JW - Part 4

Needing Coffee, Paige found a Starbucks with a drive-thru window. She didn't need the caffeine, but she wanted to give her jaw a reason to unclench. After getting her cup of java, she drove to a nearby shopping center and sat in her car, drinking and fuming.

She considered going home and reliving her encounter with Detective Baxtor for the benefit of her readers. The LVMPD would be less than appreciative of this gesture, but they had it coming. This so-called investigator had to have gotten some kind of higher-up's approval to not work so hard on Brittney's murder.

But, blogging would just be synonymous to venting at this moment. Paige wanted to be more productive. She pulled out her phone and got onto the Internet. She didn't like composing lengthy blurbs on the handheld device, but searching wasn't writing. And, in about half an hour, around the time her coffee cup was empty, she was sure she had what she needed. Starting to sweat, she turned on her car, including its air conditioning, and headed south.

* * *

The seventh-largest state in the country, Nevada had seventeen counties, if one counted Carson City. Each county was huge. Clark County, home to Las Vegas, was about the size of New Jersey, which had twenty-one counties.

But, the city of Henderson was only about a half-hour-long drive from Vegas. Given Paige was making the trip as the sun was rising to her left, she wasn't encountering horrendous traffic.

Nestled alongside the McCullough mountain range in the southeastern corner of Henderson, the five-hundred-plus-acre campus of Nevada State University was first and foremost home to a liberal arts school with an emphasis on education and nursing programs, along with some related fields. Paige navigated to the school's fitness center. As far as she could tell, the relatively-new university did not have a swim team, even though the administration touted exciting plans of expansion in every imaginable way. Still, there was a pool, and Paige knew some habits were hard to cut out of one's life. She parked near the front doors and waited, leaving the air conditioning running this time. It was 7:38 am.

She didn't have to wait long. Just after 8:00, a petit girl with short red hair emerged from the fitness center. Fatigue setting in, Paige almost fell out of her car in her rush to react. Good fortune came when the girl looked at the minor commotion.

"Are you okay?" she asked, not coming over.

"Yeah," Paige replied, catching her breath as she held onto her car door until her legs got back underneath her. "Are you Kate Sanger?"

"Yeah," the girl replied, her eyes narrowing. She looked ready to run and Paige raised her arms, revealing her bare hands.
"I'm a friend," she said. "I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

The girl remained suspicious.

"Talk about what?" she asked.

Paige didn't want to say why out in this parking lot. There were a few people around.

"Could I buy you a coffee somewhere?" she proposed. "It'll just take a few minutes."

Kate Sanger still looked less than convinced.

"Please," Paige said. "I'm a friend."

Kate Sanger studied this stranger.

"There's a coffeeshop just outside the main entrance," she said. "Joey's You can't miss it. It has a giant, tacky coffee cup covering half its roof, but the coffee's pretty good. I'll meet you there in half an hour."

* * *

Team or no team, Kate Sanger was a swimmer. So, coffee soon included two hefty breakfast sandwiches. Paige never batted an eye as she picked up the tab. It wouldn't even make a dent in her savings.

As she ate, Kate studied the tattoos on Paige's forearms, the latter having put on a V-neck t-shirt. Paige supposed this was mere curiosity. From what she could tell, Kate hadn't even gotten her ears pierced.

"So," Kate queried between bites, "what did you want to talk about?"

She'd eyed the homemade business card Paige had slid across their table a couple times. The same card, identifying its creator as a journalist, had landed Paige some good internships during her studies in Reno.

"UNLV," Paige replied, deciding to get to the point.

Halfway through her first sandwich, Kate set it back on her plate. She didn't look ready to bolt, but her appetite wasn't the same.

"How did you find me?" she asked in a small voice. She wasn't perceiving Paige as an outright threat, but her guard was raised.

Paige explained her methodology.

"Your picture was on UNLV's swimming and diving roster last year," she described. "You were a freshmen."
Kate nodded, not meeting Paige's eyes now.

"There were three girls who weren't in the roster this year," Paige continued. "One has a Facebook wall full of photos from studying abroad in England this semester."

She considered how to be delicate about saying the other remaining female absentee was less than attractive ... certainly not appealing to the likes of Simon Clemons. She didn't need to come up with a way.

"Do I need to guess what regarding UNLV?" Kate asked, still not looking at her.

"Simon Clemons," Paige said in a low voice. No one was listening, but she wouldn't risk it.

Kate looked up at her.

"He did it again, didn't he?" she asked.

Paige nodded.

"Worse," she added.

"Someone you knew?" Kate asked.

"He killed a friend of mine," Paige replied. "I'm pretty sure they were in some kind of a relationship."

"She probably did something he didn't like. He doesn't take 'no' very well."

Paige took a deep breath.

"You don't have to tell me what happened," she said, "but I want to know what he did afterwards. You transferred here for a reason."

Kate nodded, on the verge of tears.

"He took so much," she said, breathing heavily. "My dignity ... my sense of trust ... my reputation ... my relationship ... my hair ..."

She touch the short red strands to the left of her face. Paige remembered the longer hair she'd had in her team photo.

"I left UNLV because of him," Kate continued. "I had it all. I could have gone to the Olympics in L.A. in twenty-eight. My coaches were going to help me do it. But ... I had to get away."

"Because of him," Paige said.

"Yeah," Kate said. "I guess the school was supportive, but there was just no evidence ... definitely no one from the party who could support my claim. The D.A. declined to prosecute. I wish I hadn't gone back to my dorm and showered right after. I didn't even say anything until two days later. One of the coaches pressed me, saying I'd been acting odd and he was worried."

Her wet eyes were heavy with regret.

"I had to get away," the petite redhead said. "After I told, I saw him everywhere. He and some cronies who thought he was cool to be around. They always smiled and waved, but it was anything but friendly. He had power over me and he knew it."

She pounded a fist on the table.

"He had power over me and he enjoyed it," she said, her voice no angry.

Paige waved off a curious waitress.

"I lost so much," Kate said. "At least I can still work towards becoming a teacher here. He wasn't able to take that."

She looked at Paige again.

"You said he killed your friend," she said. "Do you think he would have killed me if I'd stayed and fought back?"

Paige didn't want to think about the possibility. She already felt closer to this young woman.

"I want to take him down," she said. "He's arrogant, and arrogance leads to mistakes. There's a way to connect him to the murder."

Now, Kate looked curious.

"What do you want from me?" she asked. "I want to get him. I want to look him in the eye in a courtroom while I tell everyone what he did to me."

Paige leaned forward. It was time to share a little more about herself.

* * *

Dear readers,

In my last post, a few weeks old now, I told you about my friend, Violet, who was brutally murdered in a parking garage here in Vegas. First, the outpouring of sympathy you have shown is nothing less than amazing. It's good to know we're not just alive to be ogled.

I have a suspect, one the LVPD isn't taking seriously. Simon Clemons, the sole offspring of esteemed Nevada Governor Roofus Clemons. Now, would I throw such a name out there without having proof. Of course not. Libel is a real thing.

It's very simple. Simon Clemons is used to getting his way in every aspect of life. So, when anyone goes against that mindset, he is not a happy person. And, of course, anyone weaker than him is in a real bad position. Women are in a particularly vulnerable position if on his wrong side.

You are hopefully recalling that rape accusation made against him at the University of Nevada in Las Vegas last year. Well, that young woman is standing up and saying he did it, and I believe him. She rejected his advances and he didn't like that. My friend put him in a position he was not happy about and look what happened. It's called evolution. Every show about a serial predator has used that term.

Plus, Simon Clemons said somethings to me about the murders which he'd have no way of knowing. Remember, I found the bodies. The next folks who came to the scene were some security guards, followed by the police and first responders. So, when would Simon Clemons have learned such specific details? The police are withholding many of them until the case is closed. So, he would have had just one opportunity.

I don't think the prosecution can rest its case just yet, but this merits further investigation. And I'd like to leave that to the professionals. So, dear readers, please help me to convince these professionals. Let's get justice for all.

* * *

Jersey had never seen a Karaoke Night like this. For one thing, the audience wasn't participating. It was the Topaz Gentlemen's Lounge trying new things again, usually to great success.

For this occasion, the stage was equipped with powerful, almost-invisible mics, enabling the dancers to take off their clothes while singing songs of their choosing. Among the more frequent lyrics belted out were Lenny Kravitz's "American Woman," B2K's "Bump, Bump, Bump," Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me," and, of course, Nelly's "Hot in Herre." A song about a woman being encouraged to disrobe just couldn't be skipped.

Most of the dancers' singing wasn't too bad, but the majority still wouldn't make it far in a venue like American Idol. Thank God the point was to make the act of undressing unique.

Jersey was in a minority for this event, wanting to be a bit more subtle in her choice of music.

Her post outing Simon Clemons as a murderer, now two days old, had gotten attention. Social media had exploded with links to her blog, followed by demands for an investigation. As of yet, the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department had not seemed to take an interest. Management at the Topaz Gentlemen's Lounge weren't commenting. When asked about the accusation, the Clemons family, speaking through a mouthpiece from the Governor's office, said they weren't dignifying it with a response. As for Paige ... she'd said her piece. She wasn't responding to follow-up requests of any kind.

"And that was April singing 'Body Talks'," the DJ said over the speakers. "Give her a big hand."
The applause was enthusiastic, though April's surgically-crafted E-cups were the focus of the audience's adoration.

"Next up," the DJ continued, "we have the lovely Jersey performing 'Embraceable You'."

Jersey received a strong round of applause as she walked on stage. If she had any supporters of her blog in this crowd, she couldn't tell. Wearing a blouse, skirt, and her usual high-heeled sandals, she was well-covered. But, the people knew what she had to offer and they wanted to see.

The piano soon began playing.

"Embrace me," Jersey began, waiting until the end of this first line to undo the top button on her blouse. Someone whooped, but she wasn't fazed.

Having practiced her act at home over and over, she took her time, moving across the stage as she sang and alternated between revealing more flesh and running her hands over her own body. Occasionally, she bent forward over the stage's rail towards the customers who'd paid extra for the privilege to sit so close. With her blouse partially open, she watched them try to decide whether to ogle her bra-clad breasts or her tattoos.

Jersey wasn't the club's best singer, some of her colleagues doing this in professional venues, but she knew she had enough talent for people not to cringe. The husky tone she used when talking to them worked during this rendition. It was part of her constant effort to make this an experience rather than just the sight of a woman undressing. People paid more for the experiences.

Sure enough, the audience began encouraging her to undress faster, some trying financial incentives, but Jersey ignored this. She knew she had them hooked. No one was going to walk out because she was a slow stripper.

By the song's halfway point, her blouse was unbuttoned to her midriff and she'd let her skirt fall in a puddle around her ankles. About twenty seconds later, the blouse joined the skirt.

Tips had been appearing on stage from almost the beginning, but more bills were materializing now that she was clad in only her bra and G-string. The spotlight prevented Jersey from seeing much beyond the stage, but she saw a good portion of what she'd be taking home tonight. And, she still had the possibility of earnings from private dances to come.

She slid a hand behind her back and unhooked her bra, but kept its cups pressed against her breasts with her other hand. As she continued crooning, she slowly peeled the fabric away, letting the garment gracefully flutter down onto the stage.

Beginning the final stanza, Jersey grabbed the rail and propelled herself over it, planting her feet on the back of the chair of a bewildered but quickly-pleased customer. She smiled and stroked his cheek with her calve. This was the sales pitch, letting him and everyone in the club know how much, and possibly more, she was willing to do for them.

After a few seconds, she propelled herself back on the stage and discarded her panties as the song came to a close. Despite her only being naked at the end, the emerging applause indicated that was fine.

"And that was Jersey with 'Embraceable You'," the DJ said right on cue. "Give her a big hand."

The audience happily obliged as Jersey began gathering her clothes and earnings.