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Chapter Four: Lies, Damn Lies, and Audiotape

Nancy shut the door behind her and moved into the living room. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes and lit up, eyeing a coyote in the kitchen. The coyote was wearing a maid outfit and cleaning dishes, despite the fact that it was well past 1 AM. “You can quit hiding in the kitchen, Consuela. Everyone’s asleep. I made sure of it.”

Consuela wasn’t the coyote’s name any more than Nancy’s was, but such a generic, latina-sounding name certainly helped with the deception. The coyote was neither short nor tall, fat nor thin, pretty nor ugly. In appearance, she seemed as generic and unremarkable as a road sign or light fixture. Nancy admired that — Consuela was the ultimate agent, someone no one ever suspected. Most didn’t even realize that English was her native language.

“They’d notice if the dishes weren’t clean.” Consuela’s voice had no hint of an accent, though Nancy knew she could lay down an impenetrable one when the situation called for it. “Besides, I learn all sorts of things when I clean up in there.”

Nancy patted her lap, inviting Consuela to sit in it. The coyote did so. Nancy nuzzled her, taking in the warmth of her soft body. The shape and feel were unremarkable, but the mind inside was the sexiest thing Nancy had ever met in any con she’d ever run. “What sorts of things?”

Consuela’s ears and nose twitched, instinctively checking for the presence of interlopers and eavesdroppers. She wasn’t paranoid, but she didn’t let her guard down either. Nancy loved it. “Well, I can tell you when the next load of dirty money is coming in. They weren’t dumb enough to talk about it out loud, but even a layman would have no trouble figuring out what was going on. These guys are amateurs. We’re just lucky that we got to them before someone else did.”

“Did you get it recorded?” Talking so brazenly about such dangerous acts had always been thrilling for Nancy. She lived for it the way others lived for big game hunting or mountain climbing. As a child, she’d spied on her friends and family, loving the thrill of knowing something they’d beat her if they knew she she knew. As she aged, she raised the stakes, pretending to be the pretty dumb blond in the back of the room while secretly recording everything. She’d even had a sort-of career in porno, letting her advertise herself as some sort of porno has-been, the ideal hanger-on for all sorts of nefarious dealings. They didn’t know. Other than Consuela, no one knew. And that thrilled her to no end.

Consuela grinned and reached into her maid uniform, withdrawing a microcassette recorder from between her breasts. “I was literally bending over them to refill their wine glasses and they didn’t notice. They sweep the house for bugs, but can’t be bothered to pat down the maid, at least when she isn’t pretty. Like I said, amateurs.”

“Well, you have to give them some credit, no one would suspect that a pornography studio was laundering mob money, especially when it would have needed to have its own money laundered just a decade ago.” Nancy removed the cassette from the recorder and slipped it underneath a metal ashtray. In a few hours, an “electrician” would come by to inspect some wires, then secret the tape out to a safe deposit box. “Hell, they are even incorporated, and pay California business tax. The men out front are stupid, but someone here is smarter than the feds seem to think.” She loved to talk about this so openly. Being on the razor’s edge of danger thrilled her to no end. If there wasn’t the possibility of being caught, what was the point of doing this kind of work?

“Are we still selling our tapes to the feds?” Consuela returned the recorder to its position inside her uniform. It was impossible to see, even when Nancy was so close. “Last I heard, they didn’t want any more ‘inadmissible evidence’.”

“You’ll find that Republican-appointed judges are liberal about one thing: the admission of evidence. Especially when you make the right ‘campaign contributions’.” Nancy cuddled Consuela close, kissing her on the nose and cheek. “But the cartel would certainly pay handsomely to know when the van will be rounding a blind curve in a remote area. Accidents happen, after all. Things go missing in transit.”

Consuela clucked her tongue, frowning at Nancy. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t work with those animals anymore.” She kissed Nancy on the nose. “The mob is one thing, at least they aspire to be like the guys in the movies. But the cartels, they’re more coked up than the Tony’s whores. They’re no better than medieval warlords.”

“Putting your degree to good use, I see.” Nancy pushed Consuela over on the couch, crawling over her. She shoved her hand up the coyote’s skirt, probing and fingering under her panties. “Why a girl as smart as you chose this life I’ll never know. Good thing I met you in that bar and realized what a jewel you really are.”

“Ahhn...It was interesting to me, besides, I thought I had a degree and a teaching job lined up, until the department found out why I never married.” Consuela blushed, her modest chest heaving as Nancy prowled over her. She writhed, trying to hold back on displaying pleasure, but slowly failing. “Just promise me you won’t work with the cartel. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt!”

“Then who am I supposed to sell it to, the Russians?” Nancy dug her fingers in deep, working the labia and clit all at once. “They bounce more checks than John DeLorean.” She pulled Consuela into a deep kiss, tasting her tongue against the coyote’s. “All right, fine, have it your way. We’ll sell to the FBI. I suppose death is too good for these bastards anyway. Let them rot in prison for a few decades, and think about what they’ve done.”

“Quit talking business and fuck me!” Consuela removed her uniform expertly, stripping down in a matter of seconds and pouncing on Nancy. She was very strong for her size, easily overpowering Nancy, although the rabbit put up minimal resistance.

“Oh, so now you’re wearing the pants in this relationship?” Nancy kissed Consuela hard on the lips, lingering for a few seconds before breaking the kiss. “Fine, but I’m keeping the car!” She pushed her hand into Consuela, penetrating with her digits, seeking out those spots she’d found with the sort of time and patience that only she could muster. Other girls might finger or probe for a few minutes, even putting in the time and effort to remember what worked previously. But to Nancy, it was a science, the precise process of exploring the female body and learning how each and every spot worked. It was like deciphering a puzzle box, only with fantastically more exciting results.

“Ohhhh fuccck!” Consuela struggled to keep her voice down, to maintain her quiet and inconspicuous demeanor. Despite this, she pushed herself hard on Nancy, her sex soaking the bunny’s digits with juice. Her canine whines were only half restrained, her lip quivering even as she tried to mute herself. Finally she spun around, planting her dripping sex on Nancy’s muzzle. “Make me scream, you beautiful bitch!” She grabbed a pillow and stuffed into her maw, desperately trying to muffle her moans.

“You know these walls are soundproof, right? And Tony is out with his ‘friends.’ And as for Butchie, well, Lola is so hopped up on coke that neither of them are going to hear us for hours.” Nancy dug her tongue in deep, working and pushing a bit, roughing up Consuela’s sex before digging in more firmly. Her movements were fast and hard at first, then she slowed down to a more measured pace. She could take her time, and more importantly, she knew how much her partner treasured this sort of slow intimacy.

Paying close attention to the coyote’s muffled moans, Nancy went in deliberately, taking her time to push, lick, shove and move inside, although her focus remained on the folds. Consuela’s lower lips were very sensitive, and though a little clit licking and sucking was certainly important, Consuela was a special girl, and she needed special attention. A vagina was not a hole to be rammed into like a piston, whatever those sluts and whores in the porno films portrayed. It was a delicate flower, one which needed precise watering and care to make it bloom.

Nancy reveled in the joy of the work, bringing in her fingers to probe and prod as she continued to manipulate and pleasure the coyote’s delicate sex. No rough jamming, no shoving her digits knuckle-deep into Consuela’s interior. Just clean, careful work, making Consuela moan into her pillow. When the little trickles of juice came out, Nancy knew that her work was done, and she gave her lover a quick peck on the left ass cheek. “Feeling better now?”

“No, not entirely.” Even coming down from her orgasm, Consuela was on full alert. “It’s well past 2 AM at this point. Candy should have come down for her late-night snack. She always does. It’s like clockwork. I’ve even taken to making sure I put the right stuff out for her beforehand.” She moved slowly, standing up and putting her clothes back on.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I mean, all of the girls in this place are totally fucked up. She’s probably too drunk or high to come down and eat.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Consuela moved silently into the hallway, not turning on any of the lights. In the dark, with her white uniform, she looked more like a ghost than a maid, flitting out of view again and again.

Nancy pursued, her own footfalls noisy in comparison. Ahead she hard Consuela open the door and turn on the light, then shuffle suddenly. It was unlike Consuela to make a noise when she moved. Nancy sped up, almost smashing into the door as she went through it.

“Shit!” A raccoon, no older than twenty, was sprawled half on the bed and half on the floor. She was completely naked, though there was a belt strapped around her left arm. Several needle marks in that arm, along with white powder on her nose, made it clear what happened. Nancy ran over and began grabbing at her chest and neck, trying to determine if she was breathing. “Where the FUCK did she get H?”

“Like I fucking know! These bitches get all sorts of crazy shit from their ‘friends’ at the club. I had no idea she was even using, I mean, I never found any needles or kit or anything.” Consuela moved in to help, lifting Candy back on to the bed with surprising strength.

Nancy looked at the powder under Candy’s nose, then spotted some neatly-cut lines of cocaine on a nearby mirror. “Some dipshit must have talked her into trying a speedball. Any chance he was in here when it happened?”

“We’re on the second floor, barred windows, and the door was locked.” Consuela quickly began to clean up, instinctively destroying or hiding evidence of what they’d found. “If he’d come out, I’d have seen or heard something. These walls aren’t as soundproof as you and everyone else seems to think.”

“Fuck!” Nancy’s fist hit the wall hard, causing the drywall to crack and compress under her knuckles. “Candy’s been dead for at least an hour. Maybe longer. She’s going to start getting stiff soon. We need to clean this shit up before someone finds out.”

“Clean her up?” Consuela stumbled a bit, even as she began to remove the bedsheets Candy had voided herself as she died, leaving a powerful stench. “Nancy, Candy isn’t just some carpet stain, she is...She was a living being.”

“And we’ll all be joining her in Hell soon if this shit gets out.” Nancy helped Consuela with the removal of the sheets, then ran over to a nearby closet. “You steal a TV or snort some coke and the police don’t even begin to care. But let some photogenic bitch from the suburbs kill herself with H? Cops will be swarming everyone. You, me, we’re all going to be accessories to some dumb shit’s bad deeds, and we’re going to be the one taking the fall while he lies about his friends to the feds and negotiates some shit plea deal.”

“So what, you want me to make her disappear like we did with that enforcer in Tijuana?”

“Fuck no. Candy isn’t going to disappear. She’s going to have a good, honest death, just like everybody else. No drugs, no sleaze, just a closed casket funeral.” Nancy grabbed various bits of clothing off the rack and tossed them to Consuela. “Help me dress her. She and I are going to go for a ride.”

“Candy doesn’t dress like this.” Consuela went into the closet, grabbing various items and then bringing them over. “Trust me, I do her laundry. When she’s not on set she’s pretty conservative, jeans, t-shirt and sweater mostly.”

“Well at least we won’t be struggling to figure out how to get a pair of pantyhose on her.” Nancy walked over and began to help Consuela dress Candy. It was slow going. Her body was cool to the touch, a disgusting perversion of how she’d been just this morning. Her arms, legs and head lolled at strange, uncomfortable angles, resisting their attempts to shove them through pants legs or shirt sleeves. “Wait, did we forget panties?”

“She never wore any, except when the shoot called for it. She was kind of cut out for this work.” Consuela moved quickly, forcing Candy’s body to accept the clothing, shoving the tits into the bra roughly, jamming and moving her like a stubborn mannequin. “Fuck, I should have come up here to check on her the moment she didn’t come down on time. Maybe she would have still been breathing. But no, I had to get my cunt eaten out, rather than doing my fucking job.”

“Hey, no.” Nancy grabbed Consuela’s face, locking eyes with her. “You do not blame yourself for this one. This is not your fault. And more importantly, the shit we’ve been collecting — that you’ve been collecting — that’s going to put the fuckers who let this happen in jail for a long, long time.”

“Death’s too good for them.” Consuela picked up Candy in a fireman’s carry, her knees barely bending under the weight. “So what now?”

“Take her out to her car. I need some clothes and a smoke. I’ll meet you there in five.”

Nancy dashed off down the hall to her own room, throwing open the closet and grabbing at clothes. Shirt, pants, socks, shoes, no time for underwear or a belt. This wasn’t high fashion, it was covering up an accidental suicide. She needed to be not-naked enough to avoid drawing attention for a few hours, that was all. Sensible shoes with no heel. Wallet, not a purse, with plenty of cash. Lighter. Cigarettes. Then back out the door, running full tilt down the hallway towards the garage.

Consuela was there, gently placing Candy into the trunk of a brand-new Mercedes. Two doors, no roof — a typical southern California vehicle. Consuela tossed Nancy the keys. “So what are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to take her to Dead Man’s Curve and let her go off the cliff without a seat belt.” Nancy hopped into the front seat, turning the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life. She clicked her own seat belt into place, then shifted the car into gear. “Her car, her mistake, no one will ask any questions. Just another tragic statistic.”

“Be careful out there.”

“I will.” Nancy hit the button for the automatic garage door opener, then pulled out into the driveway. She drove without the headlights, hoping to attract as little attention as possible. The engine was almost idling as she crawled towards the front gate. Once there, she had the gate opened and closed in a matter of seconds, never even shifting the car out of first. She would need to work fast, before anyone started to ask why she and Candy were missing.

Once on the road she flipped on the headlights and began to drive calmly, staying well below the speed limit. Even this late at night there were a few lights visible in the distance, sleepy farm houses and early morning produce trucks. Mostly, though, all she could see was darkness on all sides, save for a small cone of light lit up by the car’s headlights.

At low speeds the car walked through the turns, taking them easily, sliding through each one without so much of a tire squeal. It was a shame to have to waste this car, but nowhere near as bad as wasting Candy. Nancy bit her lip and tried not to think about it. She had liked Candy. Candy had been different from the other girls — she wasn’t greedy or shallow, just eager to please. She just wanted to have fun with life, and share the fun with others. How that had turned into trying a speedball all on her own at one in the morning, Nancy couldn’t say. But it reinforced Nancy’s desire to see every last one of these assholes either in jail or in the dirt. She just needed to buckle down and get it done.

Signs on the road warned Nancy of the sharp curves ahead, exactly the sort that young, tired and inexperienced drivers took too fast, sending them through the railing and off into the rocky cliffs below. Just last week, a pair of drunken college kids had sent a Honda Civic careening off the cliff, killing both of them on impact. Hopefully, the cops would believe that’s what happened to Candy.

Nancy began to take the corners hard now, making the back end of the car kick out as the tires squealed. The entire machine began to go sideways with each turn, the back wheels spinning angrily in an attempt to push the car in the angle commanded by the front wheels. She knew the police would come looking for skid marks, the detectives wanting to at least feign competence so long as there was a dead girl involved. This needed to look real. It needed to look right.

A few more sharp turns and Nancy braked, not even pulling over to the median. This needed to look like it was all one thing, like Candy had done it herself, while late and exhausted. Nancy popped open the trunk, pulling Candy out and putting her in the driver’s seat. She pushed the raccoon into a driving position, struggling to get her in there without touching the pedals. Candy had been dead for hours now, and her body was beginning to stiffen. Nancy should have brought Consuela along, that coyote could move a corpse as easily as a chair. Nothing for it now, though. Hopefully this would do.

Carefully, Nancy shifted the car into gear, struggling to do so while leaning over Candy’s body. The flesh was cold and clammy, repulsive to the touch and unnatural in its stiffness. The car began to roll slowly, forcing Nancy to walk as she continued to lean in to the convertible. Candy’s arms and legs were roughly shoved into place. Nancy then picked up Candy’s leg and let it drop on to the accelerator, the weight pushing the pedal down to the floor.

The sudden jolt in acceleration sent Nancy sprawling. She struggled to keep from being run over by the vehicle, collapsing and rolling on the pavement. The vehicle picked up speed, the engine whining as it began to redline in first gear. By the time it hit the railing lining the curve, it was doing well over forty-five miles per hour. The wood and metal barely slowed it down, its tail lights disappearing into the darkness.

There was a tremendous crash as the vehicle rolled down the hill, followed by numerous smaller crashes as various debris plummeted down into the canyon below. The whole crash lasted only a few seconds, the night returning to silence as if nothing had happened.

Nancy sighed. “I’m sorry Candy, you deserved better.” She turned and began walking back to the compound. It would be daylight by the time she got back. “Don’t worry, though. They’ll spend a lot of time in jail soon. Just you wait.”