My radio crackled. It was Trudy.

“Willa, you’re not going to believe this but another one just came in -- at Lafayette Cemetery, same MO.”

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but the Mayor’s already calling for a task force and I heard a rumor that you would be in charge of it.”

“I was supposed to go to Vegas next week. I got Katrina tickets to see that new Cirque Du Soleil show.”

“Sorry, but I knew you’d want a head’s up. I’ll see you at Lafayette.”

Jonathan had heard the call and he looked concerned.

“I’ll go with you Willa. We’ll let them finish up here and we can do the rest at the morgue.”

“Okay, thanks Jonathan. It looks like we’ll be up all night.”

“No doubt.”

We got in the ME Burb and headed toward the Garden District where the Cemetery was. Lafayette had always given me the creeps. It looked like something out of The Omen, especially in the middle of the night. We hit the drive-through at Doughnut Hole to get coffee. It tasted good, but I still felt a little queasy. Maybe the caffeine would make my headache better.

It was definitely the same situation. It was like a mirror image of the crime we just left. This victim was a little older, but the same kind of tape was used around his wrists and like the body behind Rawhide, a white dahlia rested surreally in his palm. His face had also been sliced. The first phases of panic started to grip the city officials. While the citizens slept unaware of what was happening, cops and council members were running rampant afraid the media, who were already lining Canal Street with their satellite vans, would print something to scare away the tourists. I could understand their alarm. I was worried myself. At the very least, it was possible we had a serial killer on the loose and the gruesomeness of the crimes made it much more frightening and perfect fodder for headlines. I could see it now plastered across the front page: The White Dahlia Strikes!

“Willa, did you notice anything odd?” Jonathan asked.

“Well, fuck Jonathan. Yeah. Everything.”

“No, I mean about the hair. Both the victims had peroxide hair.”

“I didn’t. You think he’s playing on some kind of white theme? The flower, the hair.”

“I don’t know. Why are you assuming the perp is a man?

“Good point.”

I saw Charlie O’Rourke moving through the crowd toward the crime tent. I couldn’t stand him. He’d been a Captain at the 101st for a year. I thought he was a menace to the force. Prejudiced and misogynistic and more so since his wife Mildred had left him after sixteen years of marriage. It was rumored that he was abusive toward her. As Jonathan and I walked into the crime tent, I heard O’Rourke say to some of the police technicians,

“Somebody smearin’ queers?”

“Shut up O’Rourke,” I said. “I hear that kind of talk again and I’m gonna make sure the Mayor knows you said it.”

“You ain’t heading up the task force yet Gray. Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“You’re a creep. I think I’ll get Channel 16 over here and ask them to come and interview you, let the public in on your ignorant views.”

That seemed to scare him a little and he shut-up. Jonathan and I got gloves and sample bags and started to work. It looked like the barricade cops were having trouble keeping the media out. Eventually, they would have to let them through, but not until we’d collected all the evidence we needed.

“He’s older,” said Jonathan looking at the dead man’s hands. “I’d guess him to be around twenty-six. Both victims appear to have been very effeminate. Notice how smooth his skin is, just like the other one.”

I took out his wallet.

“His name’s Jacob Harris. He lived on Barnett Street in the warehouse lofts near Creole Cabin. He must have been pretty well off to afford to live there – they’re pricey. Look at this – he’s got a membership card to Rawhide. It looks like O’Rourke was right.”

Jonathan was listening, but he didn’t respond. That’s one of the things I liked most about Jonathan. He had an amazing ability to focus. He absorbed what was being said, but nothing could divert him from the task at hand.

“He’s got splinters too Willa. It’s almost exactly the same MO, although this man wasn’t beaten quite as badly and I’d guesstimate he’s been dead longer. Maybe this one was first and after the killer got a taste, he got more extreme and brutal which could be terrible for us and the city if he turns out to be a prolific, imagine how any future victims will look.”

“It’s hard to imagine where he could escalate to – how much more brutal could he get. We’re both referring to him now as a man. I guess it could be a woman, but it seems unlikely.”

“I agree. Could be a group of women, some kind of coven.”

I was fading fast. I still had a headache and I was finding it difficult to concentrate. Visions of Katrina kept running through my mind. That’s what I craved, some simple beauty to take me out of this dark place – a brief respite. I looked at my watch. It was almost six. Dawn was approaching.

“Listen Jonathan, let’s both go home and get a few hours rest and meet at the morgue around ten. We won’t be good to anyone, if we don’t get a little sleep.”

That’s what I said, but sleep was not what I had in mind, at least for myself. I called Katrina. She answered the phone in her deep sleepy voice.

“Sweetheart, it’s Willa.”

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?”

“Well everything really. It’s work. I’m in the middle of a nightmare. I’ve been up since two.”

“God, Willa. Are you okay?”

“I would be better if I hadn’t gone out with Melody and Patty. We went to Parade.”

“I don’t know why you hang out with those two? Every time I see them they’re three sheets to the wind.”

“I know, they’re a lot more lushy than they used to be. I like Melody, though and you know how they are. You can’t have one without the other. I need to see you Kat. Just sink into you for a little while. Would it be alright if I came over?”

“Of course Sweetheart. I’m not due at the hospital until noon.”

She met me at the door in her J. Crew pajamas. She looked so strong and beautiful. I thought for a second while she was holding me that I was going to cry. She led me into her dark bedroom. The heavy curtains were still drawn. She slowly undressed me and lay down beside me and started caressing my breasts.

“Will you take your Crews off Kat, so I can feel your skin?”

She did as I asked. She was a very slender woman and her body was tight and muscular from years of working out. Unlike me, her skin was deeply suntanned. In the summertime, Kat looked almost black. Her dark arm resting on my pale breasts was a beautiful contrast. She crooked my leg in hers and pulled it toward her and spread my legs. She started French kissing my ear. She knew this drove me wild. I was bucking but couldn’t really move since she had me locked down. I loved Katrina. This was exactly what I needed.

“You need to be fucked Baby?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Yes, Darling. I know. Are you wet? Willa, you’re always so wet. I love that. I love your wet pink clit. God, I love to fuck you.”

“I get wet just looking at you Kat.”

“I know Sweetheart. I know you do,” she said, alternating gently cupping my breasts with pinching my nipples. “I want to ride you but I need to get your nipple bigger.”

She pinched me hard and started sucking me like a hungry baby. I recoiled a little from her teething.

“Come on Darling. Just let go of it and let me take care of you,” she said and straddled me.

It was impossible to not give into her. I was so attracted to her mix of gentle and wild energies. She was also my type physically, a lean, taut, boyish body and a beautiful face framed by her short dark hair. We had met two years ago at a benefit for St. Peter’s Hospital where Kat was a grant recipient for stem cell research. We started dating a few weeks after that and though we didn’t live together, we were very much in love. I adored the way she loved me, soft and tender, wild and free, and no matter how rough she became, it always felt motivated, even inspired by love and a deep regard for what she called my feminine mystique. She would often whisper in my ear while she was making love to me: “You’re my femme divine Darling.”

Her pussy felt sweet and tough on my breast. She would ride me hard and fast and slow and easy. She tightened her grip on my shoulders and I could tell she was about to come.

“Be still Sweetheart,” she said.

I felt a river of warmth engulf my breast and Katrina clenched her legs together to squeeze my breast more tightly into her pussy. I love to watch her come this way. It was one of the most beautiful sights in the world. She slowly moved down toward my throbbing clit and caressed me with her tongue and lips. After the hell I had been through, she felt like heaven. She made it last a long time. Right when I was about to come, she pulled away and kissed my thighs and gently licked me and then came back. By the time she let me come, it felt like a volcano erupting and my cunt juice felt like slow lava oozing from my pussy and into the crack of my ass.

The white dahlia was a million miles away.