Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Crime and Punishment--Part Two

Sally wasn't concerned when Mike didn't return by the end of shift. He was probably following a lead and then went home and would report in the morning. As she was packing up to go, Dr. Forrest, the forensic psychiatrist walked up to her desk. "Got a minute?" he asked.

"Sure...what's up?" she replied.

"I just finished examining your...victim. I was able to bring him...uh, her...whatever...out of trance. But she continued to insist her name was Theresa Olivia, not Terrence Oliver."

"Why would that?" Sally asked.

"Post-hypnotic suggestion is my best guess," the doctor responded. "Whoever hypnotized Terrence and dressed him as a woman gave him the suggestion to think of himself as female--well, not quite."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked her if she was a woman and she most emphatically said, 'No. I am a male lesbian.'"

"Male lesbian? What the hell is that?" Sally said, surprised.

"I've heard the term's used by some cross-dressers who consider themselves men who dress as women but respond to women as a lesbian would," Dr. Forrest answered.

"So where"

"I sent her home. I couldn't legally hold her. There's nothing psychiatrically wrong with her," Forrest replied.

"You have her address?"

"Yes, she's staying with that Madame Fabricantfille, apparently."


The next morning, Sally was surprised to see that Mike wasn't in the squad room. She tried his cell phone and got voice mail. "Oh well," she thought, "he's probably overslept or something." Deciding she needed to speak more to Terrence/Theresa, she drove to the address for Madame Fabricantfille.

She found that the address was, indeed, a loft--a huge one. She took the elevator to the right floor and knocked on the door. It was answered by a figure in a full French maid's uniform...a figure Sally was certain was not entirely female. "Oui, Detective...I will ask Madame to join you," the maid said, in a convincing accent. "Please wait in the parlor."

She led Sally to that room and Sally was surprised to see another person there as well. It was a male, dressed as a little girl, practicing mincing and curtseying in his heels and petticoats. He turned to her and, with a look of surprise himself, said, "Sally!"

"Mike?!" she gasped. "What the hell....?"

"It's Michelle," he corrected her, breathily. "I think I've found my true self...."

A voice came from behind Sally. "Oui, you have, ma cherie," it said, in a husky, sultry tone. "Bon jour, Detective Morton," it continued as Sally whirled around. "I am Madame Fabricantfille."


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