All characters are well above the age of 18.
***
Obviously, crime pays, or there'd be no crime.
G. Gordon Liddy
Prolog
Norman Bates' motel was a luxury estate compared to this goddamn place in this godforsaken area. Weeds had overrun the frontyard. The paint peeled off the walls and one of the front windows was broken. The roof of the old mansion didn't look good.
'What a bitch of a job,' she moaned. The owners wanted to commission her to advertise this run-down property for sale. She'd have to have a serious discussion about the asking price with them.
She stopped the engine and checked the GPS input against the confirmation email on her phone. Unfortunately, the addresses corresponded.
Impatiently, she looked around. Her clients didn't seem to be around yet. Quickly she scrolled through the new messages in her chat app.
I'll be late. Kiss the kids goodnight!
She huffed contemptuously.
Mom, can I sleep over with Marty tonight? XOXO
'I said no, darling,' she texted back.
Love you, sweet♡ Can't wait to see you again!!!! G
A string of small yellow faces that were blowing kisses emphasized the little display of affection. She smiled to herself and returned an arrow-pierced heart. She could have fucked him yet again.
There was no message from her clients.
As usual she fished her wedding ring out of her purse and slipped it back on. The classy woman took a look in the makeup mirror and touched up her lips. She slipped off her flats and bent down to the leg room to take her high heels on.
Absentmindedly she picked at her nylon stockings and straightened her suit skirt. The mere thought of him eating her out made her wet again.
She took a deep breath and straightened up. She had to get a grip on herself and put her mind to business. With a last look in the mirror she raked her fingers through the dark shoulder-length hair, took her sunglasses, and got out of her SUV.
Still there was no one around. She checked her golden bracelet watch, an outrageously expensive birthday present from her dad. Her clients were late.
The gate was open. Her heels clicked loudly in the paved driveway. She walked slowly to the backside of the house and took a look around. The garden was even more ragged than the frontyard.
She felt chilly in her office suit. The warm summer days were yet to come and the temperature even seemed to drop a few degrees in this gloomy place. She stopped at the back porch. The place was dead quiet. No bird was twittering, no cricket chirping.
All of a sudden there was a cracking noise behind her. She wheeled around. An old man pointed a rifle at her. The weapon, however, looked as if it had been in use back in the days of the Civil War. The guy didn't look much younger.
'Good afternoon,' she flashed a smile at the shabby old man, 'I'm...'.
'Shut up, bitch! You have no business here,' he snarled, 'some fine lady's looking for an adventure, huh?'
He had a wicked laugh. Slowly he approached her at gun-point, showing a toothless smile. She backed away. The old bastard made an obscene gesture with his tongue.
'No!' The busty woman stumbled and got up again. The rifle was pointed at her. The man came closer. She turned around, tried to run away and fell again. Desperate, she left her high heels behind and fled towards the street. Small stones pricked her feet. She hobbled away in her stockings. Her nylons were ruined.
She was surprised to find her car unlocked but didn't have time to think about it. Fiercely she tore the door open and made a racing start. When she floored the gas pedal she felt the abrasive surface of the rubber profile where the holes in her stocking had bared the skin of her sole.
All of a sudden she was overcome by an uneasy feeling. Something was wrong. She took a look in the inside mirror. A masked man sat up in the back seat and pointed a gun at her.
She felt the cool muzzle against her neck. This time it wasn't a museum piece. She was scared to death, but at the same time felt an unexpected tingling sensation in her crotch.
The Love Hormone
Wednesday, 10:30 a.m.
The room was cheerless and austere. Its only decoration was an old police recruiting poster. Though it was a bright day, only little sunlight made its way in through dirty windows and time-worn louvers.
Several plainclothesmen sprawled at the meeting table. Booming voices and peals of laughter rang out from the room. The animated conversation died at once when Giulia entered.
All eyes were on the stunning beauty. Even her functional clothing couldn't obscure her athletic body. She wore loose-fitting pants and, despite the summer heat, an old leather jacket over her gun holster. Her city shoes were worn out. Not alone the female part of her large Italian family would've mocked them.
As soon as she'd entered she stopped and turned around to find a light switch. Two rows of neon lamps sprang flickering to life. The men squinted in the glaring light, eyeballing the gorgeous woman.
Her brunette hair was bunched into a ponytail. Dark eyes sparkled under her striking eyebrows. They had a tinge of green and hinted at a quick temper. The features of her nose and mouth were sharp. Someone whistled quietly.
Right behind her Bob Sanders appeared in the doorframe. The buzz of voices arose again and there was a big hello. Bob waved grinning back at them.
'This is Detective Altobelli,' he pointed at the bedworthy woman at his side, 'she came from Franklin PD.'
One by one he introduced the participants to his beautiful colleague. Giulia nodded to them, memorizing faces and names. When Bob had finished the introduction she took one of the free chairs. Her partner seated himself next to her. Though they'd been working together for more than three months now he'd failed to get pussy so far.
The talk of the men had started again. Giulia felt out of place. She realized that she was the only woman in the room.
'Okay, what are we dealing with?' she asked impatiently at last. The conversation stopped once again. The officer at the head of the table, a gray-haired man with bushy brows who'd been introduced as Cpt. Parker, turned to her. He'd been scrutinizing her from the beginning.
'Organized crime, Detective Altobelli', he said slowly, 'organized crime...Well, let's get started. Good morning, welcome to the joint investigation team. Lenny's gonna fill us in.'
The detective on his right sorted his documents.
'Alright. Well, there's some new drug out there,' he began in a self-important manner, 'however, right now we're less concerned with the drug dealing as such than with the circumstances of its production. The main substance of the stuff is called oxytocin, commonly known as the love hormone. It's produced by the brain during the female orgasm.
'The,' he put on his glasses, 'Bartholin's glands release it with the vaginal secretion during sexual activity. In other words,' he raised his eyes again, 'the easiest way to get it is to extract it from a woman's juices.'
Someone chuckled. Another one said: 'I suppose the chicks are zealous to sell that miracle drug.'
'It's not that easy. Aside from the know-how you need a well-equipped laboratory, sales channels, money laundering opportunities--And you need a lot of women to make big money.'
He paused to put more emphasis on the following words: 'What makes it difficult: Not every female has orgasms during sex on a regular basis--Well, if you knew how often your wife's been lying to you, Jim...'
There was some more giggling. Everybody was looking at the only woman in the room. Without doubt all of them had gotten hard by now. Bob had at any rate.
Giulia didn't wince. 'Gli uomini sono così,' her grandma used to say, 'men are like that.'
Nevertheless, she didn't like the way Lenny was presenting the facts.
'Secondly,' the detective continued, 'not every woman produces enough vaginal secretion for that purpose. Those who lubricate sufficiently are rare.'
Giulia froze when she caught herself shifting around on her chair. At the mere mention of the issue she felt herself getting wet in her panties. Her ex back in Franklin came to her mind. Brett had been an awful bore who always seemed to be a bit disgusted by her excessive lubrication. The relationship hadn't lasted long, like all her relationships.
'Thirdly,' Lenny droned on, 'you can't make a woman orgasm from nine to five. Even if you've got a suitable cash cow it's hard work, and you need a lot of them.'
Lenny noticed the look on Giulia's face and apologized: 'Well,
cash cow
is the term they use for their victims. We picked it up from their communication.'
'If I get you right we're looking for sexually exploited women,' Giulia summed the wordy explanations up.
'We're looking for women,' Parker weighed in, 'who disappeared in the last couple of months without a trace. We're led to believe that gynecologists are selecting suitable victims under the pretext of check-ups of the sexual function.'
'Damn bastards!' Giulia quivered with rage.
'We believe that the drug mafia either put them under pressure,' Parker continued, 'or pay them for their services. Their latest victim seems to be Maria Olson, the daughter of DA Perez. Three other patients of her women's doctor were reported missing before.'
'...and if the District Attorney's involved you're gonna start investigating,' Giulia hissed and thought of the tormented victims.
'We've been investigating from day one, Detective Altobelli,' Parker put her in her place, 'and now we're shifting priorities by increasing manpower.'
'What did the doctors say?' Bob asked in order to ease the situation.
'Their lawyers deny all charges,' Lenny answered quickly.
'What investigative results do we have so far?' Giulia asked.
'Not many,' Lenny admitted, 'but there's evidence that Jack Corbin may be connected to at least one of the kidnappings. Limpin' Jack's one of the local mafia dons but we haven't yet been able to pin anything on him.'
'What if we plant an undercover agent in his organization,' someone suggested.
'I'd do it,' Giulia said as quick as a shot.
'Dream on, Altobelli,' Bob replied, 'that's no walk in the park.'
'I'm new in the city,' Giulia objected, 'my face is still unknown here and I've done that kind of job before.'
Parker looked at her with an unreadable expression.
'Alright,' he said, 'I think we'll be able to plant Detective Altobelli in his organization. We're gonna wire and tail her.'
'No wire, no tail!' Gulia rejected the proposal strictly.
Thursday, 5:45 p.m.
The afternoon sun shone through a small, barred window. A bunk bed and two cots stood against the naked walls. The door to a small toilet had been removed. There were no chairs or a table.
