide face with prominent cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a wide mouth with narrow lips. She also had a wonderful smile. My initial impression was a "girl next door" type.
Meredith White was composed but, understandably, subdued. She explained that her mother was an art dealer and appraiser. Glenda's shop was in a high-end community several miles northeast of the city. Glenda had divorced Meredith's father while Meredith was in college in the East. Her father, Gavin White, had remarried about five years before and taught art history at a university in California.
"Why did your mother go to Maple Lodge?" I asked Meredith.