In his Daddy's Shadow - 2. Chapter 2

Three years earlier, a twenty-two-year old beauty, Carolyn Shaw, arrived in Los Angeles. There was not a doubt in her mind that she would make it big on the silver screen. She stayed at the YWCA for a couple of months, and worked a myriad of part time jobs. Finally, she found a small furnished studio apartment that she could afford, and she rented it. Having a place of her own, gave her a sense of belonging, which had eluded her at the Y.

For more than a year she went to open audition calls, and was unsuccessful in the pursuit of her dream. One day, she read an ad in a trade paper. A producer was interviewing young actresses for major roles in an upcoming epic that he was producing.

She called the number in the ad, and expected to hear a secretary answer the call. She was surprised that the producer himself, John Faraday, answered her call.

“John Faraday,” he said. “How may I help you?”

“I’m calling about your ad to audition for the movie you’re producing,” she answered.

“Yeah, sure,” the producer said. “Let’s set up an interview.”

They agreed on meeting each other at 4:30 PM the next day. “Don’t forget to bring some head shots,” he said.

The meeting place turned out to be a small office in a run-down building on Western Avenue. Carolyn was very surprised, but she wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity. She made a subconscious decision not to question her surroundings. John let her in, and asked her to make herself comfortable on the sofa in the office. He was much younger than she thought he would be. She also found him to be very attractive. If she had to sleep with him to get the part, it would not be a problem for her.

“I’m just going to ask you to read a few lines for me today,” he informed Carolyn. “If you make the cut, I’ll set up a screen test. Do you understand?”

Carolyn nodded.

“You look very nervous,” he said. “I want you to relax.”

He poured a glass of water from a pitcher on his desk, and offered it to the aspiring actress. “Here, breathe deeply, and drink this,” he said. “It’ll help you to calm down.”

Carolyn took a couple of sips, and asked, “Can I study my lines for a moment before I read them for you?”

“Sure,” he said.

He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

“One of the long speeches in the film is on this sheet of paper,” he informed her. “I want you to read it to me. Sip some more water, and take all the time you need to study the lines. Tune into the emotions of the character.”

At the top of the sheet, before the long speech, there were stage directions which read, David turns to leave. Bathsheba grabs his arm.

It’s a biblical epic, she observed. Those kinds of pictures are huge. Her heart began to race. She wanted this badly. She concentrated hard on reading the script, but she was beginning to feel strange. The words began to swim on the page. She attributed this phenomenon to her nervousness. She took a deep breath, and then she passed out.

When she woke up, she knew exactly where she was. She was in the YWCA where she had stayed when she first arrived in L.A. Her head was still spinning, but she was aware enough to wonder how she had gotten there. Her entire body was numb. The only sensation she could feel was the need to pee. The bathroom was down the hall. No problem! She was fully dressed. She staggered her way to the ladies’ room.

She took a stall, and sat down to pee. She was shocked to find that something was in her vagina. Delicately, she pulled it out. It was a condom and it was full of semen. Without thinking about it she dropped it into the bowl, and flushed it away. She knew that she had been raped, and she intended on reporting this to the police. She didn’t want the bastard to get away with it. Unfortunately, when she destroyed the condom, she never gave a thought to forensic evidence, or to the rape kit she would have to submit to.

She went downstairs and asked the desk clerk how she had gotten there.

“A cab driver brought you in, and I’m sorry to say you were stinking drunk. He told me that some well-dressed gentleman gave him money, and they loaded you into the cab. The gentleman told the cabbie to take you here and get you checked in. I helped him get you into bed.”

“Where’s the nearest police station?” she asked.

The clerk gave her the address, and she took a cab there. The low-life hadn’t even taken her wallet, nor anything else in her purse. Rape was his only motive.

Over the next two months, three other women reported a similar crime to the police. In each case the circumstances were the same, but the perp used a different name. The names he chose always had the initials JF. The detective assigned to the case had no doubt that there were more victims, but they hadn’t come forth.

Finally, an undercover cop, Marie Shephard, answered the ad. When she was offered a glass of water, she reached into her purse, pulled out her gun, and arrested the man who called himself Jordan Forsythe. He was identified as Joseph Franklin, who had several arrests on his record for rape, and other felonies. It was determined that the water he offered his victims, contained a drug.

Carolyn had not preserved any forensic evidence, but two of the three other women did. Joseph was indicted and brought to trial. The police officer, Carolyn, and two of the three other victims testified against him. The third victim chose not to testify. She had enough of L.A., and her dream of becoming a movie star. She returned to Boise.

Franklin received ten years, and he would be eligible for parole in seven years.

*****

The police arrived at my home rather quickly, but they came in unmarked cars, and didn’t use sirens. They didn’t want to alarm the neighbors in this posh Beverly Hills neighborhood.

They ran to the crime scene, dusted for fingerprints, and examined the corpse for any evidence. Their observations were cursory. They knew that the coroner would go over the body with every modern forensic procedure available to him. When they were done, they interviewed all three of us. James and I could tell them nothing beyond finding Carolyn’s body, but poor Vincent was trying hard not to snivel. He requested the police to send James and me out of the room while he gave his statement. The police obliged him.

Two detectives interviewed him. The lead detective was Dave O’Brian, and his assistant was Mark Riley. Vincent identified himself as my bodyguard, and Carolyn as the family cook. He described the sex he and Carolyn had last night as having been hot and passionate, and both detectives got hard.

“After I left her, I checked every window and door. Everything was securely locked. I set the alarm, and I went to sleep. I can’t add anything to what the boys told you occurred this morning. Wait, I didn’t realize it until just now, but this morning the alarm was shut off.”

A tiny sob escaped Vincent’s throat. “I assure you that she was alive and well, basking in the afterglow, telling me that I was a fantastic lover, when I left her. I was looking forward to two weeks of having sex with her, while Mr. and Mrs. Barnett were away. I swear I didn’t murder her. I know you’ll find my DNA all over her bedroom. I admit I was there for a couple of hours.”

“Relax buddy,” O’Brian said. “This is the third murder this week we’ve investigated with the same MO. I fear we have a serial killer on our hands. We’ve been trying to establish a connection between the first two victims, but we’ve come up empty handed. Now that we have a third victim, maybe we’ll be able to determine a motive, that is, if the murders aren’t random.”

“Both of the other murders were also committed in the victims’ homes,” Riley piped in. “One was done while her husband was at work. The other was committed at night. That victim was single, and she was alone in her house. The facts are just like this one. We never found any sign of forced entry.”

“Maybe the bastard came in during the day, and hid out until everyone went to bed,” Vincent offered his opinion. “I don’t know about the other houses, but this one is large enough that an army platoon could hide undetected.”

“It’s a possibility,” O’Brian said, “but first things first. We need to figure out the link binding the three murders before there’s a fourth. These victims could have been randomly chosen, but somehow, I doubt it. We’re leaving now to confer with the forensic experts. This is an active crime scene. Don’t any of you attempt to enter the room where the murder occurred, and don’t think about getting out of Los Angeles. We’re leaving a couple of men here to keep an eye on the house.”

As he spoke, Carolyn’s remains were being carried out in a body bag. When they opened the front door, the street was teeming with reporters and gawking neighbors. So much for not wanting to alarm the wealthy neighborhood. The minute the body went through the front door, Vincent slammed the door shut, and locked it.

The day servants showed up for work, but the police sent them away. Nobody would be allowed in until the police had an opportunity to scour every inch of the mansion.

Carolyn’s room was sealed off with yellow tape. ‘Crime scene’ was printed all over the tape. Vincent, James, ` and I wanted to get into the room to see if we could find some clues the police missed, but it was out of the question.

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere today,” Vincent said.

Just then his cell phone rang. It was my father. The news had already spread around the world, and he was besieged by newspaper reporters. Vincent assured him that we were all safe, and promised that all three of us would sleep in the same room tonight.

“In addition,” he told my dad, “the police are guarding the house. We’re virtually prisoners, so please don’t worry.”

Seconds later, my cell phone rang, and I had to assure my mother that we were safe and the police were surrounding our property.

“Are we really going to sleep in the same room?” I asked. My romantic week was shot. James and I looked sadly at each other.

Vincent ransacked the kitchen, and made us breakfast and lunch. Dinner was a bigger challenge. There were no frozen dinners in the freezer. Carolyn would never have allowed it. Vincent opened the front door and waved to one of the cops, who came running.

“Is everything okay?” the police officer asked.

“Yeah,” Vincent said. “I just want to send out for dinner. Please frisk the delivery man or whatever you need to do. I felt that I should give you a head’s up.”

“What did you have in mind?” the cop asked.

“Mexican.There’s a great Mexican restaurant on Beverly Boulevard, not far from here.”

“Tell you what. Give me your order, and some money. One of us will go get the food. It’ll be safer that way. Maybe I’ll even pick-up dinner for me and my partner.”

Vincent gave him five twenty-dollar bills. “Here,” he said, “dinners on me.”

After dinner, Vincent, James, and I sat down in the den to watch television. The news was dominated with whatever little was known about Carolyn’s murder. After all, her employers were rich and famous, the elite of celebrities.

James and I were nervous and very upset. We assumed that James would sleep with his father and I would sleep alone. Vincent secured the house and set the alarm. Then he went to his room and got his travel kit with all his toiletries. He returned to my room in a few minutes. That’s when his son and I got the shock of our lives.

“Listen,” Vincent said, “I’ve known you all your life, Jimmy, and I’ve known you for several years, Claude, so I know that you’re both gay. I also have a strong suspicion about what you two horny guys did last night. I have no intention of spoiling things for you. Carolyn’s murder was certainly nothing we could have planned, and it certainly spoiled my plans. So, you sleep together, and do whatever comes to mind. Don’t be embarrassed. I really don’t mind, nor do I care. In fact, is there anything I can do to help you out?”

“Yes,” I said without shame. “We have no condoms or lube. Do you have any?’

“Sure do. I’ll be right back.”

We all used the bathroom individually, and then snuggled into our beds.

“Is everyone comfy?” Vincent asked?”

Without waiting for an answer, he reached over and shut the bedside lamp.

It wasn’t long before he heard the noises coming from my bed. They were the sounds of love making. Now, he got hornier and hornier. He took out his cock with the intention of whacking off. In fact, he started to do so, but then he got a better idea. He got out of bed, and in the darkened room, he asked, “Do you guys mind if I join you?”

Without hesitation, I said, “Be our guest.”

James was too flabbergasted to say anything. He felt his father climb into bed with him and me. His father’s cock rubbed against his son’s thigh. It was very hard, and very big. Suddenly James didn’t mind at all.