Memories Ch. 01

"And you, do you know more about it?" I asked.

"Of course I've been asking around already. I tried to call you since Saturday morning but you're impossible to reach. Only now I finally get through to you. You really should give me your mobile number, then at least we can stay in touch."

Indeed I never gave her my mobile number, even though I have hers. I'm quite selective about who I give it to, and journalists, as sweet and lovely as they may be, do not qualify.

"So what did you figure out?"

"Not much, to be honest, but I have some clues on it. But I really need to get more firm information before I can do any further publication. It's getting late now, why don't we continue our conversation at Macy's Grill? You buy me a nice dinner and I tell you what I think is going on here."

It was not the first time she had done that, calling a meeting disguised as date, or should that be the other way around, a date disguised as a meeting? Nothing wrong having a date with a girl like Thelma, a pretty girl about my age who's fun to be around, however she's also a journalist and she's got a boyfriend already. So it's not a date, and anyway even without that boyfriend I shouldn't get too close to her, and start to divulge all kinds of confidential information.

"Further publication? You ran this already?"

"This morning. Just a short note, as I said we don't know much either. But it's news so we ran it. I'll bring a copy of the paper to show you at Macy's."

"No photos I hope?"

"No, our photographer arrived just when the ambulance left. Too bad."

"Glad to hear that."

"Of course you are. So I will see you soon?

"In maybe half an hour, I'm about to leave here."

"Perfect, see you there."

Macy's Grill was a rather decent grill house, about fifteen minutes away from the station. I cleaned up my desk, switched off my computer and walked down to fetch my car.

Arriving at the restaurant I noticed it was pretty busy. I looked around, and soon spotted the pretty redhead smiling and waving at me from a dark corner of the room. She was waiting for me already. I walked over and slid on to the other side of the corner bench she was sitting on. It was not the first time we exchanged information on crime cases, nor the first time she had me take her out for dinner.

"Nice table you got," I remarked.

"Yes, a bit dark but it's also quiet, and we have some privacy here."

She smiled at me, it seemed a bit seductively. She looked like your stereotypical redhead of Irish descent. She had a full head of long reddish curls hanging loose over her shoulders, beaming green eyes and pale skin with faint freckles all over. Was it really just an innocent flirt to get more information out of me? I have always enjoyed our "business dates" as I like to call them. She had found an excuse for this every few months or so over the past couple of years. She's fun company, and I feel relaxed talking to her. Not just business and crime, also other things.

On the crime part, she has given me some great pointers in the past. As a journalist she hears a lot of what's going on in town. Her crazy and sometimes over the top theories on my cases sometimes had actually helped me putting some pieces of a puzzle together. She enjoys figuring out things, as do I, even though we do it for different purposes.

"I honestly thought you wanted to see me to discuss this case, but you make it look more like a date."

"A place good for a date usually also works great for a one-on-one meeting. I arranged for you a private corner where no-one can easily overhear us, good food and even better company. What more do you want?" she countered.

We ordered our food, and chatted a bit, light chat, about work and life in general, for now avoiding the issue of Ms Locatelli altogether, at least until dinner was served. We were both hungry, and silently we started to eat.

About halfway through dinner I broke the silence, and asked her, "You said you know more about the case we discussed on the phone. What can you tell me?"

"Well, it's mostly rumours. I have no concrete evidence for you. Actually I should call it hearsay, so don't call me as witness, OK?"

"Sure, any information is helpful for me. It may just point me to the right direction to search."

"Well as I said I've been asking around a bit. Asked my colleagues over lunch what they thought about it. It's just not normal to find someone sleeping naked on the street, so I guessed there are some kind of drugs involved, and if so, there are likely to be more cases."

I looked at her, waiting. She had just made quite a jump to reach those conclusions, however it was exactly what I was thinking. We just reached the conclusion in a different manner.

She continued, "So after hearing about the case last Saturday, I started searching the Internet for more information. I was wondering if there had been any publications, any press releases from the police, or any other similar cases. I found none of those, however I did find some tweets and Facebook posts of women reporting waking up naked, while they normally don't sleep in the nude. One specifically mentioning she went to a party, got drunk, woke up late next afternoon in her bed, and found her clothes missing and had no recollection of the party itself."

"No way," I answered. "That's shocking. And great work from you. Did you contact any of those women?"

"Yes, most of them didn't reply, but one did. She told me she indeed simply woke up in her bed naked, clothes missing. And she had been sleeping much longer than she normally does, even after partying deep in the night."

"Anything else?"

"No memories of the evening before. She said she had marked in her diary a party, somewhere near West Gate Road. But she had no recollection of going there, coming back, or whatever else she had been doing that evening, it was all just a black hole. She figured it must have been a great party, and that she just had way too much to drink."

"No recollection of going there even?"

"No. What is also interesting, she told me that since the party she had been having some very vivid, very erotic dreams. Dreams of being at a wild sex party. She never had that before. She thought that may all be related somehow."

"That was a party with friends or so?"

"Some Facebook friend, whom she had never met in real life, invited her over."

I was just sitting there, not knowing what to say. Waking up naked, clothes missing, no recollection of the night before, sex party - that sounded like it could be related to Ms Locatelli's case. We really should start looking into Facebook immediately. There almost certainly was more information on there. The problem is always that Facebook is so notoriously hard to search.

"When did that party happen?" I asked.

"About two months ago."

"I'd love to have a word with that lady. Or anyone else you found that way. Can you give me her contact?"

"I can ask her to contact you," Thelma replied. "I can't just give her contact out, that's private. You think the cases are related?"

"Absolutely. Many similarities. Anything else you found out?"

"Well one of my younger colleagues, who is known for her Facebook addiction, was contacted some weeks ago by a guy called Sonar. That is, Sonar is the user name and he claims to be a guy. Anyway, they chatted a bit, he was really nice to her, flirting a lot, and after a while he invited her to a party. My colleague did some checks and found out the address of the party was a car park at West Gate Road. Getting suspicious, she dropped the chat. She remembered it when I mentioned that street name."

So it seemed this had been going on for a while, and the party of Ms Locatelli was almost certainly not unique. Sonar, interesting user name. He was apparently trying to contact random women, gain their trust, and invite them to his parties.

"So, what did you find out?" Thelma asked.

"More than I can tell you," I replied.

"Those dreams, they're not just dreams, they're real, right?"

"I think so. These women have been involved in an actual wild sex party. And that is, for now, all I'm willing to tell you, and it's actually already too much, so you didn't hear it. And definitely not from me."

"That's obvious. If you need any help, you know how to find me." She smiled. "I think this case is far from over."

Grabbing the bill, I told her, "You deserved your dinner, that was really good information you gave me, even if it is just confirmation of what I suspected already. Thanks."

I paid, and we walked out of the restaurant. When I opened the door for her, she stopped, turned around facing me, and asked, "May I invite you to go for some dessert?"

A surprise move, I didn't know how to react. I am just not good with women. She must have seen the confusion on my face. This was just a personal invitation, which had nothing to do with our business relationship any more. This was simply a date. I felt excited, flattered, and a bit scared all in one.

"Ehrm ... OK ..." I stammered.

"Don't panic," she said. "I know a nice ice cream shop a few minutes walk from here, they just opened. They're really good. And you also gave me some valuable information."

I couldn't resist her sweet smile and inviting eyes.

We must have spent nearly an hour at that ice cream parlour. The dessert was really good indeed, she was totally right, and I really enjoyed chatting with her.

Driving home, and at home until I finally fell asleep, my thoughts were all over the place. Thinking about Ms Locatelli, thinking about Thelma, our dinner, dessert, the whole day. I really wondered where this case was going to lead me. The Locatelli case was proving to be more interesting than I ever imagined, and we were only just starting the investigation. She most certainly had been involved in a drug-fuelled sex party, the drugs making sure she not only willingly participated, but also forgot all about it afterwards. And it was not the first such party, there had been more of them, and all under our watch without us knowing anything about it.

Thelma had done a great job finding other victims. Thelma, the journalist, had contacted me occasionally about some case, and a few times before she had me take her out like tonight. But those times it was just dinner, and it was mostly her collecting information from me. Thelma is a clever lady, who doesn't seem to have any qualms using her female charm to get what she wants from a man. And I fall for that, time and again. I'm just not good at dealing with people, especially when they're female, attractive, and flirting with me.