enough. “I met him online, his user name was Michael Four
Three Five. Beyond that, I can’t tell you anything.”
“Online? Like a dating service?” inquires Officer Ortega.
“Something like that,” I admit. Oh hell, this is going to be
a long night. “It’s a sex site for Dominants and submissives to hook up, you
know, to play.”
“I see.” Both officers look from Rachel, to the dead guy, to
the restraints hanging from the ceiling, to me. Curiosity flickers across
Officer Ortega’s face, but is quickly replaced with his professional, neutral
expression as he asks, “Ms. Marconi, did you have this man in restraints when
he died?”
“No sir. I was in the restraints. I was straddling him.”
“Could you be more detailed, ma’am?” Officer Underwood asks.
No. I don’t think I can. “Am I being charged with
something?”
Rachel intercedes. “More details, Officer?”
“We’re just trying to piece together what happened, Ms.—” He
tersely looks at his notes to come up with her name and I decide that I don’t
like him very much.
Rachel introduces herself. “I’m Rachel Carlisle, best
friend. The security guard can confirm that when we arrived, Gigi was in restraints.”
“So you weren’t here at the time of death, Ms. Carlisle?”
Officer Underwood’s pen flies over a notepad and Officer Ortega asks Rachel to
step outside since she wasn’t directly involved, though assuring her that he
will need her complete statement.
“No, Officer, I don’t think I will.”
“Are you saying that you intend to interfere with our
investigation, Ms. Carlisle?”
“No. I’m here to support my friend during this time of
emotional crisis.”
“Can you explain what your part was in tonight’s scenario,
ma’am?” Officer Underwood interrupts.
Oh good, Rachel got called ma’am too; that makes me feel
better .
More than happy to let Rachel take the heat for a moment, I
pick at a lint ball on my shirt, avoiding looking at the white-sheet-covered
body lying on the bed across from me while I wait to be asked another question.
A coroner arrives and several detectives. The shift in power annoys Ortega and
Underwood but they step aside and let the detectives go to work. I am separated
from Rachel. She is led from the hotel room; I get to stay with the dead body,
which is already being photographed. I also get to repeat the answers to every
single question I’ve already answered.
The coroner lifts Michael435’s pants from the chair where
they’d been carelessly tossed. He withdraws his wallet and starts documenting
what he finds—identification, cash, credit cards. I know it’s too late for it
to matter but I wonder what his name is. God, I can’t believe he’s dead.
I hear Rachel’s voice coming through the closed door. She must
be just outside, in the hallway. “I was her safety net, in case something went
wrong. If she didn’t answer her cell at the appointed time, I was supposed to
check on her in person, which is what I did when I came here tonight. I found
her in restraints with this man beneath her. She was obviously upset and he was
obviously dead.”
“We have a problem.” The coroner draws my attention back to
the room’s activity, but now that he has our undivided attention he doesn’t
elaborate.
I get a free ride downtown. Time speeds and slows at
alarming rates from that moment. I am hurried into the station and taken to an
interview room. Then I wait.
Wait, wait, wait.
Exhausted, I end up laying my head down on the table. A
homicide detective enters and slams a clipboard down on the tabletop, jerking
me awake. “Comfortable? Can I get you a pillow, perhaps?”
I slowly sit back. If he thinks he can intimidate me by
being a smart-ass he needs to try a different approach. Or maybe he could go
take classes from my mother and come back when he’s figured out how to do
menacing for real.
“Michael Gregory, age fifty-four, Des Moines, Iowa. Ring a
bell?”
I shrug.
The
Three Five. Beyond that, I can’t tell you anything.”
“Online? Like a dating service?” inquires Officer Ortega.
“Something like that,” I admit. Oh hell, this is going to be
a long night. “It’s a sex site for Dominants and submissives to hook up, you
know, to play.”
“I see.” Both officers look from Rachel, to the dead guy, to
the restraints hanging from the ceiling, to me. Curiosity flickers across
Officer Ortega’s face, but is quickly replaced with his professional, neutral
expression as he asks, “Ms. Marconi, did you have this man in restraints when
he died?”
“No sir. I was in the restraints. I was straddling him.”
“Could you be more detailed, ma’am?” Officer Underwood asks.
No. I don’t think I can. “Am I being charged with
something?”
Rachel intercedes. “More details, Officer?”
“We’re just trying to piece together what happened, Ms.—” He
tersely looks at his notes to come up with her name and I decide that I don’t
like him very much.
Rachel introduces herself. “I’m Rachel Carlisle, best
friend. The security guard can confirm that when we arrived, Gigi was in restraints.”
“So you weren’t here at the time of death, Ms. Carlisle?”
Officer Underwood’s pen flies over a notepad and Officer Ortega asks Rachel to
step outside since she wasn’t directly involved, though assuring her that he
will need her complete statement.
“No, Officer, I don’t think I will.”
“Are you saying that you intend to interfere with our
investigation, Ms. Carlisle?”
“No. I’m here to support my friend during this time of
emotional crisis.”
“Can you explain what your part was in tonight’s scenario,
ma’am?” Officer Underwood interrupts.
Oh good, Rachel got called ma’am too; that makes me feel
better .
More than happy to let Rachel take the heat for a moment, I
pick at a lint ball on my shirt, avoiding looking at the white-sheet-covered
body lying on the bed across from me while I wait to be asked another question.
A coroner arrives and several detectives. The shift in power annoys Ortega and
Underwood but they step aside and let the detectives go to work. I am separated
from Rachel. She is led from the hotel room; I get to stay with the dead body,
which is already being photographed. I also get to repeat the answers to every
single question I’ve already answered.
The coroner lifts Michael435’s pants from the chair where
they’d been carelessly tossed. He withdraws his wallet and starts documenting
what he finds—identification, cash, credit cards. I know it’s too late for it
to matter but I wonder what his name is. God, I can’t believe he’s dead.
I hear Rachel’s voice coming through the closed door. She must
be just outside, in the hallway. “I was her safety net, in case something went
wrong. If she didn’t answer her cell at the appointed time, I was supposed to
check on her in person, which is what I did when I came here tonight. I found
her in restraints with this man beneath her. She was obviously upset and he was
obviously dead.”
“We have a problem.” The coroner draws my attention back to
the room’s activity, but now that he has our undivided attention he doesn’t
elaborate.
I get a free ride downtown. Time speeds and slows at
alarming rates from that moment. I am hurried into the station and taken to an
interview room. Then I wait.
Wait, wait, wait.
Exhausted, I end up laying my head down on the table. A
homicide detective enters and slams a clipboard down on the tabletop, jerking
me awake. “Comfortable? Can I get you a pillow, perhaps?”
I slowly sit back. If he thinks he can intimidate me by
being a smart-ass he needs to try a different approach. Or maybe he could go
take classes from my mother and come back when he’s figured out how to do
menacing for real.
“Michael Gregory, age fifty-four, Des Moines, Iowa. Ring a
bell?”
I shrug.
The
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